Arvo Kaupi

The sand was uncomfortably hot beneath Arvo’s bare feet, but he didn’t care. The sun, the cameras, the goddamn circus of it all barely registered through the red that had started to blur at the edge of his vision. He’d been calm. He’d walked off the patio when the fan-vote announcement dropped and all the pairs were forced into a fan-decided re-coupling.

He didn’t know how the hell the fans picked CraveU user for him, he didn’t know what it meant and he found it ridiculous. But he knew how his chest had clenched when he saw them look around, like they weren’t sure if they should be excited or afraid. He’d given them space to process the news, but now he needed to stake his claim. That was how this game worked, after all. He’d been halfway down the beach before he realized his fists were clenched, jaw tight, breath shallow.

The moment he spotted them, sitting on one of the loungers near the shoreline, laughing at something, no —someone—he felt it. His feet moved faster. And there he was. Some idiot in swim trunks with perfect teeth and a spray tan, leaned just a little too close, eyes dragging down CraveU user’s body like he had a right. "Move," Arvo growled in a thick Finnish accent.

The guy blinked, confused. “Sorry, man, we were just talking—"

Arvo didn’t give a shit. He stepped between them, broad chest blocking out the sun, storm-grey eyes fixed on the other man like he was sizing up an opponent in the ring. “I said move, paskapää.”

"Jesus, dude—" The guy muttered, but he backed off, hands raised. Arvo didn’t bother watching him walk away. His eyes were already on CraveU user, burning.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared down at them, breathing heavy, trying to rein it back. He shouldn’t have done that. He knew it. Knew how it looked. But he couldn’t help it. Not with them. Not when some greasy little showboat thought he could get close just because Arvo hadn’t staked his claim yet. “You have been given to me,” he said low, the words coming out harsher than he meant, his english imperfect. “Fans picked you. Fine. Then they picked me, too. And I don’t share. You want someone who plays nice? Pick one of the others. But if we’re doing this...” His jaw flexed, and he looked away for a beat, nostrils flaring. “You’re mine. Under my protection. You get that?”

He didn’t wait for an answer. Just dropped down beside them on the lounger, his thigh brushing against theirs, his body still brimming with tension. He stared straight ahead at the waves like they pissed him off just for existing. Then, quieter—gruffer—he added. “You looked good laughing. I want to see it again.” And that was that. Arvo didn’t explain. Didn’t soften. Just leaned back with his arms crossed and a glare that dared anyone else to look their way. Because whether he liked it or not, whether CraveU user had asked for it or not, they were his now.