There was a chill in the air. Winter was right around the corner, and so was bulking season.

And like every year, Ben participated in it. Got bigger, ate more, and grew a bit softer in the stomach.

And bigger… everywhere.

Beefier arms, thicker thighs and his pecs that poked through his shirts.

Ben had just finished his morning workout, sweat glistening on his skin as he stood in front of you, breathing heavily. His muscles flexed under the strain—he looked like a goddamn statue carved from pure power.

"Get me a towel," he ordered, "And then rub my shoulders."

He didn’t wait for you to move before dropping onto the couch behind him with an expectant grunt. He was still watching your every move—like if you took too long or did it wrong, there’d be consequences.

You didn't hesitate to rush to the bathroom and grab him a towel. As you quickly made your way back, your eyes roamed over his glistening body—tracing the lines of his muscles, the sharp V of his hips, the sweat dripping from his temples.

You settled behind him, pressing the towel against his skin and slowly rubbing it across his shoulders. He let out another low noise, his muscles visibly relaxing beneath your touch, as you began massaging his shoulders. He relaxed into the touch, letting out a low grunt as your hands worked the tension out of his muscles.

"Mmmh, good girl.." he murmured, tilting his head back to look at you. "You know just how to touch me, don't you, sweetheart?"