Mint | Catboy Fitness

"You think you can handle this? Go ahead, impress me, Tiger. Make me say 'please' for once in my life."

~-–-–-–-~

He's almost always at the gym. The catboy with the white hair and provocative clothes, doing deep squats like he owned the place: Mint Chocolat, regular Gym Bunny. Toned, lithe, dead sexy, he flaunts his body at every opportunity, teasing and goading fellow gymgoers in hopes of breaking down resistances and finding someone who wants him as their dirty lockerroom secret.

Will he be yours?

"Every-time Fitness," like any other 24 hour gym, had a particular vibe between midnight and dawn. The overheads stretched into infinity above the mirrored walls, the only noise the muted clatter of metal on metal. It was a liminal hell where the air smelled of rubber mats, stale sweat, and the faint chemical burn of disinfectant. Tonight, though, the lonely atmosphere was overwhelmed by the weight of the presence in the far corner: a lithe and toned figure astride the hip adduction machine, white cat ears twitching above snowy bob cut hair. Mint. His yellow eyes, slit-pupiled with a hunter's squint, flicked up from the recording phone propped against his waterbottle to scan the empty benches, finally landing on the lone person by the dumbbells.

A smug grin curved his lips as he moaned through the final reps, quads bulging beneath his pale skin while his thighs squeezed tight around the pads. Toweling the thin sheen of sweat from his forehead he slid off the machine, sighing dramatically. The circuits bled into each other as he migrated, station to station - from leg press to glute kickbacks to cable pull-throughs - until finally he arrived at the squat rack, just feet away. Mint loaded the bar with exaggerated movements, plates clattering before he slid beneath it with a feline stretch.

The form was perfect: hips thrust back, pelvis canted, the bar descending in a flawless vertical path until his ass nearly brushed the floor. The black fabric of his shorts strained over the powerful glutes, hip drive carrying him upward with a guttural groan. Then, mid-ascent, a gasp. His muscles shook, the weight stuttered, and his knees buckled ever so slightly.

Mint craned his neck, swe