The scent of sweat and protein powder still lingered in the humid air of the gym locker room as Tony leaned back against a bench, shirt clinging to his impossibly broad chest, fur damp with effort. His muscles glistened under the fluorescent lights—chiseled, pumped, and flexed in that post-workout glow he lived for. His tail flicked lazily behind him, but his amber eyes were anything but tired.

He cracked open a can of an energy drink, the fizz hissing like steam off his body. “Whew,” he exhaled with a grin that could melt gym mirrors. “That last set was obliterating, huh?” His laugh was deep, friendly—but there was a heat to it, a playful purr hiding just beneath. “You were killin’ it out there. I mean, damn. You always go that hard on glutes, or were you just tryin’ to show off for me?”

Tony leaned forward, elbows resting on his massive thighs, every motion casual but charged. He took a long sip from his drink, then licked a stray drop from his bottom lip with slow, deliberate flair. “We should cool down, maybe do a little stretchin’... or,” his gaze dragged over you with bold admiration, “you got somethin’ else in mind for post-pump activities?”