by Vivica Dorn
“Guess I didn’t really make it after all, huh.”
“No, I guess you didn’t,” Michel replied, ignoring the way his heartbeat had increased tenfold. Ever since their earlier interaction Michel had felt thrown awfully off centre. He felt irritated and impatient, hot and uncomfortable. He hadn’t slept well last night, and when he had, he dreamed of large, tanned hands on him, bringing him back from the deep.
“Ah, man, this is going to be tough. I know I’m going to need help in this course, but I have class during your other office hours and if I make the swim team I’m probably going to have practice during your Wednesday ones.” Sam flopped down in the chair across from the desk Michel was sitting at.
“Do you have any suggestions for me, Michel? I really want to do well.”
Michel sighed. He wanted to distance himself from the sincere student, the student whose eyes were looking at him almost imploringly. He wanted to shrug and tell him too bad, if you can’t make office hours like everyone else then you’re shit out of luck. Instead he pursed his lips, hesitating.
“I can’t really give any special treatment you know, I have office hours for a reason. All the students have to be treated equally.”
Sam leaned back in the chair, arms crossed, looking suddenly thoughtful.
“What if I offered you a deal?”
Michel snorted. What was this freshman playing at?
“I don’t really know what you mean,” he said carefully, noting the suddenly serious expression in Sam’s eyes.
“You help me outside of your normal office hours. In exchange for swimming lessons.”
Michel’s mouth fell open and he sputtered.
“That’s absurd! There’s no way. I won’t do it.”
Sam raised a brow, a slight smile playing over his lips.
“That was quite a... visceral reaction. It seems to me that you have serious issues with the water.” His gaze darkened, his voice low and gruff. “And who can blame you.”
Michel felt the colour draining from his face as he imagined getting back in the water and trying to swim, trying to stay afloat, trying to stay alive. No, he couldn’t do it, he wouldn’t.
“But it also seems to me that you could use some help in that area. What if I could help you become a stronger swimmer? It’s a valuable skill to have, as I’m sure you’re aware.”
Michel paused, unsure of what to say. The freshman leaned forward, elbows on his knees, handsome face almost stern with his sincerity, jaw set, eyes narrowed. Michel opened and closed his mouth a few times, then pressed his lips together.
With a sigh, he muttered, “d’accord, ok. I don’t know why I’m agreeing to this.” He shook his head. Why on earth was he going along with this stranger’s proposal? Despite his misgivings, though, he had to admit that he dearly wanted to conquer his fear of the water. Michel Dubeau was not weak. Michael Dubeau was not afraid. At least, he wanted not to be.
Sam flashed that blinding, confident smile, rising and running a hand through his damp hair.
“Great! We’ll start tonight. Meet me at the athletic centre at 9pm. No one uses the pool at that time. I can bring a guest in since I’m a lifeguard.”
Michel rose, too, annoyed and slamming a hand down on the table, sending a pen rolling off the edge to the floor.
“Wait, tonight?! What are you talking about, no!” Panic rose in his chest, his ribs burning and stretched too tight across his lungs.
“You heard me,” Sam said, still smiling but his voice quiet. “I will see you there.”
With a roll of his eyes and a snort Michel grumbled as Sam sauntered out, hands in his pockets, a haughty smile forming in his lips as he passed through the doorway. Michel thought he could hear the fading notes of a whistled tune, getting quieter as the freshman made his way down the hall.
A chill ran through Michel as he imagined getting in the water once again. But knowing he would be there made things a little, just a little, better.
Though he didn’t want to admit it, even to himself.
CHAPTER 4
Sam glanced at his phone, checking the digital clock on the screen for the third time in the last 8 minutes. 8:57pm. Michel didn’t strike him as the type who would be late. That is, if he decided to show up. Sam grinned to himself as he remembered the way Michel had jumped up, looking so indignant, slamming his hand against his desk, practically shouting “no!” In that moment Sam had wanted to simultaneously laugh and reach out to stroke that flushed, angry face.
Sam thought back to their first conversation, when he actually had reached out to touch the TA’s face. He hadn’t thought about it, he had just done it, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And Michel’s fair skin had been so soft beneath his touch that he probably wouldn’t have wanted to pull back, probably wouldn’t have pulled back, if Michel hadn’t slapped his hand away. That made him smile too, the fierce pride in that action. He realized that he was truly excited to see the other boy; he hoped desperately that Michel would come.
And, a moment later, he did.
Michel walked up to him, that same indignant look of pride on his face, despite the flush of his cheeks. Sam admired the way the red fabric of Michel’s T-shirt accentuated the unique green shade of his eyes. He also couldn’t help but notice that it complimented the redness of that soft, curving mouth. Don’t be weird, he chided himself.
“You’re late,” he said, grinning at the shorter boy.
Michel scoffed.
“It’s 8:59. You’re early.”
“Yeah, well, I was excited,” he said honestly. Michel’s lovely eyes widened, taken aback. Clearing his throat and looking away, he gestured to the change rooms.
“So, uh, we should go. Get ready.”
Sam eyed him for a moment.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
The change room was empty at this time. No one came to swim at this hour because there was no lifeguard stationed. Sam had gained special permission to use the pool after hours because of his own lifeguard status. He grabbed a locker, clanging it open, and dumped his bag inside, taking off his baseball cap, then his T-shirt, then his jeans. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Michel look around then choose a locker of his own, far away from him. Smirking to himself, he removed his underwear and yanked on his swim trunks. He closed his locker then turned to Michel.
Sam sucked in a breath, his heart suddenly in his throat, smirk wiped clean from his face. Michel was naked with his back to him, slightly bent as he pulled on a pair of small, very tight black swim shorts. His chestnut locks fell over his forehead, his long neck met his shoulders gracefully, his beautiful waist tapered in and met the arch of his slender hips with exquisite form. His flawless skin looked like velvet even under the harsh fluorescent light of the change room. Sam clenched his jaw, attempting to slow his erratic heart rate and quash the intense desire to reach out and stroke the soft winged blades of Michel’s shoulders. You are being so fucking weird, he thought. And yet, he did not look away. Michel finished pulling his tight swim shorts over the pert curve of his buttocks and turned to Sam, blushing.
“What are you staring at?” He asked moodily.
“Uh, well... your swim shorts. They’re really... tight.”
He groaned internally as his voice cracked like a 13 year old’s on that last word. The shorts really were skin-tight, and Sam’s eyes were drawn to the bulge there. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly very, very dry.
Michel scowled and crossed his pale arms over his chest, looking away.
“Whatever, it’s the European style. Aren’t you a competitive swimmer? Don’t your teammates wear something similar?” He eyed Sam’s baggy swim trunks.
Sam thought about it. Yes, he and his potential teammates had all worn competitive-style speedos for the tryouts. But none of them had looked like Michel did now. None of them had skin like cream, a deliciously red mouth, and green eyes that practically sparked.
Sam tore his eyes away from Michel’s body, cleari
ng his throat.
“Yeah, well, I don’t know if I made the team yet. I find out tomorrow, actually.”
“Really?” Michel said, his voice softening. “Well, I’m sure you’ll make it,” he said, uncrossing his arms, revealing more of his bare body. Sam’s chest ached as he remembered that body pressed against his as he swam desperately for shore. That body beneath his as he administered CPR. He wanted to touch that body again. And again. And again.
Instead he walked awkwardly to the showers and turned one of the faucets on, standing under the stream.
“Come on,” he said, looking straight ahead at the wall. “You need to rinse off before getting in the water.”
Michel turned on the shower next to his and turned his face up to the stream of warm water. Sam watched him intently from the corner of his eye, watched the way the water turned his chestnut hair glossy and dark, watched the way the water rolled in sweet, beading rivulets over that perfect skin.
Holy shit. Sam’s cock stirred. He squeezed his eyes shut and yanked his faucet to the right, gasping as much colder water hit his skin. Michel looked at him questioningly.
“That’s enough,” he said gruffly, turning off his shower. Michel did the same. Without looking at the older boy again, he turned and led him onto the pool deck.
The majority of the lights were off and the sunlight that normally streamed in through the huge windows was absent, lending the giant open pool hall a mysterious indigo hue. The water gleamed, dark and still as ink. Sam walked up to the edge of the pool and sat down, dangling his legs in the water of the shallow end. Looking over his shoulder he saw Michel hesitating behind him, arms crossed, face pale, lips pursed.
Sam patted the tile next to him.
“Come on, join me. We’re going to take it slow.”
He suppressed a smile. Despite his inherent haughtiness, Michel looked like a small and frightened deer. He walked slowly forward and gingerly sat next to Sam, his knees drawn up to his chest.
“Well, what are you waiting for? Put your feet in. Get used to the water.”
“I’m... it’s cold,” Michel said quietly, slender eyebrows furrowed.
Sam laughed heartily, and without thinking about it, he slung a muscled arm over Michel’s shoulders, drawing him into his side.
Both boys froze.
“Uh, well, if I help you warm up a little it will help you get in the water,” Sam said, not believing the words himself. He didn’t even bother to wonder whether Michel had bought such a lame explanation. He slowly ran his hand up and down the soft skin of Michel’s arm and instinctively leaned into him, his nose pressing into Michel’s hair, breathing deeply of the sweet smell of his shampoo. It wasn’t a fruity scent. It was kind of like vanilla, or maybe almond. Sam closed his eyes and breathed even deeper.
A sudden splash and the feeling of water spraying up onto his thighs made Sam open his eyes and pull back a little.
“There, better?” Michel said, face flushed crimson, staring into the pool. He swished his legs in the water furiously, creating a flurry of bubbles and splashes. The sound rang out in the empty room. Sam laughed again, releasing his hold on Michel’s shoulder.
“Yeah, definitely. Now we get in.” And I get myself away from you.
He pushed off with his hands and slipped gracefully into the pool, hardly creating a ripple, and turned back to the TA.
“Your turn.” He grinned, swirling the water with his hands. “See? It’s safe.” The water in the shallow end barely made it to his ribs.
Michel didn’t move, narrowing his eyes. Then, with one explosive kick of his right leg, he sent a sharp spray of water into Sam’s face and eyes. Sam sputtered and coughed, then, taking one giant stride along the bottom of the pool, reached the seated boy. He grasped Michel’s hips firmly, ignoring the suddenly wide eyes and the cry of complaint, and pulled him into the water.
“Putain, c’est froide!” Michel whined, fuck, it’s cold! “What the hell are you doing?”
He looked up at Sam, green eyes flashing.
Sam couldn’t answer. All he could think about was the fact that Michel’s slim hips were in his grasp, that Michel was gripping his shoulders for stability, that his chest was mere millimetres from his own. Despite the cold water Sam’s skin burned, and he felt the unmistakable sensation of his cock stirring again in his trunks. Michel shivered and Sam’s hands tightened on his hips, then slid up to his waist.
Michel’s voice was quieter this time as he repeated the question.
“What the hell are you doing?”
CHAPTER 5
Michel knew he should be pulling back. He knew it. But he couldn’t. Sam’s huge, hard body was emitting some kind of fatal gravity on him and he couldn’t force himself to move. His hands felt glued to those broad shoulders, his eyes trapped by the strange, hungering gaze that roamed his face. Sam’s blue eyes were almost black in the gloom, his jaw set hard, his face more serious than Michel had ever seen it before. Michel shivered, the cold water rippling up to his chest. He felt Sam’s hands tighten on his hips, then glide up to his waist. His heart exploded in his chest, his breath coming quickly, too quickly. Why was Sam looking at him like that? And why the hell couldn’t he pull away?
He felt something hard and cold against his back and realized that Sam had backed him up against the wall of the pool without him noticing. Sam’s chest heaved and one of his large hands came up to cup the side of Michel’s face, his thumb stroking his cheekbone. And still that gaze bored into him, searching, aching, wanting something from Michel.
Michel licked his lips. A muscle twitched in Sam’s jaw. Absurdly, Michel wondered if Sam was about to kiss him. Perhaps even more absurdly, he wasn’t repulsed by the idea.
He was enthralled.
But Sam didn’t kiss him. With a grunt, he grasped Michel’s shoulders and pushed him back forcefully, arching him against the hard edge of the pool. Michel gasped then let out a small cry of pain as the sharp tile pressed into his spine. This seemed to break something in Sam, and suddenly Michel was yanked with exquisite force against the broad, warm chest of the tall athlete. Sam squeezed Michel tightly, almost painfully, his huge hands roaming over the sensitive skin of his back, his mouth pressed against Michel’s neck, murmuring something, his voice raw.
“...so, so scared. You don’t know how scared I was. I’m so glad you’re ok. You’re ok. Oh my god, oh my god...”
Michel’s breath caught in his throat. Could it be that Sam had been just as affected by that traumatic incident as he had been? How could such a confident, even cocky, lifeguard be so afraid? Without warning, Michel’s eyes filled with tears, and he looped his arms around the larger boy’s back, leaning into the embrace, trembling. He refused to acknowledge what this could mean. I’ll think about it later, he grumbled internally, allowing himself to melt into the solid warmth of Sam’s chest.
Then Michel froze. Something firm was pressing into his hipbone. Was that what he thought it was? Ô mon dieu, Sam was hard. Something clenched deep in Michel’s abdomen and fire bloomed in his cheeks. His chest pounded. He reached his hands back around the front, pressing them into Sam’s firm pectoral muscles, pushing back as the taller boy nuzzled desperately into his neck.
“Sam, Sam, slow down, what is happening?”
Sam immediately stopped. He lifted his mouth away from Michel’s neck, his jaw, his hair, and let his hands fall to his sides in the water, stepping back. Michel had the strange urge to apologize when he saw the pained look on Sam’s face. He stiffened. No, he hadn’t done anything wrong; he had had every right to stop this bizarre interaction. He had to. And yet he let his eyes drift from Sam’s serious face to the defined muscles of his chest, the chest where his cheek had just been pressed. Without thinking, he reached up and brushed that same cheek with shaking, wet fingers. Sam’s brows contracted and he looked away, jaw working.
“I’m sorry about that. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just...” he sighed raggedly and ran a han
d through his wet hair. Michel couldn’t help but notice the ripple of muscles in his side, chest, and shoulder as he did so. Focus! He thought testily, irritated by his strange reactions. Well, at least he hadn’t had that reaction, thinking about the way Sam had pressed his hardness so hungrily against him.
Michel’s heart fell. His swimming shorts were tight, exceptionally tight, far tighter than normal. He cast his eyes up to the ceiling, shaking his head as he realized he was half-hard himself.
“It’s just...” Michel returned his eyes to the boy in front of him.
“You were the only person I ever had to actually, like, rescue. And honestly it scared the shit out of me. More than anything ever had before. When I pulled you to shore and realized you weren’t breathing, when I thought I was losing you, something snapped in me I think. And now I feel like I have this weird fucking connection to you, like I have to protect you or something.” He half laughed, half groaned.
“I’m sorry, this probably seems really weird coming from someone you barely know, especially a student in your class. It’s just... you don’t know what it was like for me, seeing you standing there in class after all that, totally fine. Ugh, what am I even saying, you’re the one who went through something terrible, you’re the one who almost died. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
Michel licked his lips again, looking down at the rippling dark surface of the pool.
“Look, I don’t really understand this either. Like it or not, we went through something... significant together. I don’t really know what to make of it right now,” he raised his eyes to meet Sam’s, “but I do know that you promised to teach me how to swim.” He grinned a little, trying to lighten the mood.
Sam smiled back at him, somewhat wanly.
“Yeah, you’re right. Look, I’m sorry, I’m suddenly not in the right frame of mind to do this. Can we try again tomorrow? I promise not to hug you again.” A shaft of moonlight hit the side of Sam’s jaw, turning his handsome tanned face to smooth marble. Michel blinked at the beauty of it, then vigorously shook his head.