All Chapters of Fluid: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

Lilly hesitated as she stepped into the dimly lit back room of Fluid. The air felt heavier here, carrying a faint tang of alcohol mixed with the metallic scent of old paint. Quill's boots clicked softly against the scuffed floor as he locked the door behind them. She cast him a sidelong glance, suspicion creeping in like an itch she couldn't scratch. Across the room, Hawk leaned against the wall, his arms crossed tight over his chest. Even in the shadows, the set of his jaw screamed tension."Well? What's the big reveal?"Quill shifted his weight. He exchanged a look with Hawk before taking a sharp breath. "We're werewolves."Lilly blinked once. Then twice. Finally, she snorted."Werewolves?" She smirked. "Good one. So what's the real secret?"Hawk groaned. "He's not joking."She stopped moving, and the smile slowly disappeared. She quickly looked back and forth between them. "You're serious."Quill nodded. "Dead serious."Hawk rolled his shoulders. "Alpha males, if you want the full

The office felt stifling as Quill and Hawk focused on the grainy security feed. The static shimmered faintly, but it didn't obscure the image of their fathers marching toward the gallery entrance like they were the ones who owned the place. Quill leaned closer."They're here," he muttered, tightening his grip on the edge of the desk.Hawk stood motionless behind Lilly's chair, his eyes locked on the screen. "I told you they'd show. Even if they were fighting, I knew they would show."Quill rubbed his temple, exhaling sharply. "I can't believe they are acting like we wouldn't know they did any of this. Really? Do they really think we are that naive?" Hawk rolled his eyes and leaned against Quill. "No, they think they scared us enough it wouldn't come up. That we wouldn't dare go near something like this." Quill leaned back against him and allowed the contact to calm them both for a second. "Or each other." Lilly leaned casually against the filing cabinet nearby, watching the screen

The paint dried in uneven streaks beneath them, vivid smears marking every chaotic movement from moments before. Hawk lay on his back, one hand resting in the mess of colors, while Quill stretched out beside him, quieter now. The tarp clung to their skin, the air carrying the faint scent of paint and sweat.Quill shifted closer, his breath warm against Hawk's chest. "Do you think they regret it? Any of it?"Hawk traced an absent-minded line through a smear of blue paint on the tarp. "No. People like them don't regret things. They double down."Quill stayed quiet. "I hate that it still gets to me. It feels like they win every time I care.""They don't win. You still made them face it. That's a kind of victory."Quill brushed his hand lightly through the mess between them. "I don't feel victorious. I feel… emptied out.""That's good." Hawk sat up. "Now there's room for something else."Quill let that settle. He didn't move for a while, simply breathing and listening to Hawk's heartbeat

The music started low and pulsing, its rhythm threading through the room, commanding attention. The white sheet stretched over the bed glowed faintly under the lights, creating a soft, otherworldly stage. Their bodies beneath the fabric became mere impressions, turning every movement into an artful tease. The fabric glided over the others perfectly, like water running over a smooth surface. Quill moved first, his body pressing against the sheet with quiet confidence. Each shift was deliberate, every motion purposeful, as though the music itself flowed through him. He felt it immediately. He was meant for something like this. Meant to express himself in as many creative ways as possible. His father be damned. This was what made him feel alive. This was living his art. And he was lucky enough to be living it with the guy he loved.Hawk followed, slower at first, his hesitance visible in the sharpness of his outline. The tentativeness was perfect for the scene and brought the crowd clo

Sunlight spilled into the room, catching on the edges of the sheets tangled from the night before. The warm aroma of coffee mingled with the faint hum of morning life. Hawk shifted in the bed as Quill placed a steaming mug on the nightstand. He stretched slowly before pulling the mug closer, savoring its inviting heat. Across the room, Quill moved with uncontainable energy.Bare feet tapped against the floor, moving with a sense of purpose that seemed to escalate by the second. Drawers opened and cabinets closed in rhythm, filling the small apartment with a gentle chaos. A half-folded blanket was tossed over the arm of the couch, quickly abandoned in favor of a stack of papers needing attention. Quill’s shirt, half-tucked into sweatpants, betrayed the impatience driving him from task to task.Hawk leaned back against the headboard, the cup in hand barely touched. He observed Quill darting between chores, his movements light and full of energy.“What’s gotten into you?” Hawk asked.Qui