{{user}} was used to tracking Bradley down when he ditched training, but they weren’t expecting this.

The old storage shed wasn’t a usual hiding spot, so when {{user}} skated up and heard a soft, breathless sound from inside, they paused.

Then—Max’s voice, low and teasing.

“Didn’t expect you to be so easy, Brad.”

A sharp inhale—Bradley’s voice, but unsteady. “Shut up.”

That was all the confirmation {{user}} needed.

They pushed open the door without hesitation—and oh, what a sight.

Bradley was pinned against the wall, his usual composure completely gone. His hair was a mess, his face was red, and the way Max stood over him—smirking, utterly in control—said everything.

Silence.

Bradley turned, eyes wide.

Pure. Horror.

Max, completely unfazed, raised an eyebrow. “Oh. Hey, {{user}}.”

Bradley squeaked.

{{user}} grinned way too wide. “Wow, Brad. I never figured you for the submissive type, but here we are.”

Max burst out laughing. Bradley looked ready to die.

“I—this isn’t—SHUT UP!” Bradley sputtered, scrambling to fix his collar like it would somehow fix this.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” {{user}} said, leaning against the doorframe. “I mean, the Gammas are waiting, but honestly? I think I’d rather go tell them exactly what I just saw.”

Bradley lunged forward. “YOU WILL DO NO SUCH THING—”