by Sean Michael
“Fuck. Baby. Oh.” He moaned, watching, pushing the dildo and squeezing Mike’s cock tight. It was… the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
Mike threw his head back, crying out as spunk sprayed. He jerked, the feel of it, the scent of it, and the sight of the flush going up Mike’s back sending him over until he shot over Mike’s side.
Mike’s head fell forward, his baby panting. “Oh. Wow.”
He purred, rubbing his and Mike’s come into all that warm, smooth skin, mixing it with Mike’s sweat, making his baby glow. “So sexy. Just… the best.” He eased the dildo out.
Mike settled on the mattress, shivering, breath easing. “Love you.”
Jessy curled up around Mike, tugging the covers up. “Yeah, baby? Well, I love you too.” He and kissed Mike’s nose, hand sliding possessively over Mike’s hip. “Merry fucking Christmas.”
“Uh-huh. Merry fucking.” Mike blinked, grinning like a fool.
He laughed, tugging Mike close. “You wanting a nap? Or to see exactly how many times an old man can get it up with the right incentive?”
“We should have both.” He got a kiss. “Nap, then incentives.”
Jessy purred and licked Mike’s lips. “It’s a deal.”
“Like your deals.” Mike’s eyes drifted closed.
“Yeah.” He kissed the top of Mike’s head. “Sleep now. You’re going to need your energy.”
Chapter Nine
THE MUSIC was loud-loud, making his head pound. It was the traditional back-to-school bash at the Delts’ house, though, and all the UT team was there, so Jessy had told Mike to go, have fun. No soda.
Which was really sort of hard, given his choice was beer or Coke. He found some 7-Up in the fridge, though, and had that. The guys were dancing and drinking, laughing hard. He joined a dart game in the back, finally, away from the noise.
Walt, one of the new guys, came out, offering to fetch a round for everybody, and he held up his mostly gone bottle, tossing darts and kicking Harry’s butt. They all played forever, then headed to watch Resident Evil on the big screen, the lights flashing, music almost alive. Wow. Just. Wow.
They were all piled together, laughing, smoke filling the air, the whole world odd and off-kilter when the yelling started, Coach Samuels hollering and pulling at people, shaking him.
“What the hell are you doing? You stupid, kid?”
Mike blinked, frowned. “What?” What had he…. The room spun a little and he sat down, hard.
“I’m making sure you all get automatic suspension.” That was Coach. His coach. Jessy. “Every last damned one of you.”
He could hear Samuels arguing with Jessy.
“Forget it, Jeff. Three months for all of them, and if they’re caught using again, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it’s a year. You tolerate this kind of thing once and they’ll do it again.” God, Jessy sounded mad. Furious.
He shook his head, tried to clear it. “Suspension?”
“For drug use.” Jessy’s face looked like death. “You stay put. I’m helping Jeff round everyone up and make sure they get home. I’ll be back for you in ten minutes.”
Drug use? Who? Who would do that? Mike stood up, frowning as the room spun. What the fuck?
Jessy put a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down into the couch. “I said. Stay. Put. I don’t want you wandering around who the hell knows where high as a fucking kite.”
“But, Coach, I….” How could he be high? He hadn’t even had caffeine in his soda.
“Stay put, Mike. Use your time to come up with a good reason why I shouldn’t ship your ass back to your Aunt Kathy with extreme prejudice.” Coach growled at him and then was gone, hustling kids out of the Delt House.
He sat, trying to figure out what had happened, what he’d done, why everything was so fucked-up. He hadn’t done anything wrong. Had he? He’d played darts. Watched a movie.
That’s it.
That’s all.
It didn’t feel like any time at all before Coach was back, hand on his shirt hauling him up. “I’m taking you home.”
“Jessy. Coach. I.” He was shivering, scared, confused as anything.
“Need a cold shower and a hell of a lot of water. And starting tomorrow you are swimming laps until you can’t see straight. For the whole three months of your suspension.” Coach was growling, hand hard on his arm, dragging him along.
But why was he suspended? He hadn’t done anything.
“I didn’t.”
They were out on the sidewalk, and Jessy stopped, letting him go and rounding on him. “You’re not high? Is that what you’re telling me, Mike? Fine. I’m parked three cars down, here’s the keys. Get to the car and get yourself into the passenger side.”
He stepped back, more than a little scared, the world spinning wildly. “Don’t yell at me.”
“I’m not yelling, Mike. I’m not yelling at all. You’re fucking high and all your senses are wacky.”
“I didn’t take anything.” Not even caffeine. Not even a sip.
Jessy snorted, grabbing his arm again. “Bullshit, Mike. You’re high.”
He looked over at Jessy, suddenly cold and more than a little sick. Jessy didn’t believe him. Jessy didn’t believe in him and… “You’re going to send me back to Plano?”
“You got a compelling reason why I shouldn’t? I’ve got rules, Mike. You know them. You know them inside and fucking out. And you know the fucking doping rule is a big one, one the governing body takes every bit as seriously as I do. Christ. I can’t believe you did this.”
He sat in the car, completely numb. He wasn’t sure what was happening. Surely it was all a dream. A sick, fucked-up, weird-ass dream. Three months. About as long as he’d been with Jessy. Weird, how things like that worked.
Jessy didn’t say a word the entire drive home. Mike didn’t either; he stared at his fingers and tried to think, tried to figure out what he’d done.
If he was high, shouldn’t he be having fun?
They got home, and Coach came around and opened the door for him, standing over him and waiting for him to get out. He stood, making sure not to touch Jessy, making sure not to sway. Jessy snorted and took his arm, hauling him along again. He followed, stumbling on the stairs. He didn’t know what to do. What to say. Where to go.
Coach didn’t seem to have that problem. Jessy led him straight up the stairs and into the bathroom. Coach turned on the water and then started stripping him down.
“I can do it.” He stepped away, arms wrapped around his belly.
“Then fucking do it. You need to get sober. Now.”
“Okay. Okay.” He stripped down, got into the water, shaking hard. He washed himself quickly, not sure how this was going to help but willing to do almost anything to stop Jessy from glaring at him.
Jessy stood outside the shower, hands across his chest. Quiet. Still. When he’d finished washing, Jessy leaned in and turned the hot down. He curled into himself a little, the cold water chilling him all through. Oh. Okay. So, he really wanted to go home now. Really.
It felt like Jessy made him stay in there forever before finally leaning in and turning off the water. Jessy tugged him out and toweled him down roughly.
“What now?” He was going to be sick, was going to cry, and he wasn’t going to do it in front of Coach. No way.
“Now you sit and start drinking water. And then you go to bed and sleep it off.”
He nodded and moved away, went to find a pair of sweatpants and a shirt. Socks. He needed some socks too.
Jessy disappeared for a couple minutes, coming back with a glass of water and a large pitcher filled with the same. “Start drinking.”
“I’ll throw up.”
“Possibly.” The glass was thrust toward him.
He took the water and drank it, almost gagging, but forcing himself not to. Eventually this would be over. It would. It had to be.
Jessy fed him two more glasses before starting to pace. “Do
you have any idea how disappointed I am in you? You of all people, Mike. I never expected this from you.”
He didn’t say a word. It didn’t matter anyway. His coach didn’t believe him. Hell, Jessy didn’t believe him. He was suspended. It didn’t matter. He drank another glass of water, teeth almost floating.
Jessy went on a little longer, finally winding down. “Go to bed, Mike. We’ll discuss what we’re going to do about this tomorrow.”
He nodded, watched Jessy storm out of the bedroom, back all stiff. Then Mike ran for the master bath, throwing up until there was nothing but bile. He sat on the bathroom floor, dug his cell phone out of his jeans.
It was late enough that the voice that answered the phone was part angry, part scared.
He sniffled and then cleared his throat. “A… aunt Kathy?”
“Mikey? Mikey, what’s wrong?”
“Can I come home? Please? I want to come home.”
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
He shook his head. “Can I come home?”
He heard her soft sigh. “Always. Do you need money?”
“No. I have my Christmas money still. I’ll be home before lunch, okay?”
“Sure, honey. You be careful, now. It’s raining and I know those bikes are dangerous.”
“I will. Love you.”
“I love you, Mikey. Don’t you worry, now. Whatever it is, we’ll fix it.”
He nodded, hung up. He needed to go home.
Just….
Home.
JESSY SPENT the night in his office.
He paced. He fretted. He growled. He dozed.
He finally fell asleep with his head on the desk around 4:00 a.m.…
He woke up four hours later, stiff and still angry. And hurt. He’d trusted Mike. He’d never believed Mike would ever do drugs. Not performance enhancers, not recreational. Hell, he didn’t let the kid have caffeine. Why the hell did Mike think it would be okay if he took something at a party?
Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair and headed for the kitchen. He needed coffee.
He’d bet Mike was probably going to have a hangover. A big breakfast would be in order, followed by a day of swimming at the UT pool. It wasn’t warm enough to swim in their pool in the back. He was going to work the kid hard, keep him too busy to even contemplate doing drugs again.
He slammed cupboards closed and made as much noise as he could in the kitchen. And when that didn’t produce his swimmer, he headed up the stairs. “Mike!”
Nothing. Nothing at all.
Frowning, Jessy headed upstairs to the still-made bed, the empty room. He checked Mike’s old room, the spare room. Still nothing. As he passed their room on his way back to the stairs, he noticed the white paper on the dresser. He strode over and picked it up.
The note was simple, scribbled. “Coach. Hope your next swimmer’s not a disappointment. I’ll mail all the official-type papers to Coach Samuels. Sorry. Michael Gauliet.”
He sat down hard, right there by the dresser, barely noticing his ass hit the floor.
Mike was gone. It was like a fist in his belly, a blow as unexpected and ten times as painful as last night. His baby was gone.
HIS ROOM was the same as how he’d left it. Red bedspread, M&M alarm clock, old black dresser. Just the same.
Mike felt different, though. Aunt Kathy had been cool—not asking questions, really, accepting that he wasn’t on the swim team anymore with a nod and a hug. She’d gotten him a job waiting tables at Denny’s, was trying to find another school—maybe a community college he could go to.
Two weeks gone and everything was suddenly different.
Or the same.
Something.
He got up, padded to the kitchen, and started a pot of coffee, petting the dog. He needed to go to work. He needed to go for a drive. The wind was blowing hard, rain in the air.
He signed the paperwork to send to UT, stamped it.
Maybe next week he’d actually mail it.
Maybe.
Mike poured himself a cup of coffee, added in sugar, and then headed back down the hall, trying very hard not to hear Jessy’s voice in his head.
ALMOST THREE weeks since Jessy’s world had stopped.
He’d called Mike after three days, but Mike wasn’t in. He’d asked Kathy how Mike was doing, received a stiff “he’s fine,” and had declined to leave a message. He missed his swimmer. But more than that, he missed his lover, his baby. It was like he was only half-alive. He spent long hours sitting out on the deck, watching the pool. Just watching it.
He didn’t understand why Mike had done drugs in the first place. He didn’t understand why Mike had taken off after that instead of offering him some sort of explanation or apology. Had it really been so easy to throw away everything they had together?
He’d taken to asking the whiskey bottle that question, and depending on how drunk he was when he asked it, he got different answers.
He wasn’t really hungover this morning, though, only grouchy. And going to UT to see Jeff Samuels was not high on the list of things he wanted to do. Jeff had called yesterday, though, told him to come in, that it was important. If the man was trying to set Jessy up with another swimmer, he was going to beat Jeff’s ass to a pulp.
He strode into the coach’s office, not even looking at the pool. He was done.
“Shut the door behind you. We have to talk.” Jeff looked like hammered shit, pale and upset.
He shut the door and leaned against it, arms crossed over his chest. “So talk.”
“Walter Shell came to me yesterday afternoon. He’s one of our new swimmers. He was at the party with Mike and the rest of them. You need to hear what he has to say.” Jeff met his eyes. “It involves Mike.”
He tensed, jaw clenching, fingers curling into fists. “All right.”
Jeff stood, open the interior door, and a short, skinny kid came in, hands twisted together.
“I’m sorry. I really am. It was a joke, a dare. I didn’t think anybody’d get in trouble, honest.”
“What are you talking about?” Jessy asked, the tension getting worse.
“The guys. I had some X and I offered to get them drinks—Harry, Sammy, Alex had Coke. Ricky and Ollie had a beer. Mike had a 7-Up. I put it in their drinks. They were playing darts.” The kid shook his head. “It was a joke. I didn’t know they’d get in trouble.”
Jessy could feel all the blood drain out of his face. “What?” He stepped forward, towering over the kid, growling. “What?”
“I’m sorry. I am. I didn’t think anything bad would happen. They didn’t know. None of them. It was a joke.” The kid backed up and Jeff stepped forward, getting between them.
“I want him off the team, Jeff. I don’t ever want to see him swimming for UT. Ever.” And if Jeff blinked, he was going to snap the kid in two.
“He’s already off. He’s been sanctioned by the ISO. Hell, Alex Rogers’s mother is suing. Our boys can’t compete for three months, but they won’t lose ranking, etc.” Jeff nodded toward the door. “Go, Walt. Thank you for coming forward.”
Jeff turned back to him, eyes serious. “I got the official withdrawal paperwork from Mike today in the mail.”
He closed his eyes. Christ. This was even more fucked-up than it had been. He had to see Mike.
He held out his hand. “Give it to me? I’ll either bring it or Mike back.”
Jeff nodded, handed him an envelope. “As far as I’m concerned? I never saw it.”
“Thanks.” He shook his head. “What the fuck is wrong with kids these days?”
“Same thing that was wrong twenty years ago when it was hash brownies, Jessy.” Jeff sat down hard. “The real question is, what’s wrong with us that we didn’t believe our boys when they said they didn’t do it?”
He shook his head again. Mike had only said he hadn’t taken anything, and considering how huge his baby’s pupils had been, he’d known that wasn’t true. And Mike had gone before they could
talk about it.
“They were high, Jeff. What were we supposed to think?”
“I don’t know, Jessy. I mean, there’s a couple that are marginal, but Alex? Harry? Mike? They’re career swimmers.”
More than career swimmers, swimming was his baby’s life. “I know, Jeff,” he growled. “Don’t you think I fucking know?”
“Yeah. I think you do. Go get him.” Jeff sighed. “Go get him and tell him I’m sorry.”
“You can tell him yourself in a couple of days.” He waved Mike’s paperwork at Jeff. “Thanks.”
He didn’t even bother going home, just got in the car and started driving, heading for Mike’s aunt Kathy. Time to bring his baby home.
Chapter Ten
MIKE POURED table six another round of coffee and put the order in for table eight. Tonight was his early shift; he got off at nine and was going to go to the movies.
Something violent and scary.
And bloody.
“Mikey? You’ve got a table that requested you. They want coffee and orange juice.”
He looked over at Susan, nodded. “Thanks, boss. Which one?”
“Three.”
“Okay. I’ll get it.” He poured a large OJ and grabbed a coffee cup and a carafe, heading toward table three.
Wow, from the back the guy at the table looked like Coach.
He ignored the ache in his chest and then headed over. “Good evening. Welcome to Denny’s. I’m Mike and I’ll be taking care of you this evening.”
Oh. From the front the guy looked exactly like Coach.
Jessy’s blue eyes turned up to him. “Hi, Mike.”
“Hi.” His hand shook when he poured the coffee, but he didn’t spill.
Oh.
Oh, God.
“Do… do you know what you want?”
Jessy nodded at the seat across from him. “I want to talk to you.”
“I’m working for another half hour.” He didn’t know what Jessy would want to say.
Jessy nodded. “I can wait. The orange juice is for you.”
He blushed dark. He hadn’t had orange juice since he came back. “Do you… do you want something to eat?”