Superstar
“Pete!”
Pieter smiled, even as he shook his head. Only Ian ever called him ‘Pete’ despite Pieter’s best urgings to change that. Ian was, after all, an Aussie, and the entire world knew how they ignored formalities.
Pieter turned and sure enough, Ian was standing there with a wide grin on his tanned face.
“What is it?”
“Dropping by my room later?” Ian asked, his words rolling casually off his tongue. His voice was low, with just that slight lilt of accent, but through the chatter and splashes of the practice center, Pieter heard him perfectly.
“I always do.”
“Great. Well then, I’ll see you.” Ian grinned again, his perfect white teeth flashing, and gave an approving toss of his head. His bleached blond hair somehow still managed to fall flawlessly, alluringly in his eyes.
Pieter smiled slightly, staring after the lanky young man as he loped off. Ian really did look like a black Gumby in that full body suit. A very wet black Gumby that was almost as flexible as the real thing.
--
Pieter had only knocked once when the door shot open. Before he could even lower his fist, he was pulled inside and kissed roughly, a tongue twisting, lip mashing kiss. Vaguely, he felt the door close behind him.
“What took you so long?” Ian asked between kisses, his breathing irregular. Pieter was always amused by his effect on the young man; Ian never lost his breath, not even after a long race. In a way, it made Pieter feel flattered.
“Some of my team wanted to go out for a bit.” Pieter sighed blissfully as Ian licked down his jaw. “I’m applying for citizenship to Brunei tomorrow.”
“Should I as well?” Ian grinned, maneuvering Pieter towards the bed, kicking his shorts away in the process. Ian hadn’t been wearing anything else. Pieter found this a wonderful surprise. “Then we’d be the only two athletes. We’d be together all the time.”
There was a creak from the bed as both bodies collapsed onto it.
“Three,” Pieter corrected absently. It was hard to concentrate with Ian straddling his hips, hands roaming over his chest.
“Hmm?” Ian paused for a moment, staring down at Pieter critically, then pulled at Pieter’s shirt.
“If we joined Brunei,” Pieter murmured, arching his back to help Ian get his shirt off, “Brunei would have three athletes.”
“Oh. Right.” Ian was busy contemplating the button on Pieter’s pants, and thus, understandably distracted.
“What would the third man do then?”
“He can watch.”
Then the pants were tossed aside, and there was no more talk of Brunei.
--
Ian had one long arm firmly wrapped around Pieter’s waist, and his face was pressed in the crook of Pieter’s neck. Pieter, idly tracing his fingers over the taut muscles of Ian’s forearms, had to hide a smile. No one in the world could ever suspect Ian Thorpe of being a cuddler.
“What are you thinking, Pete?” Ian whispered almost sleepily, his breath moist and hot drifting over Pieter’s skin. Pieter shivered.
He had been thinking about how he had belonged to Ian since Ian was just a seventeen year old boy who was a little too self assured and insecure at the same time, carrying the hopes of his country on his wide shoulders. Pieter had been thinking about how he had watched the boy not entirely comfortable with his lanky body become a man, turn into an international sex symbol, break some hearts, and still want to cuddle.
“I am thinking that after I retire, I want to spend all my time in your bed.”
Ian lifted his shaggy blonde head, his eyes suddenly filled with something close to alarm. “You’re not really thinking of retiring?”
“I’m old,” Pieter sighed, an implied shrug in his voice.
“You are not.” Ian rolled his eyes and lowered his head again, this time to rest on Pieter’s shoulder.
“In any case,” Ian continued, “after you retire, you’re going to spend all your time letting me fatten you up.”
“Why?”
“You’re a fucking rail!”
“I am not!” Pieter objected petulantly, his lips automatically curving into a pout.
“I’ll feed you chocolate with my hands,” Ian said, tapping his long fingers on Pieter’s hip suggestively.
“I am a little on the skinny side,” Pieter conceded.
And Ian laughed a deep laugh that made his chest rumble. “And then, I’ll take you to the beach. We’ll get you tan yet.”
“What’s wrong with being pale?”
“Well, nothing.” Ian licked affectionately at the alabaster skin of Pieter’s neck. “But I’ve never seen you tan.”
Pieter smiled, pretending not to notice Ian’s hand sliding in from his hip. The hand smoothed over his abs and paused just above his cock. Pieter almost let out a disappointed sigh.
“I suppose I’ll have to wear a Speedo for good tan lines.”
“Or wear nothing and avoid them all together.” Then Ian’s hand was cupping Pieter’s cock, his fingers dancing in lazy strokes.
“Like you?”
“You don’t like it?” Ian feigned shock and dismay, moving his hand away.
“I never said that.” Pieter rolled over so that he was on top of Ian, then looked the young man up and down seriously. “You really do have a good tan.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a good mouth too, want me to show you?” And his long fingers were in Pieter’s curls, pulling their mouths together.
One kiss turned into another, turned into Pieter trying his very best to fuck Ian’s brains out.
This time, as they came down from the post sex high, they switched places, with Ian lying over Pieter like a blanket and Pieter’s arms wound around his hips. Ian was a little heavy, but to Pieter, there were worse places to be than pinned under Ian Thorpe.
They were silent for a while, meshed in a tangle of long limbs and sheets, catching their breaths, letting the sweat dry on their bodies and the come dry on the sheets.
“That was nice,” Ian finally commented, breaking the silence.
“I’ve been tapering,” Pieter said depreciatingly.
--
Bright light smacked Pieter right in the face as the sun rose high enough to glare into the window. Pieter groaned slightly, turning over. Damn Ian and his tendency to leave the shades open.
Turning over, however, meant a face full of Ian’s chest. This, Pieter thought, was a much more pleasant way to wake up though. He cracked open his eyes and found Ian watching him with an amused grin on his face.
“What?”
“You’re so cute,” Ian teased.
“You were watching me sleep?” Pieter cocked an eyebrow. “That’s either very fucking romantic, or kind of creepy.”
“Which am I then?”
“Bit of both.” Pieter grinned with all his teeth showing.
Ian laughed a little, making Pieter smile more gently. When Ian was mostly done, Pieter leaned in and kissed his lover lightly, then slid out from under the covers. Ian remained sprawled out on the bed. He watched silently as Pieter gathered his clothes and began to dress.
“Breakfast with the team?”
“You know us Dutch. All about team unity.”
“Irritating habit.” Ian rolled onto his stomach, propping his head on his hands, continuing to watch Pieter move around the room. Pieter was one of those with inherent grace; even out of the water, he looked like he was flowing.
“I’ll see you later then?” Pieter took a moment to steal Ian’s always fashionable superstar shades from his bedside table, wondering how long it would take for Ian to notice they were missing.
“Of course. And your nose is too small for those sunglasses. Not rock star enough, you Dutch.”
Pieter rolled his eyes fondly. “Immature big nosed bastard.”
“You love me,” Ian stated, smirking his cocky, I-am-a-god smirk.
“I do.” Pieter had to smile. Then, as Pieter turned to leave, Ian spoke again.
“Pieter? You know I love you too.”
“I know.” And Pieter walked out, closing the door softly behind him. He leaned against the shut door for a moment, sort of wanting to go back in, but knowing he couldn’t. If he did, he wasn’t going to leave until late afternoon. Not that he personally had a problem with that, but his countrymen might be a little angry if he missed his races.
But really, he could spare a few hours at least. Breakfast couldn’t be all that important.
Pieter turned slightly, half raising a fist to knock. Then Ian’s voice came booming through the door.
“Who’s a superstar?”
Pieter chuckled, dropping his fist. “You are, Ian. You are.”