Always Second

Elias’s POV

I sighed heavily as I walked to school. The memory of Adrian driving his cock into me and pounding me silly was still in my head.

I was so embarrassed I had kicked him out this morning. My whole body still ached from the sex.

I could not deny I had enjoyed it. Oh God have I turned gay? How could I enjoy getting fucked by another man?

My thoughts were broken by Marcus, my friend and fellow racer.

“Hi Elias. Ready for the game today?”

“Hi Marcus.”

And then I remembered I had another race today. I had almost forgot!

“Of course I’m prepared.”

“Yeah do well this time. You just might have a chance of beating Adrian this time.”

Adrian. That bastard. I wonder if he had come yesterday to deliberately distract me. Shit. It’s working.

———

The race was finally here.

The afternoon sun sat high over the university track as the final call for the 800-meter race rang out across the stadium. I rolled my shoulders and stepped into my assigned lane, trying to ignore the familiar presence two lanes over. Adrian stood loose and ready, bouncing once on his toes before settling into position. Around us the rest of the field lined up, but the only person I cared about beating was him.

The starter raised the gun. I dropped into my stance, heart already climbing.

The shot cracked. I drove forward hard, settling into rhythm by the first curve. My legs felt strong, breathing controlled. Adrian stayed close on my right the entire first lap, matching me stride for stride. I pushed the pace on the second lap, trying to open daylight, and for a few seconds I thought I had done it. The final straight opened in front of me and the noise from the stands rose. I was ahead. I could taste the win.

Then Adrian found another gear. He pulled even, then half a stride in front in the last twenty meters. He hit the line first. I crossed right behind him, lungs burning, legs heavy.

I slowed to a stop and braced my hands on my knees while the announcer called the results. Adrian’s name came first. The frustration hit harder than the fatigue. I straightened and walked straight toward him.

He was already accepting a few claps on the back from teammates, that same easy expression on his face. When he noticed me the corner of his mouth lifted.

“Good race, Elias. You almost had me.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

His eyebrows rose. “Someone’s in a mood.”

I shoved him in the chest with both hands. He barely shifted, which only made the anger hotter. “You think this is funny?”

“A little.” He stepped closer instead of giving ground. “You’re cute when you lose.”

I swung at him. He caught my wrist, turned, and suddenly we were chest to chest against the fence at the edge of the track. His body pressed fully against mine, one thigh sliding between my legs as he held me there. The contact sent an immediate reminder through me. My ass was still sore from the night before, a dull ache that flared the moment his hip settled against me. Heat rushed up my neck and into my face so fast I knew the blush was obvious.

Adrian’s voice dropped low. “Still hurting?”

“Shut up.”

“You’re blushing.” His breath touched my ear. “Remembering how you sounded when I was inside you?”

I tried to push him off but the fence left me no room. Every small movement made the soreness pulse and dragged the memory of last night back into sharp focus, the way he had taken me against the wall, the way I had moved with him even while calling it a mistake. My pulse hammered against his chest.

“Get off me.”

“Make me.”

I drove a knee up. He blocked it and the shift pressed us tighter together. For a second the rest of the track faded. All I could feel was the solid heat of him and the fact that my body was reacting even through the anger.

Hands grabbed us from both sides. Teammates pulled hard, forcing space between us. Adrian’s grip stayed in the front of my shirt longer than it needed to. When they finally dragged him back his hand slipped and yanked my collar down.

Cool air hit the side of my neck.

Several pairs of eyes landed on the dark mark he had left there the night before.

My stomach dropped.

I slapped my hand over the hickey immediately, face burning hotter than it had during the race. The small group around us went quiet for a moment.

Marcus stepped a little closer, glancing at my neck. “What is that?”

I kept my palm pressed over the bruise and tried to keep my voice even. “Nothing. I walked into something.”

He looked at me a second longer, then gave a small nod like he was willing to let it go for now. “Alright.”

I yanked the collar back into place and crossed my arms, still feeling the shape of Adrian’s mouth on my skin. One of the coaches called for everyone to clear the track and start cool-down. People began to move, but a few glances lingered.

Marcus fell into step beside me as I headed toward the infield. He kept his voice light. “You and Adrian were going at it pretty hard.”

“Drop it.”

“Just saying.”

I picked up my pace, putting space between myself and anyone else who might look too closely. My neck throbbed under the fabric. The soreness lower down reminded me with every step that last night had not stayed private. Adrian had beaten me on the track and left visible proof on my body, and now at least a few people had seen it.

I did not look back, but I could still feel his eyes on me as I walked toward the locker room.