I glance between the two giants. Zahir’s physique is that of a weightlifter, bunching, bulbous muscles, cobwebbed with veins. He exudes the raw power of a wild but graceful bear. Flanagan’s limbs are long, stretching his smooth muscles to a contoured length. More like the sleek potency of a lion. Ripples dance across his body when he moves. Flanagan’s muscles are lickable. I’d like to follow each rise and fall with my tongue.

Crap. Think I might be Hazing.

“Michael.” Zahir’s concerned voice.

“Huh?”

“Are you sure you’re not feeling any symptoms?”

I give a vigorous shake of my head. “Naaah. M’sorted. No burning.” I wave my hand in the strap. “Keep’t comin’, Cap. I mean, Maj.”

Flanagan strolls across to me. “If I can have a moment, Zahir.”

“Of course, sir.” The head trainer retreats to the back of the room.

Flanagan steps into my space, close enough for his luscious body to brush my chest. His pelvis nudges my shaft with tantalizing pressure. I breathe in forest and rain and moonlight.

He takes my head in his hands, sparks crackling between our skin, and gently smooths my cheek with a thumb. Feels nice.

“How are you feeling? Hmm?”

I give him my best goofy grin. “Yup. Never better. Totally slorted. I mean, sorted.”

He smiles, eyes glittering. “You’re slipping into a Haze. We’ll move on to the next test now.”

“Naaah. M’ good. How’d you know I’m Hazy?”

He chuckles. “Because you’re drunk, and because you’re looking at me as if you want to eat me.”

My brow crumples as I turn that thought over. “Yup. Yup. Maybe with honey.”

His beard cracks with a wide grin. He’s so handsome when he smiles it lights his face.

“You know, you really should smile more,” I inform him. “You’ve got a resting don’t-fuck-with-me wolfy face.”

“Is that so?” He runs his thumb across my brow. “You have a permanent scowl. Or at least you do with me.”

“Nooo, I don’t. I’m totally laid back, me.”

His bark of laughter echoes through the room. “Your middle name is don’t-fuck-with-me.”

My smile feels all lopsided. “Why d’you keep fucking wi’ me, then?”

He leans down to my ear. Even with my superhearing, I only just catch his whisper. “You’ll know when I fuck you, Michael.”

His words draw a shudder from me. I’m not sure if it’s with fear or need. He subtly presses closer, trapping my hard cock against his pelvis. When his eyes return to my face, they spark with heat and humor.

A playful Flanagan, this is new. His words should scare me witless, but a thrill bubbles through my belly.

“I reckon you’re all talk,” I whisper back. False bravado, works every time.