Personal Best

by Sean Michael

  His mouth twitched as he fought his smile. “No complaining.”

  “About what and how long?” Those dark eyebrows rose, eyes twinkling. The kid was too charming for his own good.

  “About the rules. For a week. And no back seat coaching.” He took another forkful of the dessert, moaning a little and licking his lips.

  “Bitch. A whole week? That’s worth at least three bites.”

  “One bite and no backtalk, but I’ll throw in a full-body massage.”

  “Oh.” Mike nodded, humming just a little, cheeks flushing. “It’s a deal.”

  Sweet.

  “Finish your steak first.” He took another bite of the cheesecake.

  “Don’t eat my bite, Coach.” There was no way Mike was going to finish the whole steak, no way in hell, but the kid was going to try.

  “Would I do that?” He took another bite, this one bigger than the others, leaving less than half the dessert behind.

  “You don’t leave my bite and I’m going to get Coca-Cola as my new sponsor and contract to drink a two-liter bottle a day.”

  “And kiss your chances of winning goodbye.” He shook his head. Kid knew he wouldn’t go back on his word.

  Mike chuckled and nodded, eyes happy. “I bitch, but I don’t break training, Coach. You know it.”

  He grinned. “And for the next week, you don’t bitch either.”

  “You give me a good enough rubdown and I’ll be too relaxed to bitch.” Cheeky little shit.

  “You questioning my ability to rub you down?”

  Mike chuckled, eyebrow arching. “Would I do that?”

  “Not if you want that rubdown.”

  “That’s cheating. You’re supposed to be fawning, now. Four medals. Four. In one day.”

  “You’ve got a big enough ego without me going all fanboy on you, Mike.” He leaned forward, though, and looked the kid right in the eyes. “You did good. I knew you had it in you the first day I saw you swim.”

  Those dark chocolate eyes went soft, proud, those cheeks pinking. “Thanks. Felt good. Felt damned good, Jess.”

  He nodded. “I might have bragged a bit.”

  Fact was, he was proud of the kid. Fucking proud, and he’d had to fight hard not to make a big huge fucking deal of it to the other coaches, to Mike. And it wasn’t that he was superstitious, just… well, it was too early to be getting a big head.

  A few gold medals where it really counted? A world record or two? Then they could brag.

  “Just a bit?” Mike grinned, leaned back, about three-quarters of the steak eaten. “It’s what? Two weeks ’til the next meet?”

  “Yeah. We’ll fly home tomorrow. Most of the teams are leaving first thing, but I booked us on a later flight. You can sleep in, but the trade-off is doing laps in the hotel pool.” He took another bite of the cheesecake and passed the plate over, a very generous bite left.

  Mike chuckled. “I can handle that. You going to come down and count them?”

  “You kidding? I’m going to come down and time them.” He winked and leaned forward to put half the leftover cheesecake on his fork, holding it out for Mike. “Come on, eat up. It’s getting late.”

  Mike leaned down, snapping up the bite, eyes closing as he chewed. “Oh, yum….”

  “I’m not sure I should let you have the rest. All that sugar might keep you up all night.” The kid looked too cute not to let him have the second bite, though.

  “Man, that was good.” Mike stretched, bouncing a little. “You want to go catch a movie?”

  “Whatever you want, kid—it’s your evening.”

  Those eyes smiled at him, dancing, happy. “’Course, there’s something to be said for HBO and a massage too….”

  He nodded. “Full-body massage, I believe it was.”

  “Shit. Let’s go. I can sneak out and see a movie any night.”

  “You mean I can let you sneak out to see a movie any night.” He winked at Mike, taking out his wallet and going to the front to pay for their meal.

  “Uh. Yeah. Right. Exactly what I meant.” Mike bebopped outside, looking around, snapping pictures of the restaurant, of street signs.

  “It’s not far; we can walk back to the hotel.” It was getting late, though; they’d taken their time with supper and Mike needed a good night’s sleep after the meet.

  Mike nodded, the long, thin body moving through the crowds easily. Jessy matched Mike’s pace, pointing out the neon signs over some of the bars, waiting patiently whenever Mike wanted to take a picture of something.

  “Next year? We can go get a beer.” Mike winked, always playing, always pushing him.

  He snorted. “If you’re off the national team, sure.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “Then you’ll just have to wait a few more years on that beer.”

  Some coaches let their kids cheat now and then; he didn’t. No more than a bite of cheesecake on a rare occasion. He knew it made him look like a hard bastard, but it also made him a good coach, and his swimmers were the best.

  “Hardass.” The word was fond, Mike snapping a picture of him.

  He frowned menacingly for show and then let his grin loose. Mike was good for him; he kept Jessy sharp, on his toes. And while the kid pushed, Mike was committed to the program. Mike lived and breathed to be in the water. Hell, his biggest challenge was to teach Mike to pace things, to quit going balls-out on every practice, every trial.

  He ducked into the hotel souvenir shop and picked up a stuffed dog wearing a shirt with “Atlanta” emblazoned across the front for the kid’s souvenir shelf and met Mike back at the elevators, tossing the dog over.

  “Oh, cool. Aunt Kathy’s going to be talking about building a trophy case again, when we get home.” He got a warm grin, Mike bouncing again. Thank fuck he hadn’t given in on the caffeine.

  “As long as filling it doesn’t become your focus.”

  “Just visualizing the win, Coach.”

  He laughed as they got into the elevator. Brat. Mike grabbed hold of the elevator banisters, legs lifting up, arms pushing himself up and down.

  He shook his head. “You’re supposed to be taking it easy. You swam qualifying rounds yesterday and won four heats today.”

  “I am. Just got energy to burn.”

  “Don’t burn too much of it, Mike. I’ve got plans for that energy.”

  Mike’s cheeks heated. “Yeah? Gonna bottle it?”

  He grinned. “Something like that.”

  Mike chuckled, heading toward their room when the doors opened. Jessy followed more slowly, admiring the lean body, the sweet ass. He was damned glad the meet was over and there wasn’t another for two weeks.

  Another swimmer met Mike in the hall, shook his hand, and congratulated him. “You’re looking good, man. Me and Andy and St. Croix are going to party, you wanna come?”

  Jessy opened the door to their room, letting Mike answer for himself. The kid was twenty, and while he rode Mike hard, Jessy didn’t want to embarrass him.

  “Shit, no. I just ate half a cow and I’m not bar-legal yet anyway. Y’all have fun.”

  He smiled, holding the door open for the kid. Good boy. Mike bounced in, throwing himself on the bed with a groan before reaching for the remote.

  “You want that massage?” Jessy asked, checking the phone for messages.

  “Uh-huh.” MTV came on the TV, music blaring.

  He grabbed the remote and turned the TV down to a less grating volume and then started to pull the covers off the bed. “Strip down.”

  “Bossy.” Mike bounced up, though, stripping down to skin, folding each piece of clothing and putting it in the suitcase.

  Jessy stripped down to his shorts and found the massage oil, slicking up his hands and rubbing them together. Mike’s dark eyes looked him over, took a long, lingering look before Mike cuddled into the sheets.

  He fought down his reaction. Mike needed this massage, needed those hardworking muscles eased. That was their top priorit
y right now. He straddled the tops of Mike’s thighs and started at the shoulders, fingers digging in.

  “Uhn….” Mike groaned, head buried in the pillow.

  He grinned and kept working, following each arm down to Mike’s hands, working the long fingers one at a time. He didn’t hurry the process, didn’t skimp anywhere, just worked one body part after another. Mike was in top form—wide shoulders tapering down, not a bit of fat on him. His fingers slid over the waxed skin, the oil making Mike glow.

  Once he’d made it all the way down to Mike’s feet, he smacked the pert bottom. “Flip.”

  “No, Coach. I’m Mike.” Mike rolled over, stretched up tall.

  “Brat,” he accused fondly, unable to stop the way his cock reacted to his favorite view.

  Damn, the kid looked good. Long and lean, that six-pack just firm as anything, cock long, half-hard from all the touching, skin shaved smooth.

  “You know it.” Mike’s thighs parted, the motion seductive and teasing and completely unconscious.

  Jessy took a breath, counted to ten, and then concentrated on working Mike’s shoulders, glad he’d decided to leave the shorts on for this.

  “Oh…,” Jessy whispered. He worked carefully, looking for any sign of swelling, of tenderness, sighing when everything felt normal. Too many swimmers got lost to rotator cuff damage.

  He didn’t linger over the rest of Mike’s body, but he didn’t hurry the massage either. There was nothing that would make him skimp on Mike’s care.

  Mike was melted when he was done, relaxed and quiet, focused just on him.

  “Tired?” he asked casually, Mike’s foot in his hands, thumbs working the sole.

  “Mmm… just feel good.”

  “I could make you feel even better.” He bent, placing a soft kiss on Mike’s ankle.

  Mike moaned, nodded. “You always do, Jess.”

  He nodded. Yeah, he always did. It was his job. His desire. He kissed Mike’s calf and the back of one knee, the smooth and warm inner thigh.

  Mike’s fingers slid over Jessy’s crewcut, petting and touching. “Oh, that feels…. Yeah.”

  He turned his face, catching one of Mike’s fingers in his mouth and sucking before letting it slide out from between his lips and going back to what he was doing. He nudged Mike’s balls with his nose, licked at them, and then wrapped his lips around one hip bone, sucking.

  He could smell Mike’s need, the long cock leaking, a pool of clear drops gathering under Mike’s belly button. He skirted that heat, though, sliding his tongue along the ridges of Mike’s abdomen and lapping at one little nipple, making the skin pebble up, go hard.

  “Tease.” Mike’s hand slid down his belly, fingers drawing long, lazy circles.

  Jessy purred at the touches. “I’m gonna finish what I’m starting, Mike. A tease is someone who doesn’t.”

  “Mmm… good point. Come kiss me?”

  “I am kissing you,” he pointed out, leaving a soft one over Mike’s heart.

  Mike groaned, fingers stuttering on his skin. “Oh. Right.”

  Jessy continued up, leaving soft, sucking kisses at Mike’s shoulder, on his collarbone, his neck, his jaw. When they were face-to-face, Jessy gazed down, lips a scant space away from Mike’s.

  Mike had the most fascinating eyes, expressive and dark and happy, holding nothing back. “Hey,” Mike said.

  “Hey, Mike.” He smiled and licked at the red lips.

  Mike pushed up, taking Jessy’s mouth in a deep kiss, so impatient, so eager. He gave in to it, lowering himself along Mike’s body, tongue dueling with Mike’s and then pushing into the kid’s warm mouth. Mike arched, lips parting wide and letting him in, fingers tangling in his hair.

  He rubbed against the lean body, chuckling into Mike’s mouth as his damned shorts interfered. Now he was wishing he’d taken them off. Mike helped, hands pushing his shorts down, fingers cupping his ass. Oh, yeah… those long fingers felt right against his skin, and he rubbed his cock alongside Mike’s and then pushed back into Mike’s hands.

  He got a low groan, Mike moving faster, driving toward the finish in this like he did in everything.

  He wrapped one hand around Mike’s cock, giving the kid something to slide through. It had been a week; taking the edge off wouldn’t hurt Mike’s ability to enjoy a good, hard fuck. He leaned in and licked at Mike’s earlobe. “It’s not a race,” he whispered, biting.

  “Everything’s a fucking race, Jess. Oh. Oh, fuck.” Mike’s heels dug into the mattress, hips pushing up.

  He chuckled. “This one’s not a sprint.”

  Still that didn’t stop him from squeezing Mike’s cock, thumb pushing against the head. Mike gasped, laughing and groaning together, heat spraying over Jessy’s fingers. He rumbled softly, spreading the come into Mike’s skin, mixing it with the oil.

  “Oh. Oh, wow. Jess, that was. Wow.” After all this time, Mike was still gaspy and shivery after an orgasm. It was sexy as hell and made him feel like a stud besides.

  He licked at Mike’s neck, slowly making his way back to that mouth. “You ready for round two?”

  “You know it.” Mike took a kiss, tongue sliding over Jessy’s lips.

  He caught Mike’s tongue and sucked gently, rubbing his prick along one sharp hipbone. Mike’s knees lifted, calves wrapping around his thighs. He groaned at the blatant invitation, hand sliding down so he could probe Mike’s tight little hole. His fingers were still a little slick from the oil, and he pushed one into Mike’s willing body. He got a groan, that ring of muscles pulling at his finger.

  “So damned tight,” he murmured, mouth sliding over Mike’s cheek. Mike squeezed him again, body clenching. He moaned, finger sliding in and out, Mike so hot, so soft inside.

  “Oh. Oh, Jess. I…. That feels so good.” Mike moaned, lips sliding against his.

  “It does.” He pushed a second finger in, stretching Mike now, searching for that little bump of flesh.

  Mike arched, lean strength almost pushing him up off the bed. “Jess!” Oh, yeah, he’d found it. He stretched his fingers as wide apart as he could and then slid them deep again, until they hit Mike’s gland. “Oh. Oh, fuck. Fuck. I….” Mike twisted, body searching for more.

  “This what you want?” he asked, finding Mike’s gland again, nailing it over and over.

  “Uh-huh. Oh, damn. I need, Jess.”

  “I know you do.” He sure as hell did, because he needed too. His cock was throbbing, balls aching.

  “So? Fuck me.” Pushy boy.

  “All in good time.” He’d make love to Mike when he was good and ready to. He teased another finger into the tight heat.

  Mike groaned, riding Jessy’s fingers. “Evil bastard.”

  “I am? Are you sure? I’m willing to stop any time you like. Just say the word.”

  “Don’t you dare stop.”

  He let one eyebrow go up, fingers stilling.

  “Jess….” Mike’s body shifting, begging for him.

  “Yeah, Mike?” he asked, holding still, fingers buried but not moving.

  “I need.”

  “You’re a pushy brat, Mike,” he murmured, bending to nuzzle the skin beyond Mike’s ear.

  “And you’re a growly old man, Jess.” Mike groaned. “Good thing I love you.”

  He chuckled, nailed Mike’s gland with his fingers. “Yeah. Good thing.”

  “Fuck! Again. Again, please.” He could get anything from Mike right now.

  He purred, licking at Mike’s skin, fingers pushing and sliding. He wasn’t going to be able to wait much longer; his cock was hard as a rock.

  “Yeah. Fuck. Jess. So good.”

  He let his fingers slide away and pushed his cock down to Mike’s hole, finding Mike’s mouth as he slid in deep. Mike’s cry was sweet and low, pushing right into his lips. He kept the kiss going as he started to fuck Mike with long strokes. Fuck, Mike was tight and hot, and it felt so fucking good.

  Mike tried to control the thrusts, whimpering as he kept
control, kept the rhythm he needed. He buried his face in Mike’s neck, taking in the scent of soap and chlorine, salt and oil and Mike. He moved a little faster, hips shifting, pushing his cock in farther. The little groans got louder, Mike swallowing, rocking, holding him close.

  He could feel Mike’s cock sliding on his belly, hot and hard, branding his skin. He kept moving, eyes closed, breathing Mike in as they fucked.

  “Oh…. Oh, fuck, I feel you.”

  “Good.” His voice was hard, body throbbing, his entire focus on what they were doing, on how they were joined, Mike’s body taking him in just like that.

  Mike’s hand pushed between them, wrapping around that long, thin cock and tugging. That was Jessy’s signal to let loose, and he did, hips pumping hard, finding Mike’s gland every time he pushed into that sweet, tight heat. Mike groaned, rippling around him, body milking him.

  “Yeah, fuck….” He pushed harder, mouth open on Mike’s shoulder as he started to lose it.

  Mike bucked, heat spraying over his belly. He roared, jerking now, filling Mike with his spunk.

  Mike nuzzled against him, humming, holding on tight. He let Mike take his weight, lying on the warm body, fingers sliding through the peroxided curls.

  “We did it again, Jess. You and me.”

  He kept stroking Mike’s head, breathing in the familiar scent. “You did it, Mike. I just make sure you keep your focus.”

  Mike cuddled, nuzzling against him. “Yeah. My focus.”

  He shifted so he wasn’t lying on Mike anymore and gathered the kid close. “Get some sleep, Mike. You’ve had a busy day.”

  “Yes, Coach. Sleeping in tomorrow, remember?”

  He hid his grin in Mike’s shoulder. Always fucking pushing. “Eight A.M., kid. That’s when your breakfast shows. I want you in the pool by nine.”

  “Oooh. Pancakes and coffee?” Mike didn’t bother hiding his grin at all.

  He snorted. “Sure, kid. You can call it anything you want to.” It didn’t matter; they both knew there’d be a cheese and vegetable omelet with brown toast and two glasses of milk waiting for Mike in the morning.

  Mike chuckled, the sound broken by a yawn.

  “Sleep,” Jessy murmured, pulling the sheets up and curling around Mike’s body.

  “Mmm… yeah, Coach. Night.” Mike’s hands slid around his waist, soft snores coming almost immediately.