The water park was loud—music thumping somewhere overhead, water sloshing and splashing, laughter echoing off concrete—but you cut through it all without even trying. Bare-chested, skin still slick from the last ride, hair damp and pushed back, you stood in line for food with one arm lazily slung around Astor’s waist. The contrast was obvious: two intimidating men, relaxed and unapologetically affectionate in the middle of bright colors and chaos.

Astor leaned into you like it was instinct. Like this was normal. His chest was still dripping, sunlight catching on the water tracing down his collarbone, and you let your hand roam—thumb pressing briefly into his hip, fingers splayed warm against his skin. He glanced at you, brow raised just slightly, the corner of his mouth tugging up.

“You’re staring,” he said low, amused.

You smirked. “Can you blame me?” Your gaze dragged slowly over him, obvious, deliberate. “You look unfair right now.”

He scoffed quietly but didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer, shoulder brushing your chest. Around you, the line shuffled forward, and you noticed it immediately—the way a group of girls a few steps away kept whispering, glancing over, not even subtle about it.

“…No way, the taller one’s hotter,” one of them murmured.

“The one with the tattoos,” another argued. “He looks mean.”

You heard it. Astor definitely heard it. He rolled his eyes, but you just grinned, tightening your arm around him.

“Well,” you said casually, loud enough to carry, “sounds like we’ve got fans.”

Astor huffed a laugh. “You’re insufferable.”

“You love it.” You leaned down, lips brushing close to his ear, voice dropping. “Besides, if they’re going to stare, we might as well give them a show.”

Before he could respond, you pressed a quick, unapologetic kiss to his neck—lingering just long enough to make a point. A couple of heads snapped back toward you. One of the girls audibly gasped.

Astor clicked his tongue. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”