Ripple Effect, Part 1
Before Sydney/
Pieter had always been aware of Ian, in a peripheral sort of way. That kid from Down Under, he referred to Ian fondly. Star of the Future, Pieter would tell others. But Pieter never paid Ian any real thought, because Pieter was the star of Right Now.
At first, it was just that Ian was so big. Not that Pieter was small by any means, but Pieter had a little boy quality about him that made him seem younger and smaller than he really was. Ian, though, had none of that. He had a loud, booming man’s laugh, a hooked nose that protruded almost insultingly, a barrel like chest that showed no signs of scrawny adolescence, the wide spread movements of a sprawling king, and of course, those disgustingly large feet.
Pieter was endlessly amused by Ian’s shoe size. He knew how the old saying went, and after doing some research in the showers, Pieter could honestly say that Ian wasn’t lacking for size in anything.
It was the research that did him in. Before, Pieter had only seen Ian wearing his black body suit, which made Pieter think of seals. But when Ian was standing under the spray of the shower, wearing nothing but beads of water, with his eyes closed and his hands moving soap slowly over himself, Ian was sexy as hell. And Sexy Ian had the irritating habit of invading Pieter’s thoughts pervasively, especially when Pieter was jerking off.
Sexy Ian liked to lick Pieter’s come off his fingers. Pieter really hated that.
The easiest solution to get rid of his Ian infatuation would have been to simply fuck the Aussie. But to Pieter, Ian was still a boy. It wasn’t as though Pieter had never fucked seventeen year old boys before, even when he hadn’t been seventeen yet, but somehow Ian was different. Ian was coltish, a little insecure, a little bit cocky, and had that spiky haircut all teenage Australian boys seemed to have that year.
Partly, Pieter didn’t want Sexy Ian to leave just yet anyway.
--
Sydney/
Pieter was sitting in one of the many common lounge areas, making out with some young gymnast or another, pretending he wasn’t pretending the gymnast was Ian, when Ian walked in.
Pieter didn’t pause in what he was doing, but Ian did. The young Aussie’s hand froze in mid wave as he stopped in his tracks. Their eyes locked for just a second; then Ian smiled faintly and walked back out.
After that, Pieter said he had a headache, or maybe it was a stomachache, and told the gymnast he didn’t feel like playing anymore. The gymnast, while disappointed, shrugged and left for other entertainments. Pieter went straight back to his room.
At that moment, Pieter knew his life was ruined, because he was head over heels in love with Ian Thorpe, the boy wonder from Down Under, the star of the Future who had become the star of Right Now.
Pieter felt ill.
--
Later in Sydney/
Ian found him during the last party. When Ian grabbed his arm, Pieter wanted to run away, only his legs felt rubbery and he’d rather die before falling on his face in front of Ian.
“Hey. What’s wrong, you look a little sad. There’s another one in four years, you know,” Ian said casually, smiling.
“Are you old enough to be drinking that?” Pieter asked, dodging Ian’s question. He nodded to the beer in Ian’s hand.
“I’m Australian,” Ian said simply.
“Ah.”
They were silent for a while, letting the pounding music fill the void between them as they stood in the middle of a gyrating crowd. Pieter shuffled his feet, extremely aware of Ian’s hand still on his arm. Finally, Ian grinned.
“Look, I’ll just cut to the chase. I think you’re hot, want to go back to my room and fuck?”
Hell yes, Pieter thought. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” Pieter explained with a calmness he did not feel. “You’re just a kid.”
“Excuse me?”
“We’re all leaving tomorrow. Are we supposed to keep in touch? I mean, you’re seventeen, and what do you really know about commitment?”
“I’m not talking about forever.” Ian was misunderstanding completely. He was assuring Pieter he wasn’t going to be a clingy dryer sheet. “It’s just for tonight.”
“Yeah, I know,” Pieter muttered, only wanting to be clung to.
“Then come on, Pieter.” And Pieter loved the way his name rolled off Ian’s tongue. Pay-tah. “Don’t tell me I’m just a kid. I know exactly what I’m doing.”
Ian’s hand, hidden between their bodies, moved to press against the bulge in Pieter’s pants. If Pieter had more self control, he would have just left it at that. But Pieter had been known to dive out of cars for greasy food, and with Real Ian acting like Sexy Ian, his self control was at an all time low. So he grabbed Ian’s wrist and pulled the younger man close and mashed their lips together in a sloppy kiss.
“Room?” Ian gasped, and Pieter nodded, and they went at a stumbling run back to Ian’s room.
Ian had sort of lied when he said he knew what he was doing, because he really didn’t have much of a clue. It wasn’t widely known, but Ian was still a virgin. ‘Was’ being the key word. After Pieter was done with him, Ian was just thoroughly fucked.
Ian fell asleep after, and Pieter was surprised to find out how loudly the blonde snored. He stayed for a while, letting Ian snore on his chest, then slipped out of the room. It was the rule, after all. One night stands meant one of them had to leave before sunrise, and it was Ian’s room.
--
After Sydney/
Ian called him sometimes, and emailed him others. It was hard to really keep in touch with time zones and distance, but Ian tried. Pieter was vaguely surprised, but he shouldn’t have been. Ian counted him as a friend. Well, and a little more, as they fucked any time one of them was in vicinity of the other.
Because it was always months between each meeting, Ian seemed to change drastically every time they met. First it was the clothing, then the hair, then the attitude. The hair and clothing were mostly the effects of his stylist, but the attitude was all him. Sexy Ian was now Real Ian. In between Pieter, he seldom went to bed alone, and never with the same person. Pieter took slight comfort in being the only person Ian had slept with more than once.
--
Between Sydney and Athens/
“Straight,” Pieter said sleepily into the phone. He was trying very hard to stay awake for this conversation, as it was too early in the morning for him.
“Bi,” Ian insisted with more vigor. It was late morning for him, and Pieter could tell Ian had already eaten and possibly gotten in a workout. “Talked to Amanda Beard, she swears it up and down.”
“Fine,” Pieter said, his words turned into a half moan by a yawn. “Whatever.”
“You sound so sexy.” Even through the phone, Pieter could tell Ian was smirking. “Think I could land him?”
“Sure.” Pieter laughed quietly. “You could even if he were straight. But why would you want to? He’s a kid.”
“He’s the same age I was when you first fucked me.” Ian sounded fairly amused.
“That was different,” Pieter murmured, rolling into his pillow.
“I really don’t see how, Pete.”
“I was in love with you.”
There was a long silence, and Pieter wondered if Ian hadn’t hung up. Or maybe Ian’s phone had run out of batteries. Or maybe, just maybe, a rogue storm had hit Ian’s city, knocking out all the phone lines, and Ian was huddling in a corner of the house trying to keep out of the rain, wishing he had told Pieter how he really felt before-
“I wish you wouldn’t say that.”
“I know, I know.” And Pieter did know. If he were nineteen years old posing for underwear ads with men and women bowing down to his every whim, he wouldn’t want to talk about love either.
“Anyway, I have to go,” Ian drawled. “I’ll talk to you soon. Take care, Pieter.”
Pay-tah. “Yeah. You too,” Pieter breathed.
He hung up. When Ian didn’t call him for two weeks, Pieter wasn’t sure whether it meant he had succeeded with Phelps or not. Later, he heard the whole story from Inge, and Pieter wasn’t sure whether to laugh or cry.
--
Barcelona/
Ian frowned. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I’m Dutch,” Pieter said by way of explanation, lighting up his joint as though it were the most natural thing to do after sex. He leaned back on his pillow and sighed contentedly.
“And I don’t care.” Ian took the joint and snubbed it out harshly on the bedside ashtray. “That stuff will ruin you. Athens is next year.”
“It was just the one.” Pieter smiled faintly. He liked the way Ian’s brow creased when he got upset. But he liked even more the way the white sheet clung precariously to Ian’s hip. It made Pieter want to tug at the sheet, slowly, and lick at every inch of skin that was exposed.
“One with me. What about with others?”
“They never complained.” Pieter rolled his eyes and hopped out of bed, going to his bag for the rest of his stash. If Ian was going to be argumentative, he wanted to be prepared.
“They didn’t care enough about you to.” Ian followed him, snatching the bag of weed from him. “When did you start with this?”
“About a year ago. You’ve been busy.” Pieter quirked an eyebrow. When had Ian decided to be so irate with what he did?
“That’s not fair.” Ian threw the bag of weed into the trash can forcefully enough that the bag broke. “You could have still told me. I thought we were friends.”
“So did I. So why didn’t you ever tell me about Michael?”
Ian shrugged, seeming uncomfortable. “I didn’t sleep with him, Pete.”
“I know.” Pieter fell back on the bed, stretching out to take up all of it. Ian was clearly not invited back on. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”
“It wasn’t a big deal.”
Pieter smiled, but it was a chilly smile. “It is to me.”
Ian stood still, watching as Pieter closed his eyes. Pieter’s breathing evened out, making him appear to be asleep. Ian clenched his hands into fists, then let out a long breath.
“How many others have there really been?” Ian asked suddenly, his voice soft.
“That mattered?” Pieter opened his eyes and turned slightly, just enough to look at Ian with dull hazel eyes. “Just you.”
Ian nodded slowly. “To be honest, Pete, I didn’t sleep with him because it’s really just you too.”