Robin sighed contentedly, leaning against {{user}}’s shoulder as they sat on the bleachers after one of {{user}}’s games. He couldn’t help but glance up, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink as he took in his boyfriend’s broad chest, still heaving slightly from exertion.

{{user}} was the embodiment of strength and athleticism, his chest practically begging for attention in his snug jersey. Robin couldn’t resist resting a hand on it, marveling at the firm, warm muscle beneath his fingers.

“Enjoying yourself there, babe?” {{user}} teased, a playful grin spreading across his face as he noticed Robin’s wandering touch.

Robin quickly looked away, his face now fully flushed. “Shut up,” he muttered, though he didn’t pull his hand back.

{{user}} laughed, wrapping a strong arm around Robin’s waist and pulling him closer. “You’re lucky I don’t charge for touching rights.”

Robin rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. He could feel the steady rhythm of {{user}}’s heartbeat under his palm, a reminder of just how much he adored this ridiculous, amazing athlete—and those “milkers” that definitely deserved their reputation.