Chapter 20
Adonis
Team USA had fifteen figure skaters across the events.
About half of them were seasoned Olympians.
Adonis was the second-youngest at only twenty-two years old.
There was one skater, Aubrey Hyun, who was seventeen.
Adonis had seen recordings of her performances, and he was very interested to meet her.
She definitely had the makings of a star.
He was nervous about the Olympics. Most of his nerves didn’t come from the actual competition, but from knowing that he would have to meet and interact with these other athletes. Most of them were older and more experienced. Several of them already had Olympic medals.
Among college students, Adonis was talented.
Among Olympians, would he be anything more than average?
The day before he was supposed to leave for Italy, while he was in his apartment doing some last-minute packing, his phone buzzed with a text from Bash.
Bash: Hey, I know we’d said 9:00 tonight, but would you want to come over at 6:00 instead?
Adonis looked at the amount of packing he still had to do. If he met Bash at 6:00, that would leave him less than an hour to shove everything in a bag.
Adonis: I’d love to. Your place?
——
When he got to Bash’s place, it was dark, and snow was falling gently. He knocked once on the apartment door, and it was opened seconds later. Bash grinned at him from the doorway. He wore an apron, his cheeks were flushed, and his hair stuck with sweat to his forehead.
“Hi!” he said cheerfully. He leaned in and kissed Adonis.
“Hi,” Adonis said after the kiss was finished. Rich smells wafted from the apartment. “What’s going on here?”
Bash’s cheeks reddened further as he led Adonis into the apartment. “I have a surprise. I hope you like it. You mentioned over Thanksgiving Break that you didn’t get a typical Thanksgiving meal with your mother, but you wanted one.”
He paused as they neared the kitchen and flourished a hand at the spread on the kitchen counter. “So, a traditional Thanksgiving dinner.”
Adonis’s mouth dropped open. “Holy shit.”
There was a tureen of velvety mashed potatoes, a glass dish of green beans, a whole roast turkey that smelled positively divine, a dish of sweet potato casserole, a gravy boat, a saucer with fragrant cranberry sauce, a bowl of rich macaroni and cheese, and both a pumpkin and an apple pie.
“Did you cook this?”
Bash smiled, looking down at his feet. “Mostly. Robbie helped dress the turkey, and Clarisse helped with the pie crust.”
“Oh, shit, she makes good pies.”
Adonis’s eyes were watering. He was incredibly touched by the gesture.
“I wanted to have a nice dinner with you before you went to the Olympics,” Bash said, taking his hand.
“I love that idea,” Adonis said. “Can I help with anything?”
“You can sit and look pretty. Coffee?”
Bash made him an espresso and sat him at the little dining room table while he began to carve the turkey.
His face scrunched up adorably in concentration while he worked on the turkey, something that was clearly new to him.
Adonis watched pleasantly, enjoying every second.
He’d never had someone do something like this for him, and he feared that the butterflies in his stomach were only getting more active.
“Ready!” Bash called. Adonis finished his espresso and stood.
Bash handed him a ceramic plate, and Adonis loaded his plate with the delicious-looking food.
It was heavy food, the kind he didn’t usually eat before bottoming, but he assumed Bash had some sort of plan.
Besides, a homemade dinner was better than sex, in its own way.
“Is it good?” Bash said eagerly after Adonis had taken a few bites.
“Very good. Best Thanksgiving dinner I’ve had,” Adonis said, smiling at Bash, who had been eagerly attacking his macaroni and cheese.
“I tried to make the recipes smaller for just two people,” Bash said. “But this is still so much food. Turkeys are huge.”
“You’ll have leftovers to feed yourself for a week.”
“I doubt it’ll last me that long.” He chased a mouthful of food with a long sip of water. “So. Tell me how you feel about the Olympics.”
Adonis set aside his fork and rested his chin on his steepled fingers. “I’m nervous.”
“About competing?”
“Yes, but not just that. I’m more nervous about the competition—about the other skaters, that is.”
“Why is that?”
“Most of them are older, stronger, more experienced. Several of them are Olympic veterans. We’re a team, yes, but I worry that they won’t respect me, or won’t like me.”
“Do you need them to like you?”
“I suppose I don’t, but I’d still like it if they did.”
“That’s very American of you, wanting everyone to like you.”
“Is it a bad thing?”
“It can be, if it means that you focus more on them liking you than on simply being your best. Other people liking you or not, it is not your responsibility. Your responsibility is to go to the Olympics and be your best. If they like you, they like you. If they don’t, they don’t.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“Of course I am right. Do you think everyone likes me? They do not. Even the guys on my team don’t all like me.
They think I am too direct or too harsh.
They might not like me, but they do respect me.
They know that I am a good hockey player and that I care about them being good hockey players.
Go to Milano and be the best skater you can be.
That will not be hard because you are a very good skater.
They will respect you because they will see how skilled you are.
If they do not like you, that is their problem.
It is not yours. So, don’t worry about that. ”
“That’s hard for me.”
“Just because something is hard does not mean it is impossible.”
“You’re right.”
“I know,” Bash said easily. He poured more gravy on his mashed potatoes. “And besides, you have plenty of people who like you. Why do you need to add more?”
Those butterflies in Adonis’s stomach did another little dance. “Oh, do I? Who are some of the people who like me?”
Bash scoffed, waving the gravy boat. “Do you need me to list them? Your team here adores you. Clarisse loves you. Even Robbie likes you.”
“What about you?” Adonis said directly.
Bash set the gravy boat down. “Yes, I like you.”
The butterflies’ choreography was frantic. “You do?”
“Yes. I like you a lot. I would not spend hours making a Thanksgiving dinner for someone I did not like. Do you know how intimate I had to get with this damned turkey?”
Adonis cracked a smile. “I like you, too, Bash.”
Bash harrumphed. “That is good.”
“I—I really like you.” He didn’t know if Bash understood the nuances of what “like”
could mean in American English. That it could mean having feelings for someone.
The candlelight of the table flickered, emphasizing the angles of Bash’s sculpted face. “Good. I really like you, too, Adonis. Would you like some pie?”
——
Two hours later, they’d packed up the leftovers and organized them all in the fridge, set the many dishes in the sink to soak, and retired to the couch with strong coffee.
Adonis rested with his legs in Bash’s lap, and Bash used a strong hand to absently massage Adonis’s feet, which also felt better than sex.
“I will watch every event,” Bash promised quietly. “I have already marked them all on my calendar.”
Adonis smiled sleepily. The Thanksgiving food was doing its job, sending him straight into a food coma. “What if I don’t do well?”
“I want to watch and support you even if you do not do well,” Bash said, as if offended that Adonis would think otherwise. “And I will cheer for you no matter what.”
“That’s very kind.”
“I am a very kind person.”
Adonis laughed. “You are, you know that? Before I met you, I thought you’d be this prickly, unpleasant person. But you’re not.”
Bash said something that sounded like a curse in Dutch. “Don’t tell the guys on my team. I like that they think I am prickly and unpleasant.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Bash turned to smile lazily at him. “Good boy.”
They remained like that for a moment, their gazes locked, and then Adonis put aside his half-finished coffee and crawled along the couch until he straddled Bash. He cupped Bash’s face in his hands and pressed his lips to Bash’s for a gentle kiss.
“Thank you for dinner,” he whispered.
Bash’s hands explored up Adonis’s back. “You’re welcome.”
Bash deepened their kiss, pulling Adonis closer to him. Adonis gyrated against Bash’s cock, which was deliciously hard beneath his joggers. Adonis was a powerful bottom, but there was no way he’d be taking any form of cock after that dinner. But there were other things they could do.
Right now, kissing felt like enough. Their kisses were deep, close, and sensual.
Their hands explored each other’s bodies, laying claim to each part.
Bash was gentle as he picked Adonis up and laid him down on the couch, stretching himself out over Adonis.
They made out like that, Bash’s cock pressing through his pants against Adonis’s.
His mouth traveled down Adonis’s neck, and Adonis moaned at the sweet tenderness of Bash’s lips at the sensitive spot near the base of his neck. Bash’s hand slipped beneath Adonis’s waistband, gripping his cock.
“I’m going to make you cum,” Bash whispered into Adonis’s skin.
“Yes,” Adonis gasped. “Please.”
Bash’s strokes on Adonis’s cock were swift and rough as he kissed Adonis’s neck. The weight of his body on Adonis was heavy, pleasantly so.
“Fuck,” Adonis gasped. “Fuck, I’m—”
He came all over his shirt, Bash jerking the orgasm out of him. Bash squeezed himself onto the couch next to Adonis, pulling him close. “Fucking perfect,” Bash whispered into Adonis’s ear. He wrapped his arms around Adonis from behind, and Adonis nestled in as close as he could to Bash’s body.