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Stepbrothers Awaken Desire in the Frat House Shadows
- Prologue – Midnight Steam
The locker room had long since emptied, the last echoes of laughter and slamming metal doors swallowed by the concrete and tile. Only the showers kept up their steady complaint, water dripping from half-clogged heads in irregular rhythms that sounded almost like breathing. Steam still hung heavy in the air, carrying the clean bite of institutional soap and the deeper, salt-cut musk that never fully rinsed away no matter how long anyone stood under the spray.
Ethan braced both palms against the cool wall beneath one of the far showers, head bowed, letting the water pound the back of his neck and shoulders. His muscles burned from the afternoon’s drills in the good, familiar way, but the tension lower in his body refused to ease. It had been building for weeks—ever since the first time Noah had looked at him across the steam and not looked away.
He felt the shift before he heard it: the subtle change in air pressure as another body moved through the haze. Then Noah’s voice, low and close enough that the words brushed the shell of his ear.
“Couldn’t sleep either.”
Ethan’s fingers curled against the tile. He didn’t turn. “You know we shouldn’t be doing this here.”
The answer came without hesitation, steady as always. “Tell me to leave.”
Ethan exhaled, the sound rough. He turned instead. Water streamed between them, catching on the sharp lines of Noah’s collarbones, darkening the waistband of the boxers he hadn’t bothered to remove. Their eyes met. Noah’s were dark, patient, but the hunger in them matched the ache Ethan had been carrying since the last time they’d stolen minutes like this.
“I can’t,” Ethan said.
Noah stepped in under the spray with him. His hand settled at the small of Ethan’s back, palm wide and sure, fingers spreading over wet skin. The touch was claiming without force, and Ethan’s body answered before his mind could argue—hips tilting forward, breath catching as their chests brushed.
Noah’s mouth found the side of his throat, open and slow, teeth grazing just enough to make Ethan’s pulse jump. “Then stay right here.”
Ethan’s hands rose, sliding over Noah’s shoulders, gripping the wet muscle there before one slid higher to cup the back of his neck. He pulled Noah closer, not gentle. Their mouths met in the steam, hot…