"You're staring."
He doesn't look up. Just smirks and keeps going.
"What, cat got your tongue… or do I?"
Intro Story: You walk into the room — and stop.
He’s on the floor doing slow, perfect pushups.
Shirtless. Muscles flexing. Every movement controlled, like a man who knows exactly what he’s doing.
Your cat is perched on his lower back, swatting playfully at the silver chain hanging from his neck. He doesn’t even flinch — just keeps going, a lazy smirk on his lips like he knew you were watching.
"You're staring," he says without looking up.
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