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MIGUEL'S POV

Screw me.

For fuck's sake, why him? Why of all people was it Seth? My stomach twisted with a nervous curl as chills ran down my spine. My eyes met Seth's, and there, within his gaze, lay the condescending look that made my blood boil every time.

The hatred was one thing, but now. fuck. My life was in his hands. I couldn't think, couldn't speak. My mind kept racing in a circle, repeating the complete humiliation of him finding out about the video. Breaths started to turn shallow and erratic, and before I could stop it, a tear cascaded down my cheek. I wiped it away quickly, livid with myself for the show of weakness. The truth was, though, I was scared-scared as I had never been.

“Wow,” Seth drawled, the word dripping with mockery, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. He was enjoying this—relishing it. Of course he was.

I fumbled with my phone, slapping off the video as quickly as I could, cutting off the sound of my moaning. That had been a stupid mistake to save that clip of Zed and me. It was perfect when I needed a quick release, but now? Now it felt like a loaded gun pointed at my head. And Seth was holding the trigger.

I hated that smug smirk on his face, the way he seemed to savor my discomfort. Seth had loathed me since the moment we met, and I couldn't even blame him. He was always stuck in second place, always just behind me. But this wasn't the time for petty rivalries. My world was hanging by a thread, and he held the scissors.

"Don't ever go through my things!" I snapped, my voice coming out sharper than I had meant. The words came out in a firm tone, but even I could hear the tremor in it.

Seth's laughter was echoing off the empty locker room, jarring, mocking. It was like fingernails on the chalkboard, screeching against the fragile thread of control I was clinging so desperately to. I wiped my face again, forcing myself to stand tall, even though my knees felt like giving out.

“You fag,” he sneered. Each word was a dagger. “You suck cock and let it fuck you in the ass. The golden boy’s a fucking whore for dicks.”

My stomach wrenched hard, and his words clung in the air, choking me. I wanted to say something, anything, but my tongue was a slab of lead. Again I looked at him, and I saw his expression: triumph laced with malice. That crazed, wild gleam in his eye made my blood boil but it also made me feel sick.

I tried to think, to form a plan, but my brain was short-circuiting. Every part of me was screaming to run, get out of here, but I couldn't. Not yet.

"The school would love this update," he said, his voice low and slicing. He turned as if to leave and something inside of me snapped. I grabbed his arm and slammed him into the lockers, pinning him with my elbow against his throat.

"Don't you bloody say a thing," I hissed, low and cold. I hoped it sounded threatening, but Seth merely smirked, unaffected.

"Why not?" he sneered, his voice dripping with sham sympathy. "The school loves you, right? Letting them know you enjoy fucking dicks won't make that change."

His words lashed like a slap, and I tightened my jaw to prevent myself from reacting. I couldn't let him see how much this was getting to me. To him, this was a game-some kind of devious, sadistic game.

But then, he took it to the next step.

"What would Daddy say?" he said with a casual, almost bored tone of voice. "Your sweet, sweet daddy, who just loves bragging about his perfect son.what would he say about his son getting fucked?"

My vision blurred with rage. I struck without another thought, my fist connecting to his face. The sound echoed around the room as Seth stumbled back, blood trickling from his lip.

“Bloody fag! How dare you?” he growled, swinging back and catching me with a fist. The blow hit my jaw with a loud crack, and I reeled; however, I stayed on my feet. My body coursed with a wave of adrenaline as I struck him in the neck, driving a kick into his side. Then he grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me toward him. In the chaos of that, my towel slipped off, leaving me exposed.

I felt the cold metal of the locker against my chest as Seth pushed me, the weight of his body pinning me against it. The handle hit my face, and I swore under my breath.

"Fucking let me go-I need to breathe!" I spat, struggling against him.

But he didn't let go. Instead, his grip tightened, his body pressing harder against mine, pinning my arms behind my back. His breath was warm against my ear as he leaned in close.

"Why should I?" he purred out, his tone mockingly sweet. "I bet you like it rough. Isn't this a kink for fags?"

His words sent a shiver down my spine, my cock twitching involuntarily. The smell of his soap was woodsy and warm and filled my nostrils, clouding my brain. No. Not here. Not now. I couldn’t let this happen.

"I'm beginning to think you know me better than I do," I said, forcing a smirk. "I feel your cock pressing against my ass, Seth. Do you want to fuck me? Is that what this is about?"

His hands tightened around my neck, and for a second, I thought that he would snap. Instead, he slammed me harder against the locker, his lips crashing onto mine in an unexpected, rough, and demanding kiss.

And worse? I kissed him back.

His hands wandered over my body, searching out every inch of skin that was available to him. His fingers located my nipples, twisting them just hard enough to catch my breath. My cock throbbed against his palm as he wrapped his hand around me, stroking with a precision that left me breathless.

“Fucking good… feels so good,” I moaned, my voice breaking.

He didn't stop. His strokes grew faster, more deliberate, until I was on the edge of release. My breathing was ragged, my thoughts a jumbled mess.

“Not so hard—Seth, stop… I’ll… I’ll cum!” I gasped.

"Then bloody do it," he growled, his voice low and commanding. And I did. My body jerked forward, spilling onto his hand as my release left me trembling. He didn't stop, didn't pull away, until he'd finished stroking himself, his own release mixing with mine. We just stood there, panting heavily, as reality began to set in like a ton of lead.

“Forget this,” Seth said suddenly, drawing away.

“This shit never happened. If you tell anyone, I’ll fucking murder you.” I swallowed hard, speechless, and my hands were quivering at my sides. I reached to him, and he slapped my hand away.

“Don’t touch me, faggot,” he snarled, his eyes afire in anger.

“This didn’t happen. Get it through your head.” And then he was gone, leaving me to myself in the empty locker room. For the first time in years, I saw fear in Seth's eyes. But that didn't make the knot in my chest loosen. If anything, it made it worse.