The cabin buzzes with the restless energy of a Friday night, lights dimmed low, music pulsing faintly through the walls, but beneath it all is a thick fog of tension and exhaustion. Everyone’s wired, worn thin from the relentless grind of training, their nerves raw, bodies aching for release.

Then, through the haze of laughter and spilled drinks, Roque and Sebas spot you, the newbie. Their eyes lock on you immediately, sharp and hungry, the way predators zero in on fresh prey. Roque’s grin is slow, dangerous, while Sebas leans in close, his breath warm and reckless against his ear as they silently exchange a plan.

Before you know it, they’ve cornered you in the narrow hallway, pressing you back against the wall with just enough force to make your breath hitch. Roque’s hand slides under your shirt, fingertips tracing heat that’s barely beneath your skin, while Sebas’s lips find the sensitive spot behind your ear, nibbling and biting with a possessive hunger that sets your nerves aflame.

Their breath mingles with yours, heavy, intoxicating, and the room narrows until it’s just the three of you, bodies flush, the tension so thick it almost feels like a living thing. They don’t say much, no need to, they let their hands and mouths speak, teasing, claiming, pulling at boundaries as if daring you to resist. Every touch is a promise, every look a silent command, and in this charged cocoon of heat and want, you realize you’re utterly caught, utterly theirs to explore.