I’ve never wanted someone more than I do right now.
We hold the lead. The final minutes are brutal, but we hold. The buzzer screams, and the Wolves fucking win.
The locker room is madness—helmets flying, towels snapping, victory howls echoing off the walls. The media’s outside waiting, fans chanting in the halls. The team deserves this. We’ve been under fire for weeks, and tonight, we shoved it down the Hornets’ throats.
But I can’t celebrate. Not with this need crawling under my skin.
Leander’s across the room, stripped to his waist, sweat gleaming, bruises blooming fresh on his ribs. He doesn’t look at me, not directly, but his smirk is sharp enough to cut. He knows what he did. Knows what he stirred in me.
The guys start funneling out, hungry for bars, beer, women, whatever. I throw out some line about me and Leander staying back for recovery work, that we’ll meet them later. They don’tquestion it—half of them are already too drunk on adrenaline to care.
The door shuts. Silence falls. And then it’s just us.
Leander stands by his locker, towel slung low, water bottle in hand. He doesn’t move when I cross the room, doesn’t flinch when I back him into the row of stalls. His chest rises slow, deliberate, eyes locked on mine.
“You were a fucking animal out there,” I growl, voice ragged.
“You liked it.” His tone is soft, taunting, and it pushes me over the edge.
Leander’s back hits the tile with a dull thud when I shove him into the shower. His water bottle clatters to the ground, forgotten. I twist the knob hard, and the pipes scream before the water bursts cold over us, needles shocking against my overheated skin. It warms quickly, easing Lee’s shoulders.
Leander flinches, hissing through his teeth, but doesn’t move away. His lips curl into that cocky smirk, the one that wrecks me worse than a body check.
“You gonna fight me, too?” he says, voice low, challenging.
I slam my mouth onto his before the words even finish leaving him. His taste floods me—salt, sweat, metallic from the fist he took earlier. He doesn’t melt into it, doesn’t give me what I want.He pushes back, teeth colliding, lips bruising. He’s not yielding. Good.
I grab his wrists, pin them above his head against the slick tile. The spray beats down, plastering his hair to his forehead, streaming over his shoulders. He strains against my grip, muscles flexing, and I swear I could come just from the fight in his body alone.
“Mine,” I snarl against his jaw, biting down until he grunts.
“You don’t own me,” he spits back, but his hips roll forward, betraying him.
I slam my thigh between his, forcing his legs wider, grinding into the heat already hard against me. He gasps, curses, then arches into it, water cascading down the perfect line of his throat.
“Say it,” I growl, dragging my mouth down to mark him, sucking hard where the world can see. “Say you’re mine, or I’ll make you scream it.”
His laugh is broken, breathless, the sound of someone dancing on the edge of losing control. “Do your worst, captain.”
Something inside me snaps.
I let go of one wrist, but only so I can tear at the towel knotted around his hips. It drops, heavy and soaked, to the floor. His skin is hot beneath my hands despite the water, flushed withvictory, with rage, with need. I palm him hard, dragging a guttural moan from his chest that I swallow with another kiss.
He bucks into my hand, but I don’t give him what he wants, not yet. I grip tight, holding him still, grinding our bodies together until he’s swearing, until his teeth sink into my shoulder so hard I hiss.
“Fuck, Lee?—”
His free hand claws down my back, nails leaving red trails that sting under the water. He shoves back, managing to flip me, my spine slamming into the wet wall. The shock of it pulls a laugh out of me, ragged and wild, and before I can stop him, his mouth is on my throat, biting, claiming.
“You think you’re in control?” he growls against my skin.
“Always.” My voice breaks, half-moan, half-snarl.
He fists my hair, yanking my head back, forcing me to bare my throat. The sight in his eyes is pure hunger, feral and dark. For a moment, I let him pull at me. My cock twitching from the feral look in his eyes.
Then I twist us again, slam him chest-first into the wall this time. His palms slap against the tile, water pounding down his back as I grind against him, caging him in with my body. My teeth find the nape of his neck, biting so hard he shudders.
“Mine,” I whisper, low and guttural, grinding my dick into his ass cheeks.
