#thinking about anton suddenly bulking upâŚgulp
suggestive themes ! || wc. 1.2 k
you weren't trying to make it obvious.
but anton was getting bigger. like, noticeably bigger. and you noticed it a couple days ago, when he got back from the gym.
gym bag tossed by the front door, sweat dripping from the tips of his hair and down his neck. after a long hour of working out, all anton wanted to do was loosen his muscles under a hot shower, and crash in bed.
"i'm back." he mumbled, catching your attention from the dinner table, finishing the last bite of your breakfast. by the time you woke up, he was already gone. so you had a hunch where he would've gone.
"i didn't think you would be home so early." your gaze followed him from the door to the kitchen, unscrewing the lid of his protein shake.
but something in you froze, yet you couldn't pin point why exactly. something about him was different. you thought it was because he wasn't wearing his glasses, or his hair was getting longer and falling onto his face.
until your eyes traveled down and zeroed in on his biceps. he was wearing a loose, sleeveless tank. it hung nicely on him, dark fabric clinging just enough around his chest and torso.
"me neither, i wanted to stay an extra 30 minutes but i think i overdid it yesterday." his lips pressed together, biceps bulging tight against his skin as he prodded at the lid of his bottle.
water rushed from the faucet as he shook the bottle out, strong hands twisting the cap off fully before he reached inside with the sponge.
his bicep flexed with the motion, full and firm and so much bigger than it used to be that your mouth actually parted a little.
anton was bulking.
actually bulking.
and his biceps were proof of it.
they looked fuller than before, round and firm, the kind of arms that made your thoughts slow down in the worst way.
there was no missing it now.
not with the way that tank stretched across his chest. not with the way his shoulders looked broader, his arms thicker, more sculpted.
every tiny movement made the muscle in his upper arm jump so naturally, so unfairly, and all you could do was sit there and stare like some shameless fool.
it was such a simple thing, anton cleaning out a protein bottle at the sink, but on him, it looked obscene.
"babe. did you change your routine?" you tried to sound natural, voice even as you walked over to him. but with the way your eyes never once left his arms, said otherwise.
because goodness, his biceps were insane.
your eyes tracked the way they tightened and released while he scrubbed the inside of the bottle, forearm shifting, veins faintly visible beneath warm skin.
your gaze kept dragging right back to his arms no matter how hard you tried to act normal.
the worse part, he was just standing there being built and gorgeous and completely unaware that you were seconds away from gripping his arm just to see if it felt as solid as it looked.
"no. why? finally deciding to workout with me?" he glanced over his shoulder, brows lifted slightly, soft amusement slipping into his expression almost instantly.
he definitely caught you.
but you didnât even bother pretending this time.
your stare dipped right back to his bicep as he turned off the water, giving you one last, cruel flex when he squeezed the cloth dry in his hand.
the corner of his lips lifted lazily and you have to laugh. you've seen how he worked out. from countless facetime's or videos he'll randomly send you of him completing a set.
low groans and soft pants pushing past his lips in concentration. and you thank him every. time. saving them into a separate, special, folder in your gallery.
he turned a little more toward you now, protein bottle still in hand, and the tank shifted against his chest, showing even more of those broad shoulders and thickened arms.
"pfft, you wish." you lean back against the counter next to him leaving no space in question, glancing down to his arms every now and then.
the looked so full in that tank, so hard earned and distracting and perfect that your brain kept short circuiting every time he moved.
"i'll gladly stick with your videos. for scientific purposes." you cleared your throat.
shoulders shaking when he quietly snickered. "you sicko. maybe i should stop sending so you have no choice but to come with me."
he meant it as a joke. of course he'll never deprive you of your "cherished videos", as you called it before. and they were, truly.
especially when you were craving for his touch and he just so happens not to be there. you'll open the previous video he sent, soft grunts filling your speaker as he completes his set of pull ups, just enough for it feel like he's right in your ear praising you for taking him so well.
"anton, don't play with me. i'll never forgive you."
"oh come on, you know i'm just kidding." a sinister grin is plastered across his face, tongue darting out to wet his lips. âyou know there are other ways i can get you to come.â his lips were only inches away from yours when leaned to grab the plate you just dropped in the sink.
for the first time, you didnât have anything snarky to respond with. it was hard to when he was making two distinctly different statements. the difference being there wasnât anything he could do to make you come with him. the other, he can make you come in different ways.
tongue prodding at your cheek, you softly rolled your eyes. you were not falling into that trap, especially when he looked like this. because honestly, thereâs nothing stopping you. or him.
âi would love see you try, babe.â you use the excuse to pat his arm condescendingly. purposely reaching for the part in his arm that flexed constantly beneath your palm while he scrubbed at the plate. even if it was for a few seconds.
damn.
âokay. iâll remember that.â he nodded slowly and you could already see the gears turning in head.
but it didnât concern you. because even when the sun had settled behind the clouds, all you could think about was anton and his biceps. helplessly and shamefully.
his bulking was obvious now, written all over his upper body, but especially there, his arms thick and defined enough.
anton never even had to do much.
heâd just exist. that was enough.
a sleeveless shirt here. a rolled up sleeve there. one absentminded flex of his arm while moving something. constantly thinking about how unfair it was.
every day after that, no matter how hard you tried to focus on something else, your thoughts kept wandering right back to him.
tight back to the sight of him standing at the sink, broad shoulders on display, tank hanging low, biceps flexing without effort while water poured over his hands.
a completely ordinary moment. and somehow, to you, it had become the moment.
the one your mind clung to aimlessly, shamelessly, day after day, like it had found something too good to let go of.
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.⌠ÝË M.LIST .⌠ÝË
a/n || thatâs dada right theređ¤¤. i might make a part two though!
