Personal Best: Going for the Gold

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Personal Best: Going for the Gold Page 8

by Sean Michael

Jessy laughed, goosing him. “Brat."

  "Yours.” He turned the water off, finding 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, baby. 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, legs wrapped 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's hand cupped his chin. “You're one of the first to say so, baby."

  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's mouth moved slowly until their lips were touching.

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

  "Love you, baby."

  "I know. Kiss me."

  Jessy did, mouth taking his with obvious pleasure. He moaned, lips parting, tongue sliding 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 slow, easy movement of their bodies.

  "Gonna be ice, Jess. Gonna be an excuse to snuggle tomorrow."

  "You don't need an excuse for that, baby."

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

  Jessy kissed him hard. “No."

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

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

  Two fingers slid right into him, Jessy going straight for his gland.

  "Oh!” He arched up, hips rocking 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, baby. It'll be me in a moment."

  "Oh. Please. Yes. You."

  Jessy's fingers slid out, replaced 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, body moving slow and easy.

  Oh, Jessy just 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, hips moving, working.

  He chuckled, meeting each thrust. “So funny..."

  Jessy just purred, fingers of one hand sliding across his nipple.

  "Oh...” He nipped Jessy's lip. “More?"

  "Yeah, baby.” Jessy moved harder, faster, cock pushing into Mike again and again, the fingers teasing his nipple getting more serious, pinching and flicking and rubbing.

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

  "So good, baby.” 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, baby. 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's fingers slid along his 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 had 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 to screw up.

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

  Jessy was sitting in his arm chair, watching the lumberjack contest on the Outdoor Life Network. Watching men climb up and then whip back down fifty foot plus poles in under two minutes was good entertainment.

  The ice hadn't made it 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, baby. 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, grabbing a banana and eating 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, hand pushing into Mike's jeans, sliding through the dark curls. “Gonna let me make you smooth all over, baby?” 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's lips parted, eyes dark and hot. “You make it worth skipping the chocolate..."

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

  He started to work Mike's cock, hand hampered by the close quarters inside Mike's pants. Mike started jerking, hips driving that 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's hands landed on his shoulders, holding on. “Oh ... I..."

  "Yeah, baby. You.” He took Mike's mouth, tongue pushing 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."

  He grinned. “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, baby.” 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, baby.” 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 just 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, putting the last of the things away, looking 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 eyes drag along Mike's body. “Or something."

  Mike grinned, pinked, and put the pan in the oven with a stick of butter. He 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, baby. Wanna play?"

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

  "Front room, Mike. I'm too old to be doing it on the kitchen floor."

  "Not old. Pushy.” Mike rubbed their noses together, eyes warm.

  He laughed, grabbed Mike's hand and tugged his lover into the front room, pushing Mike down onto the couch once they got there. “Might as well be hung for a lion as a lamb,” he said with a wink, sinking down onto Mike's body.

  Mike's arms wrapped around his neck. “Am I the lion or the lamb?"

  He laughed. “Oh, I'm the lion and I'm going to eat you right up.” Mike's chuckle was low, sweet, delicious.

  He took Mike's mouth, tongue pushing in as his fingers pulled the kid's T-shirt out of his jeans, hands sliding over that sweet belly. Mike sucked his tongue, fingers pushing down his spine.

  He groaned. Yeah, good. He got Mike's T-shirt up far enough that he could play with those sensitive little nipples, making them push up hard. Mike started wiggling, moaning, nipples hard as little stones. He broke their kiss so he could slide down and lick and suck and bite at Mike's nipples, pushing the T-shirt up over Mike's head.

  Mike groaned, hips pushing up against him, rubbing. He pushed back, giving Mike some friction, mouth working those little titties hard.

  "So much. Jess. S ... so much."

  "Yeah, baby. This? Is everything.” He worked Mike's jeans open, groaning as Mike's hot cock pushed against his stomach. Mike always wanted, always needed more and harder. Always needed him.

  He bit one last time at Mike's nipple and kept moving down, licking the sweet abs, finding that navel with his tongue.

  Mike chuckled, desperate, little motions easing. “Oh. Jessy. Good."

  "I know, baby."

  Mike's cock bumped his chin and he turned his head down to lick at the tip, moaning as the taste of his lover exploded across his taste buds.

  "Mmm...” Mike's legs spread. “Hot. Your tongue is hot."

  He chuckled and took the tip of Mike's cock into his mouth, fingers sliding to play with Mike's balls and then the sweet, soft heat beyond them.

  Mike started rocking, slow and easy, just so sweet. He purred, head bobbing as he went up and down on Mike's cock. Mike hummed, hips sliding, sounds filling the air. It was good, and Mike would make the perfect appetizer for supper.

  He slid his fingers back and pushed at Mike's hole.

  "Oh...” Mike push
ed down against his finger, purring.

  He chuckled around Mike's cock, pushing his finger in, knowing Mike would be feeling the stretch, the burn. Mike arched, rocking and riding his finger. Little promises and cries filled the air, his baby hungry for him. He sucked harder and pushed a second finger into Mike, searching for the kid's gland. When he found it, Mike bucked, almost knocking them off the sofa.

  Jessy kept pegging it, arm across Mike's waist, holding him down. Mike pushed against his arm, moaning, excitement building. He moved his head up and down, hard and fast, fingers sliding across Mike's gland over and over again.

  That's it, baby, he thought, come for me.

  Mike squeezed, cried out, cock swelling in his lips before seed splashed on his tongue. He swallowed Mike's come down, taking that sweet, sharp salt into himself, humming. Mike purred, melted into the couch cushions.

  He licked Mike clean and then laved the soft balls, loving the taste and the small sounds Mike made. Mike would give him anything, let him taste and touch and explore. Such trust. He spread Mike's legs, licking where his fingers had been, adding wet to the stretching he'd done earlier.

  The soft cry split the air. “Jess..."

  "Yeah, baby, it's me.” He murmured the words and then went back to licking, pushing his tongue into Mike's body.

  Mike's heels dug into the couch cushions, long, lean body undulating beneath him. He let Mike do the work, movements of those hips driving Mike on his tongue. Then he moved away, reaching for the lube kept tucked away in the side table, and slicked himself up.

  Mike groaned, turned to offer him that fine ass.

  "Oh, yeah, baby. You know what I want.” He pushed two slick fingers into Mike first, just making sure the kid was good and ready for him.

  Mike nodded, pressed back, riding his fingers. He purred, nudged Mike's gland twice and then let his fingers out so he could push his cock into Mike's body. He groaned. So fucking tight and hot and good. Mike pushed back, took him in deep, panting.

  He moaned as Mike's body held him tight. “Oh, baby, you feel so good."

  Mike squeezed, rose up and pushed down. “Yeah..."

  He sat back on his haunches, bringing Mike with him, arms wrapping around his lover's chest.

  "Oh...” Mike's head fell back, hips just rocking. “So deep."

  "Yeah.” He nibbled at Mike's shoulder, tongue sliding on the skin he loved to taste. “No better place on earth than right here, baby."

 

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