Their teammates leave on the nineteenth. It’s exactly a week since the competition started, so they’ve been away for just over a week.
Their teammates, Mel especially, seem to have an odd fascination with what’s going on in Gabriel’s suite. Reese really wishes they’d just leave already—why hasn’t their flight been rescheduled yet?
Reese wakes up in the depth of the night, shadows creeping under the crack of the door, through the slightest gap between it and the wall, moonlight from the windows outside falling just short of the darkness.
The clock on the nightstand reads 1:59, the numbers glowing into the shadows.
He heaves a breath, then rolls over to face Gabriel.
Reese is silent on the way up; they’re on the sixth floor, about halfway up when Gabriel quirks a brow at him. Reese winces, makes a face. He knows he’s panting. He can’t get his breath. The pressure between his legs, familiar now, is rising through him, constricting his innards.
Reese doesn’t want to open his eyes, but the alarm is shrieking from the other side of the room, where he pitched his phone after getting pissed at Gabriel. He crawls out of bed, fishes for the device, and finally, finally shuts it up.
He wakes up with a pounding headache and a fever. Apparently his mother was on to something with that not going to bed with wet hair thing. Fan-fucking-tastic.
There’s no help for it, really. He drags himself from bed, heads to the washroom. He splashes cold water over his face, watches it drip back down his flushed cheeks. God, he looks like shit. Gord’s gonna give him such a hard time, his teammates are gonna give him such shit. Mel and the others know for sure he was drinking last night; Mel won’t let him live that down.
[A/N: I have nothing to say for myself. Enjoy.]
Reese wakes up and stares at the ceiling, his eyes widening with rage.
He’s still fucking horny, and he thinks it’s worse this morning. He rolls onto his stomach, pins his hard cock against the mattress and rubs.
The second day of competition, December the thirteenth, dawns much the same as the first: Reese is pulled out of his pleasant dream by the shrieking alarm far too early. He groans and buries his face deeper in the pillows, wondering if he’s pissed God off and managed to get stuck in some sort of limbo, where he has to live the same day over and over again.
The scent of salt fills his nose, and he breathes deep, as though he can inhale the ocean. The sea breeze is brisk, gusting across the lonely expanse of the almost-deserted beach. The gulls wheel and call overhead, their cries swallowed by the crashing of the surf. The tide will come in shortly; he knows, watching the setting sun sink toward the horizon, transforming the world into a rainbow of warmth—gold and red and orange, all the heat of the day transformed into brilliant hues that color the world around him.