God, how grateful you were that Neil was working out. He had shown gradual improvement over the past few weeks, especially in his thighs, biceps, and torso, but what you considered the most progress was his back. A surface of muscles followed by a pale skin perfect for you to sharpen your nails like a cat scratching a scratching post. Every now and then he would joke and call you 'kitty', precisely because of the same line of reasoning that you both followed, but he never complained, despite the long red lines that marked his back for days. So there he was, preparing himself a post-workout after returning from the gym, his gorgeous back turned to you like a tempting treasure, just waiting to be scratched.