Chapter 18
CHAPTER
EIGHTEEN
We try to be quiet. Honestly, we do. The Olympics are notoriously horny, or so I’ve heard, but everyone else on the team must have taken a vow of celibacy until after the racing is done, because most people keep to themselves as we all walk down the wintery road from the restaurant back to the hotel, and voices are muffled while we head for the elevators.
Austin and I get in first, then are nearly crushed as the whole team tries to squeeze in together.
Small European elevators are not made for a whole Olympic entourage, but even once a few people step off, the two of us are squished into a back corner facing each other.
My shoulder is jammed awkwardly to one side, trying not to push against one of the equipment techs.
Austin’s got a foot planted between mine and a hand on my waist. We do our best to look anywhere but at each other, but in my struggle to avoid Austin’s gaze, I land on Matthieu and Kage’s together, standing close towards the front.
Kage smirks. Matthieu winks. I shift, trying to escape their silent teasing, but all that gets me is pressed even closer to Austin.
So close, in fact, I can feel the thick ridge of a needy erection pushing against the front of his pants and grinding against my hip.
As people get off on each floor and the crowd in the elevator thins out, I push him gently behind me. The pants I wore to dinner are less fitted than his, and while I’m almost definitely just as hard, I can hide it better.
“Remember that end-of-season pizza party when we were twelve?” I whisper over my shoulder.
“What?” he asks. At least he’s not grinding against my ass, but his hands are on each of my hips and his breath washing over the back of my neck makes me shudder.
“Lyle De Brun. Overdid it on chocolate cake and orange soda.”
Austin groans and I know exactly the scene he’s picturing.
Poor Lyle. He was a few years behind us and way more interested in the after-practice snacks than he ever really was in racing.
When presented with unlimited two-litre bottles of soda and a giant chocolate sheet cake, he couldn’t control himself.
After a few hours of stuffing himself silly without parental supervision, he suddenly exploded into a convulsion of orange and chocolate vomit that went on far longer than a typical child should be able.
Fortunately we were outside, so he threw up into the snow.
Unfortunately, Austin and I happened to get a front row seat, since we’d been assigned to clean-up crew, and were dumping empty paper plates into the garbage bin that had been Lyle’s target before his stomach decided it had waited long enough and unleashed its wrath five steps away.
The scene was out of a horror movie. The smell . . .
Oh hey. Erection’s gone. And based on the way Austin drops his forehead to my shoulder and sags his whole body against mine so there’s no space between us, his has evaporated too.
“You’re the worst,” he mutters.
I take the hand that’s on one of my hips and wrap it around my middle, patting gently.
“You love me,” I say, and I’m so confident in the words I don’t even need his confirmation.
When the door dings for our floor, Matthieu takes off down the hall at a run.
“Where’s he going?” Kage asks, as the rest of us exit. We walk down the hall at a more leisurely pace, and before Austin and I even get back to my room, Matthieu is letting himself out through the door again, a black toiletry kit tucked under one arm.
“Needed my toothbrush,” he says, jostling the kit slightly. “Sleep tight.”
“Sleep tight?” Kage asks, expression confused. “Where? Where are you sleeping?” His questions continue as Matthieu drags him back down the hall. He keeps glancing at us, but Matthieu continues until they reach the room Kage has been sharing with Austin and disappear inside.
“He’s sweet,” I say. “Not the sharpest edge on the ski, but a good kid.”
“He’s fast,” Austin says. “Another couple years and we’ll have a hard time keeping up with him.”
No more race talk. I have spent all day being an Olympian and doing Olympic things. Now is the time to do something for us.
“I’ll be slow,” I say as I pull him into the room and let the door swing shut again. I’m trying to control myself, but my hands and my breath both shake.
“Slow?” he asks, tugging at the bottom of my shirt.
“I just . . .” I force more air in and out of my lungs, but I can’t help myself when I reach for him to pop open the top button of his pants. “I really want you, Austin. Like, really. Like if I don’t get to fuck you in the next five minutes, I may die of frustration. But you don’t remember and—”
He kisses me. It’s a mess of lips and tongues and teeth. He threads his fingers into my hair and pulls hard enough I whimper.
“What did I tell you about treating me like I’m breakable?” He growls the words into my mouth.
I’m already turning him and walking us toward the bed.
“Don’t,” I say.
“Right,” he says, still kissing, but he breaks away long enough to pull his shirt over his head, then finishes my work by undoing the rest of his fly and shucking both pants and underwear, until he’s standing in a puddle of clothes with his hands on his hips.
Holy shit.
If Austin from that night was fit—toned and strong from a whole season of competition—then the version of him that has spent the last ten months doing daily rehabilitation and training, working side by side with some of the best doctors and trainers in the country, is absolutely shredded.
Muscles I’ve never seen before on myself or any of my teammates ripple under his skin.
Tendons and veins strain as he lets me inspect every inch of him.
His dick stands straight out from his body, bobbing gently.
Also, as I sink to my knees in front of him, I find the raised scar on the outside of his ankle.
And the similar one on the inside of his wrist.
“From surgery?” I ask, running my thumb over each.
He swallows hard. I probably shouldn’t ask. He doesn’t want me treating him differently because of the accident, and making him list his scars will only kill the mood.
But his hand goes to his ribs and he puts the pad of one finger to his side, then takes my hand and guides me to the same place. The scar there is smaller, hardly bigger than my fingertip, but the firm circle is noticeably different than the skin around it.
“From the chest tube. It was nearly a week before I could breathe on my own, or that’s what they told me anyway. I don’t remember.”
I kiss it. Each of them. Side, wrist, ankle. The knobby lump where his collarbone knitted itself back together. I say a silent thank you to whatever god or spirit looked over us that day and in the weeks after and decided Austin got to live.
Slowly, he sits down on the edge of the bed, taking me with him. We kiss like that for a while, him sitting down, me on my knees. I let my hands wander. Scars again, the fine hairs on his arms, the flat shape of his nipples. He cups my face, looking into my eyes like I’m something precious.
“I really missed you,” I say. Then, before I say anything else too vulnerable, I drop my head and take his cock in my mouth.
“Oh. Zed.” He gasps as I let my tongue run over the underside of his shaft, finding the long vein that runs there.
“Bear,” I say, letting him go long enough to speak.
“What?”
I’d forgotten until this very second about the different pet name. Not a nickname. Something for the two of us.
“You called me Bear. Back then.”
He draws a thumb over my lips before guiding me back down to his dick. When I take him this time, his gasp is followed by a long low sound, before he says, “Bear.”
It’s all I need. Even if he doesn’t remember, it’s the tie back to that night.
That other hotel room. That other life when I was sure we were on a direct path to our dreams. No interruptions.
No distractions. I was so wrong in ways that old version of me could never have guessed.
But it doesn’t matter. Not anymore. We’re back on track.
I work fast. I’ve been waiting all day. All year.
My whole life, maybe—though probably not.
The nine-year-old version of me who met Austin that day at junior ski team didn’t know sucking on another man’s penis was something people did for fun.
Or that someday I’d be doing it with the kid I was about to swear eternal hatred for when he beat me on the hill.
Except he’s not a kid now, and holy shit his fingers back in my hair and the soft sound of his careful breathing is the biggest turn-on I have ever experienced.
“Bear. Jesus, Bear, don’t stop.”
I work him harder, taking him deeper in my throat, forcing myself not to gag. My nose is buried in his groin and he smells like soap and the faint scent of sweat. And himself. Austin. I’ve known him forever. Known him like this once before, but it’s even better.
I slide back up so I can take in a fresh breath. I swipe my tongue over his slit and he moans. I could lick him like the sweetest treat all night long.
“I’m gonna come,” he says, gripping the base of his shaft. “I wanna come in your mouth. Can we do that?”
We can do whatever he wants. I stay where I am, focusing on the drops that bead on his slit and the sensitive skin over his flared tip.
He lies backward, arms spread out like a sacrifice.
His abdomen rises and falls and for a second I hesitate, thinking about the lung that kept trying to fail him and how lucky he is that he gets to breathe at all.
“Don’t stop,” he says, voice shaky, bringing me back to the task at hand.
I don’t stop. Not when his breathing turns into short, sharp gasps.
Not when his hips start rocking in time with the slide of my lips over his shaft.
Not when he lets out a strangled sound, fist against his mouth, as his dick pulses and jerks and shoots against the back of my throat.
I swallow and gag. Tears squeeze reflexively from the corners of my eyes.
He’s hot and salty and I swallow every drop, keeping it safe. I’ll keep all of him safe.
Austin shakes and twitches as I crawl up his body, kissing here and there. Older scars from our teenage mishaps. Freckles. The laser cat tattoo. I pull one of his nipples between my teeth and his whole body ripples with pleasure.
“Did you learn about that last time?” he asks.
Doesn’t matter what I did and didn’t learn. We can learn it all again together.
There’s more kissing. Fumbling. It’s slower than last time, almost like we knew we only had that night.
It felt like we had to say everything and show each other everything we could do.
Now it feels like I can pace myself. Like if there are places I don’t get to explore or positions we don’t get to try, there will be other opportunities.
You never know when life will send you hurtling into a dense forest and smash you against a rock, but I have to believe that we’ve gotten through that part, and now we have time.
When we’re finally ready, with me kneeling between his thighs and Austin with his legs pulled up against his chest and his slick hole ready for my entrance, I pause, holding the base of my cock tight, telling it to wait just one more second.
“I love you,” I say. “I’ve been in love with you forever. I just didn’t know it then.”
His smile is a million expressions at once. Pleased. Smug. Shy.
“You don’t have to say it back,” I continue quickly. “I know you don’t remember and I haven’t . . . been a great friend lately. If you want tonight to be about pre-race nerves and letting some stress out, then—”
“Zed. Bear. I love you. I did then, and I still do now.” His voice is fierce.
Sure, I could flop forward and kiss him until we’re both dizzy, but I need something else right now.
Without more breathless words, I hitch his leg over one shoulder and slide into him.
Our simultaneous sighs are deep and satisfied.
We’ve needed this. Waited months and months for it.
I kiss the base of his calf. Feel the thin hairs over his thigh.
“Okay?” I ask as I slide back out.
He nods.
“Okay. Then three . . .”
Austin’s confident expression clouds. “What?”
“Two.”
He laughs, covering his face. “You can’t be serious.”
I don’t give him a one. We don’t need it.