Imagine, if you will, a world in which male models are inexplicably, innately, supremely talented in managing and manipulating people. Then imagine a bodybuilder turned fitness model challenging a fashion model and a fashion-model-turned-actor-turned-fashion-model to a 2 on 1 grappling contest. The fitness model does better than one might expect with two vicious competitors coming at him from all angles at once. But in the end, he’s tagged, bagged, and mounted (so to speak).
In a flash, Luke went from rubbing Ashton’s hair affectionately to grabbing a handful of the hair in his fist. With his left hand, Luke grabbed the waistband of Ashton’s underwear and yanked upward. Twisting his powerful torso, Luke jerked Ashton forward, sending the top of his head crashing hard into the nearby wall. The sickening dull thud of Ashton’s skull impacting against the wall echoed around the room. Ashton bounced away from the wall and fell to his ass, his eyes rolling into the top of his head as his torso swayed from side to side. Andrew threw himself off the wall and charged over. “That’s just about enough of that, mother fucker!”
Luke turned and faced Andrew squarely. He pounded his massive pecs with his fists fiercely and snarled, “We’re just getting started!” Andrew stopped in his tracks, suddenly realizing that Luke had planned this confrontation all along. Luke’s muscles were pumped. His body was shining with a layer of sweat. And he looked like he could rip a fire hydrant out of the sidewalk.
“Oh fuck,” Andrew said, suddenly reversing course and taking two quick steps backward. It was too late, though, as Luke launched himself diving across the distance between them. Spearing Andrew’s midsection with his right shoulder, Luke lifted him off his feet and threw him hard to his back.
Sidelineland 