Page 65 of Contested

The towel dropped away from Sebastian’s face.

“Not anymore.”

The words sat between them.

Marcos felt them after he said them, settling somewhere low and final. Not enough to explain everything. Not enough to make him suddenly brave. But true. He had regretted leaving. Regretted how he had handled it. Regretted the silence, the mess, the way he had made Sebastian stand on one side of something neither of them had known how to talk about.

But Marcos didn’t regret wanting him.

Sebastian’s fingers moved again, sliding along the back of Marcos’ thigh, firmer this time. Marcos’ thumb rubbed across Sebastian’s abdomen as it curled. The motion was small, but Sebastian’s breath caught with it, and that sound went through Marcos with more force than the crowd had.

Marcos felt himself leaning in, and he didn’t stop. Sebastian met him halfway.

And after what had felt like an eternity, lips were moving against each other again, only this time, Marcos knew exactly what he wanted.

|| Chapter Fifteen ||

Sebastian – “Let’s try this”

Water fell on Sebastian as Marcos kissed him.

It ran over the side of Sebastian’s face, down his neck, and across the places where dried blood no longer sat on his skin. The floor beneath them was hard, and the ache from the game had settled deep in his hips and thighs, but Sebastian barely felt any of it.

Marcos’ mouth was on his. Marcos’ hand was spread across his stomach. Marcos was there, close enough that Sebastian could feel the uneven pull of every breath he took.

The kiss was softer than the others. Careful, with none of the sharp, half-angry pressure or confusion that had carried them into each other before.

Marcos’ fingers curled against Sebastian’s abdomen, dragging his thumb over the muscles there, making Sebastian’s stomach pull tight beneath his palm.

As the kiss deepened, Sebastian noticed the faint taste of blood mixed in with it, but he didn’t care. Marcos’ mouth moved against his, and Sebastian let himself fall into it. That was what mattered.

Marcos shifted closer. His leg pressed more firmly behind Sebastian’s back, and his hand shifted from Sebastian’s stomach to the waistband of his underwear. His fingertips ran along the soaked fabric, not dipping beneath it, just following the line as if he needed to learn where it sat. Sebastian’s breath hitched before he could stop it.

That sound changed something.

Marcos kissed him harder.

Sebastian’s hand tightened on Marcos’ thigh. He opened for him, letting the kiss deepen more, letting Marcos set the pace for a few seconds because Marcos had spent so long refusing to move at all. Their tongues touched, slow at first, then less careful as Marcos leaned further over him. Water ran between their mouths and made the kiss messy around the edges, but Sebastian didn’t pull away. He slid his hand from Marcos’ thigh to his hip and held him there, fingers pressing into wet skin and fabric.

Then the thought cut in.

The doorway that sat behind Marcos.

The changing room beyond it was empty, but empty didn’t mean safe. Someone could have forgotten a phone, or a staff member could come back for tape or a clipboard.

There was water running, and steam was rising, but not enough to hide everything.

Sebastian opened his eyes for half a second and saw the steam, the tile, the strip of the room beyond the shower entrance. Then he saw Marcos, hair wet, shoulders tense, mouth still on his, and his stomach gave a hard, nervous pull that had nothing to do with arousal.

If someone saw—

Marcos’ hand moved.

Sebastian’s thought broke.

Marcos’ fingers slid lower over the front of Sebastian’s underwear, cautious at first, then more certain when Sebastian didn’t move away. His palm settled over Sebastian’s bulge properly, feeling him through the soaked fabric for the first time without the frantic edge of the apartment. Sebastian’s hips shifted before he had time to control them, a small movement into the hand on him, and the sound that left him was trapped against Marcos’ mouth.

Marcos went still. His hand froze.