CHAPTER 24- THE AFTERMATH

How do you act after hearing your old rival and nemesis, now roommate and Thorne in your flesh moan your name when jerking off?

I almost didn't come out from the bathroom for 40 minutes and now Raphael was knocking and asking if I was okay.

I AM NOT OKAY!

I just heard Raphael fucking Thorne moan my name like a plea as he came while stroking his fucking big cock.

Liam had stayed locked in the bathroom for nearly forty minutes since he'd gone back in.

He leaned against the door, breathing ragged and uneven, the pillow still clutched uselessly in front of his crotch even though no one could see him. His cock was still half-hard, twitching traitorously at the memory of what he had just witnessed.

And then the worst part Raphael had moaned his name.

“Liam…”

The sound echoed in his head, low and desperate, like a plea. Like Raphael had been thinking about him while he stroked himself. Like he had come thinking about him.

Liam’s face burned with humiliation. He splashed more cold water on his face, the droplets running down his neck and soaking the neckline of his shirt. His reflection in the mirror looked wrecked — flushed cheeks, wide eyes, hair damp with sweat. He looked like someone who had just jerked off, not someone who had walked in on someone else doing it.

Why the fuck did he say my name?

He pressed his forehead against the cool mirror, trying to steady his breathing. His cock was still aching, refusing to go down completely. The shame was overwhelming, but so was the unwanted heat pooling low in his stomach. He hated himself for it. Hated how his body had reacted to the sight. Hated how the image kept replaying — Raphael’s hand, the slick sound, the groan of “pretty boy… fuck… you make me cum for you, Liam…”

He stayed in there for nearly ten more minutes, splashing water, pacing the small space, whispering furious denials to himself.

“I’m straight. I like women. This is just… a reaction. Proximity. Stress. The game tomorrow. Raphael is the one who’s sick. He’s the one jerking off thinking about me. Not the other way around.”

But the words felt hollow. The dream from that night, the bus ride with Raphael’s head on his shoulder, the way his own cock had jumped when he saw Raphael stroking himself — it all piled up until he felt like he was drowning.

A soft knock on the door made him jump.

“Liam?” Raphael’s voice was worried, muffled through the wood. “You’re scaring me now. Are you okay? I’m sorry, okay? I really didn’t know you’d come out so fast.”

Raphael had been knocking for a while now. But Liam didn’t respond. He couldn’t. His throat felt too tight. He leaned against the sink, gripping the edges until his knuckles turned white.

“We have to prepare for the pregame ritual,” Raphael continued, voice desperate. “Can you please come out and let’s talk it out before then? I’m sorry, man. Fuck.”

The genuine concern in Raphael’s voice made something twist in Liam’s chest. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squared his shoulders. He risked one last look at the mirror. He still looked like he had just jerked off — face wet with water that could pass for sweat, eyes wild.

He slowly unlocked the door and stepped out, training his eyes on anywhere but Raphael’s concerned gaze.

The room smelled faintly of sex and Raphael’s distinct body smell. The sheets were rumpled. Liam’s stomach flipped.

“I hope you cleaned your fucking kids off the bed,” Liam said, trying to sound casual but it came out tense and forced. “Don’t want an innocent lady using the sheets and getting pregnant.”

Raphael stood near the bed, looking unusually subdued. He rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah… I changed the sheets. Sorry about that. I really thought you’d be in there longer.”

Liam shrugged nonchalantly, walking over to his duffel bag and folding the same shirt over and over. “I don’t care what you do with your cock. Just give me a heads-up before scarring me like that next time.”

Raphael watched him for a long moment, unconvinced. “You sure? You look… off.”

Liam forced a laugh that sounded fake even to his own ears. “I’m fine. It’s whatever. We’re good.”

Raphael didn’t look like he believed him, but he let it slide. “We’re good?”

Liam’s voice came out high-pitched. “Sure, bro. Definitely.”

He thought he had successfully ended the awkward conversation when Raphael scratched the back of his head nervously.

“So… uhm,” Raphael started, voice hesitant. “Did you hear anything weird? Like… did you hear me… uhmm… calling your—”

Panic hit Liam like a slapshot. He cut Raphael off sharply. “I didn’t hear anything. You’re delusional if you think I’d be eavesdropping on you jerking off like a horny teenager.”

Raphael lifted his hands in surrender, backing off with a weird, uncertain smile. He didn’t know if he was sad or relieved that Liam claimed he hadn’t heard him moaning his name as he came.

A loud knock on the door saved them from any further conversation.

Liam practically jumped at the sound. “That’s probably the guys. Take away the cum-stained sheets before someone lies on them. I’ll spray some perfume to kill the smell.”

He grabbed a bottle of cologne from his bag and sprayed it liberally around the room while Raphael quickly stripped the bed of what was left of the sheets. Liam switched into captain mode, squaring his shoulders and opening the door with a forced smile as Marcus and a few other teammates piled in, loud and excited about the upcoming game.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of team preparations. Liam threw himself into captain duties — encouraging and giving last-minute pep talks, making sure everyone was focused. But every time he glanced at Raphael, the image from the bed flashed in his mind.

Raphael stroking himself. Moaning his name. Coming hard while thinking about him.

Liam swallowed hard and looked away, face heating.

The game against the Shadow Reapers was only hours away, but Liam’s mind was nowhere near the ice.