Veiled passions:A collection of different desires

Chapter two

“What the f**k,” Riven repeated, his voice cracking through the silent locker room like a missed

shot at the buzzer. He took a stumbling step back, dragging a hand through his damp silver hair.

His amber eyes were wide, stormy with shock, anger, and something much hungrier. “You

kissed me. What the hell is wrong with you, Takahashi?”

Kael stayed leaning against the cold metal lockers, his chest still heaving. His lips burned from

the force of that first collision, the taste of Riven—salt from the game, faint mint, raw

heat—lingering like a foul he couldn’t call. The empty visitors’ locker room felt smaller than ever,

the distant hum of the arena’s ventilation the only sound besides their ragged breathing.

“You kissed back,” Kael shot back, voice low and rough. He pushed off the lockers and stepped

forward, refusing to let Riven create any distance. “Don’t pretend you weren’t daring me the

whole time. Three years of this bullshit, Vale. Don’t back down now.”

Riven’s laugh was sharp and disbelieving. He paced a short line on the tiled floor, sneakers

squeaking, his powerful frame still coiled with post-game tension. “Daring you? I was calling you

out for the way you stared at me across the court every game. Like you wanted to tear me

apart. Not… not whatever the hell that was.” His gaze dropped to Kael’s mouth again, then

lower, tracing the tight lines of his black compression shirt where it clung to his chest.

Kael closed the gap, crowding Riven against the opposite row of lockers. The metal clanged

softly under the impact. Up close, he could see the faint red marks his fingers had left on

Riven’s tank top earlier, the rapid jump of Riven’s pulse at the base of his throat, and the fresh

bruise along his jaw from that elbow in the third quarter.

“Bullshit,” Kael growled. “You’ve been pushing my buttons for years. Every taunt during

warm-ups, every time you flexed after a dunk and looked straight at me like I was supposed to

react. Every f*****g interview where you called me a robot with no fire, no soul. You wanted a

reaction. You got one.”

Riven’s breath hitched visibly. For a second, the cocky captain’s mask slipped, revealing the

same deep frustration Kael had carried like a hidden injury. “Because you make me fucking

crazy, okay? Your perfect discipline, those icy stares during matchups, shutting down my drives

like it’s effortless. It made me want to break you,to make you lose that control, to see what’s

really under all that restraint you wear like armor.”

Their faces were inches apart now. The air between them felt electric, thick with three years of

unsaid truths. Kael braced one hand against the locker beside Riven’s head, mirroring the

aggressive stance Riven had used earlier. The scent of Riven’s body wash mixed with lingering

sweat filled his lungs.

“Then break me,” Kael challenged, the words slipping out raw and unfiltered. “Or are you all talk

like usual, Vale? All flash, no follow-through?”

That snapped something in Riven. He surged forward without warning, crashing their mouths

together in a kiss fiercer than the first, no hesitation this time. Teeth scraped, tongues battled for

dominance in a messy clash of heat and need. Riven fisted the front of Kael’s shirt, yanking him

closer until their bodies aligned—chest to chest, hips brushing with a spark of friction that drew

a low groan from Kael’s throat.

“f**k,” Riven muttered against his lips when they broke for air, foreheads nearly touching. “I’ve

wanted this…wanted you since that first scrimmage back in sophomore year. Hated how much it

got under my skin.”

Kael slid a hand under the hem of Riven’s tank top, palm meeting hot, sweat-damp skin over

ridged abs. Riven shivered at the direct contact. “Then why the hell did you keep pushing so

hard?” Kael demanded, voice hoarse as his fingers explored, tracing the hard-earned muscle

from years of dominating the paint.

“Because admitting it meant I lost,” Riven growled. He retaliated instantly, shoving Kael’s shirt

up with impatient hands. His palms roamed greedily over Kael’s torso, thumbs brushing across

sensitive n*****s in a way that made Kael’s breath catch. “You were supposed to be the enemy.

The stuck-up Ravens captain who always acted like he was better than everyone not the one I

jerked off thinking about after every loss, every stare-down.”

The raw confession hit Kael like a fast break to the hoop. Heat flooded his body, his cock

straining hard against his shorts. He pressed forward, grinding their hips together deliberately.

The solid feel of Riven just as aroused sent twin groans echoing off the tiled walls.

“Same,” Kael admitted, the word torn from him like a confession under pressure. He nipped

along Riven’s jaw, tasting the faint salt of dried sweat. “Every time you taunted me on the court,

all I could think about was pinning you down right there in front of everyone and shutting that

smart mouth with something better than words.”

Riven cursed sharply, his head falling back against the locker with a dull thud. Kael took full

advantage, latching onto the exposed column of his throat. He sucked hard, leaving a mark that

would definitely show tomorrow. Riven bucked against him, hips seeking more pressure. Their

bodies moved in a frantic, uncoordinated rhythm—grinding, hands exploring everywhere they

could reach, breaths mingling hot and heavy.

“s**t…Kael…” The sound of his first name in Riven’s wrecked voice sent a thrill straight through

him.

Emboldened, Kael yanked Riven’s tank top up and off, tossing it aside onto the bench. The sight

of Riven’s bare chest; broad, powerfully defined, marked with faint game bruises made his mouth water. He leaned in, dragging his tongue over one n****e, feeling it harden instantly under

the attention. Riven’s hand fisted tightly in Kael’s black hair, tugging sharply in response.

“You’re really doing this here,” Riven rasped, voice strained. “After everything we’ve thrown at

each other.”

Kael rose back up, capturing Riven’s mouth in another bruising kiss. “We both are. Don’t act like

you want to stop.” His hand drifted lower, tugging at the waistband of Riven’s shorts. He

mouthed along the hard, obvious outline through the fabric, breathing hot air that made Riven

curse and thrust shallowly forward.

“Tease,” Riven groaned, fingers tightening in Kael’s hair. “If you’re going to do it, do it right.”

Kael straightened again, kissing him hard and deep. “Not all the way. Not here in the open like

this but f**k, I need to touch you.”

Riven flipped their positions suddenly, using his explosive strength to pin Kael back against the

lockers. The metal rattled. “My turn, golden boy,” he rasped, eyes dark with lust and the

remnants of their old rivalry. His hand palmed Kael firmly through his shorts, stroking with

confident pressure that drew a choked moan from deep in Kael’s chest. Fingers worked the

waistband down just enough to free him, wrapping around his throbbing length with a grip that

felt practiced from years of fantasy.

“Been imagining this grip for too long,” Riven admitted between kisses, voice breaking with

need. They stroked each other in tandem, rough, urgent, perfectly matched in intensity. Power

shifted back and forth with every gasp and growl, hands moving faster as tension coiled tighter.

“I couldn’t stand how much I wanted you,” Riven confessed hotly against Kael’s mouth. “Every

loss made it worse. Still can’t believe this is real.”

“Neither could I,” Kael panted, hips snapping into Riven’s fist. The slick sounds of skin filled the

locker room, mixing with their heavy breathing. “But I’m done fighting it tonight. Done pretending

you’re just my rival.”

Riven’s free hand teased lower, brushing behind Kael’s balls and drawing a sharp curse. The

edge was close; half-naked, bodies marked with bites and fingerprints, both aching for more.

But a distant door slammed somewhere far above them in the arena. Footsteps? Security doing

final rounds? The sound cut through the haze like a referee’s whistle.

“f**k,” Riven pulled back just enough, forehead pressed to Kael’s. Both were still gripping each

other, panting hard. “We can’t finish this here. Not all the way with people possibly walking in.”

Kael met his eyes, dark with promise and lingering fire. “My hotel, now. Grab your s**t before I

change my mind and f**k you right against these lockers anyway.”Riven’s grin was sharp and hungry, even as he reluctantly released him. “Lead the way, Captain

but don’t think you’re staying on top the whole night. We’ve got years of tension to work out.”

They quickly adjusted their clothes, stealing heated glances and lingering touches as they

gathered their things. The rivalry that had defined them for three seasons wasn’t gone,it had

simply ignited into something far more dangerous and addictive. As they slipped out of the

locker room together, shoulders brushing, the night ahead felt like the real championship.