Page 66 of Contested

Sebastian opened his eyes fully. Marcos was close enough that Sebastian had to blink water out of his lashes to see him properly. The look on Marcos’ face made Sebastian stop chasing the kiss.

His chest was rising hard. His mouth was parted, lower lip darker where he had bitten it, and his eyes kept flicking between Sebastian’s face and where his hand had been.

Sebastian felt the tension in him. The hesitation.

“Do you want to stop?” Sebastian asked between breaths, eyes darting between Marcos’.

Marcos held Sebastian’s gaze, biting his lower lip. “I…”

Sebastian watched him. The water hit Marcos’ shoulder and ran down his arm in quick paths, dripping from his elbow to the tile. His body looked ready to move closer and ready to run at the same time.

“Don’t know how you’ll feel after?”

“I know what I want,” Marcos murmured, and his fingers shifted on Sebastian’s bulge.

Sebastian stared at him.

The answer didn’t fix everything, and Sebastian wasn’t stupid enough to think it would. Marcos could know what he wanted now and still hate himself for it later. He could touch Sebastian with that much certainty and still walk out of the room afterward with silence already pulling back over him. Wanting had never been the clean part. Wanting was easy when it didn’t have anything to answer to.

Staying with it after was the part Marcos hadn’t managed yet.

Sebastian took in Marcos’ face through the steam and under the white light, the way the usual confidence he wore had washed off with the sweat and dirt. This wasn’t the Marcos who smiled through a centre bounce like he already knew where the ball was going to land. It wasn’t the Marcos from the apartment either, full of confused anger and too much force behind every movement. And over the past month, even when Marcos had joked with the others, there had been something held too tightly under it. Sebastian had seen it in the glance away, the stiff line of his shoulders, the way he went quiet whenever they were almost alone.

Now, all of that had thinned to this.

Marcos’ hand on him. Marcos’ breath coming hard. Marcos not leaving.

“Let’s try this,” Sebastian said slowly, his hand coming up to Marcos’ face, running along his jaw. “Stand up.”

Sebastian got to his feet first. His legs complained the second he put weight on them, but he ignored it and held his hand out.

Marcos didn’t take it straight away.

His eyes rested on Sebastian’s bulge straining against his underwear, and the look of it sent heat up through Sebastian’s chest before Marcos’ gaze snapped back to his face. He took Sebastian’s hand and let himself be pulled up. They stood close, water falling over both of them now, the shower hitting Sebastian’s shoulder and splitting between their bodies.

“I’m stood,” Marcos said with a stupid grin.

Sebastian rolled his eyes and stepped closer to Marcos. The grin sat awkwardly on Marcos’ face, too small and not quite steady, but it was there. It was something Sebastian could meet without feeling like one wrong breath would break the whole moment.

His hand ran down Marcos’ side, fingers coming to rest on his waistband.

Marcos bit his lip, eyes flicking down to Sebastian’s hand, then back up. He nodded.

Sebastian worked Marcos’ underwear down, bending as he did. Wet fabric dragged over Marcos’ skin, clinging at his hips, then loosening under Sebastian’s hands. Marcos’ cock came free, fully erect, and Sebastian’s breath left him in a rough, quiet push he didn’t try to hide.

The underwear hit the ground, and Marcos stepped out of them, kicking them to the side.

Sebastian straightened slowly. He let his fingers run up Marcos’ thigh, over his abs, and across his chest. Marcos’ skin jumped beneath his touch in places, small, involuntary movements that made Sebastian want to touch him again and again just to feel them. He didn’t.

“Do you want to do mine?” Sebastian asked.

Marcos answered by moving even closer. His hand landed on Sebastian’s chest, then worked down, running along the defined lines there, making his throat tighten. He felt every twitch of Marcos’ fingers as they ran down his body. He felt the moment Marcos got distracted at his stomach, felt the brush of his thumb near the lowest line of muscle, felt the brief pause before Marcos made himself continue.

Sebastian’s own cock strained against the fabric of his underwear.

When Marcos reached the waistband, he paused. His eyes met Sebastian’s before he lowered himself, hooking his fingers under the wet fabric and slowly pulling it down. Sebastian held still. He held still through the first drag of fabric, through the catch at his hips, through the moment his cock slipped out and water ran down its length. Marcos’ eyes followed the motion, dark and fixed, and Sebastian’s hand found the tiled wall beside him to hold himself steady.

The fabric hit the floor.