Pole Position

by Karen Botha

  Axel’s torrent continues. “Sure, you’re not winning races like you’d hoped, so you need to raise your profile some other way now. The thing is I understand all of this performance you live your lives by now. I’m learning in this job, you know.” He stands, to add additional volume behind the venom.

  I’m about to defend myself when Elliott puts down his knife and then his fork in a way that tells me to leave it. He stares directly at Axel and in a voice so soft it’s barely audible, he says, “Apologize to Kyle. You are wrong. And if you stopped licking your ancient wounds long enough to glance up, you’d be able to see that he’s trying to do something nice. So, do as I ask and apologize now. Or leave.”

  Elliott

  He called my bluff. I’m not sure why that surprises me. It shouldn’t. But when Axel turns on his heel and the front door slams a few seconds later, he’s made his point.

  “Does he really believe all the shit that pours out of his mouth?” I ask Kyle, a gaping hole forming in my chest where Axel’s special part of my heart previously resided.

  “I think he’s too scared not to believe it. Because we can hurt him if he doesn’t.” Kyle scrapes my chair, with me still seated on it, along the hard flooring until we’re butted up against each other at the dining table. His hand rests on my back between my shoulder blades and I feel his heat. It powers through his hand, that calming force driving into me again, but the gap between our sides vibrates. Not just with sexual tension, which is always there between us; all we have to do is give it a nod and it appears. No, this pulsing that connects us now is a manifestation of the support we provide each other, and it’s way stronger than any sensual pull.

  “I’d better go and talk to him.” I don’t want to, and Kyle can tell.

  “No, leave him. He has to learn that he can’t throw a tantrum and then expect everyone else to come running to him. Let him come to you this time.”

  The tension I’d been holding onto evaporates with that sentence and while I’m still left with the dark cloud of sadness because Axel and I have fought for no good reason, the relief that I don’t have to go and hunt him down and continue an argument for which I don’t have the energy is immense. “I guess you’re right. If I keep going to him, this will become his pattern.”

  “Exactly.”

  And so we continue with our dinner, pushing the food around our plates and munching down on mounds that only grow bigger in our mouths, swallowing down dry balls of mush without any sense of flavor. I hadn’t known I had a son, and wasn’t bothered about ever having one. But when Axel bulldozed into our lives, he seized a stranglehold on his own part of my heart and perhaps he is too scared to admit that to himself, because I’m only just accepting it myself.

  “Here, I’ll wash these. There’s no point loading the dishwasher with so few dishes.” Kyle collects the plates, leaving me to sit at the table with my own, miserable fucking thoughts. I don’t even notice he’s gone until the sound of the dishes being deposited on the draining board breaks through my reflection.

  I hop up, snapping out of my contemplation. “Let me dry these.” I smile at him in the window, which reflects back to us against the pitch black of the night as I pick up a plate and cloth from the side.

  “He’ll come around. He’s just huffy.”

  “Yeah, I know. No one said it was simple, being a parent, did they?”

  “Certainly not of a teenager who has gathered more baggage during his short life than his parents have combined during the entirety of theirs.”

  I stop my drying. Kiss his cheek. “You just said parents.” I do not return to my pot drying. The atmosphere has shifted into something tangible again.

  “Well, we are. Sure, you’re his flesh and blood, but we’re both in this together, aren’t we? He’s not just yours to figure out.”

  “Kyle Beaumont-Judd, you have the most amazing knack of saying what I need to hear at just at the right time. Do you know that?”

  “I try.” He winks, abandons the washing up, and I see the glitter of his eyes in the window.

  Elliott

  All thoughts of my drying duties are forgotten as I reacquaint myself with some of my other, more entertaining duties.

  Moving to stand behind Kyle, I run my hands around his belt until they reach the buckle, and then I allow them to enjoy the touch of his soft skin as they roam over the broad expanse of his chest. I nestle my face against the powerful expanse of his shoulders as I enjoy the feel of his differing textures. The regrowth of his short chest hairs bristles against the pads of my fingers but when I float my hands lower, his treasure trail is longer, allowing me to burrow into its softness. The skin down there is soft with a comforting warmth, but when I move to his sides, it’s cooler and silky.

  I move closer so my chest is flush against the toned muscles of his back, wrapping one arm above the other to squeeze him tight. He sighs, his chest heaving with his exhalation, matching mine as I absorb his musky smell. I keep my top arm planted over his taut pecs, but lower my right one toward the temptation of his waistband, grazing my nails over his puckering flesh.

  He sucks in his athletic stomach, creating space for my hand to slip further down. I allow the tips of my fingers to tease under his belt and then, when I’ve felt enough of the broad width of his finely sculpted torso, I slide my flat palm, lodging between his jeans and his underwear, cupping the warmth of his stirring bulge.

  “Well, hello,” I murmur raggedly, kissing his jaw, slipping down his neck.

  His Adam’s apple moves as he swallows and his cheeks crease as a smile spreads lazily over them.

  I increase the pressure of my hand, pinning his now straining hardness between me and the muscular wall of his abdomen, enjoying knowing that I am the cause of the damp seeping into my palm.

  The heat in my cheeks flushes as I turn him around, my gaze focused on the growing nest of virility. I can’t stop my hand from cupping him again from the outside. He’s just so amazingly gorgeous, and he’s mine. The frustration of the pulsing has me unbuckling his belt and slipping down his clothing to expose his naked form as his jeans puddle at his ankles.

  My hand is between his strong thighs in a flash, brushing my palm over his silky skin with the gentlest of touches. His hips strain forward, begging me to tighten my grip as he quivers against my hand.

  And when I do, he groans, “Oh, Elliott.”

  When I sink to my knees before him and when I take him in my mouth, I’m soft, caressing the flat of my tongue up his throbbing length first, and using that glossy wetness to slide up to his tip, before hollowing my cheeks to suck, fast and quick. The shock of the change of pace has his eyes flipping open and sends a guttural moan flying out of that sexy mouth.

  I work faster now, building my tempo to drive him into a frenzy. He has hold of my hair, needling his fingers into the back of my head as he fucks my greedy mouth with an abandon that has his head writhing back and his hips launching forward.

  When he’s nestled at the back of my throat, I tense my biceps and prevent his movements, locking him in place as I suck on his tip, creating an ache in his balls that will push him right to his edge. His breath catches, and he pulls back, trying to get free, wanting to prolong the heady escape from reality.

  But I hold him firm, massaging his thick base with my tongue, while continuing to swallow against his tip with the back of my throat until those gorgeous, tight butt cheeks clench and his body spasms. I relish the sensation of his body completely losing control. His knees buckle and his hips shoot forward, filling the back of my throat with his warm desire.

  Kyle

  The man has me begging him to stop with his overpowering pleasure giving. I’m almost on my knees trying to hold on, but the pressure is bursting my every seam, and all I can think about is the need to release. I scrunch my eyes, focus my attention on anything I can grasp onto long enough to prolong my release. But even Axel and his tantrum doesn’t help against the power of Elliott’s wet lips. My head swims
as the fire pooling in my abdomen stills, but with a warning. It’s building its force. Every nerve is flaming as all the static, which has been bubbling away from the stresses of the past few weeks, is freed, rocketing to all corners of my body until I no longer know my own name.

  When the pressure and the burning eases, my tense muscles relax and a tiny sliver of a tear runs down the side of one eye. This man is my one and only. What he can’t do for me, no one can. And the joy of it is, we are growing stronger. As our relationship lasts and we endure more together, our understanding and emotional fullness reaches continual new heights.

  When we started out, we were infatuated with each other and of the idea of being a couple. But now. Now that life has settled into a new pattern and we’ve overcome a barrage of obstacles that landed in our way, we’ve arrived at a place of two individuals acting as one.

  It’s there in that moment of half consciousness that my perception of Axel also evolves. He would want this same connection. Not all the intimate stuff, but in the form of a parental relationship. He’s come from a place of great hurt and that’s what we know. We still have to climb under the skin of any abuse while he was living on the streets. Axel needs a profounder connection with us. He craves this level of deep emotional understanding in order for him to trust. And that’s understandable after everything he’s been through.

  Elliott stands up, still fully clothed. “You’d better get on with the washing up then. I’ve done my chores for the day.” He gives me a light shove.

  I grin. “How about you?” I motion up and down his body with a leery gaze. I’m not done yet.

  “Nah, I’m good.”

  I grab him. “I know you’re good. But what about you?” I am not taking no for an answer as I drag his hips to seal against mine with one strong forearm wrapped behind his slim waist. My other arm levers his chest against mine, and my large hand puts pressure on the back of his neck, until his lips are on mine.

  He smells of sex. Hell, he tastes of sex. He tastes of me.

  Our tongues intertwine in a tumble of love, and I feel the strain he’s under release as he surrenders to me.

  Elliott

  “Jon is in reception.” Axel pokes his head around my office door. His face is set with a caustic frown. It’s a few days after our disagreement and he’s still not come to me to set matters straight between us, and I’m thinking it might be time for me to be the bigger person and make the first move.

  First things first, though; I need to spend the next few hours working out on TV with my new best presenter friend. After last time I was expecting Jon to be late, so it’s a pleasant surprise that he’s ten minutes early today.

  “Thanks, Axel. Have you called Florian?”

  “Yep, he’s waiting over there for us. I’ll go and meet Jon, and we’ll walk over to the gym. We’ll meet you there.” He doesn’t wait for me to reply, just closes the door. The office feels empty and cold without him. We’d gotten to a stage where he would have waited for me. I fight the urge to bolt out of the door and catch up with him. Instead, I pack up what I’m doing and collect my training kit, changing into it in my private bathroom.

  Five minutes later, I’m heading out, and as is always the way, after being stopped a few times on my way to give my opinion on any manner of queries, I make it to the gym dead on time.

  “And here is the man himself!” Jon turns, with the camera rolling, midway through a piece with Florian. “We were just chatting through how Florian adjusts your training routine according to where you are in the racing calendar.”

  I plaster on my press smile. “Yeah, some tracks need you to be stronger in one area than another. For instance, if there’s a lot of sharp bends, that can take its toll on your neck, so I’ll work more on that to withstand the g-force.” I point to my neck, as if the people who will watch this later at home need direction on where it is.

  “Well, we’re looking forward to seeing how you train that in a little while. I’m not sure I’m ready for what’s coming though.” Jon gives a nervous grin, but I can see from the twinkle in his eyes that he’s up for the challenge.

  The door opens behind me. When I turn, it’s Kyle, also kitted out in his gym gear. I didn’t know he was coming, and I tilt my head in an unspoken question.

  “Florian thought it would be fun if I came along and competed against you.” My heart melts. That smile does it for me every time. It lights up his face, combining strong masculinity and warm affection.

  “Brilliant. I have no problems kicking your butt again,” I joke.

  The cameras stop rolling, and Axel steps in. “I’m sorry, guys. I didn’t know about Kyle. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.” The frown he was wearing earlier has taken root again, creating deep crevices across his forehead.

  “It’s a fabulous idea. Well done, Florian. The viewers will love it. Plus, it will get me off the hook a bit too. I wasn’t looking forward to getting all hot and sweaty with you, Elliott. No offense.” He shoves my arm in a jokey way. I like this guy.

  “Oh, you’ll still be getting hot and sweaty, but this way you’ll be shown up by two of them.” Florian is still joking away and I’m starting to have a great time. The only sourness is Axel’s face.

  Kyle

  We work out together all the time, but that’s more about us arriving at the gym together and doing our own workouts. Since the log cutting championship, we’ve not had the same gym plan, and I jumped at this chance as soon as Florian suggested it. I didn’t realize that I needed to run anything past Axel. A fact that I will not forget in the future.

  “So, Elliott has a different routine depending on the day of the week and like we said earlier, it’s also very much driven by the upcoming circuit. Today we’ll be starting with some cardio. This will get his heart rate working, so that when we switch up to building his muscle tone it will be more effective at burning the fat.”

  “OK, so I notice all the racing drivers are lithe. Is this why then?” Jon asks.

  Elliott pitches in. “Sure, combined with the boring diet we adopt during the race calendar.”

  We all laugh, because there is no other way to describe what we eat when Elliott is racing.

  Florian takes us to the smash mat area. “We have all of this equipment,” he floats his arm around the impressive room, “but I like to start out with bodyweight work to warm up. Your body isn’t meant to carry much more than what you weigh, so while the drivers have to be able to withstand massive g-force to avoid injury at the outset, we start like this.”

  He instructs the three of us who are dressed appropriately to run on the spot.

  And now I feel like a complete dick. Running on the spot when you’re alone is one thing, but high knees and butt kicks are just plain wrong in full view of international viewers. Elliott feels like a dick too. I can just tell and so when our eyes meet, we burst out laughing. It’s not a gentle giggle, but raucous laughter, the sort that ripples through to everyone, and soon we’re all in fits of laughter, while conducting our half-hearted warm up.

  Even Axel cracks a grin.

  By the end of the piece though, we’ve got some entertaining footage.

  “Sorry that wasn’t exactly what we do on a daily basis,” Florian speaks to camera.

  “I’m pleased it wasn’t. It’s way less intense than I was expecting.” Jon’s mouth is spread in a wide smile as he refers to our poor attempt at demonstrating how hard we work to be top of our game. But, we’ve had a great time, and the fun element came across. “That should buy you some additional fans,” Jon says once the camera is off. “It was a great piece. Let me know if you have any other ideas that we can work on together.”

  We say our goodbyes and when Jon drives off, it feels oddly like a party has ended. But, as soon as he’s left, Axel snaps. “Kyle, you can’t just go around organizing activities with the press without including me. It shows a complete lack of respect.”

  Florian is also there, and he was actually the one who organized
this, but he’s not being targeted and I get the impression this is about more than the piece we just made with Jon.

  Elliott

  A few days later we’re flying out to the next race, and we’re in great spirits as it’s the first one we’ll be racing with the upgrades we’ve been waiting for. Kyle and I are booked on my private jet, and I’ve also put Jessie and Axel on the manifesto. I’m hoping that it will allow us the time to try and work our difficulties through with Axel in an environment where he can’t escape.

  “I’m going to head out with the team,” Axel announces though. “I don’t feel like I’ve bonded with them enough, what with spending so much time with you and Kyle.” When he says Kyle’s name, I’m sure it’s not my . He seems to spit out the words.

  “Why? You’re all booked on the plane with us, and we have some business we need to discuss on the flight.”

  “Will Kyle be there?”

  “Yes of course.” I’m not sure what that has to do with anything or why it would even matter.

  His face contorts into the pout he’s adopted so well over the last few weeks, and the tension that I’ve been trying to ignore peaks, sending the hairs on the back of my neck prickling in warning. I don’t say anything, trying to shrug it off.

  But once we’re all seated comfortably on my jet, it’s time to get to business. And so we start, chatting about our schedule when we arrive, how we’ll run the interviews, the messages we want to promote, all the standard stuff.

  And I wait.

  I wait until Axel goes and does what I’m hoping he won’t.