Personal Best

by Sean Michael

  “Thanks. Felt pretty good. Finals are tomorrow, right?” He didn’t think he could fight the cold until Sunday night.

  “For the freestyle. Butterfly’s not until Saturday. And if you make the two hundred, that’ll be Sunday.”

  “’Kay.” He nodded. He’d do his best and hold on.

  “This time next year, you’ll be doing six or seven races, but I think we made the right choice in letting you get your feet wet slowly on this.” Coach was practically bouncing.

  “No more coffee for you.”

  “It’s not the caffeine, Mike. It’s you. You’re here. Doing it.” Coach squeezed his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you.”

  “Yeah? I did okay?” He shook his head. “It doesn’t seem real.”

  “Give it time. Besides, you need to race again, so not focusing on this one’s a good idea. The wall.” Coach winked.

  “Right. The wall. What do you want to go do? We have four hours.”

  “Sightsee, light meal, back to the hotel for a massage. Your choice, Mike.”

  “I don’t want to eat.” He’d throw up. “Massage sounds good.”

  Coach nodded. “My magic hands are at your disposal.”

  “Cool.” They headed up the stairs to the hotel. Coach had gotten them a room right next to the pool, nice and close.

  Coach stopped to ask the front desk for some yogurt and ginger ales to be delivered, and then Coach’s hand was back on his shoulder, guiding him to the elevators. The heat in the room was on, making everything toasty and cozy.

  Coach pulled the covers off the bed. “Strip.”

  “Bossy.” He pulled his clothes off, sniffling a little, rubbing the end of his nose.

  “It’s in the job description.” He got a wink and a look. “You need to eat right this week, Mike.”

  “Huh?” How on earth could he eat better?

  “Lots of protein. Chicken soup. You’re eating that yogurt, hungry or not.”

  He wrinkled his nose. He could eat yogurt, but he didn’t really like it.

  “You’re not getting sick this year,” growled Coach, as if he could ward off the cold through sheer will.

  “I’m not?” He stretched out on the bed, cuddling in.

  “Nope.” Jessy straddled his ass, starting to work on his shoulders. “I’m not letting you.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He moaned, relaxing into the mattress. “Good.”

  “I know.” That was Coach, confident and sure.

  He nodded, eyes closing. “Gonna melt me.”

  “That’s the idea, relax you so you can go out there and find that wall.”

  He nodded. “It felt good. The first race.”

  “Yeah? You looked fantastic. Just flying. I saw some of the other coaches noticing you. They’ll be watching you the rest of the Open.”

  His eyes flew open. “Why? You…. You’re not… I mean, I don’t want another coach.”

  “Oh, I’m not planning on going anywhere. But that doesn’t mean someone won’t make you an offer you can’t refuse.” Jessy kept working his muscles. “I don’t think someone with a team can give you the same kind of personal attention I can, but I’m not handing out cars or college educations either.”

  “I….” He shook his head. “No. No, I want to be with you.”

  “You should be with whoever’s gonna support you the most.”

  Tension filled him, building from deep inside. Oh. Okay. He nodded, eyes closing again. What if…. What if this was Jessy’s way of saying it was time to move on? What if Jessy saw someone else? What if….

  And Coach knew, like he always did. “Baby, I am not planning on letting anyone be a better coach for you than me. But I need you to know that in the end that decision is yours.”

  “No one will be. You…. You’re my coach.” His lover. His heart.

  Jessy touched his mouth to the back of Mike’s neck. “I am. And more.”

  “Yeah. You…. I love you, Jess. Nobody can offer better.”

  “I’ll make sure you never regret that.”

  “Never will.” He relaxed again, took a deep breath.

  Jessy nuzzled his neck a moment and then shifted down his body, working the muscles of his ass. “Now I want you to focus on the wall.”

  “Yeah. The wall. Right.” He nodded, really relaxing, not thinking, not worrying.

  “That’s it. Enjoy it. Massage from your lover, swimming. What more could a guy ask for?”

  Mike grinned. “Pizza.”

  Jessy laughed. “After the meet’s over.”

  “Yeah. I did my personal best. I get pizza. Go me.” He chuckled. “Maybe… maybe I’ll make more than one final.”

  “There’s no reason you can’t.” Jessy was working Mike’s legs now, pushing his fingers in. “But I want you thinking about the wall.”

  “Right. Wall.” He spread, breath slowing, imagining himself in the water, heading for the wall.

  “That’s it, baby. You can do it.”

  He nodded. Yeah. Yeah, he could.

  Maybe.

  Maybe he did belong here.

  MIKE HADN’T qualified for the butterfly, but he’d swum another personal best and Jessy figured this would light a fire under the kid’s butt to work his least favorite stroke a little harder. Today’s race was a final. The two hundred freestyle. Mike had a chance. An honest-to-God fucking chance.

  Jessy was nervous as hell, rubbing Mike’s shoulders, pretending to be calm and easy. “The wall,” he murmured, more for his own sake than Mike’s this time out.

  Mike nodded, rubbed the tip of his nose for the eightieth time. The kid looked like Rudolph. “Yep. The wall. I’m in the seventh lane. I don’t like the seventh lane.”

  “Baby, the wall is the same no matter which lane you’re in.”

  “I know. I know.” Mike nodded. “Is it time yet?”

  He chuckled. Mike was like a kid asking every two minutes if they were there yet. “Relax. It’ll be—” He was interrupted by the announcer calling the race over the PA system. “Yeah, baby, it’s time.”

  “Cool.” Mike’s dark eyes met his. “I’ll do my best.”

  “That’s all I ask.” It was all he ever asked, but it was what he expected too. Nothing but Mike’s best.

  Mike handed Jessy headphones and jacket, putting on his cap and padding over, looking good. Strong. Lean.

  He didn’t think Mike would medal; they took fifth in the two hundred. Hopefully they’d do as well here. He managed not to pace, but his hands were balled into fists.

  This was the hardest part.

  The watching. The waiting. The not being able to do a damned thing but throw all his support mentally to his swimmer.

  Mike arched into the water, getting good time off the starting block, looking fine. Looking focused.

  Jessy nodded, smiling as Mike hit the wall and turned, less than a second off the front runners. The longer they raced, the faster Mike would get, as long as all he focused on was that wall.

  “Come on. Come on.”

  Mike struggled through the first fifty, like before. Mike needed that first fifty to focus, still, but then. Damn. Look at his boy go.

  After the second turn, he changed his mind. Mike was going to do better than fifth. His swimmer might even medal on this one. Christ. “Go, Mike!”

  Mike was still in fourth at the third turn, trailing one of the USC boys by half a body length. Mike came off the wall like a man possessed, pouring all he was into the last fifty, eating up the yards. Sure enough, Mike had enough speed and enough room, moving up, making up the distance.

  Jessy roared as loud as anyone as Mike’s hand touched the wall a moment before the fourth-place swimmer.

  Bronze.

  At his first Open.

  Fucking sweet.

  Mike’s eyes were wide, huge, face as red as a beet.

  Jeff was hooting beside him. “Hell, yes. That’s the way. Jessy, that boy ever swims a decent first fifty, nothing’ll stop him.”

  “
Give him a year, Jeff.” He looked back at Mike, all his attention on his swimmer.

  Mike’s gaze met his, all lit up, shining. “Personal best!”

  He chuckled, nodded. Yeah. Personal fucking best.

  Mike pulled himself out of the pool, sneezing twice as he did, that smile not fading a bit.

  Jessy watched the other swimmers congratulating his boy, gave them a few minutes, but then he strode in to give Mike a big hug. “You did it! Bronze. At your first Open. Good for you.”

  “Yeah? You’re happy?” Mike grinned at him. “I did good?”

  He laughed. “What do you think?”

  “I think so.” Mike laughed. “Pizza for me!”

  He nodded, feeling happy. “As much as you can eat.”

  “Cool.” Mike was bouncing, absolutely floating.

  He backed away a bit, giving the UT kids and other swimmers room to congratulate Mike, letting his baby bask.

  Jeff came back up to him. “When are you both going back? I thought I’d take all the team out. Let UT spoil them rotten.”

  “You can ask him, but I did promise him a pizza if he won.”

  Jeff nodded, headed over to talk to Mike, the guys. Mike’s head shook, and Mike chuckled, pointing over at him. He gave Jeff a grin and smiled at Mike. The kid had a good head on his shoulders, knew what was important, knew he didn’t have to turn a celebration into throwing up.

  Jeff shook his head, patted Mike’s shoulder, then frowned. “Your swimmer’s running a fever, Jessy.”

  “Just need some DayQuil, Coach.”

  “Chicken soup and a hot shower. He claims he gets sick every winter.” Jessy was going to break that cycle.

  Jeff nodded. “His aunt told me that. Said as soon as the season was up and the pressure was off? Pneumonia city. Happens with a lot of them.”

  Jessy nodded. “Doesn’t have to, though.”

  Mike chuckled, nose wrinkling. “Come on, Coach. You owe me a pizza.”

  “I do. You earned it.” He nodded to Jeff and the UT team. “Good job out there today, boys. Mike wasn’t the only one who swam personal bests.”

  A number of hands rose, pinkie and index fingers raised. “Hook ’em Horns!”

  Chuckling, he returned the symbol and then put his hand on Mike’s back. “Come on. The pizza’s getting cold.”

  “That’s for breakfast.” Mike grinned as the rest of the guys nodded and laughed, everyone heading to leave or change.

  He waited for Mike to change. “You want to go to a pizza place or have it delivered?”

  Mike sneezed again. “Can I have a Dr Pepper either way?”

  He laughed. “No.”

  “Then delivered, I guess.” Mike shrugged. “Pizza places are overrated.”

  He leaned past Mike to open the door. “Well, you can’t fuck in them,” he murmured.

  Mike blushed. “No. No you can’t.”

  He chuckled. “I know what you want.”

  Those dark eyes danced over at him. “Yeah?”

  “Oh, yeah, baby.”

  He got a low chuckle. “Come feed me.”

  “To start with.” He winked and headed for the elevators.

  Mike followed, sneezing a couple times, sniffling.

  “Gotta do something about that cold. You’re not keeping it.”

  “’Kay.” Mike nodded, agreeing, not even really listening to him.

  He took that chin and looked into those dark eyes. “You’re not getting sick. It’s not on the agenda.”

  Mike blinked up. “You can’t wish a cold away.”

  “Why not?”

  “Well…. Uh… ’Cause germs don’t care?”

  “Your body does, though. You own it. You keep it healthy. Willpower isn’t everything, but it’s something.”

  “Do you think I do it on purpose?” Mike almost looked hurt. “I don’t like being sick every Christmas, you know.”

  “Oh, baby, I’m not saying you do, but you’ve come to expect it now. It’s Christmas; it’s time to be sick. And, hey, if you’re sick, you won’t have to pay attention to the fact it’s the anniversary of your parents’ death.”

  Shocked eyes met his, eyebrows drawing into a frown. “I… It’s not about that.”

  “No?” He let Mike into their room. “Maybe not consciously.”

  “I’m going to take a shower, get cleaned up.”

  “Not talking about it won’t make it go away.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. They died. I didn’t.” Mike headed for the bathroom, arms around his belly.

  He sighed. Christ, this was not how he wanted to celebrate Mike’s victory. He put off ordering the pizza and followed Mike into the bathroom. The music was playing, Mike stripped bare, standing under a hard, hot spray.

  Jessy stripped himself and turned the music down, but not off, letting Mike know that he was there and that they were going to talk. Mike sighed once but didn’t turn him away, didn’t say anything. It made him proud, that Mike let him in, even for this.

  He wrapped Mike in his arms, letting the water sluice over them both. Mike leaned back into his arms, just like that. He held on, stroking, offering comfort and love. Mike’s tension faded completely, eyes closing, breath coming slow and steady. He picked up the soap and started to wash Mike, making it a pseudo massage.

  “Mmm… I got a medal, Coach. At a big meet.”

  “Yeah. And you swam a whole lot of personal bests. I am damned proud of you.”

  “Thank you. We’re good together.”

  He purred, rubbing his cock along Mike’s. “We sure are.”

  Mike nodded, stepped closer.

  “Oh, yeah.” He rubbed them together some more.

  Mike rested his cheek on Jessy’s shoulder, lips on his throat. Moaning, he slid his hands over Mike’s back, down to the kid’s perfect ass so he could pull them still closer together.

  “Mmm….” Mike lifted his face for a kiss.

  Humming, he gave it freely, licking his way into Mike’s mouth.

  “Oh….” Mike arched, pushing closer, skin hot and slick against him.

  “So sexy.” Jessy pushed Mike up against the tiles, sliding his mouth over Mike’s face, his neck.

  “I… I need, Jess. Please.”

  “I know. I know what you need.” He licked the length of Mike’s collarbone, sucking in the water that collected there.

  “A… always. Always.” Mike slid his fingers around Jessy’s head, held him.

  He groaned, pushing against Mike, sliding them together in a hard, urgent rhythm.

  “Oh, Jess. I.” Mike’s moans filled the air, needy, low.

  He hummed and kept licking, nibbling while his thumbs searched out Mike’s nipples, pressing against them, scraping his nails along them.

  Mike nodded, thrusting his hips, rocking. “Yes.”

  He did it again, this time twisting Mike’s nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. Mike’s dark eyes went wide, Mike jerking, come splashing between them.

  He purred. “Oh, baby, I love the way you need me.”

  “W… with all I am.”

  He nodded, rubbing against Mike’s belly. “Want you with all I am too.”

  “Anything.” Mike kissed him, eyes warm.

  “Everything.” He wanted it all.

  Mike nodded, wrapping his hand around Jessy’s cock, pumping. “All of me.”

  “Yeah.” He put his hands on Mike’s shoulders, pushing his lover down onto his knees.

  Mike slid down, lips parted, open, hungry for him. “I love you.”

  “I love you.” He groaned. Oh, yeah, felt so good.

  Mike swallowed him down, taking him easily, eagerly. His moans filled the air. Mike’s dark eyes stared up at him, loving him. Mike dragged his tongue over Jessy’s cock, pulling with his lips. He stroked Mike’s cheek, purring, starting to move his hips.

  Mike opened, head bobbing, gaze fastened to his. So lovely, so damned good. Groaning, he moved faster. Mike wrapped his hands arou
nd Jessy’s hips, encouraging, pulling him in deeper and deeper. He went with it, trusting that Mike could take it, could take him.

  It was so damned good, with the water falling on him, Mike’s mouth hot around his cock, and it wasn’t long at all before he was shouting, calling out Mike’s name as he shot. Mike drank him down, moaning around his cock.

  “Mmm… so good.”

  Mike leaned his hot cheek against Jessy’s belly.

  “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”

  “Nap and then pizza?”

  “Nap and then pizza.” And some gentle probing of Mike’s psyche if the opportunity presented itself.

  “Okay.” Mike nodded, stood, and turned off the water. “Sounds great.”

  He wrapped Mike in a towel, taking his time drying his lover off. “How’re you feeling?”

  “Okay. Tired, a little.” Mike returned the favor, kissing his skin, his lips.

  He hummed, licking Mike’s lips, kissing the warmer than usual skin. They moved toward the bed, stretching together, Mike close, snuggly. He got Mike settled and curled around the lean body, stroking the smooth skin.

  “Mmm….” Mike slid his hands over Jessy’s skin, stroking, petting.

  “You’re hot,” he murmured, broaching the subject cautiously.

  “Am I?” Mike kissed his shoulder, eyelashes tickling his skin.

  He chuckled, wiggling a little. “Yeah, baby. You are.”

  Mike licked. “Cool.”

  “I meant feverish.” Not that Mike wasn’t also sexy hot, but his swimmer had a fever. “I’m going to get you some Tylenol.”

  “I thought I wasn’t allowed to be sick.” Mike gave him a wink.

  “You aren’t. And dealing with this fever is the first step to making you not sick.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He got one of those looks that meant Mike was going along because he was Coach, not because he made sense.

  Chuckling, he got the Tylenol and handed it over to Mike along with a glass of water. Then he sat on the bed, next to Mike. “You want to talk about it?” he asked quietly.

  “Talk about what?” Mike took the pills, finished the water, then laid his head on Jessy’s thigh.

  He stroked Mike’s hair. “Your parents,” he said softly. Softly enough that if Mike really wanted to, he could pretend he hadn’t heard and Jessy would let it go for today.