Personal Best

by Sean Michael

  Groaning, he lost himself in Mike’s body, in the rhythm and heat of their coupling. It was so easy, to fly, to float along, held inside Mike. Nothing could last forever, though, and as he felt himself get close, he wrapped his hand around Mike’s cock, tugging with each thrust. Mike grunted, bucking into his hand, head rolling.

  “That’s it, baby, show me how good it is.”

  “S… so good. Oh, Jess. I…. More.”

  He tightened his hand and drove harder into Mike, bending to fuse their mouths together in a hot kiss. Mike groaned, coming hard, heat spraying over his hand. The hot body squeezing him tight forced his own orgasm out of him, his seed pushing deep into Mike. He kept moving, small thrusts that made them both shudder, and then he collapsed onto Mike.

  Mike curled around him. “Oh. Yeah.”

  “Mmm. Yeah.” He nuzzled into Mike’s neck, breathing in deeply. He was addicted to this scent, needed it.

  Mike purred, holding him, rocking them gently together. “Love.”

  He nodded and licked at Mike’s neck, whispering the word back to him.

  “Mmm.” His head was stroked, Mike petting him, loving on him.

  He purred, sated and happy.

  It was good. Damned good.

  Worth making a Thanksgiving dinner good, even.

  OKAY. SO.

  Hot dogs.

  Buns.

  Chili.

  Chips.

  Twinkies.

  Dude.

  Mike packed the groceries in his saddlebags, shivering a little in his leather jacket. Man, he liked it being his night to cook.

  He hurried home, the rain turning to sleet about halfway there, the traffic hideous and snarly. By the time he made it to the house, he had actually walked Bonzo the last mile, the roads slick enough to be dangerous. Jessy met him on the driveway, mouth tight, eyes worried.

  “Your cell phone busted?”

  He tilted his head, patting his pockets ’til he found his phone. “Don’t have a signal, Coach. Damn, it’s slicker than snot out here. I walked the last bit.”

  “I know, I thought you’d wiped out.” Jessy grabbed Bonzo and wheeled her into the garage. “I bet you’re an icicle. Go jump in the shower. I’ll unload.”

  “No. I didn’t want to risk a bad fall, you know?” His teeth were chattering. “Man, does the news say it’s gonna be evil tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, next couple three days. Go on. Get warm. Now.”

  He nodded, hurrying upstairs, stripping as he went. The shower felt good, and he turned the heat up, getting warm all the way through. Jessy eventually joined him, hands sliding over his skin, mouth finding his shoulder and sucking the water from it.

  “Mmm…. Hey. I bought… uh… supper stuff….” He arched, moaning low.

  “Is that what you’re calling Twinkies these days?”

  “That’s dessert, man. You said to get something I knew how to cook.” He smiled at Jessy. He’d been good. No chocolate. No soda.

  “I threw them out. I’ll make butterscotch pudding.” Jessy slid his fingers over Mike’s cheek, caressing.

  “You….” He frowned. “But I was good.”

  “Did I say you weren’t?”

  “Well. No, but you threw our dessert out.”

  “It’s not on your approved foods list, that’s all.” Jessy chuckled. “Especially when coupled with hot dogs, chili, and chips.”

  “Our other option was fried bologna sandwiches.” He tried not to pout. Really. “Can we have whipped cream on the pudding?”

  “If we have any—you’re not going back out.” Jessy licked his lower lip. “I’m definitely going to have to teach you how to cook.”

  “I do okay. I can order pizza.” He rubbed his nose against Jessy’s. He didn’t think he’d mind cooking, really. He liked doing things.

  Jessy laughed and licked his lip again, tongue sliding into his mouth for only a moment. “You’re not allowed pizza either.”

  He chuckled, cuddling close. “Meanie.”

  “Oh, that doesn’t make me a meanie. This”—Jessy pinched his ass—“makes me a meanie.”

  “No pinching!” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Be good or no chili dogs for you!”

  “Can’t have that—how would I ever survive?”

  Mike chuckled. “I don’t know. You tossed the Twinkies.”

  Jessy laughed, goosing him. “Brat.”

  “Yours.” He turned the water off and found them both a towel.

  Jessy looked at him for a moment, eyes serious. “Yes. You are.”

  He smiled, stepped forward for a kiss. “It’s our first ice storm. Gonna keep me warm?”

  “You know it. You absolutely starving, or can I convince you we need a pit stop in the bedroom first?”

  “I’m never that hungry….” He shivered a little, tugged Jessy into the bedroom with the big, warm bed.

  “Well, not for food anyway,” murmured Jessy, pushing him down onto the bed and following.

  He wrapped the comforter over Jessy’s back, his legs around Jessy’s waist. “You’re better than food.”

  “Oh, baby, you do know how to make an old man feel special.”

  “Hey. My old man. Mine.” He held Jessy tight. “You don’t be mean.”

  Jessy chuckled. “Mean? Me? Never.”

  “No. No, you’re not.”

  Jessy was hard, but not mean.

  Jessy cupped his chin. “You’re one of the first to say so.”

  He tilted his head. “You aren’t easy sometimes, but you love me. You take care of me.” He understood how this worked.

  Jessy nodded. “It all rests on you, baby—you’re everything. That’s a hard truth. My job is to prepare you for that.” Jessy grinned suddenly, the smile seductive. “That, and this too.” Jessy moved slowly until their lips were touching.

  He moaned, sliding his fingers on Jessy’s cheek, watching those warm eyes.

  “Love you.”

  “I know. Kiss me.”

  Jessy did, taking his mouth with obvious pleasure. He moaned, parting his lips, sliding his tongue against Jessy’s. Jessy moved against him, tongue dancing with his, teasing and loving and good. They rocked, nice and steady, warm and cozy beneath the blanket.

  Jessy whispered into his ear. “Rain, rain, go away….” The words matched the easy movement of their bodies.

  “Gonna be ice, Jess. Gonna be an excuse to snuggle tomorrow.”

  “You don’t need an excuse for that.”

  “No?” He smiled, heated all through. “Good.”

  Jessy kissed him hard. “No.”

  Another kiss, hard before it softened, Jessy moved his hips fast, solid on Mike’s. Mike arched, rubbing, meeting Jessy’s passion head-on. Jessy slid his fingers down Mike’s body, going behind his balls and teasing, slick.

  Mike nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, please. I want.”

  Jessy slid two fingers right into Mike, going straight for his gland.

  “Oh!” He arched up, rocking his hips to feel the spark, the rush again.

  “Hedonist.” The accusation was fond, almost sweet, accompanied by another peg to his gland.

  “Uh… uh-huh.” He could be one of those. Sure. Just don’t stop.

  Jessy slid in another finger, stretching him wide.

  Oh….

  He stretched, arched. “So full.”

  “Just wait. It’ll be me in a moment.”

  “Oh. Please. Yes. You.”

  Jessy slid his fingers out, replacing them a moment later by the hard, blunt heat of Jessy’s cock. They were still surrounded by the blanket, Jessy stretching him, spreading him wide. Jessy moaned, moving slow and easy.

  Oh, Jessy warmed him all through.

  “Baby, you feel so good.”

  “You make me warm….” Mike nodded, leaned up for a kiss.

  “Not warm, you’re hot.” Jessy smiled, moving his hips, working.

  He chuckled, meeting each thrust. “So funny….”

  Jessy purred, sl
iding the fingers of one hand across Mike’s nipple.

  “Oh….” He nipped Jessy’s lip. “More?”

  “Yeah, baby.” Jessy moved harder, faster, pushing his cock into Mike again and again, teasing his nipple more seriously, pinching and flicking and rubbing.

  Mike reached down, pumping his own cock, driving himself hard.

  “So good.” Jessy bent and licked at Mike’s lips before pushing his tongue in and fucking Mike’s mouth.

  He arched, balls drawing tight.

  Jessy broke the kiss and licked across his lips. “That’s it. I want to feel you on my cock.”

  Oh. Oh. Mike whimpered, bearing down on Jessy’s cock, balls emptying.

  Jessy groaned. “Yeah. Yeah, baby.” Two more thrusts, jerky and hard, and Jessy filled him deep.

  He cuddled in, licked Jessy’s shoulder. “Gonna have a couple of snow days?”

  Jessy chuckled. “Are you trying to con me into canceling practice?”

  “They’ll close the UT pool if it’s too bad.” He smiled up.

  Jessy shook his head, but he was grinning. “All right, Mike. You can have your snow days. But I expect you to spend them with the old man.”

  “Like I’d want to spend them with anyone else.”

  “I don’t like to presume.” Jessy gave him a wink. “Especially when I’ve just tossed away your Twinkies.”

  “You didn’t really throw them away, did you? They’re fresh.” Well, as fresh as Twinkies could be.

  “They’re nothing but sugar, Mike. I really threw them away.”

  “But they really do make the chili dog meal.”

  “You’ll have to learn to live with pudding as the capper to a chili dog meal. Not that you should be eating chili dogs very often.”

  “Only on the nights I cook.”

  “That’s it; we’re spending some of our snow days teaching you what cooking means.” Jessy settled next to him, tucking the covers in around them.

  He chuckled, nodded. “Whatever you say, Coach.”

  Jessy purred, snuggled closer. “That’s what I like to hear.”

  “I love you.”

  Jessy slid his fingers along Mike’s belly, stroking and warm. “You too, baby.”

  “Mmm.” Mike cuddled in, eyes closing, warm. Happy. Right there.

  THE CHILI dogs had, predictably, made Mike sick. It had taken a day or two before his swimmer bounced back, and Jessy figured it was long past time the boy learned how to cook a few meals that tasted good, were nutritious, and wouldn’t make him sick. He’d decided to start with chicken parmigiana with fettuccini alfredo and garlic bread because it sounded fancy but was actually pretty easy to make. They were going to do peach cobbler for dessert because peaches were cheap and plentiful and it was too easy a make to screw up.

  Mike was at the grocery store, armed with the shopping list.

  Jessy was sitting in his armchair, the lumberjack contest on TV. Watching men climb up and then whip back down fifty-foot-plus poles in under two minutes was good entertainment.

  The roads weren’t icy yet, but he’d insisted Mike take the sedan, leave the bike at home. He had to admit, he was more than pleased that Mike had walked the last bit the other night. The kid wasn’t foolhardy. Young, but not foolhardy.

  Of course, Mike had the credit card and the intent to buy three days’ worth of supplies, just in case.

  He wasn’t worried, though. Much.

  And he wasn’t looking at his watch to see how long Mike had been.

  Of course, he’d been getting regular phone calls.

  “Hey, Coach. Are Ding Dongs better than Twinkies?”

  “Hey, Coach. What’s your stance on bacon?”

  “Coach? When you say cream, do you mean Cool Whip?”

  No, Ding Dongs were not better than Twinkies. He’d asked Mike to buy a pound cake, and anything wrapped in individual little packages was strictly off-limits. Bacon was full of salt and phosphates, and if Mike wanted to clog up his arteries, Jessy could go find a syringe and they’d do a proper job of it, and cream was not and never would be Cool Whip.

  “Just stick to the list, baby.”

  Mike opened the door, arms full of bags, cheeks pink with the cold, eyes shining. “Hey, Coach. I did good. I only got some stuff not on the list, but you didn’t have stuff for hot cocoa and we gotta have that, and they had cranberries and I like those and thought we could make muffins, and the grapes looked good too. And I bought real popcorn and nuts in the shell.”

  He chuckled and went to help Mike unload. “Sounds like you did good. I’m going to have you doing the groceries and cooking full-time at this rate.”

  Mike chuckled. “Maybe together. I really wanted a chocolate bar.”

  “You didn’t get one, though, and that’s what counts.” He bumped hips with Mike, not questioning for a moment whether Mike had or not. The rule was no chocolate, so Mike hadn’t had any.

  Mike nodded, grabbed a banana, and ate it as they put things away. “I rented some movies, too, and bought more toothpaste.”

  “We’re almost out of lube too.”

  Mike nodded, blushed dark. “Got razors and shaving cream too.”

  He purred, cock going hard. “Gonna let me shave your pubes, Mike?”

  He moved in close, pushed his hand into Mike’s jeans, and slid through the dark curls. “Gonna let me make you smooth all over?” They weren’t competing at the moment, but that didn’t mean Mike couldn’t be bare all over.

  Mike nodded, nuzzled, cock jerking into his fingers. “Uh…. Uh-huh….”

  Purring, he wrapped his fingers around Mike’s cock, squeezing. “I can’t wait to taste your skin down here.”

  “I….” Mike parted his lips, eyes dark and hot. “You make it worth skipping the chocolate….”

  He chuckled, pleased down to his toes. “I do my best.”

  He started to work Mike’s cock, hampered by the close quarters inside Mike’s pants. Mike started jerking, driving Mike’s hard cock into his hand. He popped the top button of Mike’s jeans open, giving them both more room, but he didn’t pull down the zipper.

  Mike landed his hands on Jessy’s shoulders, holding on. “Oh… I….”

  “Yeah, baby. You.” He took Mike’s mouth, pushing his tongue in deep. Mike arched, pulling him in close.

  Mike’s cock was hot in his hand, and he could smell his lover’s need now, sharp and musky. Up on his toes, Mike cried out, bucking, cock swelling. He moaned as Mike’s come splashed over his fingers, the scent suddenly strong.

  “Oh. I. Wow.” Mike blinked, panted.

  He chuckled, but his laugh was husky, needy. “Love you, baby.”

  “Love you.” Mike leaned in for another kiss. “Wow.”

  “So. Are you ready to cook?”

  “After I wipe up and remember how to walk again, yeah.”

  “You don’t need to walk to cook.” He winked and kissed Mike hard, doing the kid’s button back up.

  “You sure?” Mike groaned, eyes shining. “What are we cooking?”

  “Chicken parmigiana with fettuccini alfredo. Peach cobbler for dessert.” He smiled and licked Mike’s lips. “Sound good?”

  “Mmm… I like peaches….” Mike leaned toward him.

  “I know you do.” He watched Mike all the time, was learning all the kid’s secrets.

  “What else do you know?”

  “I know you’re a sexy little hedonist with a thing for going fast. Whether it’s in the water, on the road, or in bed.”

  Mike’s cheeks went bright red, head ducking. “Yeah.”

  He laughed, utterly taken by Mike. Like he always was. “All right. Food first, more fucking later.”

  “Okay. Yeah. Where do I start?” That was his baby, eager to try new things, to learn, to do.

  “I like to take out all my ingredients and have them on the counter, so I don’t have to go looking for stuff once I’ve started the cooking process. So for chicken parmigiana you need tomato sauce, grated
mozzarella, and the chicken breasts.” He pulled out the long pan. “You bought the six breasts, right? I like to make extra, then you’ve got another night’s meal without cooking.”

  “So we’re having both sauces? Is that legal?”

  “What do you mean, both sauces? Parmigiana is tomato and cheese.”

  Mike nodded. “But the alfredo’s a white stuff, yeah? The one we share over at Venice’s?”

  He nodded. “That’s right. We don’t have to make both, but I like it.”

  “’Kay.” Mike worked with him, laughing and playing, making the act of cooking more like fun than a chore.

  Granted, there was more mess.

  More kisses too, though.

  They got the chicken prepared and into the oven and the alfredo sauce warming up on the stove.

  “We just want to put the cobbler together so it’s ready to slide into the oven when the chicken comes out. Now, vegetables. What did you get us?” He’d only put “vegetables” down on the list.

  “Well, I didn’t know which ones, so I got these.” A bag of a dozen cans of vegetables—corn, carrots, green beans, peas, three cans of each. “And these.” Another bag of frozen vegetables—broccoli and cheese; cauliflower and cheese; potatoes and peas in cream sauce; broccoli, rice, and cheese.

  “Oh, these are cool. And if we get stuck here for a few days, at least we won’t run out of veggies.” He took out three cans of vegetables. “We’ll have these with tonight’s meal. You can put the rest away.”

  Mike nodded, humming along to some song in his head as he put the last of the things away, then looked out the kitchen window. “Man, it looks bleak out there.”

  “Yeah. A good day to be nice and warm and cuddled inside. Let’s get this cobbler ready to go, and we can sack out on the couch and watch a movie while the chicken cooks.” He let his gaze drag along Mike’s body. “Or something.”

  Mike pinked, and put the pan in the oven with a stick of butter. Jessy started skinning peaches, only half paying attention. Mike was extremely distracting. Mike managed to follow the recipe okay, and they got the cobbler ready and the timer set, the counters wiped off, the sugar and flour put away.

  “So we’ve got a while before supper. Wanna play?”

  “Uh-huh.” Mike pushed into his arms, humming.