Just a Bit Wicked (Straight Guys Book 7)

by Alessandra Hazard

  Doing his best to push the man beside him out of his mind, Sebastian focused on the match. He tensed when City’s striker dribbled past Chelsea’s defenders. Fuck, he’d better not—

  He cheered loudly with the other fans when the striker missed.

  The pace of the game picked up after that, both teams trading nail-biting moments. Sebastian became so engrossed in the match that it took him a while to notice that he was clutching Vlad’s arm with both hands in excitement and leaning all the way into Vlad.

  He snatched his hands away.

  “Exciting game,” he said awkwardly without looking at Vlad. Fuck. What was it about Vlad that turned him into the painfully awkward loser he used to be as a teenager?

  “Uh huh,” Vlad said, his eyes on his phone. “Do you think DuVal will score? They are giving good odds.”

  “Are you betting?” Sebastian said, leaning into Vlad to look at his phone.

  Vlad hummed in affirmative. “Just put five thousand pounds on Gabriel DuVal.”

  Sebastian whistled. “Gabe had better deliver.”

  Vlad turned his head. “You know him?”

  Sebastian swallowed at the sudden proximity of their faces. “Yeah—I mean, we aren’t friends or anything, but yeah. He’s Tristan DuVal’s adoptive brother.”

  Vlad’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Are the rumors true?”

  “What rumors?” Sebastian said, wincing inwardly. He knew Vlad was unlikely to out Gabe, but it still didn’t sit well with him to share secrets that weren’t his.

  “That he has a thing with the team physician,” Vlad said, his gaze moving to the technical area where Sebastian could see Dr. Sheldon, an insanely attractive man who was openly gay.

  “No idea,” he said, rubbing at his nose.

  Vlad looked at him for a moment. “Do you know you often rub your nose when you’re lying?”

  Sebastian dropped his hand and laughed. “Stop being such a creep.”

  Vlad gave him an affronted glare. “What’s creepy about noticing things? Paying attention might save your life one day.”

  Sebastian pressed his lips together to keep himself from laughing. “I’m sure you have a very rational reason for being a creep,” he said teasingly, looking Vlad in the eye.

  Vlad stared at him with a pinched expression, as if he’d swallowed something sour. “You’re flirting,” he said. “Stop flirting, damn you, if you expect us to be friends.”

  Sebastian licked his lips. “I’m not flirting. I’m just being friendly.”

  “You’re not ‘being friendly’ very well,” Vlad said. The intensity of his gaze made Sebastian hot all over, his cock going half-hard so fast it was dizzying.

  “I...” Sebastian trailed off, unsure what to say, because he really had been flirting. It was like he couldn’t control his mouth or the way he looked at Vlad.

  “You said we shouldn’t and I agreed with you,” Vlad said, looking almost pained. “And I was trying to be a decent person for a change—I’m trying. But you’re being all—” Vlad glowered at him. “Being all pretty and flirty and making me stupid—”

  “I’m not doing it on purpose,” Sebastian said guiltily and bit his bottom lip, lowering his lashes.

  Vlad cursed in a Russian before suddenly grabbing a fistful of Sebastian’s hair and kissing his mouth, hard and greedy. He pulled back even faster, swearing under his breath and shoving his trembling hands into his pockets.

  Sebastian stared at him, wide-eyed, his lips tingling, his heart racing, and his body quivering with want.

  “Sorry,” Vlad said tightly, looking at the pitch like it was the most interesting thing in the world.

  Sebastian stared longingly at the mouthwatering line of Vlad’s jaw and dug his nails into his thighs again to let the pain distract him.

  Fuck, they were terrible at being friends.

  Flustered and frustrated, Sebastian looked around and froze, catching the sneering, disgusted looks from the men around them.

  “Let’s leave,” he said.

  Vlad’s brows furrowed, his eyes still on the pitch. “There’s still half of the game to go.”

  “People are looking, Vlad,” Sebastian said, his chest filled with anxiety. The tensions ran high during such an important match and most fans had likely had a few pints prior to the start of the match; sometimes violence could be triggered by the smallest things.

  Vlad followed his gaze toward the gawking men. His face hardened, something ugly and dangerous appearing in his eyes.

  “Calm down,” Sebastian said nervously, putting a hand on Vlad’s shoulder. Vlad had a temper on him; he was very unlikely to ignore it if someone called him a faggot.

  “I’m perfectly calm,” Vlad said evenly.

  “Let’s go, then,” Sebastian said, getting up.

  Vlad grabbed his wrist and pulled him down. “We aren’t going anywhere,” he said, his eyes on the men around them. “I see no reason for us to. We came to see the match and we will watch the match till the end.”

  “Vlad,” Sebastian started, looking around anxiously. He could feel the hostility and disgust emanating from pretty much everyone in their vicinity with the exception of the woman in the row below, who just looked curious.

  “I never let a bunch of assholes bully me into leaving and I’m not about to start,” Vlad said.

  Sebastian gave a wry smile. “You’re the one usually doing the bullying, huh?”

  Vlad didn’t return his smile. In fact, he looked deeply unamused as he watched their surroundings like a hawk, looking each man in the eye, as if daring to say something.

  Fuck, this wasn’t going to end well.

  “Come on,” Sebastian tried again, squeezing Vlad’s biceps. “Let’s just leave.”

  “No,” Vlad said. “We have every right to be here.” Before Sebastian could say anything, Vlad put an arm around him and pulled Sebastian close so their sides and thighs pressed together.

  His eyes widening, Sebastian hissed, “What the hell are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  “If anyone has a problem, they should be the ones leaving,” Vlad said.

  “What happened to ‘I’m not a faggot’?” Sebastian said, confused as hell. He had thought Vlad would try putting as much distance between them as possible at the mere suspicion that they were together. “Why aren’t you freaking out that people think you’re gay?”

  Vlad frowned. Perhaps he was surprised, too.

  “I don’t know them and I don’t give a damn what they think about me,” he said. “But I don’t fucking like how they’re looking at us. If that’s how you felt when I shamed you for your sexuality, you should have punched me every time I opened my mouth.”

  Sebastian felt his jaw drop. Of all the outcomes of Vlad being subjected to homophobia, this outcome was the one he certainly hadn’t expected.

  “I did try punching you,” Sebastian said with a smile. “Not my fault you’re built like a tank.”

  “No, it’s not your fault,” Vlad said in a strange tone, returning to scanning their surroundings warily, his gaze sharp and hard.

  Sebastian let himself relax and lean against Vlad. It felt insanely good to have Vlad’s arm around him, to feel Vlad’s warm breath against his ear, to feel Vlad’s strength with his own body. Sebastian wasn’t a small man, but, tucked in against Vlad, he felt small, vulnerable, and protected in the best possible way. Despite the hostile looks, he no longer felt nervous, somehow sure that no one would do anything. It was so stupid. Moreover, it was dangerous.

  But his stupid heart and his stupid body didn’t listen, reveling in the feeling of being warm, of being held and protected.

  Of being cared for.

  Christ, he was so, so screwed.

  Halftime passed in a blur, with Vlad talking quietly into his ear about the substitutes both team managers should make. Sebastian found himself nodding dazedly and contributing very little, his mind occupied with squashing down the small spark of hope that had raised its ugly head. H
e couldn’t read too much into Vlad’s behavior. If Vlad was behaving like a boyfriend, it didn’t mean he wanted them to be boyfriends. It didn’t.

  When halftime ended and the match finally resumed, Sebastian was relieved to have something else to focus on.

  Chelsea started the second half better and soon Sebastian was on the edge of his seat, murmuring “come on” as the team launched attack after attack.

  When Gabe DuVal finally scored in the fifty-sixth minute, he jumped to his feet, cheering loudly. “Fuck yeah! Get in!”

  Vlad hugged him from behind, grinning, and pecked his cheek.

  Warmth spread through Sebastian’s body, his heart fluttering like a trapped bird. He leaned back into Vlad’s chest, wishing there weren’t so many layers between them. Other fans paid them no attention now, too busy hugging and celebrating the goal.

  All too soon, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the players to resume the match.

  His heart still beating fast, Sebastian plopped down on his seat and, after a moment of hesitation, huddled into Vlad for warmth.

  “So how much did you win?” he said, smiling at Vlad and feeling ridiculously giddy.

  Vlad stared at him. “More than I thought,” he said, wrapping an arm around him again.

  Beaming, Sebastian settled against him, feeling much too warm and content to care about the glares of the homophobic jerks around them.

  As the match neared the end, Vlad pressed his nose into Sebastian’s cheek.

  Sebastian’s breath caught in his throat. He didn’t dare move.

  Nuzzling into his cheek, Vlad dragged his mouth along Sebastian’s jaw and sighed. “I’m sorry,” he said hoarsely. “I can’t be your friend. I don’t want to be your friend. I want more.”

  Sebastian closed his eyes, fear, hope and violent delight surging through his body.

  If he allowed this to happen, he might get his heart broken again and this time he might not recover. The emotions he felt for Vlad were far stronger and deeper than the teenage infatuation he used to feel for Mike; the fall would be much harder.

  There were so many reasons why they wouldn’t work. Vlad had too much baggage. Vlad might decide he wasn’t gay after all and leave him after a few months. Vlad might resent him for “making him gay,” poisoning their relationship with his resentment.

  Vlad might never love him.

  But he also might.

  Sebastian opened his eyes, his throat painfully tight with fear. The fear of making the wrong choice.

  He suddenly remembered his sister’s words.

  Don’t let a past mistake or the fear of a future one ruin your life. Don’t let him win.

  Sebastian turned around to look at Vlad.

  Vlad met his gaze, his expression unguarded and open. Sebastian realized he wasn’t the only one who felt unsure and vulnerable.

  He put a hand on Vlad’s scruffy cheek and felt the tightness in his throat ease when Vlad leaned into the touch.

  Licking his lips, Sebastian took a leap of faith.

  “Then be more,” he whispered with a smile.

  Vlad’s blue eyes smiled.

  Epilogue

  Eight months later

  The wedding day of Tristan DuVal and Zach Hardaway dawned bright and beautiful, the sunlight filtering through half-closed curtains and waking Sebastian.

  Yawning, Sebastian turned to his other side and felt his breath catch.

  The early morning sun had set Vlad’s blond hair ablaze in golden light. His lax mouth was parted as he breathed evenly, his wide chest rising and falling rhythmically. Altogether, he looked warm, solid, a picture of virility and masculinity.

  Sebastian rested his head gently against his own pillow and simply watched him. He wanted to snuggle up against Vlad’s warm body, to inhale the scent of his sun-kissed skin. But for now, he merely watched, feeling like he’d never tire of it.

  I love you.

  The thought didn’t make him panic. The thought felt right and comfortable. After months together, he was used to these random waves of love that stole his breath away.

  Being in love felt surprisingly wonderful. Sometimes it was still scary, but Sebastian found himself smiling more often, feeling more positive and happy in general and when Vlad was around in particular.

  It wasn’t always sunshine and roses, though.

  Sometimes there were bad days, when Vlad became closed off and tense. On days like that, he tended to avoid Sebastian, but he usually ended up at Sebastian’s place anyway.

  “Sorry,” Vlad would say gruffly, nuzzling Sebastian’s cheek, his neck, breathing in deeply, as if trying to take him under his skin.

  At first Sebastian had thought he was apologizing for his shitty mood, but before long, he realized Vlad was apologizing for needing him anyway when he was in such a mood, which was...it kind of melted Sebastian’s heart.

  “It’s okay, you know,” Sebastian had said one such evening months ago. He was snuggled up to Vlad, Vlad’s arms wound tight around him. Although Vlad was the one holding him, neither of them was delusional about who needed it more at the moment.

  He looked at Vlad. “I know I said I didn’t want to deal with gay freak-outs, but that was before.” Before I let you in. Before you became mine. “You can talk to me. I want you to. Only if you want to, of course.”

  Vlad just looked at him for a while.

  “I...” Vlad grimaced, closing his eyes for a moment. “It’s like there’s this annoying snide voice in my head that keeps telling me how wrong and sick being with a man is. It’s quiet most of the time now, but sometimes it fucks with my head, you know?”

  Sebastian nodded, chewing on his lip thoughtfully as he traced lines on Vlad’s arm with his finger. “What can I do to help?”

  “You’re already helping,” Vlad said. “It goes very quiet when I look at you.”

  Sebastian cleared his suddenly tight throat and smiled. “And why is that?” he said teasingly. Yup, he was fishing for compliments; sue him.

  “Smugness isn’t attractive, you know,” Vlad said. But the fascinated, intense expression on his face said otherwise. “You know why, you smug little shit.”

  Sebastian grinned, feeling warm, pleased, and so gone, God.

  “You love it,” he said, smirking. “You secretly love everything about me, despite all your grumpy bitchiness.”

  “I’m not grumpy,” Vlad said grumpily.

  Sebastian lifted a hand and patted him on the cheek. “It’s okay. You can be grumpy. I can smile for both of us.”

  Vlad kissed him.

  By the time Vlad pulled back, Sebastian was a little breathless, his mind blissfully empty as he murmured, “I love you, you know.”

  It had been the first time he told the words to Vlad.

  They both kind of froze, staring at each other. But if Sebastian was a little surprised by his own declaration, Vlad looked absolutely floored, as if someone had pulled the ground from under him.

  “You can’t love me,” he said at last, his Adam’s apple moving.

  Sebastian smacked Vlad on the head. “What is that supposed to mean? I can love whoever I want, even a grumpy bear like you. You can’t tell me whether I love you or not.”

  Vlad blinked rapidly and turned his face away, presenting Sebastian with his profile. It was a lovely profile, with a jaw to die for, but Sebastian wasn’t exactly content looking at it after declaring his feelings—something he hadn’t done since Mike.

  The longer the silence lasted, the more self-conscious he felt. He tried to free himself from Vlad’s arms, but Vlad didn’t let go.

  Finally, Vlad looked at him. “You can do so much better than me,” he said, his voice like gravel. “You can find someone nice. Someone who has himself figured out. Someone who’ll never hurt you.”

  Sebastian bit his lip. “It’s okay if you can’t say the words now. I don’t want you to say what you don’t mean. But I need to know if you have, like, feelings for me. That I’m not just a pretty
thing you like to fuck. That would be enough for now.” He breathed out. There. He’d said that. He hoped Vlad understood and appreciated how hard it was for him to make the first step, to put himself into such a vulnerable position.

  Vlad looked at him like he was crazy. “Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have feelings I couldn’t ignore.” Vlad smiled without much mirth. “I feel like—like it’s impossible to have enough of you,” he said, running his hands over Sebastian’s neck before cradling his face gently. “I can never get enough.” He brushed their lips together. “Always need more of you.”

  Sebastian let out the breath he’d been holding and smiled at Vlad. Maybe it wasn’t the love declaration he wanted, but it was close enough. It was enough for the time being.

  Now, five months after that conversation, it was still enough.

  Sebastian couldn’t really complain. He was truly happy, so happy he sometimes had to pinch himself. For all his grumpiness and bitchiness, Vlad was a wonderful boyfriend.

  When Sebastian had allowed himself to imagine what kind of relationship he and Vlad would have he had always thought it would be mostly sexual.

  Surprisingly, it wasn’t the case.

  It wasn’t that they didn’t have a lot of sex; they did. Sometimes Sebastian even wondered if it was healthy to want someone so much. His skin tingled whenever Vlad looked at him a little too long, and he wanted Vlad to touch him all the time. It would have been pathetic if Vlad didn’t look at him with the same hunger as the one that ate Sebastian from the inside out whenever they weren’t touching.

  The sex was fantastic and immensely gratifying, but what made it earth-shattering was the way their bodies slotted into each other, like two pieces of a puzzle, like a perfect fit. And that perfect chemistry spilled over into just about every other aspect of their relationship. Vlad would pull him into his side whenever possible, drape his arm around Sebastian’s shoulders and hold him close when they watched movies together. Sebastian had never been much for cuddling before, but he was starting to understand the appeal. He loved pressing his face against Vlad’s chest and listening to the steady thudding of Vlad’s heart under his ear as rain drummed outside the window. He loved watching Vlad watch him, feeling that intense, enamored gaze whenever they were in the same room.