The first serious snow of the season fell around these parts this morning. Personally, I love it. I love it cold. I love it snowy. What better context to warm up with a smoldering hot homoerotic wrestling match centered passionately on the topic of fur.

The topic of chest hair came up right in the middle of my match with Drake Marcos a couple of years ago. I think he was cracking one of my ribs with those fucking nasty scissors of his when suddenly he stroked my chest hair and made some comment about him having more. If I wasn’t sucking on a giant pain lollipop right then, I’d have shrugged. I’m pretty agnostic when it comes to most grooming choices. Shaved smooth or Grizzly Adams have an equal chance of turning me on. But I got the impression that Drake may have a little more of his ego strength wrapped up in the coverage of his chest hair. Like Samson, Drake seems to peg his power and virility on having the thickest coat of fur on when he’s stripped down and wrestling.

I was reminded of that moment in the ring with Drake as I watched him dig his meat hooks into tasty little bon bon newbie, Nino Leone. Baby Boy Leone is just a little bit ridiculously cute. He’s petite. Thin even. But in that whittled down to raw muscle way. Drake repeatedly taunts him with disparaging comparisons to being a boybander from One Direction. I can see the Zayn Malik implication easily in Baby Boy. That adorable haircut must have cost him triple digits. It’s precise. It’s got boyband volume and height. It’s screaming out to get him dragged across the mat by it (don’t worry, Drake’s got that covered). And though little Nino may look like some adolescent girl’s wet dream, Baby Boy’s got luxurious, sexy, sexy, sexy ass body hair.

So as Sexy Showdown 7 opens, and Drake sidles up behind little Nino while the newbie is stretching out on the mat, I for one am not a bit surprised to see the Cheshire Cat immediately reach over Baby Boy’s shoulder and start rubbing his fingers through that thick, rookie chest hair. “I wasn’t sure they let One Direction boys have chest hair,” he quips, pulling out clippers and clarifying that the loser of this match is going to walk out of here with a chest as smooth as a baby’s bottom.

You know how much I’m always wanting to see adorable Drake redeem himself from getting his ass handed to him time after time (after time [after time]). And he’s got some extra fire as he tears into Baby Boy. He’s also got an extra 25 pounds and several years more BG East wrestling experience. So there’s something deep down satisfying about watching the notorious don’t-call-me-a-jobber jobber work up a hot head of steam on little Nino. There’s a strong upperclassman hazing vibe, with Nino’s baby face and the thick head of hair waiting to get yanked hard facing down big, imposing, bad ass Dra….  (oh, fuck, I just couldn’t finish that sentence with a straight face. Sorry.)

Anyhow, imagine my lack of surprise when Baby Boy turns out to be quite a bit more than a handful for the Cheshire Cat to try to handle. He’s fucking strong! And mean!! And slippery!!! I mean, Drake fucking bullies him nice and sweet (seriously, no kidding). There’s this super hot, soul sucking bearhug early going, with Drake lifting little Nino way, way up off his feet. He milks it like a farmer and then slams Baby Boy to his back with authority. I’m surprised the newbie can breathe, much less fight back as the upperclassman climbs onto a schoolboy pin and ominously picks up those clippers. But then Nino starts bucking and squirming and sliding out from underneath. How can a man with that much hair be so goddamned slippery!?

It’s pissing Drake off, and I’m starting to get the whiff of the possibility of yet another humiliating Drake Marcos defeat. “It’s time for you to quiet down, BOY!” Drake snarls furiously, struggling to seal the deal. Drake is on him, cranking on a side headlock like he’s trying to unscrew the stubborn top off of a ketchup bottle.  Suddenly, he slams little Nino’s head into the mat hard. You can practically hear Nino’s adolescent fans screaming in protest. And again, and again Drake pounds newbie’s head into the mat viciously. Honestly, I’m thinking he’s going to actually knock Nino the fuck out cold. But with a sudden burst of focus, Baby Boy pops his head free and clamps onto Drake’s back in a really, really lovely full nelson. “You know what your problem is?” Nino asks. “You just can’t keep control.” Oh, fuck, he didn’t just taunt the bigger upperclassman with unsolicited wrestling advice?!

Despite Drake’s increasing frustration level and Baby Boy’s knack for thwarting the Cheshire Cat’s offense, this sexy showdown starts hurtling down hill. You know where this is heading, because Drake’s just too big, too hungry, too driven by the terror of facing the Boss after fucking up and losing to a petite little Zayn Malik wannabe. I can’t remember ever seeing Drake use those long, sexy legs of his to lock down chicken wings before, but he executes it perfectly on the shocked newbie. Little Nino literally whimpers in agony, his shoulders getting ripped out of their sockets. Baby Boy is looking ripe for the picking, and damn it all if it isn’t doormat Drake stepping up for the harvest!

The singlets come off, thank the homoerotic wrestling gods. This action is just way, way too intimate to keep these boys’ bodies separated by that much fabric. Check out Baby Boy’s gorgeous fuzzy ass cheeks. Be forewarned that anybody who tries to drop a comment about hairy asses not being sexy will have their comments deleted posthaste, because although I’m all for a diversity of tastes, I just want to sit back and marvel at little Nino’s magnificent, bare ass in peace. Don’t change a fucking thing, Nino. You are perfect just the way you are.

Well, except for Drake’s determination to shave your chest. Little Nino is buried under a crowing, gloating upperclassman when they’re both down to jockstraps. Baby Boy can do nothing but obey his instincts and suck on Drake’s cock through the jock strap pouch shoved into his mouth in that schoolboy pin. “Oh, yeah, you’re my little bitch tonight,” Drake coos in unfamiliar territory. “Yeah!” Nino gasps affirmatively, apparently not so bummed at taking a debut loss. The kissing is soooo sexy. I’m so into them being so into each other.

Suddenly, Drake wraps his arm across Baby Boy’s throat and starts choking him out. “I’m going to hear another submission out of you,” Drake growls. “After all, I do own you.” Nino is squashed like a bug. He’s hopeless. He’s helpless. And he’s going nowhere. “So let me hear it, you little bitch, you fucking boyband wannabe!” Nino can read the writing on the wall. Drake Marcos just tagged and bagged a newbie. “I… I submit, Drake Marcos,” Nino gasps sincerely and totally submitting. “My hair belongs to you.” He repeats himself a couple of times, living into this moment of being owned his first time out of the gate.

So “winning” is always a slippery topic in homoerotic wrestling. For example, Drake Marcos “wins.” He scores the most falls. He forcibly wrenches the most debased, dominated, humiliated bitch submission out of the newbie that I’ve heard in a long time. It’s climactic and and beautiful. It’s over. Until, mid-making out, lost in the celebration, Drake finds himself shocked to discover he’s just been slipped into an ass smothering figure 4.

SMH. Drake, Drake, Drake. OMG, WTF? It’s Baby Boy who pulls out the clippers and meticulously, almost lovingly grooms his unconscious opponent to a silky smooth finish. “Victorious” Drake is slapped awake and forced to face his final humiliation, staring down at his naked chest.

I walk away with a few lessons learned from Sexy Showdown 7. First, Baby Boy Leone isn’t as innocent and in over his head as he first appeared. That lush, Mediterranean landscape and doe eyed beauty have got their eye on the prize, and I predict there are some big boys at BG East who are going to get pushed hard by little Nino. Second, Drake is just a little intoxicating to watch bullying the pledge. I mean, he’s always fun to watch, but there are moments when he leans back and smacks the living shit out of little Nino’s baby face that make my toes curl.

And third, although I have no idea if Drake will ever just plain ride to an actual, uncontested victory, and even though I wouldn’t even hazard to guess if we’ll ever really see Drake unleashed, I do know one thing. Right then and there, at the end of Sexy Showdown 7, both Nino and I have a lot more chest hair than he does.