Zion adjusted his grip on the golf club before shifting closer to Suga, his hands brushing against Suga's as he positioned them properly.
"Here," Zion murmured, voice low and steady. "Your hands need to be firm but not too stiff. Relax your grip a little."
Swallowing hard, he tried to follow the instruction, but the weight of Zion's presence just behind him made it impossible to ignore the heat radiating between them. Every slight shift made him hyper-aware of their proximity, his senses betraying him in the worst way.
"Now, spread your feet shoulder-width apart," the instruction continued, a gentle but deliberate hand pressing against the small of his back. He tensed immediately, his skin prickling from the contact.
"Relax," Zion chuckled. "You're not about to go to war, you're just hitting a golf ball."
"Easy for you to say," Suga muttered under his breath, but he adjusted his stance as instructed.
