Page 103 of Contested

Sebastian closed his eyes. He pulled a smile onto his face before he started back toward the living room. By the time he reached the hallway, it wasn’t quite forced anymore.

Marcos had done what he was told.

All of his clothes were tossed in a pile on the end of the couch, underwear and socks included. He was lying face down on the table with a white towel draped across his ass, arms folded loosely near his head, one cheek resting against the padding. The broad line of his back rose and fell with a slow breath. His shoulders were heavy with muscle and fatigue, and his legs stretched long behind him.

Sebastian took in the sight as he walked closer, and the words came out before he had properly decided whether he should let them: “Good boy.”

Marcos groaned at the words, and Sebastian’s chest pulled at the sound.

The heat had settled around the apartment now, which Sebastian was sure Marcos appreciated. He ran his hand up Marcos’ leg, starting from his ankle and ending just above his knee. Marcos shivered at the touch.

Sebastian smirked, taking his hoodie off and dropping his sweatpants to the floor. He picked them up and put them next to Marcos’ clothes before looking down at himself.

His red briefs sat tightly around his thighs, his bulge straining against the fabric. He didn’t take them off, and as his eyes landed on the white socks, he decided to keep them on, too.

“What are you doing?” Marcos said quietly, and Sebastian placed his hand on Marcos’ back.

“Just getting comfortable.”

Marcos hummed, sending a vibration through Sebastian’s palm.

Sebastian poured oil into his hand and rubbed it between his palms, warming it before he touched Marcos properly. He started at Marcos’ shoulders, pressing his thumbs into the hard muscle there, working slowly until he felt some of the tension give beneath his hands. Marcos stayed quiet at first, but his breathing shifted almost straight away, each exhale coming a little deeper as Sebastian’s palms moved over him.

His back was warm and broad under Sebastian’s hands, muscle shifting beneath skin as Sebastian worked from shoulder to shoulder, then down beside his spine. He kept the pressure firm, dragging his thumbs through the tight places, then smoothing his palms over them after. Marcos’ fingers curled near his head when Sebastian found a knot under his shoulder blade, and the sound he made was low enough that Sebastian felt it before he properly heard it.

Sebastian took his time.

He worked down Marcos’ arms next, from shoulder to elbow, then wrist, then over the heel of each palm. Marcos’ hands were loose on the table by the time Sebastian finished with them, his fingers twitching only when Sebastian pressed into the base of his thumb.

From there, he returned to Marcos’ back. Slower this time, now that Marcos had started sinking into it. Sebastian’s hands moved down toward his lower back, stopping just before the towel. Marcos’ hips shifted when Sebastian’s fingers brushed the edge of it, and Sebastian let his thumbs circle there briefly before pulling away again.

He went to Marcos’ feet after that.

The first touch made Marcos jerk slightly, but he settled as Sebastian held his ankle and pressed his thumbs into the sole of his foot. Sebastian worked through the arch, then the heel, then up into the calf. Marcos’ legs were tight from the game, the muscles hard under Sebastian’s palms. He worked one side and then the other, pressing into the backs of Marcos’ calves, smoothing over the skin after each firmer stroke.

By the time Sebastian moved back up to Marcos’ knees, his own cock was harder than he wanted to admit.

Marcos wasn’t helping. Every time Sebastian pressed into a tight muscle, Marcos gave some small reaction. A rough breath. A shift of his hips. A low sound swallowed too quickly.

“I’m gonna take the towel away,” Sebastian murmured.

“Okay,” Marcos said.

Sebastian dragged the towel away from Marcos’ ass and placed it on the coffee table, then he stepped to the left of the massage table, his hands resting on the back of Marcos’ left knee.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Marcos’ ass was round and muscular, the shape of it catching the warm light from the living room. His legs were spread slightly, not enough to be deliberate, but enough to make room for his balls and cock to lie heavily between them. He was already hard. The length of him pressed against the table, trapped between his body and the padded surface, the head leaking enough to leave a wet mark beneath him.

Sebastian’s cock twitched. He sucked in a quick breath before his hands started moving again.

He began at the back of Marcos’ knee, using both palms to work slowly up his hamstring. The muscle jumped under the first pass, then loosened as he repeated the motion. He kept the motion controlled, sliding up, pressing in, then smoothing back down. Each time he reached the top of Marcos’ thigh, his fingers came closer to the lower curve of his ass.

The first few passes, he barely touched it.

Just the edge of his palm brushing over the crease where thigh met cheek. Enough for Marcos’ breathing to catch. Enough for Sebastian to know he had noticed.

Then Sebastian let his hand move higher.