**Chapter 1 – New Blood**

Jamie adjusted his mouthguard for the hundredth time, staring at the scuffed gray mats as if they held the secrets to all his anxieties. The hum of fluorescent lights overhead and the scent of sweat‑rubber were comforting constants. Here, movement meant purpose. Here, every grip and shift had intent.

“Alright, let’s pair off!” Coach’s voice cut through the quiet. Jamie glanced up, scanning the wall of mirrors. Half the gym was already matched; only two spots remained. He moved, muscles humming with anticipation, to the last open corner—and froze.

The other contender was tall, lean‑muscled, with dark hair plastered to the back of his head and eyes that measured the room like a hawk. Jamie felt a nudge of something new under his ribs: curiosity.

“Jamie, meet Adrian,” Coach said, voice low. “He just transferred from Riverside.”

Adrian offered a small nod. “Good to meet you.”

Jamie could only manage, “Likewise.” His heart thudded as they bowed—and then the bell rang, and everything narrowed to bodies and breathing and the satisfying burn of his lats.

Adrian moved with startling smoothness. His base was solid, his hips a blur when he shot for double legs. Jamie sprawled, twisted, managed a grip on that gray rash guard—until Adrian shifted to side control, chest pressing into his sternum. The pressure was intoxicating.

Jamie fought back, bridging, shrimping, but Adrian’s grip settled into a classic triangle setup. When Jamie tapped—first in surprise, then in slight frustration—he jerked his head up and caught Adrian’s steady gaze. No smirk. Just that calm intensity.

Breathing hard, Jamie pushed himself up. “Nice triangle.”

“Thanks,” Adrian said, rolling to release. “You’ve got good defense. You just need to trust your instincts more.”

Jamie wanted to ask what instincts he meant, but Coach clapped them both on the shoulder. “Good first roll.”

Back in the locker room, Jamie rinsed his face under the cold hose. His pulse still raced—not from the choke, but from something deeper. He dried off and tucked his rash guard into his gym bag, not noticing the way Adrian lingered by the door, watching.

**Chapter 2 – Guard Passing**

By midweek, Jamie realized his thoughts were orbiting around Adrian. He found himself watching that lithe squat‑stand stance, replaying how those strong hands had controlled his hips. Every morning, he woke with knots of anticipation for class.

During warm‑ups, Adrian fell into step beside him. “You’re quiet today,” he said, stretching one leg on the wall.

“Just focused,” Jamie lied, rolling his shoulders.

Adrian grinned. “Right. Focused.”

They rolled early tonight—Jamie volunteered. He took Adrian’s guard, pressed into the chest, and tried the pass they’d drilled. His knee slid across the thigh, then locked into side control. Heat rushed through him. But Adrian didn’t fight it; instead, he guided Jamie’s shoulders down, tightening his grip on the waist. Jamie froze, half‑in surprise, half‑thrill.

When they finally sat against the wall to catch their breath, Adrian looked over. “You’re a natural.”

Jamie swallowed. “I’ve been doing this a while.”

“Clearly,” Adrian replied. “You just… hold back.”

The words stung. Before Jamie could respond, Coach called them to partner up for the final drill. As they moved, Jamie forced himself to push harder—explode more. He ended in mount for the first time, chest heavy on Adrian’s sternum. Something in Adrian’s soft exhale told him he’d done well.

After class, they headed to the taco stand down the street. The neon sign buzzed, the smell of grilled carne asada calling. They ordered two chicken tacos and a couple of beers.

With the first bite, Jamie relaxed. “So, why BJJ?”

Adrian glanced at him over his beer. The golden liquid caught the streetlight. “It’s honest. You know exactly who you are by how you roll. No hiding.”

Jamie thought of the walls he’d erected—after high‑school locker‑room jokes, after stares at gay bars. He nodded. “I get that.”

Adrian reached across the table, brushing his knuckles against Jamie’s. Warm. Intentional. “Then stop holding back.”

Jamie’s pulse fluttered. He let his hand rest against Adrian’s for a moment—longer than necessary—before pulling away. “I’ll… try.”

**Chapter 3 – Outside the Ring**

Saturday morning, the coffee shop was nearly empty. Jamie perched at the corner table, laptop open, sipping a latte that had gone cold. He looked up at the door—and there stood Adrian, drenched in the drizzle, shaking out his gi pants.

“Hope I’m not late,” Adrian said, shedding his layers.

“Perfect timing,” Jamie lied, closing his laptop. “I was just about to order another.”

They moved to the counter together. Adrian chatted easily with the barista, while Jamie studied him—how his jaw tensed when he focused, how his hands gestured even when he spoke softly.

Back at the table, coffee and avocado toast between them, Adrian leaned forward. “What do you want out of all this? Comp wins? A black belt?”

Jamie drummed his fingers on the wood. “Honestly? Somewhere I can be myself. And maybe—find someone who gets it.”

Adrian’s gaze softened. “Me too.” He paused. “Not just the BJJ part. All of it.”

Jamie’s chest tightened. He stared into his coffee cup. “I didn’t think you’d want… more.”

Adrian pushed his toast aside and slid a hand over Jamie’s. “I want more.” The words were soft but sure, carrying the weight of someone who’d made a choice.

No one else was there. Just the hum of espresso machines. Jamie swallowed. “I—okay.”

They laughed, a little breathlessly, and Jamie realized he hadn’t felt this easy with anyone in a long time.

**Chapter 4 – The First Sweep**

Monday’s open mat was buzzing with tournament talk. Jamie had agreed—reluctantly—to sign up for the upcoming local comp. He’d cut two pounds overnight to make weight, and every time he looked at himself in the mirror, he saw jittery nerves.

Adrian found him in the corner, taping his fingers. “You good?”

Jamie shrugged and met his eyes. “I’m terrified.”

Adrian knelt beside him, picking up a spare roll of tape. “Good. Means you care. Now focus on technique, not outcome.”

They drilled guard pass after guard pass. Adrian’s hands guided Jamie’s elbows, whispered reminders: “Chest down. Pressure. Walk around.” They moved as one—breathing, pivoting, flowing.

At the end, Coach called, “Alright, final sequence: no pulling punches.” Jamie squared up to Adrian for their last roll. He shot for a single leg, transitioned to a knee cut—and before he knew it, he’d passed. Side control. Mount. The world tilted. Adrian tapped, and Jamie froze at the sound.

“Didn’t know you had that in you,” Adrian murmured, voice low.

Jamie’s heart hammered. “Neither did I.”

They sat on the mat, foreheads resting together, breaths mingled. No one else existed. Jamie let his guard down. For the first time, he believed he could push—on the mat and off it.

**Chapter 5 – Tap‑Out Tango**

Tournament day arrived with a dry spring sun and a knot of dread in Jamie’s stomach. The gym had converted its conference room into a makeshift competition space: folding mats, plastic chairs, a small crowd of teammates and parents.

Jamie’s first match was against a bulky, eager white belt. He felt Adrian’s presence at ringside, shouting, “Control the grips, Jamie! Watch the laces!”

The whistle blew. Jamie moved with practiced calm, snapping to a takedown, sinking into side control, and sliding through to back control. Before long, he secured a rear‑naked choke. The tap came quick, and relief and triumph surged through him.

Between matches, he found Adrian leaning against the wall, a towel draped around his neck. Jamie jogged over, still breathing hard.

“You were amazing,” Adrian said, eyes bright.

Jamie let himself smile. “Couldn’t have done it without your corner coaching.”

They celebrated with two cold beers in the parking lot afterward. The sun was dipping west, painting the lot gold. Adrian handed Jamie his bottle with a grin. “To first victories.”

Jamie tipped his up. “To many more.”

They clinked bottles—and when Adrian drew him close for a lingering hug, Jamie let himself melt into the warmth. He inhaled Adrian’s scent: soap, grass sweat, something uniquely him. For the first time off the mats, Jamie didn’t pull away.

The evening air crackled between them with promise. Jamie knew this was only the very beginning.