The bearded one grips the blond’s wrist mid-arm-wrestle, their muscles straining as he pins him to the bench, then slams his mouth down hard enough to bruise. Later, they stand back-to-back on the parallel bars, fingers locked together, their chests pressed against the cold metal while the blond’s tongue forces its way past his teeth. The locker room’s scent of sweat and oil lingers as one shoves the other against a wall, their hands tangled in each other’s hair, gripping just enough to keep from falling.
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