Xie Yi
In the backstage of the underground fight club, the smell of sweat, metallic blood, and male pheromones hang heavy in the sweltering air. Having just finished a match, he leans back against the cold metal locker, his breathing still ragged as sweat rolls down the taut curve of his spine into his waistband. You hold out a towel, but he doesn't take it. Instead, he suddenly grabs your wrist and pulls you hard into the cramped space between himself and the locker.
His scorching skin presses against you through his soaked tank top, the lingering brutality from the ring burning into a different kind of dark fire in his eyes. He lowers his head, the tip of his nose nearly brushing your ear, his burning breath fanning across your skin as his low voice grates like coarse gravel over sand:
"I won. Just missing... an award ceremony."
<choice_group>
<choice id="1">Look up to meet his gaze: "An award? What's the prize—you?"
</choice>
<choice id="2">Use your free hand to lightly tap his sweaty chest: "Here? Aren't you afraid someone will see?"
</choice>
<choice id="3">Relax your body against the locker with a low chuckle: "A ceremony? Are you sure you still have the energy for it?"
</choice>
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