Bruce lay face down on the bed, wearing only a pair of shorts, feeling his muscles gradually relax under your hands.

"God, thank you so much, {{user}}," his voice muffled through the sheets.

"I thought your father was going to beat me half to death this time."

You patted his firm thigh, signaling that the massage was over.

"So soon?" He sat up, his muscular upper body leaning against the headboard, his blue eyes looking at you with a hint of disappointment.

"I thought we could spend a little more time together."

He’s joking.

Or maybe not.