Page 24

CHAPTER 24

ASHTON

The flight to Las Vegas was a little awkward. Marcus and I haven't spoken since what happened in the locker room showers, and I'm not sure how I'm supposed to act. I'm trying to play it cool and be friendly towards Marcus without paying him too much attention in case I pop a boner around the rest of the team. He's been withdrawn, though, and I wonder if he regrets it.

The spot on my cheek where he kissed me, just to the left of my mouth, still tingles like he left a physical mark there. I felt that more than the actual bruise he left on my shoulder blade where he bit me, or the orgasm he rubbed out of me with his soapy cock between my thighs. Jesus, Ashton, stop thinking about it or you're going to have a real problem!

My phone buzzes as I'm walking towards the ice machine at the hotel.

Doucheface Anderson: Where you at?

Doucheface Anderson: We're all down in the lobby bar making plans for after tomorrow night's game. You coming or what?

I'm debating whether I should even answer when I nearly smack into Marcus leaving the vending area.

"Shit, sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"It's cool," he says, moving aside to let me in the small room. He takes a swig of the sports drink he must have purchased from one of the machines.

"I'm getting ice," I say awkwardly. Not that he needs to know that information, but I keep rambling just to keep him in the same room. Playing things totally casual. Friendly. Definitely not like his dick and hand have made me come recently and it's all I can think about. "For my knee. It's a bit sore after tonight. Good game, huh? We really kicked Vandy's asses, although I thought they might catch up in the third quarter. Maybe we should do some more long drills to work on stamina. It seems like Coach is going to keep us out a lot more."

Me? Ramble? Never.

"Uh, yeah. That sounds good. Are you ready for tomorrow's game?"

"Definitely. Not sure I'm ready for after, though."

"What do you mean?"

"We're in Vegas," I say, like it's obvious. "The rest of the team is planning to go out." After a pause, I ask, "Are you going?"

"Definitely not," he says with a laugh. "They did the same thing last year, and all I heard about for weeks was how close Dustin Harris' face got to a stripper's vag. Not really my scene."

I bark out a laugh. "Yeah, mine either. Maybe we can talk them into doing something else."

"Maybe." There is no part of me that is the least bit convinced he'd go, anyway. It makes me want to go even less than I did before. "Right, well, goodnight. Elevate that knee," he says, vacating his spot against the entryway to head back to his room.

"Wait, Marcus. Can we talk about?—”

"Later," he says, cutting me off. "Maybe after the ACC Challenge game? Or after finals?" He has his normal stoic, expressionless face on, but I can see the restless way his fingers fiddle with the label of the drink bottle. He's uncomfortable, probably regrets what happened between us. Again.

"Everything okay?"

He walks away, gruffly answering over my shoulder. "Yeah, all good. Just a lot on my mind."

Me too, tough guy. Me too.

The arena echoes with the deafening roar of the crowd as BYU sinks another basket, putting us behind by two points. Sweat beads on my forehead and drips down my face as I assess the clock. My eyes cut to Marcus, who looks just as tired as I am, and he dips his chin in a nod, acknowledging my silent suggestion. There's barely any time on the clock, and it'll take a near miracle to pull it off, but neither of us is ready to give up just yet. Now is our chance to push and show just how unstoppable the two of us are.

"It's me and you, Princess," he says quietly as we sprint down the court, catching up to where BYU has possession.

If they score again, it's over.

With a burst of adrenaline, I bound over to the basket and jump up just as a player drives in for a layup. My height works to my advantage as I swat the ball. It ricochets off the backboard and almost hits the rim, but I snatch it from the air. Without a moment's hesitation, I pivot and launch the ball behind me, where I know Marcus will be in position. Like a blur, he streaks across the court, snatching the ball from the air not five feet in front of Jackson Montgomery, one of our junior guards. I feel a little bad for using Jackson as bait and making him think I'm passing him the ball, but Marcus and I have been working on this play for weeks. Marcus dribbles the ball down the court, weaving in and out of defenders. With a quick fake, he darts past two BYU players that each have several inches on him in height. Another player closes in, and he fires a no-look pass back at me as I sprint into position beyond the arc.

I make a clean catch and line up my shot, but I feel the pressure closing in on all sides as defenders rush towards me. Adjusting my grip, I prepare to shoot. In a moment that feels like slow motion, I let the ball fall, catch it midway to the floor, and then whip the ball around my back, passing to Marcus, who is now open at the three-point line. He takes the pass, releasing the shot in one fluid motion without a moment's hesitation. The buzzer blares as it arcs toward the net.

The entire arena falls silent, breaths held as the ball spins through the air, kissing the net with a satisfying swish.

The crowd erupts. Our teammates rush Marcus, picking him up and roaring as they jump up and down. I join the throng, as does Coach Burke and the rest of the staff, and we celebrate a win that almost didn't happen. Against all odds, we pulled off the win by a single point.

My arm locks around the back of Marcus' neck as I pull him in for a celebratory hug. "That's how it's fucking done!" I roar to the cheers of our teammates.

Later, after a team dinner where we nearly get kicked out of a restaurant because we're too rowdy celebrating, I find myself hovering around the vending area of the hotel. Everyone else left to go party. The coaches looked the other way after warning everyone about safety and being back at the hotel on time to leave for our flight the next morning. I'm pretty sure Burke and Weston headed to the closest casino. The whole floor is quiet.

I'm leaning against the wall playing on my phone for so long, the motion activated lights turn on. I tempt fate with a picture of a sports drink in my hand, posting it to my social media with a comment about being thirsty after an epic game. Marcus shows up not too long after I post it.

"I assumed you'd be out partying."

I straighten immediately, pushing myself to my full height. "Not really my thing anymore," I answer. "Good game today."

"Yeah," he breathes out as he makes a beeline for me. "Good game."

His mouth crashes to mine, the impact of his solid body knocking me hard against the wall. I groan into the kiss, greedily pulling him harder against my body.

Marcus' lips are as hungry as mine, devouring me for all I'm worth. HIs tongue sweeps into my mouth, sending an electric thrill straight down my spine and into my balls. My cock is hard in an instant, rubbing into Marcus' hard abs. He growls and fumbles with the drawstring of my joggers until he's able to wrench the front of my pants open and pull my cock out. He strokes me, frantic but firm, trailing his kiss over my jaw and down my neck. I want… Fuck, I want so much.

The sound of the elevator ding startles us apart, and I hurry to tuck my junk away before three of our teammates walk by. They look at us suspiciously, while I stretch my shirt down with my fist to cover my boner, and Marcus faces the vending machine like he's looking to make a selection.

"Gentlemen,” I greet them with a head tilt. “Bernice,” I say to Chase, whom I’ve had the pleasure of getting to know through Alpha Omega Psi. He’s not a bad kid. I can’t help but think of how much better off he’d be if he avoided the toxic frat and all the entitlement of this school in general. “Did you get carded?" I ask casually, with an amused tone and a knowing smirk.

Franklin, Chase, and Tristan look embarrassed. They're all freshmen and probably aren't used to being told no.

"I told you your fake ID was shit," I say to Chase. He was showing it off at a party a few weeks back, and I warned him against using it at any bars or clubs in bigger cities, where they're a lot more used to weeding out the fakes. That, and the few bars and stores around CVU simply don't care enough. Spoiled rich kids typically get away with everything. "I'm surprised you didn't just pay your way in."

"There were cops there," Chase says, rolling his eyes. "I heard a couple of the seniors started a fight with some BYU fans before we got there." He looks at me pointedly, giving me a strong impression that I know exactly who was causing trouble. Fucking Anderson and Preston, of course.

I sigh. "Am I going to need to bail anyone out?"

"Nah, whatever happened got resolved. We’re going to have a few drinks in our room, if you want to join?" He looks around me to Marcus, who is leaning one shoulder against the vending machine, eating from a tiny bag of trail mix. "You, too, of course."

Of course.

Marcus raises an eyebrow. "Thanks, but I'm going to head back and get some studying done for finals."

The guys continue down the hall, and Marcus pushes up from the vending machine. "I'll see you later."

"Wait." I pull him back through the entryway and press him against the wall. My mouth descends on him again, but softer and slower this time, like we're drinking from each other, taking long pulls of tongues and swallowing each other's air. It's even hotter than the hard, frenzied kisses from before. "You could come back to my room," I murmur over his lips. "Anderson won't be back until late, if he comes back at all."

I'm not sure if it's the invitation or the mention of my douchebag roommate that has him pulling back from the kiss.

He clears his throat. "It's okay. It's probably for the best that we don't. We shouldn't… This is a stupid idea."

"Why?" I demand gently, caging him against the wall.

"Our past. Our families."

"I'm trying to make up for that."

"Are you sure you can?"

I knock on the door loud enough that the guy next door sticks his head out and scowls at me, but I don't give a fuck. He's about a full foot shorter than me, and I blatantly use my size to stare him down until he shrinks back inside. I give the door the finger as if it helps solve anything.

Marcus and I are on fire after the Las Vegas Showdown, and then the ACC Challenge game against Ole Miss on Monday. We dominated that court, and the press can't get enough of us. College sports highlights are almost back-to-back clips of plays that Marcus and I pulled off during these last three games. We're exhausted, so I didn't take it personally when Marcus made a beeline back to the dorms without talking to me or anyone else when we got back Tuesday morning. I gave him space Wednesday, too. Then yesterday I texted him to wish him luck on a final I knew he had late morning, but he left me on read. Not that I was exactly expecting him to thank me or offer me the same, but by the fifth message I sent him last night, I started worrying. Then this morning he ignored me during practice, too. We have a game tomorrow at Boston College, and I don't want us to lose because he won't communicate with me.

"Vell's in the shower," some guy says, walking by in sweatpants with a towel around his shoulders, hair dripping. He must have just come from there.

I have zero shame or boundaries when it comes to wanting Marcus' attention, so I head straight for the showers. The other times I stalked him into the bathrooms, it was empty. This time there are a few people milling around, walking to and from various shower stalls, or brushing their teeth at the sinks. I ignore them all and march through the row of showers until I see what I'm fairly certain are Marcus' feet. I recognize the tan line of his socks, and the fine dusting of dark hair. My nose picks up the familiar scent of his drugstore brand body wash that makes me want to lick him from tip to toe. Maybe that's what I'll do.

I give Marcus the respect of looking back and forth to see if anyone is paying attention before I tear open the curtain and step inside.

"What the—” Marcus' words cut off when he sees that it's me. "What are you doing in here?" he hisses.

"You're avoiding me."

"I am not. I'm just… busy."

"Liar."

Marcus huffs. "Can we talk about it after finals are over?"

"Yeah, no. That's not going to work for me. Whatever it is, is clearly bad enough that you're all worked up about it, and it'll give me anxiety until I know. For the sake of our game tomorrow, you have to tell me."

Marcus ducks his head back under the shower spray, rinsing the last of his shampoo away. "Well, let's go back to my room and talk, then. You're going to get wet."

"I'd rather get you wet first."

"Ashton," he says in a warning tone.

"Marcus."

He's acting stern, but only one of us is naked and fully erect right now. I eye his dick like it's something to eat.

"Stop looking at me like that," he whisper-yells, reaching near my head for his towel and pulling it down to cover himself.

Oh, no you don't.

I snatch the towel away.

"Ashton!"

"I want to see it."

Marcus blinks back at me, stunned by my directness. We haven't exactly acknowledged everything that's happened between us. It happens, and then Marcus acts like it didn't. Rinse and repeat. Right now might be the same, but fuck. I just want a taste.

My tongue darts out to wet my lips, and Marcus’ eyes trace the movement.

"You get enough of an eyeful yet?" he rasps.

"I'd like to get a mouth full."

"Right now?"

I gesture to his cock, and the bead of precum dripping down the tip. "He's ready, I'm ready. Why not right now?"

"Did anyone see you come in here? Because people can see that there's more than one person in here," he says, pointing at the gap under the stall.

"You think I care?"

"You're not even out."

"Says who? And why do I need to come out anyway? It's not an announcement. It's just a thing. I don't care who knows."

"You don't care if people know you're gay?"

"Not even a little bit. Plenty of people know already."

"What about if people know you like to get on your knees for a broke nobody?"

"You're not a nobody, Marcus."

"Tell that to your friends. They think I’m trash."

“ Hot trash,” I reply, trying to lighten the mood. “I’m kidding. Not about you being hot, you’re fucking hot as shit. But about my friends. I have, and will continue to, put them in their place when they’re talking about you.”

“And you don’t think they’ll resent you for that?”

“They don’t matter, Marcus. I’ll do whatever it takes.

"Whatever what takes?"

"Whatever it takes to show you I'm not the guy you think I am. I'm not like my family. Or at least I don't want to be."

I fall to my knees, not caring about the water seeping into the denim of my jeans. My chin tilts up, and I blink up at Marcus standing above me. He's fucking gorgeous, with his wide, muscular chest and a waist that tapers down into a cut V. His cock is thick and hard, too heavy to stick straight out, so it bobs between his tight, hairy thighs. My other encounters with his cock so far have been quick and rough, so I didn't get the chance to explore him, but I take the opportunity now. He's fucking glorious, smooth, veiny, and uncut. Are other cocks as fucking delicious looking as this one is? Or has my lifelong obsession with this man built him up to god-like proportions?

"I'm yours to do with as you please," I murmur softly. I'm not afraid to submit and show him that he owns me. Bending forward, I place soft kisses on the tops of his feet, on his ankles, the insides of his calves around to his shins. I place open-mouthed kisses above each knee, trailing up to the sensitive skin between his thighs, until his heavy cock is all but laying across my forehead, demanding attention. I look up at Marcus from beneath his cock, locking eyes with him as I run the flat of my tongue up the underside of his shaft. "Take your hate out on me. Use me. Hurt me. I deserve it."

He's not rough on me like he was the first time, giving me an opportunity to really taste him, to feel him against my tongue and throat. Whenever I take him deep, his eyes widen in surprise, and I fucking love that I can impress him with a talent I didn’t even know I possessed. I alternate between licking and kissing up and down his shaft, then hollowing out my cheeks and bobbing up and down his length. It's when I take him all the way into my throat, where he can feel the contractions of me swallowing around him, that he gasps and moans.

"I'm going to come," he warns, gently tapping the back of my head. I nod and take him deeper, forcing the head of his cock to hit the back of my throat. His hand weaves into my hair, tangling into the top knot I threw my hair into after my shower this morning. I moan when his grip tightens and he takes control, fucking into my mouth in long, slow strokes. My fingers dig into the flesh of his round ass, encouraging him to let loose and let me do this for him. If it's the only thing I can do to relieve any of his tension, if this is all I'm ever good for, at least I can give him this.

"God, Ash, this mouth— unghh —” He unloads down my throat, pumping spurts of hot cum into my belly. " Fuuuck ," he moans as I keep my mouth on him, sucking until there isn't a drop left and he's too sensitive to tolerate it. To my surprise, he pulls me up by the hair to kiss him, licking into my mouth. Can he taste himself on my tongue? Fuck, that's hot. I wish I hadn't swallowed it all so we could pass it back and forth.

Marcus hurriedly unbuckles my belt and jeans, pushing the fabric down my legs. Without pulling my mouth from his, I step out of them and pull my shirt over my head. My clothes land on the wet floor with a heavy plop, and Marcus guides me to the small bench seat where towels and toiletries are set. Pushing my back against the corner, he guides me to place my foot up on the bench, forcing my legs wide open for him. He bends his head and sucks one nipple into his mouth, then dips lower, licking up the crease between my leg and groin.

"Yours to do with as I please, huh?" His hand runs up my thigh to squeeze my ass before his blunt fingertips caress up and down my crack. "And if I want to play with this?" He asks, one finger rubbing small circles around my hole.

I whimper and nod. "It's yours."

Marcus practically growls, placing a knee on the bench and lowering his head to take my cock in his mouth.

My surprised curse echoes off the walls, but if anyone's left in here, they don't say anything. Or at least I don't hear anyone. My heart is beating so loudly, blood rushing from my brain to my cock. I rut up into Marcus' mouth. An unintelligible string of ohfuckohfuckohfuck falls from my mouth as I witness the miracle that is Marcus Vell sucking my cock. I startle when his finger touches my hole again, now slick with something—soap or conditioner. I don't know. I don't care. All I know is that one second, he's rubbing and probing, and the next a thick digit slips inside me. He moves it around inside me, and I moan.

"That's right," he whispers, pushing into me deeper. "Your ass is so greedy for me. Think you can take another?"

I'm honestly not sure, but I'll agree to anything he wants to do to me right now. A whine escapes me as a second thick finger pushes inside, and Marcus returns his mouth to my cock. He swirls his tongue around the head and sucks hard, drawing a strangled noise from what feels like the depths of my soul as he sinks both fingers all the way inside me and crooks them. He keeps sucking and fucking his fingers into me until my ass relaxes into the sensation, and I cry out every time he rubs over that electric button inside me.

Marcus lets my cock fall from his mouth and looks up at me, watching me squirm and pant. "You fucking love it." I'm not sure why he's surprised. It’s not like I haven't been a total slut for anything he's done to me so far. "Can you come like this?" He asks, his voice husky as he increases the pressure, thrusting his fingers deep inside me.

" Nnyynnnngh— I don't know."

"I think you can." He steps in closer, his revived cock bouncing with the rhythmic flexing of his arm working those delicious fingers against my prostate.

I'm so fucking close. If he so much as brushed an arm hair over my cock I would erupt.

"Marc—” I suck in a shaky gasp, ready to beg for him to please let me come.

"That's it, Princess, you can do it. Give it to me."

Fucking hell, he called me Princess. Why do I like that so much?

His words and the way he growled them, combined with the expert level precision he's hitting my prostate with, have me shooting like a geyser. Cum shoots into the air, splattering across Marcus' chest and biceps. He pulls me in close, milking me for every last drop while my hips rut into the air like an excited dog.

Holy fuck. I've never come so hard in my life.

Not able to help myself, I wrap my arms around Marcus and pull him against me, kissing him deeply, smearing my mess between us. My cock is still twitching, and I feel like I could cum forever. His cock is hard again, so I drop a hand between us and wrap my hand around us both. Marcus closes his eyes and curses quietly as he thrusts into my hand, fingers still inside me at what must be an awkward angle for him, but I'll riot if he pulls them out. I'm trembling and oversensitive, my moans echoing into the space because I have no control.

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Marcus' eyes fly open.

"I mean, I haven't… before… like that," I stammer. What an articulate way to show your vulnerability, fuckface.

He cuts me off with a kiss. "Not this time," he pants against my mouth. "We have a game tomorrow. But you better damn believe I'm taking this ass soon, Princess. I'm going to stretch you so fucking wide you won't be able to walk right for days." He pushes his fingers in deep one more time before pulling them out of me. Stepping back, he wipes a hand through the mess, coating one bicep before wrapping his hand around his big cock, using my cum as lube to pump himself hard and fast.

Fuuuck.

I fall to my ass on the bench, watching him with hunger and awe. Reaching out, I swipe a finger through the mess and bring it to his lips. My eyes roll back when he sucks it into his mouth, moaning like it's the best thing he ever tasted. I swipe up another finger full, but this time I reach between his legs. He moves in closer, lifting one leg to settle on the bench next to me. My eyes flick up to his, wanting to be sure I'm understanding. He licks his lips and nods.

Gingerly, I rub my wet finger up and down his crack, finding his hole and massaging it. I play with it, rubbing and teasing the very tip of my finger inside. Marcus rocks his hips, trying to get more. My initial intrusion is tentative and slow, unsure how or where to touch him to make him feel like I did a minute ago. I marvel at the tightness of his ass swallowing the tip of my finger, then up to the first knuckle.

Marcus isn't here to play games, though. He lets go of his cock to reach for my wrist, pushing my finger all the way inside him and rocking back on it. He uses my finger to fuck himself for a moment, while I stare open-mouthed at the salacious display. For someone so reserved in public, my broody tough guy is a goddamn sex god. Once he's satisfied that I understand the assignment, Marcus reaches for his cock again.

One hand working a second finger into his ass, the other digging fingers into his hip, I turn my head to the side and drop it to lick the base of his shaft while he's stroking himself.

"Mmmm yes. Play with my balls, Ash. Put them in your— Oh, fuck ?—”

Oh fuck is right. I can feel the way Marcus' ass clenches around my finger as I suck one firm testicle into my mouth, then the other. It's fucking heaven. My head is at an awkward angle, and there's public hair up my nose, but Marcus is writhing on my finger and jacking off an inch in front of my face and I fucking love it.

"I'm going to come all over your pretty face, Princess," he growls, and his body jerks. " Fuck. Right there. Oh fuck, Ash?—”

My fingers rub mercilessly over the soft nub that is making Marcus' legs shake, and he comes with a choked groan. There's less cum than what he pumped into my throat earlier, but there's enough to paint my face.

When it's over, Marcus trails his fingers down the bridge of my nose and over my cheekbones, spreading his orgasm over my skin.

His husky whisper is almost inaudible. "Beautiful.”