Chapter 16 #2
Silence reigned after Kieran muted the match to now soundless images of celebrating Brazilians that were juxtaposed with those of Spaniards lying on the ground, covering their faces.
The Spanish coach shook hands with the Brazilian one before he went to console his players even though he looked close to tears himself.
Holy crap. Alex shifted on the sofa that he shared with Lee and Jeff, leaning into Lee just enough for their shoulders to press together.
The room, filled with a variety of seating options for the team and supporting staff, was lit only by the screen up front, colors changing along with the images—a yellow glow cast over the scene as the Brazilian captain stopped for a post-match interview, red and green as the camera zoomed in on Spanish players on the grass.
“All right.” Kieran got up and switched on the overhead light, sudden brightness flooding the room. “Let’s start with the positives. One, I don’t think anyone here is at risk of underestimating our next opponent. Two, we won’t have the entire host country rooting against us in the final.”
Lewis snapped his fingers. “You mean no one’s gonna spit in our breakfast eggs.”
“No mosquitoes deliberately released in our rooms,” Jeff added.
“No caffeine pills mixed into our dinners.”
“No itching powder dusted over our clothes.”
“No marching band practicing under our windows in the middle of the night.”
“I think we get the idea,” Kieran said mildly although he was smiling, clearly attuned to how the atmosphere in the room had relaxed just slightly. “Get some sleep, lads. We’ll pick this back up tomorrow.”
Subdued chatter rose as everyone filed out of the room, Alex quiet while Lee, Jeff, and Oliver discussed the third goal—a beautiful free kick that had curved over the wall and slammed into the upper right corner, no chance at all for the goalie.
“The only way,” Oliver said, “he could have got his hands on that is an educated guess.”
Jeff whistled. “You know it was a brutal loss when it’s four goals against you, and it’s not because the goalie had a bad day.”
They split in the hallway in front of their rooms, Alex following Lee into theirs.
As soon as the door closed, Lee turned and walked Alex back against the wall, bodies aligning.
“Been waiting for this all day,” Lee murmured.
They’d had ten minutes to themselves earlier this afternoon—not enough.
Never enough. Alex carded a hand through Lee’s short hair and slotted their mouths together.
It was all familiar by now, Lee’s smell and the tiny sounds he made, small gasps as they caught their breath between one kiss and the next, a half-sigh as their hips aligned.
Alex pulled back just enough to say, “I really want you to fuck me.”
Lee snorted. “Such a romantic.”
“Make love to me, then.” Once they were out, the words resonated oddly in Alex’s stomach. Love. Was this love? It felt like the songs and movies—huge and bright, a golden ache behind his ribs.
Lee didn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary, his voice easy and a little amused. “You know I’m versatile, right?”
Lee’s tone reminded Alex of something—weeks ago, the briefly registered confusion at how Lee seemed to be quietly laughing at something Alex simply didn’t get.
“Wait, hang on.” Alex narrowed his eyes at Lee.
“The first time Kieran paired us for a drill and I asked you which position you wanted to play first… You said you can go either way. Were you making a joke?”
“Probably. Can’t say I remember.” Lee grinned. “Since you didn’t actually know I’m gay, it turned out to be a joke for one.”
“It’s funny in hindsight.” Alex slid a hand down the back of Lee’s shorts. “And I’m not picky—let’s do both.”
“We will.” Lee inserted a meaningful pause.
“Once we’ve got more than a half hour between team practice and lunch or whatever.
It’ll be your first time, and it’s been a while for me, too.
” The left side of his mouth lifted into a lopsided smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
“This isn’t porn, so spit and a prayer aren’t gonna be enough prep. ”
Alex heaved a sigh. “Must you bring reality into this?”
“Somebody has to.”
“Somebody is a spoilsport.”
“Spoilsport?” Lee’s low laugh was barely more than a puff of warm air against Alex’s lips. “Really—is that the best you’ve got?”
Oh, it was on.
“Not at all.” Alex clasped Lee’s shoulders with both hands and gave a quick shove that toppled them both onto the bed.
Grinning, he straddled Lee’s hips, making sure to bear down with his whole weight.
Lee was laughing under him, halfheartedly trying to buck him off without putting any real effort into it.
“Found your wrestling blazer?” he asked, and Alex leaned down to rub their noses together.
“It was never missing—I just let you win before.”
The momentary sharpening of Lee’s focus was all the warning Alex got before his world tilted sideways, Lee’s legs tight around his upper body as he flipped them over. Alex landed on his back with a gasp of laughter, Lee’s triumphant face above him. “Still gonna claim that you let me win, babe?”
“Truth hurts, babe,” Alex volleyed back and timed it to coincide with his hand slipping into Lee’s shorts, cupping Lee’s cock through his briefs. Lee sucked in a harsh breath, lashes fluttering.
“So that’s what they teach at Harrow School?”
“Just about. I mean, what did you expect?” Alex gave Lee’s erection a friendly squeeze. “It’s an all-boys school, and we shared rooms. Puberty is a thing.”
“I think—” Lee broke off for a stifled groan when Alex tucked two fingers down the front of his briefs, scratching his nails over the coarse hair at the base of Lee’s cock.
“You think?” Alex prompted with a smile.
“I think you just gave me enough wank material for a year.”
“Whatever you’re thinking?” Alex gave a regretful shake of his head. “The truth is nowhere near as wild. Most I’ve ever done are side-by-side wanks with minimal peeking.”
“Nope.” Lee squeezed his eyes shut as he shifted into Alex’s touch, one of his hands flat against Alex’s chest. “Don’t ruin the fantasy—please, and thank you.”
It was light and silly, laughter woven into the words, and yet somehow, a sudden swell of affection nearly robbed Alex’s breath.
He brought his free hand up to cup the back of Lee’s neck and draw him into a kiss, everything that wasn’t this and now and Lee fading to the furthest corners of Alex’s mind.
Freefalling.
Two days to go. At this point, Alex could have recited the stats on his key opposing players in his sleep.
Heat maps. Pass completion rates. Tackles and interceptions.
It had rained halfway through their afternoon training session, the air heavy with humidity and the grass slippery during a hard-fought practice match.
Kieran was shouting instructions from the sidelines, and Alex stopped for a second to get the full picture: Jeff over on the right wing, Lee in the center, both of them closely marked; Finley and Toby passing the ball back and forth as they neared the halfway line; Alfie about to steal the ball from Toby.
Alex darted forward to put himself in Toby’s line of sight—and suddenly his ankle gave out on him, studs caught awkwardly in the soggy turf. Hot pain flashed up his leg.
Fuck.
He rolled with the fall just like he’d learned, chin tucked against his chest as he tried to land on his side. Oh, but it fucking hurt, and he blinked up at the gray sky for a moment until the world shifted back into focus.
“Alex?” Lee, yeah, that was Lee—Alex’s name uttered in harsh concern.
“Shit, mate.” Finley. “You okay?”
“Fucking hell.” Jeff, crouched beside Alex. “Talk to us.”
Talk, right. Alex could do that.
He sat up, reaching for his foot, and hissed when his hand made contact. “Twisted my ankle a bit,” he gritted out. “Can’t be too bad.”
“I think I’ll be the judge of that,” Lachlan said as he appeared by Alex’s side. Alex was about to protest that he didn’t need a doctor because he was fine, but Kieran’s grim expression made him swallow the words back down.
Alex was fine, though. He had to be.
Still he couldn’t suppress the sharp intake of breath when Lachlan probed his ankle.
Fucking… fuck. He ducked his head so he wouldn’t have to see Lachlan’s frown, Lee’s wide eyes, and the tension that radiated from Jeff and Oliver.
Centuries slid by while Lachlan made an excruciatingly thorough assessment, Alex biting his lip against any further expressions of pain.
If Lachlan didn’t know it hurt, he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. Right?
Finally, Lachlan sat back on his heels. “I’m so sorry, Alex. I’m afraid it’s a sprain.”
“A sprain,” Alex repeated flatly. It didn’t quite compute.
“We’ll get you iced and wrapped immediately.” Lachlan nodded at someone off to the side, Alex’s focus too narrow to see or care who it was because… a sprain. A sprain?
“No, listen.” Alex leaned forward. “You must be wrong. It’s just a twist, okay? I’m sure it’s just a little twist. Some ice and a bit of rest today, and I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
“Alex,” Oliver began, and Alex turned to look up at him, blindsided by the concern he saw not just in Oliver’s eyes but in Kieran’s too, and in Jeff’s.
Lee was pale under his tan, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, and shit, why was he still sitting on the ground?
He needed to get the fuck up and show everyone he was fine, well and truly fine.
The moment he made a move to rise to his feet, Lee’s hand landed on his shoulder. “Please don’t,” was all Lee said, worry so thick in his tone that Alex sank right back to the ground.
“Please?” he asked Lachlan without much hope.
As expected, Lachlan shook his head, regret etched into his weathered features. “I really am sorry, Alex. But you know as well as I do what this means.”