Page 22 of Contested

Sebastian was already watching him. His eyes were still and focused, locked onto Marcos with none of the usual challenge sitting in them. The bruising should have been the first thing Marcos noticed. Instead, he noticed the attention.

All of it aimed at him.

Sebastian’s face held something Marcos couldn’t place. It sat in the set of his mouth and the way his gaze didn’t move. A single thought seemed to have taken all of him, and Marcos didn’t understand what it was.

The apartment stayed quiet around them.

Marcos’ hand remained on Sebastian’s chest, fingers resting over the bandage. The space between them had narrowed while Marcos wasn’t paying attention.

Sebastian’s eyes dipped. Then he leaned forward, and before Marcos had a chance to register what was happening, Sebastian’s lips met his.

|| Chapter Five ||

Sebastian – “Why did you kiss back?”

The distance was noticeable immediately.

Not just because Marcos’ lips were no longer against Sebastian’s, but because of how much space Marcos gave himself when he pulled away. He shifted back so abruptly that the coffee table knocked against the back of his knees. His hands were no longer near Sebastian’s body, but hovering close to his own, fingers slightly curled as though he didn’t know where to put them.

Marcos sat upright, shoulders tense, eyes wide and fixed on Sebastian.

Sebastian couldn’t move. His mind was racing, and the steadiness he had felt in his chest had vanished, replaced by rapid breathing and the sudden awareness of every part of himself Marcos had touched. The bandage under his shirt. The cut beneath it. His lips.

He tried to keep his eyes on Marcos, but the burning crawling up the back of his neck forced him to avert his gaze. The floor, the walls, the television. Anywhere but Marcos.

“What the fuck?” Marcos’ voice wasn’t filled with anger. It was more surprised and confused. “I’m not… That’s… I’m not into that.”

Humiliation spread through Sebastian, thick and immediate.

He had done it. Leaned in and kissed Marcos without thinking. Half-drunk, bruised, and in pain, he had let one careful touch from Marcos Reyes pull years of control out from under him.

The worst part was that it hadn’t felt wrong until Marcos pulled away. It should have been instant. A mistake his body understood the second it happened. But for the short stretch of time before Marcos pulled back, Sebastian had felt the pressure of Marcos’ mouth return against his. He had felt Marcos’ lips match his rhythm. Just for a second.

Enough to know he hadn’t imagined it.

Enough to make everything worse.

He lifted his eyes, but only as far as Marcos’ hands. They were held awkwardly above his thighs, fingers flexing once, then curling in. Those same hands had been steady minutes ago, careful with tweezers and alcohol wipes, careful against Sebastian’s skin in a way Marcos had no right to be.

“I...” The words caught in his throat. Sebastian took a breath, and he felt it rattle in his lungs as his gaze lifted, Marcos’ brown eyes already waiting, searching his own. “Why did you kiss me back?”

Marcos didn’t answer right away. His eyes darted back and forth between Sebastian’s, pupils blown. Then Marcos stared at his hands, flexing his fingers before shaking his head.

“I don’t… That wasn’t…” Marcos inhaled slowly. “I have to go.”

Sebastian’s heart thumped heavily against his ribs, and he adjusted his position on the couch, sitting a little straighter.

The pain he’d felt before had gone distant, pushed behind the rush in his ears and the ugly drop in his stomach. He kept his eyes locked on Marcos, who, despite his words, hadn’t moved. A few drops of sweat still clung to Marcos’ temple, and some strands of wet hair stuck to his forehead. His jaw was tight. His shoulders were tight. Everything about him looked ready to leave except his feet.

“Yeah, no. Okay,” Sebastian mumbled, his hands bracing on the cushions, nails digging into the fabric. “I don’t know why I… That wasn’t anything.”

It sounded bad before it had even finished leaving his mouth.

Too fast. Too thin. Too obviously a thing he wanted to be true.

Marcos finally stood, shuffling away from the coffee table and to the side of the couch, gaze still focused down. Sebastian got to his feet too, quickly pulling his shirt back on and doing his best to ignore the dry blood scratching against his skin. The fabric dragged over the bandage, and he winced before he could stop it, but he yanked the shirt down anyway.

“You can just forget what happened. Everything,” Sebastian said, his arms swinging rigidly at his side.