Toji Fushiguro
He caught you staring in the gym
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The gym smelled of rubber, cold steel, and that faint, sharp scent of male cologne mixed with the heat of worked muscles. It was your favorite spot—a quiet gym near home where you went mostly to clear your head and stay in shape. Well… and for something else, too.
He was here again today. He kept doing the bench press, and with every powerful upward drive, his low-slung sweatpants—held by nothing but a loose drawstring—slipped dangerously lower on his hips.
You pretended to be busy with a machine, but your gaze betrayed you. It was impossible to look away from his ripped abs and the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath his waistband. The thin fabric hid absolutely nothing; the heavy, prominent outline of his length made your throat go dry in an instant.
Noticing your stare, Toji didn’t even think to stop. Instead, he kept steadily pressing the heavy bar, smirking right at you with every single extension. His dark, mocking eyes locked onto yours, trapping your gaze.
Like what you see?he rasped, slightly out of breath on his next repetition, his low voice sending a sudden chill straight down your spine.