Page 35

CHAPTER 35

MARCUS

"Well, that wasn't awkward at all," Ashton says sarcastically, lying diagonally across my queen-sized bed. He dwarfs the mattress, feet hanging off the ends on either side of the corner, reminding me just how tall he is. No wonder he moved that big ass mattress into his dorm room.

"Are you going to be comfortable here?"

"Of course. It's not like she was outright rude to me like my family was to you."

"I meant the bed," I point out. "But that too, I guess. I think my mom knows you aren't your father, and that she can't hold his actions against you. But she still holds a grudge from what happened in high school."

Ashton can't understand just how tough a year that was, and I'm not sure I want to point out that I'm not sure my mother is capable of letting all that go. It was like experiencing another death, but now I can admit it wasn't just about losing my scholarship opportunities. I was heartbroken over him. Years of curiosity and feeling like I was being pulled towards him with a magnet had led to that single moment of weakness. It was the only time I ever let my guard down, and I never did again. Not until now. I can't blame my mom for worrying about me or what the fallout of this relationship is going to be.

"It was nice of her to let me come for Christmas."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," I laugh. "I might have implied I wouldn't be able to make it without you coming with me. The gift basket was a nice touch, though. Excessive, but nice." Ashton got the hotel concierge to help him put together a massive gift basket of local goods, with baked goods, homemade jams that one of the hotel chefs made themselves, artisan made candles and earrings. Her favorite thing was a hand-knit shawl in muted rainbow tones. My mom has more rainbow in her wardrobe than the Pride display at Target, back when they pretended to give a shit about diversity.

I'm not sure how much the gift basket buttered her up, but she was very appreciative and showed Ashton kindness, despite being visibly troubled. We only gave her a basic rundown of what we know, choosing to leave out any mention of her letters. She knew that dad and Mr. James were stepbrothers, of course, and knew about the trouble with the wills. She didn't give us any of the details we were hoping for about what exactly happened between Mr. James and my father, but she talked more about my dad and the man that he was than I'd heard from her in a long time.

"I tried to encourage him to fight it more," she told us over cups of cocoa. "Especially when he was trying to open the store and kept hitting roadblocks that no one else we knew dealt with. The only reason your dad was able to open on Market Street was because he knew the owner leasing the space personally. Roman used to work at the town parks and rec department, and coached several sports," she explained to Ashton. "He was good at finding and fixing up sports equipment for the town and local schools that couldn't afford new stuff. He started doing these little pop-up events where he'd buy, sell, and trade sports equipment, fix bikes, and do random sports workshops. People loved it, and they were always a big hit. That's how he decided he wanted to open a business where he could put his degree to work and do what he loved most. He sold newer, more expensive stuff, too, but his bread and butter was making older stuff new again, so playing sports could be more affordable. He was successful, but he probably put more into the local community than he brought home. Which was fine, we had enough and didn't want for much, right baby?" I'm sure my water-rimmed smile was just as sad as hers, even if I never let a single tear fall.

"Roman was a good man. If he had any faults, it was that he let things roll off his shoulders too easily. He let things go, settled for less than he was worth. He took the interference from AJames Enterprises for what it was. A reminder to keep quiet. I think they were worried he'd get greedy and come after the inheritance again, but they didn't know him."

She looked at Ashton again, searching his eyes. "He blamed himself for what happened with your father. He loved him very much. That's why he didn't respond to any of the little things. But he felt so strongly about the development projects that were being pushed in Pinecrest that he spoke out. He started calling on our local leaders to push back against the development of the town into high-priced retail space or housing that no one could afford. At one point, he considered running for town office so he could more effectively oppose the development plans that had been put in motion. That’s when AJames Enterprises came for Market Street."

"I'm really sorry, Mrs. Vell, I mean, Harding. None of you deserved anything that happened. I think my father… Well, I think maybe he cracked under the pressure of his dad dying, Mimi's influence, and maybe some of it also had to do with whatever happened between him and Mr. Vell. Not that it's a good excuse for all the pain and suffering my family caused, but it's the only reasoning I can think of, plus something in his eyes when he talked about Mr. Vell. I think he loved him too, maybe so much that it got twisted inside him.”

Mom nodded, eyes spilling over. "Maybe. But none of that was your fault. And you're welcome in our home, just as long as you can promise me it won't happen again." She didn't need to specify what she was referring to.

Ashton took a deep breath and squeezed the fingers I laced through his. "I was a coward back then. I didn't know who I was, and I froze. I'll never forgive myself for that night, or anything that happened after. But I'll tell you this—” He looked straight at my mother, his eyes glassy. "Your son makes me brave, Mrs. Harding. It isn't his responsibility to teach me to be a better human, but he does, just by being himself. I'll do whatever it takes to live up to the chance he's given me to prove that I'm better than my bloodline."

I tried to hide the tear that slipped down my cheek hearing his words, but my mother saw it. Her gaze locked with mine and I think she saw more in that tear than I’m ready to admit to myself, even. The depth of my feelings for this ridiculous, over-privileged, persistent pain in my ass of a man. I'm not sure she approves, but her expression told me she understood, and accepted, whatever it is that's happening here.

To break the tension, Ashton made a joke about it being weird hanging out in one of his professor's houses, to which Greg joked that he better not tell anyone lest he lose all his cool points. After that, the conversation turned to school and basketball. My mother asked a lot of questions about his time at Golden State University. The conversation started with how many celebrities he took classes with, but she asked the hard questions about why he left, too. I was surprised how honestly Ashton answered her questions, and I got a little more insight into the journey that brought him to CVU.

"I was drowning. I wanted so badly to escape the usual circle of society that I'd grown up in, but I didn't handle the transition very well. I'd never really been challenged before, always had everything handed to me, even if I didn't realize that's what was happening. Suddenly, I was just another guy, except around my fraternity. The members there treated me more like I was accustomed to, and because I was flailing with school and basketball, I leaned into it. There was an incident at a frat party that I got tied up in, and my father had to come save me. He threatened to cut me off if I didn't move back and come to CVU. He'd already worked it out with the Dean and Coach Burke. All I had to do was fall in line."

Ashton's attention directed at me, and he blushed. "I, uh, might have only agreed to go because I saw Marcus' name on the team roster. I don't think my dad noticed, because he doesn't actually follow or care about basketball. He just knew I'd want to play. And since I wasn't getting much play time at GSU, he bought me a position at his alma mater where he could keep an eye on me."

"Seems like it worked out for the best," Greg said, flexing his classic positivity. But before we went to bed, Greg pulled Ashton aside. I could hear them speaking as I helped load the mugs into the dishwasher. "For the record, Ashton, I was wrong about you. I know you can't see into my brain, so you couldn't see the preconceived ideas I had about you because of your family, but they were there when they shouldn't have been. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. You're a good person. Marcus wouldn't be with you if you weren't."

Ashton shook his head. "The thing is, you weren't wrong. It took falling in love with Marcus to make me follow through on being the better person I always wanted to be."

It took falling in love with Marcus…

"I'm good at excessive," Ashton says, pulling me out of my thoughts and bringing me back to the moment.

"All jokes aside," I tell him, laying down next to him and curling into his side with one arm and one leg thrown over him. "I think they might actually like you a little."

"I'm fucking delightful," he jokes, then kisses the top of my head. "I hope you're right. There were a few times when I wasn't sure if I was talking too much, but I felt like I wanted to be really honest about who I am. Aside from your parents, everyone just assumes I'm deserving of people's respect and adoration because they think I'm something special when I'm not. With your mom and stepdad, I want to earn their acceptance, and I can't do that if I'm not completely honest about mistakes I've made and how I got to where I am."

"I think you're something special."

"Mmm-hmm. I'm still not dicking you down with your mom across the hall."

"Rude."

We snicker like school children staying up late past their bedtimes, until we finally pass out, wrapped in each other's arms again.

I am in an awkward position, and it's all my fault.

We got too comfortable. I mean, what were we fucking thinking? Ashton has his own shower in his dorm room, which I've been basically sharing with him for the past four days.

So why am I currently holding my breath, on the edge of cumming my brains out, trying to stay silent in the team locker room while Ashton has me pinned to the wall with my legs hoisted over his arms and his cock halfway inside my ass?

Because I'm an idiot. A dick-drunk idiot.

We left my mom's house earlier than planned because I couldn't bear it anymore. And you better bet we didn't even make it thirty minutes down the road before we pulled over. I still have a crick in my neck from the way we had to fold ourselves in half before we gave up and just opened the door so I could bend Ashton over the back seats.

I'm insatiable. I don't know how my dick isn't chaffed at this point. If I'm being perfectly honest, my ass is a little chaffed. But I can't stop. I don't want to stop. I won't stop.

If we get kicked out of school in the next five minutes when someone walks around this wall partition to go into the showers—because no, we're not even in a fucking shower stall—I'm going to have to ask them to give us a little privacy to finish. What the fuck were we thinking?

"Let me down," I mouth.

Ash's arms are trembling with the effort of holding me up. If we're quiet enough, he can put me down and maybe we can sneak into separate showers and no one will be none the wiser. The handful of guys that are here are all talking over each other, catching up on gossip from over the holiday and what they plan to do for New Year's Eve tomorrow night. Tomorrow is our first practice back from winter break, then we have another practice on Thursday.

But nooo , Ashton has to be an asshole. Whenever he's the one dicking me down, he gets all bossy and controlling. I don't hate it… except right now. Now is not the time to play sexy dominant control games.

With a dangerous twinkle in his eye, he bites his lip and pushes all the way into me. Now he can use his hips to help hold me up and torment me with an ass full of his cock while people that already hate me are standing directly on the other side of the wall.

Shooting daggers with my glare, I mouth, "I'm going to kill you." He chuckles silently, pulls out, and thrusts back in.

Did I mention I was already on the edge when the rowdy group of douchebags came in? I was so close to shooting that my cock had thickened to what I'm positive is an inhuman level. It was so bad Ashton had finally given up on edging me. His goal was to get me so worked up that I came hands free and, in his words, "Shoot so hard I can catch it in my mouth." We've fucked on nearly every surface of the locker room before we ended up against this wall. Less than ten minutes ago, I was fucking Ashton's throat while he laid across the same bench the guys are probably sitting on right now.

Imagine if they'd walked in on that? Their former prince, laid out on a bench with the team charity case squatted over his face, shoving my dick as far down his throat as I could get. It's been a goal of mine to make him gag, but all I can manage is to get him to make those salacious gyuk gyuk sounds that drive me wild.

We're about to put new meaning to fuck around and find out. Because they're definitely going to know something's up when I start moaning like a bull in heat. I don't think I can hold back.

My eyes plead with Ashton, begging him to take some fucking mercy on me. He adjusts, but not to let me down, the sadistic bastard. He unhooks his arms from under my knees one at a time, still using his hips to pin me against the wall, and guides my legs to wrap around him. It brings our bodies closer together, chest to chest. The angle isn't as deep, so my sensitive prostate isn't as painfully stimulated, but the friction of my cock rubbing into Ash's abs is almost as intense. Flattened against the wall, all I can do is wrap my arms around his neck and hold on for dear life as Ashton pumps himself inside me in long, smooth strokes. He swallows my breaths, sealing his mouth to mine when my body tenses and I come on a silent scream. Cum shoots out of me almost violently, painting Ash's cut abs.

Ashton lets out a faint, but audible, grunt as he comes seconds later, rocking against me as heat floods my insides. We keep kissing and holding on to each other until our heartbeats slow. Only then does the chatter from the other side of the wall filter into my cum drunk brain.

I don't recognize the first voice at first. "Did you see ESPN reported about James and Vell?"

"Yeah dude, it's fucked. Like, I don't care that they want to be together or whatever, but now this is all anyone's going to be talking about. No one's going to report on our game. They're just going to ask about our teammates fucking each other." Unsurprisingly, Dustin Harris, who pretty much lives up Anderson Heart's ass, doesn't seem to be on our side.

"They're gonna get fucked in more ways than one," someone says, laughing. I can't pick out the voice through his laughter, but I think it might be Spencer Nolan. That's dismaying, as he's never been one of the players that gave me a lot of shit.

"What do you mean?" asks the first voice again, which I recognize now as Chase, a member of the scout squad and an Alpha Omega Psi pledge.

"They had scouts coming to see them. The fucking Clippers were not being quiet about their interest in both of them. I can guarantee they're not going to want anything to do with either of them now," Dustin answers.

"Because they're gay?"

Ashton finally lowers me to the ground, and I grab his arm, making sure he's not about to do anything stupid, like march out there butt naked and dripping in cum. That's definitely not going to ease any tension or help the other players accept having gay teammates.

"How many out NBA players do you know of?" Spencer challenges.

"I mean, I don't know of any, but I'm not really paying attention to all that. Doesn't the NBA have, like, pride nights and stuff, though?"

"The Clippers definitely do pride night. It says here that like eighty percent of NBA teams have them." I recognize the slight European accent as being Wyatt, one of the sophomore guards. Considering his family is originally from overseas, it doesn't surprise me that he's the one defending gay athletes. They seem a little more relaxed about things like sexuality over there. "It also says the NBA is one of the most supportive American pro-sports organizations for LGBTQ inclusion."

"Huh. That's cool," Chase says, sounding impressed.

Dustin scoffs. "Well, maybe the butt buddies will have a chance after all. But I'm still pissed they're going to take all the focus."

"It's not like they weren't getting the team national attention anyway. You're just jealous, dude."

I've decided Wyatt is my new favorite teammate.

The guys finally leave after a bit more chatter about a party at the Alpha Omega Psi house, and only one mention about whether or not Ashton and I will show up. Apparently, Ash's little standoff with Anderson and Preston has made its way through the rumor mill and has of course, been exaggerated. Although, I guess Ash did technically threaten Anderson with significant bodily harm.

Finally able to relax, I give Ashton a scathing look, to which he grins and winks at me before heading into a shower stall to clean off. I seriously consider following him in there and punishing him, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get it up again for at least an hour. As I'm about to walk into the next stall over, Ash steps out and hooks me around my waist, dragging me into the shower with him.