Epilogue
Remy
The hot water pounds down around us, steam thick in the air, turning the locker room showers into a hazy, private world.
Everyone else left ages ago… teammates, coaches, the last stragglers who stuck around to celebrate the win.
The stadium lights are off outside. The building is quiet except for the steady rush of water and the wet slap of skin on skin.
I’m braced against the tiled wall, palms flat, forehead pressed to my forearm, legs spread wide.
Cole’s behind me… chest to my back, one arm banded around my waist, the other hand gripping my hip hard enough to bruise.
He’s buried deep, hips snapping forward in sharp, feral thrusts that punch the air out of my lungs every time.
“Fuck… Remy…” His voice is wrecked, low and ragged against my ear. “You feel so fucking good… still so tight for me, goddamn.”
I moan loud, broken, head tipping back against his shoulder.
The water streams over us, hot and relentless, sluicing down my back, dripping from my hair into my eyes.
I don’t care. I can barely think. All I feel is him, thick and relentless, stretching me open, hitting that spot over and over until my legs shake and my vision blurs.
“Cole, oh god!” I gasp, pushing back to meet him, ass clenching around his cock. “Harder, fuck… don’t stop!”
He growls, teeth sinking into the muscle of my shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to make me arch. His hand slides from my hip to my cock, wrapping tight, stroking fast and rough in time with his thrusts.
“You’re mine,” he rasps, hips slamming forward so deep I feel it in my throat. “All fucking mine… look how pretty you are when you’re full of me.”
I whimper, hips jerking into his fist. My cock throbs in his grip, leaking steadily. Every thrust drives me closer, pressure coiling tight and hot in my gut.
“Gonna come!” I choke out. “Cole, gonna come…”
“Yeah,” he groans, pace turning brutal. “Come for me, baby. Let me feel it… milk me with your tight little ass.”
I shatter, back bowing, mouth open on a silent scream as I spill hot over his fist, pulsing around him so hard he curses. He doesn’t stop, keeps fucking me through it, chasing his own edge, thrusts turning erratic and sloppy.
“Remy… gonna fill you up, gonna come so deep… mine, mine.”
He slams in one last time, grinding, and comes with a broken groan, flooding me, hips stuttering as he rides it out. His hand keeps stroking me through the aftershocks, milking every last drop until I’m trembling, oversensitive, and whining into his neck.
We stay like that, locked together, panting, water still pouring over us. He doesn’t pull out right away. Just holds me, chest heaving against my back, lips brushing my shoulder, my neck, and the shell of my ear.
“Love you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. “So fucking much.”
I turn my head, catch his mouth in a slow, sloppy kiss. “Love you too.”
He smiles against my lips, stupid, happy, and finally eases out. Turns me around so we’re face to face under the spray. Cups my face in both hands, thumbs stroking my cheekbones.
“You okay?” he asks, eyes searching mine.
I nod, grinning. “Perfect.”
He laughs quietly, relieved, and kisses me again. Slow and sweet, like we have all the time in the world. Because we do.
Cole
I start peppering stupid little kisses all over his face… his cheek, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, the corner of his jaw, grinning like an idiot the whole time.
He laughs, breathless, trying to squirm away. “Cole… stop it, you weirdo!”
I don’t stop. I kiss the spot under his ear that always makes him shiver. “Never. You’re too pretty when you’re all fucked out.”
He groans, half-laughing, half-mortified, and shoves at my shoulder. “You’re so dumb.”
I pull back just enough to look at him, really look. The way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, the way he still blushes even after months of this. My chest feels too full.
“C’mon, baby. Let’s get dressed before someone walks in and sees their star left tackle getting railed by the QB in the showers.”
He snorts. “You say that like it hasn’t happened before.”
I grin, grabbing our towels. “Exactly. We’re getting predictable.”
We towel off quickly, playful slaps with the wet fabric, him trying to snap mine at my ass, me catching his wrist and pulling him in for another kiss. He’s laughing into my mouth, still a little breathless, and it’s so normal, so easy, that my heart aches with it. This is us.
I pull on dark jeans, a crisp black button-down, sleeves rolled to my elbows, and the team jacket. He does the same… jeans that hug his thighs just right, a navy Henley that shows off his shoulders, letterman slung over top.
He catches me staring. “What?”
I step close and tug him in by the jacket lapels. “You’re hot as fuck.”
He blushes, still does it every time, and ducks his head. “Shut up.”
I kiss him quick, then pull back. “C’mon. Coach’ll kill us if we’re late to our own celebration.”
We walk out of the locker room hand-in-hand, no hesitation.
The hallway’s quiet, lights dimmed, stadium empty except for the echoes of our footsteps.
Outside, the night air is crisp, the parking lot mostly deserted.
We hop in my truck, drive the short distance to the steakhouse downtown where the team’s waiting.
---
When we push through the doors, the noise hits us first, laughter, clinking glasses, Coach’s booming voice carrying over everything. The whole back room is ours: long table packed with plates of ribs, steaks, loaded baked potatoes, pitchers of beer. The guys spot us immediately.
“Finally!” Tyler yells, raising his glass. “Thought you two got lost in the showers again!”
Jeb snorts. “They probably did. Look at Remy’s hair… it’s still wet.”
Matteo grins wide. “Late by ten minutes. What, couldn’t wait for the party to start celebrating?”
Coach, already red-faced from one too many beers, raises his glass. “There they are! Get your asses over here before the food gets cold!”
We slide into the two empty seats at the end of the table, right next to each other, obviously.
Tyler leans over, smirking. “You two look way too happy for people who just ran a victory lap around the field.”
Remy laughs and bumps my shoulder. “We’re just really good at celebrating.”
The table erupts, whistles, cheers, someone yelling, “Get a room!”
It’s been like this for months. Ever since the day I blurted it out at practice, “Yeah, we’re together.
Deal with it.” No one batted an eye, not really, they’d already seen it coming.
The way we gravitated toward each other on the field, the way Remy always ended up in my space during film sessions, the way I’d stare at him like he hung the moon.
When the Hannah thing blew up… when the team found out what she tried to pull…
they rallied around him like brothers. Protected him.
Teased him mercilessly about “finally getting his head out of his ass and seeing what was right in front of him.” It was all love, all support.
Tyler raises his glass again. “To Remy and Cole. For giving us the win tonight, and for finally figuring out what the rest of us knew six months ago.”
Everyone drinks. Remy’s cheeks are pink, but he’s smiling, real and happy. He leans into my side, head on my shoulder for a second.
Jeb leans across the table. “So… when’s the wedding?”
Remy snorts. “Ask Cole. He’s the one who proposed in Minecraft.”
The table loses it, laughter, cheers, someone yelling “Diamonds are forever, baby!”
I grin, sling my arm around Remy’s shoulders, and pull him in close. “Told you it was romantic.”
He rolls his eyes but leans into me harder, hand finding mine under the table, fingers interlocking.
We eat, drink, and laugh until my sides hurt. And when Remy turns to me halfway through dinner, eyes soft, voice quiet under the noise, and whispers, “I love you,” I feel it settle deep in my chest, permanent, and unshakable.
I kiss his temple. “Love you too, baby.”
And just like that… best friends, teammates, lovers… we’re exactly where we’re supposed to be.