Page 85 of Contested
The sounds escaping Sebastian only drove Marcos to go faster.
Every moan, every hiss, every rough little breath made Marcos’ hips snap harder. He watched Sebastian’s body move under him, the muscles in his stomach tightening each time Marcos drove in, his chest rising unevenly, his hands grabbing at the sheets when Marcos pushed too deep and then pulling him closer anyway.
Sebastian’s hand dropped between them. Marcos’ gaze followed as Sebastian wrapped his fingers around his own cock and started stroking himself. Sebastian’s fist moved quickly, slick from whatever had already gathered at the tip, and his hips jerked between Marcos’ thrusts and the tight pull of his own hand.
Marcos tried to keep the rhythm controlled.
It didn’t last.
He thrust harder, gripping Sebastian’s leg with one hand and the other slipping to the sheet, using both to hold himself steady as his body took over. Sebastian’s hand moved faster around himself.
Marcos’ cock dragged deep, and Sebastian’s body clenched around him.
The pressure hit too hard.
“I’m gonna come,” Marcos groaned.
“Fuck,” Sebastian breathed.
Marcos tried to slow down, but Sebastian tightened around him again. His body locked, then broke forward, thrusting deep as he came.
Heat tore through him, sharp and heavy, and he buried himself inside Sebastian, hand gripping the sheet hard enough to make his knuckles ache.
Sebastian finished a second later. His back arched off the bed, fist working himself through it as cum spilled over his stomach and chest. His mouth opened without sound at first, then a choked moan escaped him. Marcos watched him through the haze of his own orgasm, watched the way Sebastian’s body shook, watched his hand slow only when there was nothing left to pull from himself.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Marcos stayed inside him, breathing hard, forehead dropping toward Sebastian’s shin where it still rested near his shoulder. Sweat clung to his skin. His thighs shook from holding himself up. Sebastian’s ass was still tight around him, and every tiny movement made aftershocks run through Marcos’ body. Sebastian let out a low breath as Marcos slipped free and collapsed next to him. The bed shifted under his weight.
Marcos lay on his back, staring at nothing, lungs dragging air in too quickly. Then his head turned.
Sebastian was looking at the ceiling, breathing heavily. His hair was ruined. His mouth was swollen. His chest and stomach were streaked with his own cum, some of it already slipping lower over the tight muscles there. One arm lay above his head, loose against the pillow, while the other rested beside his body, fingers still slightly curled.
Marcos waited. He didn’t mean to. His body did it before his mind found the words. Waited for the drop. For the cold pull in his stomach. For the shame to arrive late and ruin what his body had just done.
Something did shift in him. A small, strange discomfort. A newness. The awareness that he had crossed another line he would not be able to uncross. But it didn’t feel the same as before. It didn’t make him want to run. It didn’t make him want to wipe the night clean and pretend he’d only been confused.
It just sat there with everything else.
His breathing began to settle.
“How was that?” Sebastian asked, his head rolling to face Marcos.
Marcos took a breath. “It was okay.”
“Okay? Wow—”
“I’m kidding.” Marcos let out a soft laugh. “It was great.”
Sebastian bit his lip, brow furrowing. “How do you feel?”
Marcos turned the question over in his head, watching Sebastian.
He didn’t know how to answer properly. ‘Strange’ sounded worse than he meant. He felt open in some way he didn’t know how to explain. Still hot. Still shaky. Still aware of Sebastian beside him and the mess on his body, and the fact that none of it made him want to leave.
Instead of answering, he leaned in, lips meeting Sebastian’s, moving slowly and deliberately.
Sebastian answered, his mouth soft beneath Marcos’, hand lifting to touch his jaw. There was no rush in it now. No need to prove anything or push anything further.
