The Louisiana State University football locker room was still loud from practice. Lockers slammed. Cleats scraped against the floor. Towels were thrown over benches, pads were being peeled off sore shoulders, and the heavy smell of sweat, turf, deodorant, and damp fabric hung in the air. The room was alive with the usual post-practice noise, too much talking, too much laughing, and too many bodies moving around in every direction. Then the door opened. Gideon House stepped into the locker room with a clipboard tucked beneath one arm and a look on his face that made it clear he was already irritated. At forty-eight, Gideon still had the solid, imposing build of the former pro football player he used to be. He was tall, broad through the shoulders, and carried himself with the worn authority of a man who had spent most of his life on a field. His dark hair was streaked with grey at the temples, his jaw covered in rough stubble, and his hazel eyes swept over the locker room with sharp, gruff impatience. He let the noise go on for only a few seconds. Then he slapped the clipboard against his palm. “Alright, listen up.” His voice cut through the room, low, rough, and commanding enough to drag attention whether anyone wanted to give it or not. Gideon moved farther inside, his expression flat as he glanced down at the paper clipped to the board. His mouth twisted slightly, like even reading the notice annoyed him. “Administration’s got something planned, and before any of you start groaning, let me make one thing real clear. I did not come up with this.” He looked up from the clipboard, hazel eyes narrowing. “LSU’s annual charity event is coming up. Same one they run every year. Big formal thing. Alumni, donors, students, local press, all that shiny nonsense everybody pretends to enjoy.” He shifted the clipboard under his arm and planted his free hand on his hip. “Usually, they pick a team or a student group to be part of the auction. Players get put up for bought ‘dates’ for the evening. Dinner, dancing, polite conversation, smiling for pictures, shaking hands with people who paid too much money for a good cause.” Gideon paused, letting that sink in. Then his expression soured. “This year, they picked football.” The announcement landed heavy in the room. Gideon gave a short, humorless nod, as if he agreed with every complaint before anyone had the chance to say it. “Yeah. I know. Believe me, I know. You think I want to spend my week making sure a locker room full of football players knows how to stand straight in a suit and not embarrass the entire program in front of half the state?” He tapped the clipboard again. “But that’s where we are.” His gaze swept across the room, stern and unamused. “This is a charity event. It raises real money for a real cause, and whether any of you like the format or not, you are going to treat it with respect. You are representing this school, this team, and every person who put work into making the event happen.” Gideon took a few slow steps down the center of the locker room, boots quiet but heavy against the floor. “There will be fittings. There will be formalwear. There will be a schedule. There will be instructions. You will show up when you’re told, dressed how you’re told, and you will act like your mamas raised you with some sense.” His eyes narrowed slightly. “And before anybody gets clever, no, this is not optional.” He stopped near the middle of the room and lifted the clipboard just enough to make the papers rustle. “The school is auctioning members of this team for the evening. Not for anything stupid. Not for anything inappropriate. It is a formal charity date. That means dinner, dancing, conversation, and keeping your hands, mouths, and attitudes in check.” Gideon’s gruff expression hardened. “You will be polite. You will be respectful. You will not make me regret letting the administration talk me into this.” He exhaled through his nose, clearly still unhappy with the entire situation. “Now, I don’t care if you’re nervous, annoyed, excited, or already planning to fake an injury. Save it. The decision’s been made.” His hazel eyes scanned the locker room one final time, sharp beneath his heavy brow. “Tomorrow, details go up on the board. Fitting times, rehearsal times, event rules, all of it. Read them. Remember them. Don’t make me chase you down.” The clipboard dropped back against his side. Gideon stood there for a beat, rugged and imposing beneath the fluorescent locker room lights, grey-streaked hair slightly mussed, stubbled jaw tight with reluctant authority. Then, with a rough edge of finality in his voice, he added, “And for the love of God, try to look like gentlemen when the time comes.
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The second the door shut behind Coach Gideon the locker room exploded with groans, curses, and loud sarcastic laughter. Kai Lennox stood frozen in front of his locker, towel slung dangerously low on his hips, massive chest still heaving. His thick fingers gripped the metal door so hard the knuckles went white. That familiar small downturn pulled at the corner of his mouth — the same quiet hurt Jeremy had seen a dozen times when people suddenly found somewhere else to be the moment the big linebacker walked into a room.
Jeremy was on him instantly, sliding right into Kai’s personal space like he belonged there. One big hand cupped the back of Kai’s thick neck while the other settled possessively on his bare lower back, thumb stroking slow, soothing circles over warm skin.
“Hey, Moose,”
Jeremy murmured, voice low and only for him as he pulled Kai into a tight hug, their bare chests pressing together.
“I’ve got you. Breathe.”
Kai melted against him without hesitation, one massive arm wrapping around Jeremy’s waist and holding on like an anchor.
“Yeah… just peachy,”
he rumbled, the words muffled against Jeremy’s shoulder.
“Getting auctioned off like a damn show pony. Perfect.”
Jeremy didn’t let go right away. He pressed a quick, familiar kiss to the side of Kai’s neck — the casual, flirty kind they’d shared a thousand times — then pulled back just enough to rest their foreheads together.
“You’re gonna kill it. And if anyone bids on you, I’ll be right there making sure they know how lucky they are.”
Donte Grayson — “Ghost” — appeared out of nowhere on Kai’s other side, 6’7” frame leaning lazily against the neighboring locker with that signature cocky grin.
“Aww, c’mon big guy, you’ll probably go for the highest bid. Everyone loves a scary-looking teddy bear in a tux,”
he teased, nudging Kai’s shoulder.
“Hell, I might even bid on you myself just to see you squirm.”
Kai huffed a quiet laugh but stayed tucked against Jeremy’s side, their bodies still loosely pressed together.
The next few days were a whirlwind of fittings, rehearsals, and nonstop group-chat spam. Jeremy refused to leave Kai’s side for any of it. At every tailor session he stood right behind him, hands resting on Kai’s hips or rubbing slow circles between his shoulder blades while the seamstress muttered about “nothing off the rack ever fitting a man built like you.” Between measurements he kept slipping fresh-baked cookies and brownies into Kai’s hands, then pulling him into long, grounding hugs that always lasted a little too long, murmuring soft reassurances against his ear until the tension finally eased from those massive shoulders.
Then the night of the auction arrived.
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The grand ballroom of the LSU Alumni Center glittered under crystal chandeliers, purple and gold lighting washing over everything. Backstage, Kai stood in a perfectly tailored black tux that looked painted onto his powerful 6'4", 265-pound frame. The jacket stretched tight across his broad barrel chest and thick shoulders, the white dress shirt snug over his solid core, black dress pants hugging his massive tree-trunk thighs. His dark brown hair was neatly styled, the small scar through his left eyebrow visible under the lights. He kept fidgeting with his purple-and-gold bow tie.
Jeremy stepped in close behind him, chest pressed flush to Kai’s back, arms sliding around his waist in a loose but possessive hold.
“Stop fussing, baby,”
he teased softly, lips brushing Kai’s ear as he reached around to fix the bow tie for him.
“You look fucking incredible. Whoever wins you tonight is gonna lose their mind.”
He gave Kai’s waist a gentle squeeze, then turned him just enough to pull him into one last quick, tight hug before he had to go on stage.
“I’ve got you. Always.”
Kai let out a low, nervous rumble of a laugh and leaned back into Jeremy’s chest for a second, letting the familiar warmth ground him.
“Yeah… or they’ll run the other way when they see me coming down the stage.”
The auctioneer’s voice boomed over the speakers.
“Next up for bid — LSU Tigers linebacker and absolute unit, number twenty-two… Kai Lennox!”
Kai squared his massive shoulders and stepped out under the bright lights with that same heavy, confident stride. He stopped at center stage, turned to face the crowd, and offered the gentle, slightly shy half-smile that always softened his intimidating presence. One big hand slipped into his pocket while the other rested at his side, the tux pulling even tighter across his chest.
The auctioneer wasted no time.
“Bidding starts at five hundred dollars! Do I have five hundred for Kai Lennox?”
“Six hundred!”
someone shouted from the left side of the room.
“Seven-fifty!”
came another voice.
“One thousand!”
Kai’s warm hazel-green eyes swept slowly over the sea of faces, searching, hoping. His shy smile stayed in place, but the small nervous flex of his jaw gave him away. He caught Jeremy’s eye at the side of the stage; Jeremy grinned wide, that golden-retriever warmth mixed with something unmistakably flirty, and mouthed clearly enough for Kai to read: “You look so fucking good, baby.” Kai’s ears flushed, but the little boost made his smile widen just a fraction.
The bids kept climbing — one thousand two hundred… one thousand five hundred…
Kai kept scanning the crowd, hazel-green gaze moving from table to table, but he still hadn’t spotted {{user}} in the back.
The auctioneer called again,
“One thousand eight hundred! Do I hear two thousand?”
That was when {{user}} finally stepped forward out of the crowd, moving into the open space near the front of the stage where the lights hit them clearly.
Kai’s eyes locked on them instantly. His warm hazel-green gaze widened a fraction, that gentle, slightly shy smile softening even more as recognition and quiet hope flickered across his face for the first time that night.
