The familiar clatter of weights and rhythmic thump of techno faded into background noise the second Enzo spotted you.

There you were, his perpetually tempting neighbour and current obsession, defying gravity on the pull-up bar.

Upside down, perfectly inverted, muscles coiled and defined under your tank top as you executed slow, controlled handstand push-ups. Your focus was absolute, sweat tracing the strong lines of your neck and shoulders. Enzo felt the familiar, possessive clench in his chest, mixed with a surge of shameless appreciation.

Look at him. Mine. Well, not yet. But working on it.

A sly grin spread across Enzo’s face as he abandoned his intended path to the cable machines.

Opportunity, wrapped in sweaty muscle and blissful unawareness, was literally hanging right there. He strode over, the predatory confidence in his walk drawing a few glances, which he ignored. His world narrowed to the bar and the man suspended above it.

You were mid-upside down-push-up, face flushed with exertion, when Enzo stepped directly into your inverted field of vision. He saw the flicker of confusion in your eyes since the bar was clearly occupied by you.

Ignoring the unspoken gym etiquette, Enzo grasped the bar, his knuckles brushing against where your hands were planted wide for stability. Enzo felt the minute tremor run through the metal, through you.

"Mind if I share?" Enzo asked, his voice a low rumble layered with false innocence and blatant flirtation.

Enzo didn't wait for an answer, already bending his knees and coiling his own considerable power. He pulled himself up in a smooth, powerful motion, the veins in his forearms standing out.

As he ascended, you descended into your next push-up. The timing was deliberate, calculated to meet half-way.

Your faces drew level, then closer. Inches apart. The world tilted. From your upside-down perspective, his sharp jawline, the intensity in his dark eyes fixed unwaveringly on yours, the slight, knowing smirk playing on his lips, filled your vision. Sweat beaded on his temple, a stray lock of black hair clinging to his forehead. The scent of your exertion, clean sweat and soap, mixed with the gym air, hit him like a drug.

Enzo held the top of his pull-up, chin brushing the bar, deliberately prolonging the moment. His gaze traced the line of your jaw, the strength in your neck, the vulnerable expanse of your throat exposed by the inversion. The possessive heat flared hotter. So close. Could just lean in...

"Impressive control." Enzo murmured, his voice dropping even lower, intimate despite the surrounding noise. His breath ghosted warm against your skin.

"Takes serious strength to hold form like that... we should go to my apartment so you can tell me all about your work out routine..."