Page 111 of Contested

The morning light shone through the large window and filled Sebastian’s bedroom.

He squeezed his eyes shut against it.

For a few seconds, he tried to ignore the whole thing. The brightness. The warmth beginning to gather across the sheets.

He rolled over, facing away from the window, and his arm fell over Marcos’ chest.

Marcos was still there.

That was what he focused on.

Not the light. Not the stiffness low in his back or the dull, pleasant soreness through his thighs. Not the faint reminder of the night before sitting in his body every time he shifted. Marcos was still there, warm under his arm, his chest rising slowly beneath Sebastian’s forearm.

Sebastian breathed in slowly and let his chin rest on Marcos’ shoulder.

“Do you not have fucking curtains?” Marcos muttered, his arm falling over his eyes.

“No. But usually, I’m up by now,” Sebastian replied, and Marcos groaned, his free hand running up Sebastian’s back.

“On the weekend? You’re insane.”

“I go for an early morning run. It’s nice.”

“Estúpido.” Marcos scoffed. “Night is better.”

Sebastian’s mouth twitched. “Did you call me stupid?”

“Oh, you speak Spanish now?”

Sebastian chuckled. “Come on. That’s an obvious one.”

Marcos hummed. “Alright. How about—eres guapo por la mañana.”

“Nope. None of it.”

Marcos pulled Sebastian in closer and let out a small laugh.

Sebastian shifted so his head was lying on Marcos’ chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart. Marcos’ hand kept dragging across his back, slow and idle, fingers travelling up toward his shoulder blades and down again.

The quiet of the morning settled around them, and Sebastian leaned into it.

They had gone to bed not long after they had finished on the massage table. They hadn’t packed it up. They’d just collected their clothes, showered, then gone to bed.

There was no argument about sides. Marcos had crawled in like he belonged there badly enough that Sebastian had almost said something sharp just to balance it out. He hadn’t. He had let Marcos pull him against his chest instead, let himself feel the heavier arm around his waist, the heat of him along his back, and the strange pressure of knowing he had spent years trying to keep this part of himself away from every other part, only to end up here.

In his own bed with Marcos Reyes.

His rival. His teammate. The man he had wanted long before he was old enough to be honest about it.

“I should head home soon,” Marcos said, and Sebastian groaned. “Dad will lose his mind that I didn’t come home last night.”

“Really?” Sebastian asked, tilting his head.

“Yeah. Plus, Becca is probably already waiting for me.”

“Got something special planned?”

“Spanish lessons.”