Rory was dead weight against Dagen's back. No matter how he moved or shifted, he couldn't seem to buck the other man off. He was like a damn Scottish barnacle. With a grunt, Dagen tore his arm out of the lock Rory had trapped it in and planted his hand on the mat beneath him before pushing up and back with all his strength.

They flipped. Rory's back hit the mat with a whoosh of air even as Dagen landed hard on his chest and dug in his heels, hips thrusting into the air, and digging in with his shoulders on Rory's torso to keep him pinned. Winded or not, Rory was a scrappy fucker and could slither out of a pin like he was coated in lube.

The soreness from the week’s lifting and other activities had Dagen smiling as Rory scrambled to escape. Of course, sore muscles weren't the only reason Dagen was smiling. He'd left Ollie sleeping in his bed this morning, just like every morning for the past week, with a note on the nightstand and breakfast waiting in the kitchen. Almost a full week since he and Ollie had had sex for the first time and he still couldn’t wipe the smile off his face. It had been a crazy day, Saturday usually being the busiest of the week for the gym and tattoo shop, so he hadn't seen much of Ollie since morning other than a quick kiss when he brought him some lunch at noon.

"Get off me, you great oaf!" Rory wheezed with a tap on Dagen's shoulders.

Dagen laughed, then with one last press that elicited a groan from his friend, he hopped to his feet in the middle of the octagonal cage and offered Rory a hand.

"No, no." Rory waved his hand weakly before clasping Dagen's forearm. "Just leave me here to die."

"No can do, brother. You've gotta take a shot."

"Why do I bother with you, eh? How long we been doin' this? And I've pinned you what? Once? Twice?"

Dagen gave him a friendly shove toward the cage door. "Shut up. You pin me at least twice a week."

"Oh. Right." Rory's cocky grin mocked him, and he lunged forward only for the ginger man to dive through the now open door and hop down onto the gym floor. Sneaky bastard.

"I'm next, boys." Kayla's voice rang out from the direction of the wall that divided the gym and the tattoo shop. "Who's it gonna be?" Kayla was basically the sister they'd never had, and she loved to kick their collective asses.

Dagen looked over to see Kayla twisting her mane of raven hair back into a braid. She was dressed in jeans and a tank top—black today—that showed off defined arms and shoulders and some truly impressive ink, but it was the man trailing behind her that had him stumbling on the edge of the cage's platform, barely catching himself from falling flat on his face.

"You sure Rory didn't win that one, brother?" Vidar's voice was low—concern or a warning Dagen wasn't sure or even sure he cared as his eyes tracked right back to Ollie like metal to a magnet.

He looked good with dark jeans covering his long legs, black boots on his feet, and a white t-shirt that looked like it came out of the pack clinging to his lean torso. The mop of dark hair on his head was a mess, and Dagen had a flash of how it had looked spread across his pillow when they'd fucked last night.

He watched Ollie's dark eyes scan over all of them gathered around the cage, from where Vidar and Harbor were leaning up against the platform, much like they did when they were cornering for one of the gym's fighters, Rory pouring that shot he owed on the bench beside them, and finally he lifted those eyes to Dagen's and paused. Dagen's heart seized in his chest until Ollie's lips curled up on the edges.

Hopping off the platform, Dagen stepped toward where Ollie had stopped just shy of the mat surrounding the cage.

"Hey."

Ollie's dark eyes sparkled. "Hey."

He knew he was grinning like a fool, but there wasn't a force on earth that could have stopped him. He wanted to close the distance between them, kiss that gorgeous mouth, but held himself back. While they’d spent every night of the past week together they hadn't talked at all about what it meant, and Dagen was notorious for getting ahead of himself. So, he turned to stand beside Ollie and watch the others decide who was next in the cage.

"Paper, rock, scissors you for it," Dagen heard Harbor say to Vidar.

They both glanced over to where his brothers were dueling it out to see who would step into the cage with Kayla, but Dagen couldn't keep his eyes from sliding back to Ollie. To his surprise, he found the other man gazing back at him.

"The honor is all yours, brother." Vidar's words broke their stare and Dagen caught the sight of Harbor hanging his head before sweeping a laughing Kayla into a fireman's carry and hauling her into the cage.

"So." Ollie was watching wide-eyed as Harbor and Kayla squared off, then grasped each other's heads and shoulders in a clench. "What's going on here?"

Rory chose that moment to saunter over, shot glass in hand. "It's old school wrestling rules, with a twist. You get pinned, you take a shot." He upended the glass, swallowing the clear liquid—vodka being the chosen alcohol for the day—in one go. "This right bastard," he shoved at Dagen, "got one over on me tonight."

"I'm pretty sure I owed you," Dagen retorted, watching Ollie watch the cage.

Rory scoffed. "There's no use keeping score, mate." He slung a loose arm around Ollie's shoulders and Dagen jolted with how much he didn't like it. Which was ridiculous, everyone in this room, save Ollie maybe, knew where Rory's heart resided. "What do you say, Ollie? Want to have a go?"

Ollie gave a little chuckle and shook his head. "Nah, I think I'm good right here."

Rory shrugged. "Suit yourself." He dropped the arm from Ollie's shoulder as a shout went up in the cage. Kayla was standing with her arms lifted in victory over Harbor flat on his back in the middle of the cage.

"Holy shit," Ollie laughed. "Remind me not to piss her off."

"If you just now figured out that you shouldn't piss Kayla off, you haven't been paying attention." Dagen grinned and nearly wrapped his arm where Rory's had been before reeling himself back in. "You want a drink?"

"Um, maybe something other than alcohol." Ollie had decided he was swearing off alcohol until the memory of that last epic hangover stopped haunting him.

"Come on. There's some water and stuff in the fridge in the back." Dagen touched Ollie's arm, indicating for Ollie to follow him to the small back room situated between the two locker rooms off to one side of the gym.

"You're fooling no one, you two!" Rory called out behind them. Dagen lifted his hand with his middle finger extended and a roar of laughter went up before Rory was calling for another round of shots. Obviously, his epic hangover hadn’t slowed him down at all.

He opened the door to the back room, which was little more than a large storage closet with a refrigerator and cleaning supplies and stepped aside to let Ollie through. "Don't pay any attention to him. Even just a drop of alcohol ignites the crazy, and he just can't help himself."

Ollie's cheeks were a rosy shade of pink, but he nodded, then pushed the door shut and leaned up to press his lips to Dagen's. "Should I still ignore him even when he's right?" he asked, pulling back with a smirk.

"Oh, thank god," Dagen breathed, charging forward to claim Ollie's lips and push him back against the closed door.

Ollie opened his mouth and greedily sucked on Dagen's tongue as soon as he thrust it inside. He swallowed Dagen's moan and chased his lips when the big man retreated enough to look him in the eye.

"We probably shouldn't go too far in here. Rory will be beating on the door if we're gone more than five minutes."

Grinning, Ollie kissed him again, but didn't push further. He couldn't believe how good this felt. Couldn't believe he was letting himself feel it to begin with. The protests in his head met a deaf ear, just as they had every night that week, as he met Dagen's eyes.

Ollie had been blind before. Blind to lies and manipulation, to things he'd never even considered. He knew he needed to be careful, yet he found himself struggling to put up any kind of resistance. He barely knew Dagen but knew it would be too easy to fall for him.

He liked that Dagen had given him some space over the last few days even with the morning notes and meals he'd left for Ollie. The shop had been hopping all week, and it had been good to work, to have his mind occupied solely on his art, even if he found himself smiling in the quiet moments of the day as he remembered the events of the night before. They’d been keeping it light and keeping touches and kisses behind closed doors. Looking at Dagen now, a thought occurred to him. "Are you out with everyone?"

Dagen kissed him again. "With my family, yes. With everyone else?" He shrugged. "I don't hide, but I'm not skywriting it either. I haven't really had reason to and I've been so focused on recovery and training that everything else just went on the back burner."

"And your family doesn't care?"

"Not at all."

Ollie couldn't help the little jolt of envy that went through him, but he smiled. "That's great."

Leaning in close again, Dagen laid kisses from his lips, across his cheek, and back to his ear. "Will you tell me about it someday?"

Ollie turned his head until he could meet Dagen's eyes. He didn't know what to do with the openness he saw there. Looking down, he fiddled with the edge of Dagen's tank top. "There's not much to tell. The kids at school figured it out before I did. Normal name-calling and bullying stuff. It got back to my parents. I didn't deny it when my mom asked me. Time went on and I thought everything was fine." Ollie swallowed.

Dagen’s hands slid under the back of his shirt, not seeking or pushing, just holding and warming Ollie through with the solid strength of them.

"On my eighteenth birthday, my dad met me at the door after school." The familiar numbness started to spread from Ollie's chest into his limbs. "He handed me a bag filled with some of my things and two hundred bucks. Told me he'd done his duty and now I was on my own. He said, 'Don't ever come back here, faggot', then slammed the door in my face."

Dagen was speechless. He couldn't imagine being turned away from the only home he'd ever known. Couldn't imagine his mother saying or doing something so awful. Tears stung the backs of his eyes even as Ollie wouldn't meet them.

Gently, he pulled Ollie against him. He was pliant, complacent, which Dagen found he didn't like at all, but as he tucked Ollie under his chin and wrapped him up, it was only moments before Ollie's hands gripped the back of his shirt.

A shuddery breath swept across his collarbone before Ollie continued. "I must have stood there for five minutes before I realized it was really happening. I mean, I know I shouldn't complain... it was five-star treatment compared to what so many kids go through, but—"

"Don't you ever think that. Other people's experiences don't invalidate your own."

Ollie nodded against him. "I haven't seen him or my mom since."

"I'm sorry that happened to you." Dagen pressed a kiss against Ollie's head. Ollie squeezed him around the middle before he pulled back.

"I bet this isn't what Rory thought we were going to be doing in here."

"Definitely not and he wouldn't believe us even if we told him."

Ollie smiled. It was small, but it warmed Dagen to see it all the same. "I can't believe I haven't even been here a month. It feels like it's been so much longer."

"I know what you mean." Dagen leaned forward to kiss him again, and just as Ollie pressed his tongue to Dagen's, a hard thump on the door caused them both to jump.

Dagen shifted, not letting go of Ollie, and opened the door, ready to tell Rory to fuck off. Except it wasn't Rory. Harbor's ice-blue eyes glanced at Dagen before settling on Ollie.

"There's someone here saying he needs to see you."