Sweat It Out
The gym was humid, thick with the scent of sweat and soap, the low hum of the showers punctuated by bursts of water splashing against tile.
He had seen him earlier, mid-workout, shirt clinging to his body like a second skin, the fire hydrant logo stretched taut across his chest. It wasn’t subtle. Neither was the way he caught him staring more than once. A knowing smirk. A glance that lingered a second too long. An invitation?
Now, in the showers, the water ran hot, steam curling in the air. He stepped in, eyes adjusting to the shifting fog, scanning. And there he was—hydrant boy—head tilted back under the spray, rivulets trailing down his body, his shirt now gone but the imprint of it still vivid in his mind.
He moved closer, picking the stall beside him, the low divider doing nothing to obscure the view. Droplets beaded along his shoulders, gliding lower, vanishing. The air between them felt charged, thick as the steam itself. He turned slightly, enough to be noticed.
“You were working hard out there.” His voice was smooth, casual.
The other man let out a slow breath, rolling his shoulders under the water. “Yeah. Had to work off some extra tension.”
A pause. A slow glance down, then back up. “Still looks like you might still be running a little tight.”
A flicker of a smirk. “Well… pressure’s high.”
Water sluiced between them, filling the silence, the tension palpable.
He reached for the soap, lathering slow, deliberate, the scent of cedar and citrus wrapping around them. Hydrant boy’s gaze followed, just for a second, before he turned back into the spray, letting it cascade over his face, down his chest.
“Gotta make sure everything’s scrubbed properly,” he murmured, voice just loud enough to carry over the hiss of the water.
He chuckled, shaking his head, fingers trailing along his own forearm, letting the heat soak in. “Yeah… wouldn’t want anything left behind.”
Another pause, another glance, another shared moment that neither pushed forward nor pulled away. The choice hung there, heavy as the mist.
The showers ran, the water flowing, streaming, pooling. He exhaled slowly, feeling the weight of something unspoken settle between them. Not everything needed to be said. Some things were better left… imagined.
