Julian Hale had beautiful feet. They were narrow and streamlined, with elegant arches and round, clean nails. They were spotless, devoid of any scent.

Because he was so thin, his ankles were delicate enough that Samuel Frost could have wrapped a single hand around both.

Samuel didn't just think it; he did it.

He gripped Julian's ankles, running a warm, damp towel over the skin.

Julian went numb. It was too much—the tickling sensation was a slow torture. He had never been cared for like this, not even as a child. He stared at the man's bent head, a frantic thought looping in his mind: This is my foot. Does Samuel not find this repulsive?

Time stretched. Julian endured the agonizing itch of the towel until Samuel finally released him, taking the basin out of the room.

Julian scrambled back into the duvet, his face a violent shade of red. He curled into a ball, his breathing jagged and his skin burning. He looked like someone who had been thoroughly bullied.

When Samuel returned to tuck him in, he found Julian sitting on the edge of the mattress, fully dressed. He was clutching a tie in his hand, which he dropped like a guilty secret the moment Samuel entered.

"Thanks for the ride," Julian said. He kept his eyes fixed on the floor, his words tumbling out in a blur. "I'm going now.".

"Sober now?" Samuel asked.

Julian's skin prickled with the realization that his charade had been seen through. He nodded. "Just woke up. I won't keep you from your rest."

He tried to bolt, but he only made it two steps before Samuel was a wall in the doorway.

Julian felt the air leave his lungs. Panic and embarrassment fought for dominance. He looked up, his face a mask of desperation that practically screamed: Please, just let me go. I can't stay here another second..

Samuel's Adam's apple shifted. He softened his voice, a low vibration in the small space. "Stop avoiding me. Can you do that?"

Julian wanted the door more than he wanted truth. "Fine. Yes."

Samuel watched him, entirely unsatisfied. The answer was too fast, a perfunctory lie to buy freedom. He knew Julian's character—compliant on the surface, but a man who kept his own counsel. A man this disobedient deserved to be....

Samuel took a deep, steadying breath, suppressing the surge in his chest. He stepped aside, clearing the path. He wasn't sure what he would do if Julian stayed a minute longer.

Julian fled.

For a moment, Samuel considered dragging him back, pinning him to the mattress, or simply kicking in Julian's front door next door. He wanted to bind the boy's limbs so he could never run again. Instead, he lay down on the side of the bed where Julian had been.

The boy's scent was a faint trace now, buried under the ghost of alcohol. Samuel inhaled, but it wasn't enough. He was a beast in heat—restless, irritable, ready to strike.

Then, his palm hit something soft.

The navy blue tie. Julian had forgotten it.

Samuel stared at the strip of silk for a long beat. He pulled it to his face, covering his eyes, and took a long, dragging breath. Beneath his tensed muscles was a deep, jagged hunger.

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Three days later, Samuel arrived at Emerald Lake for Ethan's birthday party. It was his first time returning to the luxury complex since he had walked away from the Frost fortune.

Lennox answered the door. From the kitchen, Ethan's voice erupted over the sound of a sizzling pan. "Wifey! Who's at the door?".

Samuel stayed silent. He had known this was a mistake.

Months ago, Ethan had announced his relationship and promptly turned his social media into a public diary. Ten posts a day, every mundane detail shared—he'd even posted a photo of a charred fried egg Lennox had made him. Samuel had muted him long ago to preserve his sanity.

But Ethan was the only one of his friends in a relationship. Samuel had swallowed his pride and brought a gift.

In the open kitchen, Ethan was in a white shirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows as he tossed oil-popped shrimp. "Didn't think you'd make it," he said, looking up.

"I had a gap in my schedule," Samuel said, handing over the gift. "Happy birthday.".

Ethan played at being busy. "Hands are full. Give it to my wifey.".

Samuel passed the gift to Lennox. They weren't close, so Samuel lingered by the stove, watching Ethan cook. Lennox returned a moment later with a glass of water for Samuel.

"Me too," Ethan demanded.

Lennox offered Ethan a frigid look. Samuel expected a refusal, but Lennox poured a second glass. Ethan drained it in one go, looking at Samuel with a smug grin. "Jealous?".

"Where's your dignity?" Samuel asked.

"Dignity is for people without a wifey," Ethan replied, shamelessly unprincipled.

Samuel looked at the ethereal, long-haired Lennox, then back at his loud-mouthed, tasteless childhood friend. The phrase 'pearls before swine' came to mind.

"How did you get him?" Samuel asked.

"Chase him?" Ethan scoffed, chest puffing out. "I'm handsome, suave, and a legend in bed. My wifey chased me. See that? I give him a look, and he pours the water."

Samuel went quiet, already regretting the trip.

"Why the questions?" Ethan pushed. "Pursuing someone?"

"Who said that?"

"Keep pretending," Ethan laughed. "I heard you came out to the old man. Walked away with nothing."

Samuel gave him one more chance. "I have a friend. He likes someone, but the person is avoiding him. Do you have advice?"

"That friend is you," Ethan stated flatly.

Lennox appeared with a fresh cup of tea. "You're pursuing Julian?"

Samuel didn't answer.

"You aren't together yet?" Lennox asked.

Samuel remained silent.

"Right," Ethan added. "It's been almost a year since that night at the club, hasn't it?"

Samuel's expression went cold. "First, nothing happened that night. Second, I wasn't going to take advantage of him while he was vulnerable. It was unethical."

Ethan rolled his eyes. "Ethics in romance? You'll find out how useful ethics is when your wifey runs off."

Samuel didn't rise to the bait, so Ethan continued. "So what's the holdup? Don't tell me he actually ran."

Samuel let the silence hang for a few seconds. "He likes someone else."

"So?" Ethan was incredulous. "You're just going to let him? Are you a man or not? You should have made your move."

"He avoids me," Samuel said.

"Because you're letting him!" Ethan countered. "You gave up your inheritance for him. Tell him. Guilt him. Make him cry."

"No." Samuel's tone was severe. "I won't put that pressure on him."

Ethan laughed, a sharp, irritated sound. "Fine. You're noble. You're a saint. Stop trying, then. Just hand him over to the other guy."

"I was never 'trying' to begin with," Samuel said.

"Then why the hell are you asking?"

"A pursuit is meaningless," Samuel explained, his logic clinical. "I want him to love me of his own volition. Love only has value if it originates from his heart, not through pursuit, gratitude, or coercion."

"Keep lying to yourself," Ethan sneered. "When he's gone, you'll realize dignity and 'sincerity' are bullshit. Keeping the person is all that matters. If you can't have his heart, at least have his body..."

"I agree with him," Lennox said.

Ethan's tail went up. "See? Wifey knows I'm right."

"I was talking to Samuel," Lennox corrected.

Ethan went silent.

Samuel realized he had come to the wrong place for help. Both Lennox and Samuel were too proud, too idealistic to stoop to Ethan's level.

"I'm telling you," Ethan called out as Samuel turned to leave. "You're too much of a gentleman. It looks fake. If you're a man, get in there. Masculine competition, Samuel. You worked for those muscles—strip down and show him. Show him the testosterone. If you're too scared for that, then just get out of the way."

Samuel looked at Lennox. Lennox offered two words of advice: "Seduce him."