Personal Best 2

by Sean Michael

  He nodded. “You were pretty tight through that one. Like you were still favoring the shoulder some. I’m wondering if it’s just holdover from the injury or if things aren’t as far along as we’d like.”

  “I don’t know. The backstroke felt good, the butterfly synced. We’ll have to watch. It’s not weird in practice, is it?”

  “I haven’t noticed anything.” The kid looked beautiful in practice. “But there’s no pressure in practice.”

  Mike nodded, stretched. “Yeah.”

  “You feeling good? Any twinges?”

  Mike wriggled, arms swinging. “More stiff than twingey.”

  “Well, it’s not like you aren’t swimming your heart out every day.” He frowned a little and put his hand out to touch Mike’s forehead. “You feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine, and don’t start about me getting sick, now.” His swimmer was warm, not hot, but warm.

  “You sure you want that pizza tonight? We could do it tomorrow and just do something light and a full-body massage tonight.”

  That Mike even considered it gave him pause. “Maybe. Maybe we could order the pizza later.”

  He didn’t say anything, let it go; he could fret on his own. “I bet the room service chicken Caesar salad is pretty good.”

  Mike nodded. “It’s sorta hard to screw up, yeah? Lettuce. Dressing. Croutons. Chicken.”

  “Yep. We can order it, and then I’ll give you your massage while we’re waiting on it.”

  “Oh. Massage. My second favorite part of winning.”

  “Only the second part?”

  Mike nodded. “The fucking’s my favorite.”

  He chuckled. “Wanting, are you?”

  He knew the feeling. Christ, watching Mike swim always did it for him; add in the hype of a race, the fact they hadn’t done it in at least a week, and damn….

  “Always.” Mike winked. “Always, Jess.”

  He reached over again, stroking Mike’s thigh until he turned into the parking lot for the hotel.

  Mike grabbed the bag, whistling and bouncing on the way to the elevator. Jessy followed Mike’s sweet ass, feeling better with this more normal behavior from his bouncy, well-of-boundless-energy swimmer. Mike got into the room, and headed straight for the shower. Jessy called down for two chicken Caesar salads and two ginger ales before stripping and following Mike into the bathroom.

  Mike was humming, looking good, if a little pale, shampoo pouring over his long muscles. Jessy stepped into the shower and reached out to touch, moving his hands slickly along the soapy skin.

  “Mmm…. Jess.” Mike purred, arched into his touch.

  He moaned, closing the distance between their bodies, rubbing, hungry for the touches they’d been denied all week. Touches that he denied them in an effort to keep Mike sharp, focused, all the kid’s energies going to the swimming.

  “Love how you want me.” Mike melted into him, pure sex kitten, long and rubbing, heated and slick.

  He moaned, sliding his hands around to cup Mike’s ass, guiding the sweet motions, encouraging them to continue. Mike moved nice and easy, rocking toward him, lips parted on a gasp.

  “Oh, baby. Want you.” Damn, the no-sex-before-meets rule was stupid. Too bad he was the moron who’d instituted it.

  “Yours. Been a week, Jess. Need it.” Mike’s teeth scraped across his shoulder.

  That only served to fan the fire, and he growled, shoving Mike against the back of the shower and humping hard, rubbing their cocks together as he devoured Mike’s mouth. Mike arched, driving now, driving them together just as hard. Groaning, he pushed a hand between them, sliding his fingertips across Mike’s nipples.

  “Yes….” Mike pushed into his fingers. Demanding boy.

  He rubbed harder, sliding his other hand around their pricks, tugging.

  “Gonna.” Mike shivered, shuddered, pushing into his hand, heat spraying.

  “Yes!” He shouted, body moving fast and hard, and came a moment later, mouth fusing with Mike’s.

  Mike hummed, mouth clinging to his.

  He broke the kiss reluctantly as Mike shivered. “Come on, Mike. Supper in bed.”

  “Mmm… ’kay.” Mike held him, acquiescing without a struggle.

  It made him want to growl and fuss, but he just led Mike to the bed and tucked him under the sheets, before passing over the remote. He put on his robe and went to see if their food had been left in the hall. The tray was there, the food looking delicious. When he brought it in, Mike was cuddled into the pillows, blinking slow.

  “Hey, baby. No sleeping yet. I’ve got food here.” He sat on the edge of the bed, smiling.

  Mike yawned. “’Kay.”

  “You want me to feed you?”

  “No. Oh… ginger ale….”

  He passed it over, then put Mike’s plate on his legs.

  Mike drank deep, idly picking at his salad. “Not hungry, Coach. I’m tired.”

  “Eat a few pieces of chicken for me, and I promise not to fuss too badly.”

  “I get pizza later, still, right?

  “Yep. Tomorrow night, if you’re up to it.” He slid his hand along Mike’s belly, massaging gently.

  Mike ate a few pieces of chicken, a crouton, then finished both ginger ales. Jessy petted Mike’s belly and got up to put everything back on the service table. Slipping out of his robe, he got into bed with Mike, and tugged the lax body into his arms.

  Mike cuddled right in, falling right to sleep, skin hot against him. Every six months the kid caught a bug, cuddled, fevered for a day or two, was adorable and miserable, and then got better. Jessy thought it was the universe’s way of assuring that the kid slept hard at least twice a year. He’d have to call and extend their stay, put off the flight home for a couple of days.

  That way he could concentrate on holding and cuddling and seeing Mike through the worst of it.

  He placed a kiss on Mike’s forehead and let himself relax, let sleep have him.

  HIS EYES were itchy. His throat hurt. He felt hideous.

  And if Jessy didn’t quit covering him up while he was so hot, he was going to lose it.

  “I’m hot, Coach.”

  “Yeah, I’m not surprised. You need to stay covered, though.” The covers were pulled back up to his chin and tucked in around him.

  He growled and wriggled. “You’re not listening to me.”

  “How about some nice fresh-squeezed orange juice?”

  “Jess! You’re still not…. Is it cold?”

  Jess looked like he was trying not to laugh. “It is.”

  He stuck his tongue out, sat up, pushing the blankets down. “Don’t you laugh. Hand over the juice and no one gets hurt.” He supposed he couldn’t accuse Jess of laughing—the noise was more of a snort, and the juice was handed over, a big glass, nice and cold.

  He drank deep, wincing as it hurt his throat. Of course, the cold on his stomach felt so good he kept drinking.

  Jess took the glass away from him once he’d finished and pushed him forward, sitting behind him. “You think you might live?” Those big hands dropped onto his shoulders, rubbing.

  “If you don’t smother me, yep.” He grinned, stretching out.

  “You need to stay warm.” Jess’s hands were gentle and warm, easing some of the aches in his muscles and bones.

  “I am warm. You make me warm.”

  Jess chuckled. “Not that kind of warm, baby.”

  “Oh, right.” He relaxed and snuggled. “I love you, you know that, right?”

  Jess kissed his shoulder, lips cool against his skin. “I know it, baby.”

  “Mmm….” He rested against Jess, eyes drooping. “I should go down to the pool.” He really didn’t feel like moving, but swimming was hardwired into him.

  “Nope. Day of rest. We’re booked on a plane out of here day after tomorrow, and I want you well enough to fly by then. We get home? And your ass is in the pool, cold or no cold.”

  “Hard-ass.” The term was fond, gentle.
>
  “You know it.” Jess kissed his shoulder again. “Your hard-ass.”

  “Yeah. And I’m keeping you.”

  “Good.” There was a bit of a growl in Jess’s voice, and the big hands curled possessively around his shoulders.

  He hummed, tilting his head and kissing Jess’s jaw. “Feel like I was meant for you.”

  Jess nodded. “We certainly are a pretty fucking good match.”

  “Gonna win us a gold medal one day, Jess. I will.”

  “I don’t doubt it for a second, Mike. In all my years as a swimmer and as a coach, I’ve never seen anyone with the natural ability and sheer love of swimming as you.”

  He beamed, pleased all through. “So, you think I can get on the Wheaties box?”

  “If you want that, kid, it’s yours.”

  “So long as I don’t have to eat them….” He wrinkled his nose.

  Jess snorted. “You shouldn’t endorse something you don’t believe in, Mike.”

  “I believe in Wheaties. I just don’t like them.”

  Laughing, Jess hugged him hard. He leaned in, happy and quiet—still hot, but happy.

  “You gonna try and get some more sleep for me, Mike?”

  “Been sleeping for hours.” He yawned, shifted so he could get more comfortable.

  “Yep. That’s what most people do when they’re sick. Sleep it off, let their body heal.” Jess’s hands felt good, petting him idly.

  “’M not most people. I’m yours.”

  “I know, baby, I know. But you still need your sleep.”

  He purred, eyes falling closed. “Sleep is overrated.”

  “I know, Mike. Do it anyway.” The words were soft, just rumbling against his head where it lay on Jessy’s chest.

  “Mmm….” He nodded. “But….”

  But he was already asleep.

  MIKE HIT the pool as soon as they got home, and Jessy let him, figuring the kid needed to stretch and get rid of some of his energy. Mike wasn’t 100 percent yet, but he seemed to be feeling a whole lot better.

  Jessy picked up their messages from the service and checked the email. News of Mike’s return was moving fast; there were two new sponsors who wanted meetings. He went through the mail after that, tossing the junk and filing the bills, and then went up and took a shower.

  Clean and refreshed, he went out back to watch Mike swim. Mike was sliding through the water, the stereo blaring so the kid could hear it. Grinning, he went over and switched it to his radio station, the classic rock noisy, beat good and loud. Those legs kicked up a splash of water, letting him see that Mike had heard.

  Grinning, he went back to grab himself a Coke, some chips, and a jar of salsa. He set himself up in his chair and watched his second favorite show: the Mike Swims Show. He was actually looking for something today, looking to see if the kid was tight, especially in his freestyle.

  Yep. There it was. A little hitch, a loss of rhythm, so hidden in the water he wouldn’t have noticed had Mike not mentioned it. He went over and turned the music off, knowing Mike would take it as a sign to stop.

  Mike got to the end of the lane, head popping up. “’S up, Coach?”

  “I see what you were talking about on the freestyle. Is the shoulder still bothering you?”

  “Not really. It doesn’t hurt.” Mike swung it again, no discomfort showing.

  He went over and closed his eyes as he carefully worked his fingers along Mike’s shoulder. “Swing it again.”

  Mike swung a few times, the joint moving well except for the slightest pop at the end.

  “Back in the pool, let’s see the stroke again.”

  Mike nodded, heading back through the water, just the tiniest hiccup there, and Mike adjusted his stroke.

  He walked the length as Mike swam it, going to his haunches at the other end. “You’re compensating for the injury, which isn’t there anymore. You need to stretch a little harder, reach for the wall.”

  Mike frowned. “I am. It feels like I am.” Mike took off again, the effort making things worse, and Jess chuckled. Mike had to feel it before he got it.

  He cupped his hands around his mouth to bellow out, “Longer.”

  Mike wasn’t getting it, and Jess stripped his pants off and jumped in the water, and held Mike around the hips. That right hand pegged the wall, the left coming up short.

  “See? You’re not extending it fully. Just reach for it without the stroke first and then try the stroke a few more times.”

  Mike shifted, worked with him. In this, Mike was a coach’s wet dream—always pushing, ready to move, to work. They worked on it for about a half hour before Mike was starting to pull the stroke consistently right. It was hard work, Mike panting and red, pushing his body, insisting it do what he wanted.

  He let Mike swim a few laps, making sure he held the proper form, and then called for a rest, growling to make sure Mike knew he was serious. Mike nodded, floating on his back, breathing hard.

  He got back into the water, swimming lazily over to Mike. “Good job, Mike. You really pulled hard to correct that.” Mike grunted, but he got a wide smile, a pleased grin.

  He slid his hand over Mike’s belly, stroking the fine abs. Oh, now. That got him a purr. So easy, his baby. He hummed happily, shifting to place a kiss on the pool-cooled skin.

  “Mmm…. Love you, Jess.” Mike watched him, relaxed. “We still going to the beach? Going to play?”

  “Did I say we’d do that?” he asked, teasing.

  “You did. You owe me a pizza too.”

  He absolutely did. “Yeah. We can do the beach next week. I want you to put in a full week working on getting that stroke back.”

  Mike didn’t protest. “Do I need to change the workout with the weights?”

  “Yeah, you’re not using your muscles to their full capacity. We’ll adjust the arm curls.” He marveled again at Mike’s dedication. He’d never had another swimmer who was always eager to work so hard.

  Mike nodded, then grinned, mischievous and playful. He pinched Jessy’s arm. “Tag. You’re it.” Then Mike was off like a shot.

  He chuckled and took off after the kid, moving at an angle to cut him off. Mike was fast but not a strategist, and Jess kept cornering the long body and then letting Mike slip free. He finally caught Mike up in one corner and brought their mouths together, taking them both under as they kissed.

  Mike opened, their bodies rubbing together, sliding together. Their legs tangled and the kiss went on and on until Jessy thought his head was going to explode and he let go, kicking up to gasp for breath.

  Mike worked Jessy’s shorts down, then popped up for a quick breath and down for his cock.

  Oh, fuck. He loved it when Mike did this. He reached back for the edge of the pool, holding on as the incredible heat surrounded him. Mike stayed down for what seemed like forever, coming up for another quick breath and diving back down. It was fucking amazing. Had him trying to hump into Mike’s mouth, had him shaking.

  Mike pulled furiously, hands almost bruising on his thighs. Jessy shouted out as he came, shooting into Mike’s mouth, body shuddering with pleasure. Mike pulled away and up, gasping, hand jerking at Mike’s long cock. Jessy covered Mike’s mouth with his own, stealing his lover’s air.

  Mike bucked, fist moving faster, body shaking. Jessy broke the kiss long enough for Mike to get a half breath of air and then sealed their mouths again, pushing his tongue in deep as he held Mike up. Mike’s eyes rolled, and the scent of his lover’s seed mingled with the chlorine in the air.

  He broke the kiss, holding Mike, tugging them close together. Mike gasped, shivered, body still moving for him. Jessy moaned, kissing Mike’s face, licking Mike’s neck. The scent of his lover mixed with the chlorine was right and good and his.

  “Oh. Oh, fucking wow.” Mike grinned, eyes rolling.

  He grinned back, laughing, happy. “Yeah, baby. Fucking wow.”

  Mike floated, flush gently fading.

  “You’re something else, baby.
” He gave Mike a kiss and eased them toward the ladder.

  “I’m yours.”

  He groaned and stopped to kiss Mike again, hard this time. Mike was melted in his arms, wrapped around him. He started to move them toward the ladder again, knowing his own energy was flagging.

  “Love you.” Mike finally unwrapped, then stumbled up the ladder and into a deck chair.

  He grabbed a couple of waters out of the cooler set up on deck and plopped down on the chair next to Mike’s, passing one over. “Yeah, I love you too.”

  Mike drank deep, swallowing hard. “Good.”

  “You look worn out.” He hoped they hadn’t pushed too hard too soon; Mike was only just over his cold.

  “Mm-hmm. But happy.”

  He smiled. Yeah, that was important. He reached out and stroked Mike’s cheek. “Good.”

  Mike turned, lips soft against his fingers. “Yeah.”

  “So you want to go to the beach next week? Fly out to San Diego or San Francisco for a few days?”

  “Oh, yeah. Or North Carolina. Or Florida. Or, hell, we could drive to Padre and stay for a couple weeks.”

  “That sounds fine, Mike. Real fine.”

  He’d look into it when he got up.

  Later.

  Chapter Nine

  THEY’D DECIDED on the option of ten days in a nice condo off North Padre Island. There was a little kitchen, a pool, a hot tub, the sand, and the ocean right out the back door. It was glorious. Mike was up at dawn, in the condo pool for laps, and then out on the gulf water before Jess even woke up, riding the waves, fighting the undertow.

  Jess came out with a cup of steaming coffee, sitting on the sand and watching him. Mike’s heart was pounding, the workout amazing, the sheer power of the water thrilling. He might never come back in. Jess watched for a while and then stripped and joined him, pulling out strongly through the waves.

  “Hey! This is fabulous! Can you feel?”

  Jess grinned. “You shouldn’t be out here on your own, though, Mike. Tomorrow you wake me and I’ll come sit on the beach while you battle the ocean.”

  “We’re on vacation, Coach. I’ll be careful.” He laughed as another wave pushed him into Jess’s arms, the foam crashing over them.