The Greater Wolferton Valley sprawled wide beneath the bruised October dusk, a restless cradle of mystery where the Bardulf Peaks loomed like silent sentinels, their snow-capped tips catching the silver sheen of the Wolf’s Head comet. That celestial wanderer streaked across the sky, bathing the valley in a sultry glow that stirred passions and whispered of ancient lovers’ pacts. Tonight, its light danced on Lake Gahan’s shimmering surface, where bonfires from distant campfires flickered like heartbeats, and cast long shadows over the many different suburbs from Kripke’s Hollow to Westview, where streetlights buzzed and flickered, as if the suburb itself held its breath. Beyond the city’s historic edge, the Zone pulsed—a chaotic sprawl of glass-and-steel labs, where neon-lit drones whirred and electric storms sparked unnaturally, experiments humming with stolen energy from subspace. Wolferton, a city of 100,000 souls, lay at the valley’s heart, its historic core a defiant beacon of brick facades and neon signs, refusing to bow to the Zone’s dark science.

Main Street wound through Wolferton like a vein, its cobblestone accents gleaming under the moon’s caress. Pulsar Coffee’s windows glowed with fairy lights, its cozy booths spilling with teens debating the Zone’s latest anomaly over comet-themed lattes. The Ma’iingan Convenience Store, its downtown branch a neon-lit outpost, buzzed with kids snagging glowing energy drinks and trinkets, the chain’s howling wolf head logo, a constant across the city—from Tasanee Point’s hilly curves to Big Elk Park’s oak groves. Wolferton Valley High the largest school in the valley, stood proud, its red-brick facade a testament to the town’s past, its gym alive with the thump of wrestling practice, where sweat and ambition mingled.

As Main Street curved past city hall and headed toward the university, the Moonlight Diner emerged like a lighthouse in Wolferton’s restless soul, its neon sign—a crescent moon cradling a star—flickering against the deepening dusk. The sign buzzed loudly, casting a pink-and-blue glow over the cracked asphalt lot, where pickups and bikes leaned like old friends. The diner’s brick exterior, weathered since the 1920s, bore the scars of countless winters, its windows steaming from the heat within. A faint rumble from the Zone, miles away, sent a shiver through the city, the neon stuttering for a heartbeat, as if one of the labs had exhaled. Locals barely blinked—Wolferton’s heart beat stronger than the Zone’s madness.

Inside, the Moonlight Diner pulsed with life, a sanctuary of historic charm. Checkered floors gleamed under the fluorescent buzz, reflecting the evening moonlight like a mirror to the sky. The air was thick with the sizzle of bacon, the sweet tang of maple syrup, and the faint hum of a jukebox crooning a ballad of lost love, its notes weaving through the haze of grease and desire. Red vinyl booths hugged the walls, their cracked surfaces etched with initials and promises—testaments to Wolferton’s restless, romantic heart. The counter bustled, coffee pots hissing, while waitresses in retro aprons traded gossip about the valley’s heat and the darker moments. Laughter rose from a corner booth, where teens swapped stories of daring Circuit Bazaar visits, their voices drifting like smoke, laced with the valley’s whispered secrets.

The diner was one of Wolferton’s pulse points, alive with the clink of glasses and the low hum of conversations—about stolen kisses, wrestling rivalries, and the strange lights in sky above Bardulf Peaks. Under the comet’s sultry sheen, every glance felt heavier, every touch electric, as if the Greater Wolferton Valley itself was conspiring to ignite something wild, something forbidden, in the neon-lit heart of its smallish city.

Jace Ryder was sprawled in a corner booth, his scuffed letterman jacket slung over the seat’s coat rack, as his button down shirt lay next to his book bag. Casted off due to the diner’s heat. The 18 year old sat in his jeans while his tight singlet clinging to his 190-pound frame of lean muscle, honed from wrestling drills. His tousled brown hair caught the breeze from the vent nearby, his hazel eyes gleaming with a drive to dominate Wolferton’s wrestling scene, his ambition to lead the team to regional glory simmering beneath a cocky grin. Yet his gaze snagged on his best friend Nico, a pull he leaned into without question, their bond a constant in the town’s youth. Nico Storm sat next to him in the booth. Their booth. His loose hoodie flecked with charcoal, paint and clay, his leaner frame taut with intensity, dark curls framing sharp cheekbones that glowed under the diner’s fluorescents. His fingers, stained from sketching, twitched with the urge to capture Wolferton’s raw edges for a Pulsar Coffee exhibit, but as he turned his eyes locked on Jace, a thrill throbbed between the long time best friends.

They shared a milkshake, a ritual from youthful summer nights, their fingers brushing with electric heat as Jace slid the glass over, his touch lingering, tracing a slow, submissive arc across Nico’s knuckles, then up his wrist, the graze warm and teasing. Nico’s lips curved, a glint of glee in his dark eyes, and he leaned forward, his knee pressing firmly against Jace’s under the table, his Converse nudging Jace’s shin, a silent claim. His hand slipped under the table, fingers splaying across Jace’s thigh, tracing the items in his pocket, his phone, keys, then his fingertips grazed the inseam of his jeans, moving higher. Nico’s nails digging in with a teasing, commanding edge, his breath hitching as Jace shivered, their grins broad and their eyes shimmering. Their bodies moved closer, Jace’s shoulder brushing Nico’s, and Nico’s other hand found Jace’s chest, fingers grazing through the singlet’s neckline, tracing a suggestive arc along his collarbone, dipping to the hollow of his throat, each touch a pulse of restrained lust. To them, it was just their rhythm—the absolute best of friends, bound since grade school, their intimacy as natural as the jukebox’s hum. They had shared everything over the years and felt the heat—Nico’s nails, Jace’s grazing fingers, the shared looks —but thought nothing of it, just their closeness, a canvas of shared rebellion, from sneaking bourbon to claiming Wolferton’s spotlight.

“Coach really works the team over at practice. He’s been on the war path after Morris fucked up his weight,” Jace said, his voice bright but husky.

Leaning back into the booth, he stretched out his arms. The lightly dusted muscles bulged as the teen flexed, not for show but still putting on a show that turned more the a few heads. The edge of his tight singlet exposed a firm brown nipple.

“But this milkshake’s so fucking worth it.”

His right arm stayed around Nico, his hand slung over Nico’s shoulder found his arm, his fingers sliding under the ripped hoodie sleeve, tracing a heated, submissive arc along his forearm, then up to his bicep, lingering with gentle surrender. While Nico was shorter and leaner than Jace, he was still quite fit. His artistic emo vibe often covered his taught strong muscles. Nico’s hand unconsciously sought Jace’s own exposed skin, tracing the edge of his jeans until they found the spot where the singlet’s side cut slipped under his jeans. Discovering skin his fingers began to trace a slow, erotic spiral up across his ribs, nails grazing with a commanding edge that made Jace’s breathe hitch, arousal pulsing with a need they both saved for their current girlfriends.

“Says the guy who complained when I made you run another 10 minutes on the treadmill last week.” Nico teased, his voice low and sultry, leaning closer, his lips almost touching Jace’s ear before he turned and slowly took a sip from their shared straw.

A group of juniors ordered at the counter, led by Gabriel Powell spotted them, their grins wide as he leaned over the smaller two.

“Get a room, you two,” Gabriel called, his teasing light and playful.

It seemed that everyone in Wolferton tried to nudge the best friends to give in to their chemistry. With large black eyes twinkling, the juniors chuckling.

Isabella added, “Need a wedding planner yet? The school’s betting pool have odds on you hooking up.”

The jabs cheered their spark while nodding to their “friendship,” and diners laughed, heads turning. Ever the showman Jace’s grin widened, mischief glinting, and he leaned toward Nico, puckering his lips in an exaggerated kiss, not stopping until they were just touching then breaking away with a dramatic flourish.

“Won’t we just look good in white lace.” he teased in return, winking at the diner crowd, who erupted in laughter, clapping at the absurdity.

Nico retaliated with a theatrical shock before pulling Jace close as if for a mock makeout, their noses brushing before he shoved Jace back with a smirk, his hand grazing Jace’s chin with a kinky tease. “Speak for yourself babe, I for one will be in my mother’s blue suit,” Nico shot back, his voice dripping with playful authority, fingers sliding around Jace’s throat taking hold. The crowd roaring with delight. The juniors waved them off, grinning, their teasing fading into the diner’s hum, Wolferton’s nudge a warm embrace.

The moment lingered for only a second more as Jace’s phone buzzed—a text from Lila:

Where are you?
With Nico again?
I’m not your shadow.

The message stung, her constant jealousy a sharp note against their rhythm, but Jace shoved the phone away, his hand brushing Nico’s knuckles, tracing a heated arc.

“She needs to chill,” he muttered, his grin defiant, hazel eyes locking with Nico’s.

Nico nodded with understanding, his hand tightening on Jace’s thigh, nails grazing with kinky possession, their bond a shield against the world. The moon’s glow pulsed through the windows, mixing with the neon to cast seductive patterns across the diner.

“We should go. I promised Chloe I’d take her to a movie tonight.”

The Fall Harvest Fair sprawled across Big Elk Park, a vibrant mosaic of fairy lights twinkling through gnarled oaks, their crimson leaves shimmering in the cool fall breeze. The air thrummed with the sizzle of the many different local restaurant stalls, the cloying sweetness of caramel apples, and the sharp bite of wood smoke from a roaring bonfire pit, its flames dancing against the bruised dusk sky. Fiddle music wove through the crowd’s laughter, mingling with the creak of a Ferris wheel and the clink of spiked cider mugs, while in the distance the Bardulf Peaks loomed, their snowy crests catching the comet’s seductive sheen. Wolferton’s soul pulsed here, electric with fall’s restless allure.

Jace Ryder and Nico Storm had spent the last few days manning the Wolferton Valley High wrestling team fundraiser booth. It was a large table laden with comet-themed keychains and raffle tickets, their school obligation anchoring them to the fair in place of both Jace’s wrestling practice and Nico’s normal shifts at the Ma’iingan convenience store. Coach had enlisted the team to fund new mats, and Jace, the star wrestler, had roped in Nico, their bond making it a given despite their girlfriends’ objections. Not that it should have mattered as Lila was at cheer practice, while Chloe was working, stuck at the fair’s ticket booth.

It had been a warm day but now as the sun began to drop near the gentle slopes of the Faolan hills the air began to cool. Jace slipped on his scuffed letterman jacket, leaving it open to still show off the skin tight grey t-shirt with the team’s logo. Coach had asked he wear a pair of shorts to show off his thick furry legs. His personality a match of his 190-pound frame of lean muscle, his smile commanding yet loose, his tousled brown hair catching the setting sunlight. His hazel eyes gleamed with restless charm, a drive to dominate Wolferton’s wrestling scene simmering beneath his grin, his ambition to lead the team to regional glory. Next to him, running the cash box stood Nico, dressed much warmer. He wore a loose hoodie over a thin long sleeve band shirt and black jeans that hugged his thin legs. At his feet beneath the table, his book bag stuffed with his sketchbook, pens, and his skateboard. Nico’s leaner frame was taut with intensity, dark curls damp from the night’s mist, his sharp cheekbones glowing under the firelight.

A break in customers allowed them to share a spiked hot cocoa from a tin mug, their fingers brushing with electric heat as Jace passed it over, his touch lingering, tracing a slow, submissive arc across Nico’s knuckles, then up his wrist, the graze warm and teasing. Nico’s lips curved, a glint of dominance in his dark eyes, and he stepped closer, his knee pressing firmly against Jace’s behind the booth, his boot nudging Jace’s shin, a silent claim. His hand slipped under Jace’s jacket, fingers splaying across Jace’s lower back, tracing bold, slow spirals that grazed the dip above his shorts, nails digging in with a teasing, commanding edge, his breath hot against Jace’s ear, stirring a shiver Jace dismissed as the night’s chill. Their bodies slotted together, Jace’s thigh pressed tightly against Nico’s, and Nico’s other hand found Jace’s chest, fingers curling through the t-shirt’s neckline, tracing a suggestive arc along his collarbone, dipping to the hollow of his throat, each touch a pulse of restrained lust. To them, it was just their rhythm—straight best friends, bound since grade school, their intimacy as natural as the bonfire’s crackle. They felt the heat—Nico’s nails, Jace’s grazing fingers—but thought nothing of it, just their closeness, a canvas of shared rebellion, from sneaking bourbon to carving out their place in Wolferton’s heart.

“Coach owes us big for this,” Jace teased, leaning on the booth, his jacket riding up, exposing a sliver of muscled torso. “Asking us to cover all week long. How did he convince your manager to have off?”

His voice was bright but husky, his hand finding Nico’s arm, fingers sliding under the hoodie sleeve, tracing a heated, submissive arc along his forearm, then up to his bicep, lingering with gentle surrender. Nico’s hand followed Jace’s exposed skin, slipping under the t-shirt to trace a slow, erotic spiral across his abs, nails grazing with a commanding edge that made Jace’s breath hitch, arousal pulsing but rationalized as nothing.

“I’m not sure, but I think he traded some of the other guys to cover. And he didn’t just get my manager to give me off. She is still paying me my normal amount.”

Nico’s voice was low and sultry as he leaned closer, his chest brushing Jace’s shoulder, fingers curling tightly against Jace’s side, nails grazing with a kinky press.

“But I don’t care, cause this fair’s our vibe, beats shelving wolf keychains.” Their eyes locked, a spark they dismissed—just them, nothing to it.

Two of Jace’s teammates, Joe and Caleb, approached from the direction of a cider stall nearby, spotted them, their grins wide as they came around the counter, their teasing light and playful, Wolferton’s nudge to give in to their chemistry.

“Just kiss already, you’re stealing the fair’s heat,” Joe called, his eyes twinkling as sipped his mug.

Chuckling Caleb added, “Yeah, come on guys, give us something. The whole team is betting on you hooking up.”

The jabs cheered their spark while nodding to their “friendship,” as the boys laughed drawing attention from the fairgoers. Jace’s grin widened, mischief glinting, and he leaned toward Nico, puckering his lips in an exaggerated fake kiss, stopping inches away with a dramatic flourish, only to stop and spin him around, his hand smacking Nico’s butt with a loud thwack that echoed over the bonfire’s crackle.

“Like this, Joe?” he teased, winking at the crowd, who erupted in laughter, clapping at the absurdity.

Nico retaliated with a theatrical yelp before turning and pulling Jace close as if for a mock make out, their noses brushing before he shoved Jace back with a smirk, his hand grazing Jace’s hip with a kinky tease.

“Keep dreaming, Caleb,” Nico shot back.

His voice dripped with playful authority, fingers sliding under Jace’s t-shirt, tracing a suggestive arc across his ribs, nails grazing, the crowd roaring with delight. The boys waved them off, grinning, their teasing fading into the fair’s hum, Wolferton’s nudge a warm embrace.

“Joe and I will take over, dudes—go have some fun,” Caleb said, clapping them on the shoulders.

Nico and Jace looked at each other and grinned wildly before shoving him the cash box, and darting off into the fair, the scent of fried dough and the jingle of carnival rides beckoning them into the festive chaos. It was only a few minutes, maybe twenty when a group of local farmers spotted them sharing a corndog, their shoulders brushing as they laughed over some inside joke. One of the older guys, a burly farmer named Hank, called out.

“Hey, you two! Why don’t you just hook up already? Save us the suspense!”

The crowd around them chuckled, and Jace shot Nico a conspiratorial look, his hazel eyes glinting with mischief. Nico, always quick to play along, smirked and tossed the corndog stick into a nearby trash can with a dramatic flourish.

“Oh, you want a show, huh?” Jace bellowed, loud enough for the whole area to hear.

He grabbed Nico by the waist, dipping him low like they were in some old-school romance movie. Nico, never one to be outdone, threw a hand to his forehead and gasped.

“Oh, Jace, my heart can’t take it! Take me behind the hay bales, you rogue!”

Jace waggled his eyebrows, leaning in so close their noses almost touched, and purred, “Only if you say ‘pretty please,’ first, darling.”

The crowd of roughnecks erupted in laughter, some even clapping as Nico broke character, snorting so hard he nearly fell out of Jace’s grip. They straightened up, brushing off their clothes and high-fiving with exaggerated bravado.

“Y’all are too easy,” Nico teased the crowd, slinging an arm around Jace’s shoulder as they sauntered off toward the Ferris wheel, leaving the townsfolk in stitches behind them.

Later, as the last sunlight was fading into a sky of deep purple the Fall Fair was in full swing under the golden glow of string lights. Jace and Nico were at the pumpkin carving contest, elbow-deep in the orange goo of a large gorge, when a group of teenage girls walked by, giggling.

One of them, a redhead with braces, called out, “You guys are so cute together! Just kiss already!”

Jace wiped his hands on his flannel shirt, glancing at Nico with a mock-offended gasp. “Did you hear that, Nico? They’re doubting our love again!”

Nico, holding a carving knife dramatically aloft, turned to the girls with a theatrical sneer.

“Doubting us? Oh, we’ll show you true romance!”

He dropped the knife and grabbed Jace by the collar, yanking him close. Jace played along, cupping Nico’s face with both hands and smearing pumpkin guts across his cheeks in the process. The white seeds clinging to his skin for only a moment before falling to the ground.

“Kiss me, you fool!” Jace declared, puckering his lips exaggeratedly while Nico leaned in, only to stop an inch away and whisper loudly, “Not in front of the pumpkins, babe—they’ll get jealous!

The girls burst into squeals of laughter, one of them snapping a quick photo as Jace and Nico collapsed into a fit of giggles, shoving each other playfully.

“You’ve got pumpkin in your hair, stud,” Nico teased, ruffling Jace’s messy brown locks as they turned back to their carving, the crowd’s laughter echoing behind them.

An hour later Jace and Nico were trying their luck at the apple bobbing station, water splashing everywhere as they competed to grab the most apples. A small crowd had gathered, cheering them on, when an older woman selling cider nearby smirked.

“You boys are joined at the hip! Why don’t you make it official and smooch already?”

Nico popped up from the tub, an apple clenched in his teeth, and spat it into the bucket with a dramatic flair. He turned to Jace, who was dripping wet making his tight t-shirt turn almost transparent. Grinning Nico clutched his chest like he’d been wounded.

“Smooch, she says! Jacey, they’re onto us!”

Jace shook water from his hair like a dog, then grabbed Nico’s shoulders, pulling him into a theatrical slow-motion embrace. “Then let’s give ‘em what they want, my sweet!” he declared in a terrible Shakespearean accent, dipping slightly and planting a loud, exaggerated kiss on his forehead—complete with a “MWAH!” sound effect.

Nico flailed dramatically, kicking one leg up like a damsel in distress, before breaking free and wiping his forehead with mock disgust.

“Ugh, your breath smells like apples, you cad!” he shouted, making the crowd roar with laughter.

Nico bowed to the onlookers, winking at the cider lady, who shook her head with a chuckle as the boys high-fived and dove back into the apple tub, their antics lighting up the evening.

As the fair began winding down, the sky a deepness laces with stars, Jace and Nico shared a bench near the bonfire, roasting marshmallows. The flickering flames cast shadows on their faces when a group of their high school buddies strolled by, spotting them. One of them, a lanky guy named Tim, laughed and pointed at them.

“Seriously, you two! Hook up already—spare us the tension!”

Jace and Nico exchanged a glance, their eyes gleaming with shared mischief. Jace stood first, tossing his marshmallow stick into the fire with a dramatic flourish, and yanked Nico up by his jacket.

“Tension, huh?” Jace purred, his voice low and sultry, loud enough for the group to hear. He ran a hand through Nico’s damp hair, smirking. “Baby, they don’t even know the half of it.”

Nico, catching on, let out a throaty chuckle and slid his hands down Jace’s sides, resting them on his hips as he pulled him closer.

“Oh, lover,” Nico drawled, his tone dripping with exaggerated seduction, “let’s show them how we really feel.”

He dipped Jace low, one hand sliding up Jace’s back while the other teasingly grazed the edge of his jeans, making Jace gasp theatrically and clutch Nico’s shirt.

“My body burns for you!” Jace moaned, loud and over-the-top, throwing his head back as if overcome with passion.

Nico leaned in, hovering his lips just over Jace’s neck, and growled, “Then let me taste your fire, my forbidden flame!”

He made a dramatic biting motion, complete with a fake growl, as Jace let out a scandalized squeal and playfully slapped Nico’s chest. The group of friends howled with laughter, some doubling over. Jace and Nico finally broke apart, laughing so hard they could barely stand, and collapsed back onto the bench, wiping tears from their eyes as the bonfire crackled and their friends shook their heads in amusement.

With the group distracted, Jace and Nico slipped away, ducking behind a stack of hay bales near the bonfire pit, a secluded corner where the fair’s noise dulled, the fair light’s glow casting a sultry sheen over their faces. Alone, unnoticed, they sprawled on the grass, their bodies pressed together as they snuggled, their legs entwined. The air thick with passion and friendship. Nico’s hand slid under Jace’s jacket and shirt, tracing fierce, but familiar patterns across his chest, nails grazing his pecs with possessive tease, then pausing to toy with Jace’s nipples—fingers circling, grazing, tweaking them playfully, a dominant edge that made Jace’s breath catch, his body arching instinctively into the touch, arousal screaming but rationalized as just Nico messing around. Jace’s fingers slipped under Nico’s hoodie, tracing heated, submissive arcs along his spine, their thighs intertwined, his hand lingering on Nico’s back, pressing with gentle surrender.

“This is why we do this, right?” Jace murmured, his voice low, husky with the night’s events. His fingers tightening on Nico’s spine. “School, coach, all that noise—it’s nothing when it’s just us.”

Nico nodded, his eyes burning, his hand dipping to Jace’s waistband, nails grazing the throbbing budge with a commanding edge, then returning to Jace’s chest, fingers teasing his nipples again, a slow, sensual graze that sent a jolt through Jace’s frame, their faces like their crotches only inches apart, the need pulsing, their friendship a private fire no one could touch.

“Just us,” Nico whispered, his voice sultry, a possessive claim Jace felt deep inside his soul.

The moment was shattered as Jace’s phone buzzed—a series of rapid text from Lila:

Where are you?
Chloe said you two never stopped by so you must be at the booth.
But Joe said you left hours ago
Are u still wit Nico at the fair?
I’m not your sidepiece.

Nico’s phone lit up too, Chloe’s message sharp:

Chloe is pissed.
I can’t disagree.
Youre always with Jace.
I’m done here.
Mom is gonna drive me home.
Big mistake boy.

Their girlfriends’ disapproval, was a parallel pressure that made Nico’s jaw clench, his fingers pausing on Jace’s chest, the sting sharper after such a wonderful night together, alone. They exchanged a glance, their bond a shield, and Nico shifted closer, his breath warm against Jace’s ear, fingers tracing an erotic spiral across Jace’s sternum, a possessive press that made Jace’s pulse race, dismissed as their rhythm.

“Girlfriends! They are such a pain, they need to chill,” Jace muttered, his arm around Nico.

The locker room at Wolferton Valley High simmered with post-practice heat, a gritty haven of chipped tiles and rusted metal, the air thick with steam curling from the showers and the sharp tang of sweat-soaked gear. Fogged windows glowed with steam, the hot inside fighting with the frozen cold outside. The air hummed from the overhead lights casting eerie shadows across benches strewn with wrestling singlets and damp towels, the faint hum of a janitor’s radio murmuring the daily evening news. The space buzzed with the afterglow of exertion, mats still warm from drills, the echo of Coach’s barked orders fading into the night.

Jace Ryder emerged from the shower, a towel slung low around his hips, held up by only the size of his bubbled butt and teen bulge. His 190-pound frame of lean muscle glistening under the light’s sheen, water droplets tracing the contours of his pecs and abs. His tousled brown hair clung to his forehead, hazel eyes gleaming with a drive to dominate Wolferton’s wrestling scene, his ambition to lead the team to regional glory fueling his post-practice buzz. It had been a long day and a late triple practice but he was pumped about the upcoming meet. His excitement helped to energize his team. Their laughter filled the showers and locker room. Yet as he walked to his locker his gaze drifted to Nico, changing the excitement coursing thru his body. Nico Storm, fresh off a grueling Ma’iingan shift, leaned against a locker, his loose hoodie damp from the locker room’s steam, his lean frame coiled with intensity, dark curls framing his eyes locked on Jace. Reaching into his bag Nico opened a cold bottle of water then held it out for Jace. Their fingers brushing with electric heat as Jace passed it back. Nico’s lips curved, a glint of dominance in his dark eyes, and he stepped closer, his knee pressing firmly against Jace’s thigh by the bench, his sneaker nudging Jace’s bare foot, a silent claim. His hand slipped under Jace’s towel pulling him closer. His breath hot against Jace’s ear, stirring a shiver Jace dismissed as the locker room’s chill. Their bodies slotted together, Jace’s thigh pressed tightly against Nico’s, and Nico’s other hand found Jace’s chest, fingers grazing his pecs through the steam, tracing a suggestive arc that dipped to his sternum, each touch a pulse of restrained lust. Their intimacy as natural as the shower’s hiss. They felt the heat.

“You survived Coach’s death drills,” Nico teased, his voice low and sultry, leaning closer, his chest brushing Jace’s shoulder, fingers curling tightly against Jace’s side, nails grazing with a kinky press that made Jace’s breath hitch, arousal pulsing but rationalized as nothing. “Bet you’re already planning to pin every wrestler in the valley.”

His hand lingered, tracing a fierce, erotic spiral across Jace’s abs, nails grazing with a commanding edge. Jace grinned, tossing the water bottle onto a bench, his towel shifted slightly, exposing more of his muscled legs.

“You know it. You gonna cheer me on,” he asked, his voice bright but husky, his hand finding Nico’s arm, fingers sliding under the hoodie sleeve, tracing a heated, submissive arc along his forearm, then up to his bicep, lingering with gentle surrender. “You gonna watch me, right?” Their eyes locked, a spark pulsed.