The Wild Heart

by Emrys Apollo

  “Clint, just listen to me,” Sean pleaded.

  “Why the fuck should I?” Clint roared, pushing Sean hard. Sean stumbled backwards and Clint turned away, rubbing his hand over his face. “I can’t believe I actually-” He shook his head.

  He sat on Sean’s bed, head bowed. Frightened, panicking, Sean quickly sat directly opposite on Clint’s bed. “Please, Clint, listen to me. I’ve never been with Paxton. He called me to his room today and kissed me. I didn’t know, I swear. I would never lie to you.” He said the words fast, desperate to get them out before it was too late.

  Clint didn’t look appeased by it at all. “You were fucking . I heard you.”

  Sean flushed. “I’m not lying. I haven’t slept with him.”

  Clint was still furious. “You still lied, though, didn’t you? You want Paxton!”

  “No, Clint, I don’t! He kissed me,” Sean said desperately.

  “Then why were you moaning? Don’t tell me that wasn’t you!” Clint snapped, eyes flashing. He was so angry even his ears were red.

  What the hell did that mean? So what if Sean had moaned? He hadn’t lied to Clint, had he? They weren’t together. Why shouldn’t he kiss anyone?

  “What does that matter?”

  “What do you mean? Of course it matters!” Clint shouted.

  “Why?” Sean said loudly. “I’m single!”

  Clint looked taken aback. He stared at Sean, stunned. Something passed quickly over his face and Sean could have sworn it was hurt. Then he sneered. “Oh, so you two are a thing now? Am I going to have to watch you make out every day now?”

  “We’re not anything. He kissed me once and I came to talk to you about it! Once, Clint!”

  “Oh, should I be thankful? Thank you, Sean!” Clint exclaimed sarcastically.

  “I don’t understand what your problem is!” Sean snapped, fed up. “I’m telling you I haven’t lied to you about anything. Why do you even care if I’m with Paxton or not? It’s not like you want me, right? So why can’t I be with whoever I want?”

  “When the fuck did you ask me if I wanted you?” Clint spat, fists clenched on his thighs. “You told me five days ago that you wanted me-wait, you didn’t even tell me! I had to find out from Maurice! So when did you give me the time, Sean?”

  Sean was stunned. He stared at Clint. “I-”

  “Shut the fuck up. I find out my best friend of over a decade feels something for me. I don't even know what or how much or anything, and I’ve been really trying to think about it, to give it a fair chance, to give us a fair chance. I’ve been trying so hard, Sean! Do you think this is easy for me?”

  Sean was quiet. “Clint-”

  “I said shut up.” Clint’s voice was shaking now. Anger was draining out of him, replaced by something else. “I wanted-I wanted-” he broke off, shaking his head, looking down.

  Sean was motionless for a second. He reached for Clint, but Clint knocked his hand aside. “Don’t.” Clint was still shaking his head. “Don’t touch me.”

  Sean felt horrible. He’d never ever thought of how difficult this must be for Clint. Of how he must be trying so hard to understand Sean. He’d probably never thought of Sean that way, and he’d been so kind, so understanding.

  Sean felt a sick feeling sweep through him. He stared at Clint’s bowed head, miserable, panicking. “Clint,” he whispered, all his longing in one word.

  Clint looked at him then. His eyes were red with emotion, cheeks flushed. “I’m sorry,” Clint said quietly. “You deserve to be happy. If that’s him, then I support you.”

  “You know I want only you,” Sean said hoarsely, his pride completely deserting him. “You know I love only you.”

  Clint squeezed his eyes shut tight. “No, I don’t know, Sean. Because you never told me.” His voice wasn’t angry now, just tired and trembling a little.

  Sean was silent for a minute. “Clint-”

  Clint held up a hand. “Please, Sean.” He put his face in his hands, overcome with emotion. Sean felt his vision blurring and realized he was crying.

  When Clint lifted his head and saw the tears, he swore. Immediately, he was on his knees between Sean’s legs. “Stop,” he whispered. “Why are you crying over me? I’m just an average guy.”

  Sean gave Clint a watery smile, tears still falling. “I’m sorry,” he choked out. “I didn’t think.”

  Clint hushed him. He wiped Sean’s tears, smiling.

  Sean huffed out a short laugh. “But you’re still the best.”

  Clint grinned. “I wish you were the only person who voted. I’d win every year.”

  Sean laughed softly. “That’s true. Nobody would come for the ceremony though. It’d be just you and me.”

  “I wouldn’t mind,” Clint told him, smiling.

  “Clint,” Sean said, taking a deep breath, knowing it was now or never. “I love you. I’ve loved you for years and years.”

  It was a moment fraught with emotion. There were still tear tracks down Sean’s face. Clint’s hair was a wild mess. But Clint leaned forward slowly until his lips were touching Sean’s. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, his mouth moving against Sean’s.

  Sean moaned. He’d waited for this moment for so long it was unbelievable that it was finally here. Clint’s hand came up to frame his face, while he gently bit Sean’s lower lip. He kissed him softly, seemingly content just to brush their lips together.

  Sean’s head was swimming. He’d never expected it to happen and it was better than all its fantasies. Clint’s mouth was warm and firm. Sean wanted to touch Clint, but he was scared and kept his fists clenched by his sides.

  Clint felt no such qualms. His other hand was in Sean’s hair. He had tilted his head to the right a little and he took Sean’s lower lip into his mouth, sucking gently. Sean wondered if a person could faint during kissing because it seemed like he was getting dizzy.

  Clint finally stopped to take a breath, moving back so little that his lips were still touching Sean’s. They were breathing harshly, quickly.

  “Are we okay?” Sean asked.

  Clint moved back then as if Sean’s question had punctured the atmosphere. Sean cursed himself. Clint turned very red almost instantly. He sat on Sean’s bed, rubbing his knees. He nodded.

  Sean flushed too, now. What was supposed to happen now?

  Clint seemed to read his mind because he rubbed his neck. “Should we go to bed?” he said. He flushed harder. “I mean go to sleep.”

  How the hell did Clint expect him to sleep after that? But Sean was suddenly, completely exhausted. He nodded.

  They both got up, blushing, moving carefully around each other so as not to touch each other, even by accident. Sean climbed into his bed. He switched off the lights with the button by his bed.

  He stared into the darkness for a long time, replaying the kiss over and over again. He felt like it was a dream.

  He didn’t sleep for a long time and, judging by his breathing, Clint didn’t either.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Sean eyed Clint over his toast. Clint was sitting a few seats down from Sean, chatting and laughing with Avery about something that Sean couldn’t quite catch. Clint seemed happy and relaxed-he’d woken up in a great mood and chattered non-stop with Sean until they’d reached the breakfast table.

  Sean loved seeing Clint happy. There was absolutely nothing he wanted more.

  But why was he so damn happy today?

  Sean buttered his toast moodily. He bit into it, getting butter on his lips. Sighing, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and glanced again at Clint.

  Clint was dimpling at Avery, tossing his head back in laughter.

  Sean frowned. Couldn’t he at least pretend to be thinking about that kiss? Sean felt as if his world had been rocked, as if everything he’d ever known had come to a standstill-and Clint was nudging Avery as he cracked another joke.

  Really?

  He wanted to throw his toast directly at Clint’s floppy hair. But perhaps thei
r teammates might notice, and he really didn’t want to see Maurice’s stupid smirk.

  He looked at Clint again and saw that the idiotic bastard hadn’t even looked once at him. Irritated, Sean turned purposely towards Paxton, sitting directly in front of him, and flashed a brilliant smile. Too late he realized that they still hadn’t quite discussed their kiss and that maybe this hot-and-cold behavior would confuse Paxton.

  But Paxton smiled back, unperturbed. He winked at Sean and helped himself to more coffee.

  Sean frowned inwardly. Was kissing him so routine that everyone felt they could just go about their own life with not a care in the world?

  Was he that forgettable?

  Or, worse, was his kissing so damn bad?

  For that matter, should he more worried about how he was in the same situation with two teammates? Oh, God, was he the team’s resident whore?

  Sean cursed inwardly. Enough of these ridiculous boys. Fuck them all. He didn’t need them. He was going to concentrate on football and the Championship and none of this bullshit.

  Clint chose that moment to wink at Sean across the table before returning to his conversation. Sean felt more affronted than ever.

  Huffily, he drank his water and chewed his toast with a vengeance. Who did he think he was? Clint with his magic left foot and dimples, and his round ass.

  Well, perhaps it was better not to think of that particular round bottom. Sean shifted a little uncomfortably as his crotch gave a faint sniff of interest. Sternly, he glared at it and it subsided meekly.

  He looked up and saw that Paxton was looking at him warily. Trying to act like making faces at his own genitals was nothing, Sean smiled breezily and reached for the orange juice-and accidentally knocked the whole pitcher all over himself.

  Swearing loudly, he stood up. He was soaked from the waist down. The whole table was silent for one second then everyone burst out in raucous laughter. Sean himself laughed. But the juice had been icy cold and he immediately shivered. The movement rocked his shoulder and he winced, his normal arm coming to cup it.

  Maurice was sitting next to him and he was the first one to realize Sean was in pain. “Is it still hurting?” he said sharply.

  Sean nodded, trying to look calm, but he felt fear clench his stomach. His shoulder had been sore all morning, but it was screamingly painful now and he gritted his teeth against the pain, furious with himself. He couldn’t miss the Championship for this. Not another injury. He’d had to sit out most of the Championship and it had been awful. He couldn’t go through it again.

  Maurice stood up. “I’ll come with you.”

  Sean nodded again, unable to say anything. The rest of their teammates had gone back to talking amongst themselves and as he was about to leave, Clint materialized right next to him.

  “What’s wrong?” he said, frowning.

  Sean was still holding his shoulder gingerly. “I don’t know.”

  Maurice stopped, looking between them both. “Will you take him, Clint?”

  Sean flushed bright red, knowing what Maurice was trying to do. “No,” he said quickly. “Clint, you don’t have to.”

  Clint completely ignored Sean, looking at Maurice and nodding. Maurice gently patted Sean’s good shoulder, winking surreptitiously. Sean tried hard not to glare at him since Clint was still looking at him in concern.

  They walked back to the elevators, Sean feeling angry and embarrassed. He didn’t want Clint. Clint was happy talking to Avery, wasn’t he? Why did he have to butt in? Did he feel sorry for Sean?

  “Does it hurt a lot?” Clint asked, probably misinterpreting Sean’s frown.

  Sean decided a nod would suffice, not meeting Clint’s eyes.

  The doors dinged open and they both stepped inside. Clint pressed their floor and they went up in silence, not looking at each other. When they reached their floor, Clint placed his hand in the small of Sean’s back as he ushered him out of the elevator and down the hallway.

  Sean fumed. Clint was treating him like a child. Well, he hadn’t been much of a kid last night when Clint’s tongue was down his throat, had he? He walked a little quicker, trying to escape Clint’s hands. Not looking down, he tripped slightly and, though he righted himself quickly, the movement jarred his shoulder badly and he gasped, pain shooting up his arm and into his shoulder.

  Clint was immediately there, eyes full of concern. “Sean! Are you okay?”

  Sean nodded, clenching his teeth against the pain. He jerked his chin towards the door, just two steps away and Clint hurriedly opened it.

  Sean stepped inside, freezing, in pain, and thoroughly irritated.

  He immediately went to his suitcase and tried to open it with one hand. Clint came quickly to his side and said, “I’ll do it.”

  Sean turned to him instantly. “I can do it myself!” he snapped.

  Clint grabbed Sean’s wrist-the normal one-and they looked at each other. Clint’s eyes were calm, but Sean knew he was a little angry. “Sean.”

  Sean glared back defiantly.

  “Go and sit down. I’ll get it,” Clint said in a low voice, his tone a warning.

  Sean jerked his wrist out of Clint’s grasp and stomped over to the bed, partially aware that he was acting like a child, but not caring. Fuming, he sat down with his back to Clint.

  Clint took a few minutes to come back. He made a brief trip to the bathroom, turning the tap on quickly and then returning with a new jersey, pants, a wet washcloth, a towel and-for the love of all that was holy, was that underwear?

  “I am not changing my underwear in front of you!” Sean said quickly.

  Clint looked at him, amused. “Do you think I’m going to take advantage of you?” he said, raising one eyebrow and smirking.

  Furious, Sean looked away. Yeah, so Clint wasn’t attracted to him. He didn’t have to be such a jerk about it.

  “Can you stand?”

  Sean stood, not meeting Clint’s eyes. His heart was suddenly beating a little faster. Clint stepped closer and slipped his fingers under the edge of Sean’s jersey, his warm fingers burning against Sean’s cool, slightly damp skin.

  Sean hated himself for it, but he shivered. He stubbornly continued to look to the right, but he felt Clint’s hands still at Sean’s reaction. For a second, Clint didn’t move, his fingers simply motionless on Sean’s bare skin, then Clint lifted the shirt.

  He did it in such a way that Sean shrugged his normal arm out of the jersey first, then Clint gently maneuvered the jersey over Sean’s injured shoulder, moving it as little as possible. Sean still hissed in pain.

  Clint tossed the jersey away and stepped closer. Sean’s breath stopped until he realized that Clint was looking hard at his injured shoulder. Gently, Clint’s fingers brushed against it. Sean’s eyes closed, longing for Clint so much it made him weak.

  When he opened his eyes again, he saw that Clint was watching him. He hadn’t stepped back yet. Sean could feel his heartbeat everywhere, loud and rushing. Clint’s eyes were dark and so intense, he felt as if it was sucking his breath away.

  Slowly, Clint bent down, picking up a wet washcloth and wiping Sean’s skin, sticky with the orange juice. “I can do that,” Sean said shakily.

  Clint ignored him, quickly finishing and tossing the washcloth away. He rubbed him dry quickly with the towel, taking care not to move his shoulder. Sean felt his irritation return at this treatment and he bit back a snarky comment.

  Clint seemed to know anyway because he met Sean’s sullen glance with a smirk. Sean’s breath came out in a hiss, half-pain, half-irritation. But Clint stopped immediately.

  “What?”

  They were standing so close that Clint’s voice was almost a whisper, not needing to be loud. Sean felt it vibrate against his skin and he swallowed. He was tired of being this hard around Clint. It was ridiculous that he was erect when his shoulder hurt so much. Why was his body so unruly?

  “Nothing. Just a little twinge.”

  Clint searched his eyes for
a second, then he hooked his fingers into Sean’s shorts. Sean closed his eyes, embarrassed that Clint was going to see his hard-on. Clint didn’t make a comment even though it must have been obvious as Sean stepped out of his shorts.

  “I’ll put the towel around you,” Clint said, voice calm. “I’ll pull it down underneath that. Is that okay?”

  Sean nodded, looking firmly at Clint’s shirt and not his eyes. He was so embarrassed that he felt he could die.

  Why was God so cruel?

  Clint had to step close to wrap the towel around him and Sean angled his head away. He felt a sudden huff of laughter against his ear and he snapped his eyes to Clint’s.

  Clint was smiling. “I’m sorry. It’s just-it’s kind of funny.”

  Sean glared at him. “It’s the opposite of funny. It’s very not funny. Let’s see you deal with this.”

  They were very close, so close that Sean could see all of Clint’s eyelashes, thick and long and beautiful. Clint grinned. “Be thankful it’s me. What would Maurice think?”

  Sean groaned, closing his eyes in misery. He could hear Clint chuckling as he tied the towel carefully around Sean. He kneeled down in front of Sean and slipped his hands up the towel.

  Sean dropped his head back, looking up. This was it. This was the height of disrespect.

  What next? Would Sean have to get down on all fours while Clint pressed his crotch against Sean’s ass?

  What else, universe? Surely, someone up there was enjoying fucking around with Sean a whole lot.

  Sean winced as Clint’s fingers hooked into the waistband of his underwear. He pulled it down with a slight amount of difficulty owing to Sean’s erection. Sean stepped out of the wet item, so humiliated he felt death was more acceptable than this.

  He looked down at Clint’s head. He could see that Clint’s cheeks had reddened and this made Sean feel a bit better. It would be just plain unfair if he was the only one suffering. Clint wiped his legs as much as he could with the washcloth considering he couldn’t see much because of the towel.

  He tacitly avoided the crotch and Sean silently thanked God that Clint wasn’t pushing it. He’d put up with a sticky crotch, thank you very much. Clint picked up the clean underwear and held it out as if Sean was a child, indicating that Sean should step in. Sean put a hand on Clint’s shoulder for balance and stepped in resentfully, cursing Clint. Clint pulled it up as quickly as he could under the towel without dislodging it.