Chapter Five

 

 

UP.

Down.

La, la, la.

Twelve more and he’d be on the equipment.

Stupid warm-ups.

Stupid injuries.

Stupid body.

Still, the rings were waiting, and if Chris hurried, he could be done loosening up before Brian finished dealing with the girls’ mothers, and Brian wouldn’t add anything extra.

Chris finished his leg lifts and headed for the rings, dragging the springboard over to help him up.

“You’re an eager beaver today.” Brian headed toward him, pulling off his warm-up jacket. “You limbered up enough to let loose on the rings?”

“Yep. No more prep.” He started swinging, letting himself feel it.

Brian dragged away the springboard and added another mat to the ones beneath the rings, puttering around, making sure everything was just so before starting to do some warm-up exercises of his own.

Chris could feel Brian’s eyes on him, watching him. It wasn’t anything new—Brian always watched him. Still, now he knew Brian liked how he looked from more than only a gymnastics coach’s perspective.

It caused a glow in his chest, at least until the routine started and he only had the pull of his muscles, the burn and ache, to fill his brain.

Brian’s voice intruded now and then, reminding him not to favor his right arm and shoulder, correcting his hold, telling him to straighten his legs. The usual.

“Okay, you owe me some landings,” Brian said finally, “and the rings are as good a place to launch them from as anything else. Just a simple flip through the air and land. Make sure you have the mat in your line of vision before you begin the dismount.”

Chris rolled up and over, straddling the rings with his legs in a split, chest heaving. Fuck, that hurt, but he could hold a Delchev for a while. “I don’t need to practice junior dismounts.”

Brian chuckled and stood, moving to get a better view of him on the rings and of where he’d be landing. “Hey, not to bruise your ego or anything, but why not start slow and work your way up? Do me a couple of the junior ones and then you can bring it up a few notches.”

He stuck his tongue out. “Fine.”

Chris unrolled and went for a full layout, adding a twist at the end before he hit the ground.

“Very nice. Now do it again, the way I asked this time.”

“I did. There was a somersault. I hit it.” He wasn’t interested in wasting time.

“I asked you to do a simple flip and land. You did a full layout and then added a twist. Do the landing like I want, and then you can start mixing it up.”

Chris rolled his shoulders and bit back his growl. “You sure you don’t want me on the floor doing somersaults to see if I remember how?”

Brian gave him a look but answered evenly. “No. I want you to give me a simple dismount.”

He dragged up the springboard, hopped up on the rings without waiting for Brian to answer. Hated. Wasting. Time.

Up. Over. Down. Go him. He could teach five-year-olds now. “Ta-da.”

“Thank you. Now go ahead and throw in your twists and crap. Or you can move to the bar, it’s up to you, but I want you working on your landings for the next twenty minutes.” Brian wasn’t quite glaring at him.

Chris didn’t bother snarling back. He didn’t mind working his landings. He loved that part. He just didn’t want to be treated like a beginner.

Of course, three landings into it on the bar and he’d forgotten about being pissed off, was busy working his body and in the zone.

He lost track of time and would have kept going, kept pushing, but Brian called out a halt. “Okay, that’s your time. Spend ten minutes doing some stretches. That problem you were having yesterday seems to have resolved itself. I figure we can spend the rest of the evening on landings in twenty-minute increments on the various apparatus.”

Go him. Resolving his problems. He let himself dangle on the bar, stretching himself out and down, then lifted his legs up. Oh. Good.

The sound that left him was remarkably sexual.

And loud.

Brian trotted over to him, hand sliding across the small of his back. “Hey, you okay?”

“Uh-huh.” He grinned, muscles starting to shake. “Feels good.”

“That’s what it sounded like.” Brian grinned back at him, eyes dancing. He backed off again, but not before Chris noticed the way Brian’s sweats were tenting.

“What’s for supper tonight?” He could feast on that. Yum.

“We’ve got stuff for a stir-fry. You can help me make it.” Brian’s voice was husky, like maybe he’d been thinking the same thing.

“I like stir-fry.” He hopped down, headed for the pommel, and started scissoring.

“Yeah, me too, and you usually do better the next morning when you’ve had veggie meals.” Brian would know; the guy charted everything except his bowel movements. And hell, for all he knew, Brian was charting those too.

“No rice, though.” He and Brian did still butt heads a little on the carb front. Brian insisted the carbs helped, but his old coaches had had him stay strictly away from them.

“No rice. A few soba noodles. Oh, nice Magyar! How about some handstand dismounts. I love your lines on the handstands….”

“Mmm. Noodles.” He swung up into a handstand, holding it before dropping down.

“Yeah, that’s what I’m talking about. You’re getting very comfortable with the landings. I’m thinking we work the vault tomorrow. I mean really work it.”

Oh. Vault. Okay.

He started back on the horse again, but he wasn’t there anymore, that vault sort of… staring at him.

“Focus, Chris.” Sometimes it was like Brian had a window into his head and knew exactly when his mind wasn’t on what he was doing.

“Yeah.” Fuck. He tried to push it, push the vault away, and he lost it on a Stockli, thighs hitting the end of the horse.

Brian was there right away, hands moving on his legs. “You all right? Anything hurting?”

“I’m fine. Fuck.” Stupid and not focused, but fine.

“Maybe we should face the vault tonight. I don’t want you getting hurt because you’re thinking about it and not focusing on what you’re doing.” Brian’s hands were always so warm, and his fingers invariably managed to zero in right where Chris’s muscles needed the touches the most.

“I….” He wasn’t ready yet. “I haven’t done my floor work.”

“Not doing it is distracting you, and the longer you put it off, the harder it’s going to be.”

“I know. I….” He was nerved the fuck out. “Let me hit the bathroom and I’m there.”

He took off without waiting for Brian, heading for the dressing room, his locker, his phone. He locked himself in a stall and hit two on speed dial.

“Hey, Chrissy. What’s up?”

“How did you know?” Rob always knew. They both knew.

“Don’t be a shit. Man trouble?”

“No.”

“Ah, the vault?”

Chris nodded. “Yeah. I’m fucking scared, bro.”

“Yeah. You gotta actually do it, though, if you’re going to do it.”

“I know.”

He heard Rob sigh. “Look, Chrissy, you don’t have to. You don’t. You’ve done a lot. Everyone’s proud. That vertebra’s not going to hold forever.”

“It’ll hold long enough.” Oh, fuck that. He didn’t want to have this conversation.

“And what does your coach say? What does your lover say about one real bad fall leaving you in a wheelchair? Dead?”

“Shut up, man. He says I gotta do the vault tonight. He’s my coach.” Pure fury started blazing through him.

“Pretty shitty boyfriend, if you ask me.”

“I didn’t ask you. I gotta go.”

He was lit up, shaking with it, ready to go kill that fucking vault. He slammed the phone in his locker and headed back out.

“I’m ready.”

Brian stopped him and looked into his eyes. “Yeah? You’re focused? Your head is here, on the vault? On mastering the vault?”

“I don’t want to fucking talk. Just let me do it.” He was pissed. Flying. He had the energy. Get out of the way.

Brian gave him a sharp look. “Focus, Chris.” Then Brian grinned. “And go conquer the apparatus.”

“Right.” He didn’t fuck around, didn’t think, he simply fumed and went for a Yurchenko with a single twist.

He landed on his knees, then went to do it again.

And again.

“More height, Chris. Get your feet under you.”

He switched to the Tsukahara, hoping the change in hand placement would help.

Bang. Knees.

Bang. Knees.

Bang. Oh, feet. Ankle. Ow. Shit.

He shook it off, heading back toward the run with only a little hop.

“Whoa, okay, slow down. Let me look at your foot.” Brian met him at the end of the run. “Sit.”

“I’m good. Only twisted it.” Ow.

“I said sit. Jesus, it’s already swelling. Never mind.” Brian slipped under his arm and grabbed his waist, supporting him as they headed to the locker room. “I’ve got one of those shake-it ice packs in my bag. You think you can make it to the changeroom?”

“Sure I can. No biggie.” Okay. See him. See him motivate. He was a macho bastard. Go him.

Of course, the gymnasium had never seemed so damned big, and he was more than glad when they got to the locker room and he could get off the ankle.

Brian grabbed a couple of ice packs out of his bag, along with an elastic bandage wrap. “How bad does it hurt?”

“It’s okay.” Like a sore fucking tooth.

Brian snorted. “It’s okay. Right.” Brian snapped and shook the ice packs and then used the bandage to attach them to his ankle. “Hopefully that’ll keep the swelling down and you’ll be back on it by tomorrow.” Brian looked up at him, eyes concerned. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah. You sure we’re done? I was getting it.” He was.

“You go back out there and your ankle is going to get worse. We leave it till tomorrow and it should be fine. And yeah.” Brian gave him a grin. “You were indeed getting it.”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.” He was. “Let’s go home.” He hobbled over to the lockers, grabbed his bag and his phone. Rob had text messaged him with you’re welcome chrissy.

Bastard.

 

 

BRIAN FRETTED all the way home. He’d pushed Chris too fast on the vault. But Chris had to face it at some point, and he’d only twisted the ankle a little. Injuries like that were more than common among high-level gymnasts. Then he fretted that he should have had Chris sit with it iced and elevated for a while, and then wrapped it and sent him back out onto the vault.

Had he gone easy on Chris because they were lovers now?

He shook his head as he parked. He had to stop second-guessing himself. He had Chris’s best interest at heart, and if he felt Chris needed a night to rest the ankle, then Chris needed the night to rest the ankle.

“Want me to carry you in?” he asked, managing not to crack a smile as he looked over at Chris.

Chris popped his leg hard. “Oh yeah. Tease the gimp. Be careful or I’ll switch places with Rob.”

Brian chuckled and rubbed his leg. “Ow. Are you two that alike that I wouldn’t know? I mean, I know what you taste like now.”

“You’d know. We’re different. We only look alike.” Chris’s cheeks blazed, those weird eyes dancing.

“So he’s cute, but he’s not you.” Brian slid his hand across the seat to briefly touch Chris’s leg, and then he got out of the car and slammed the door closed. Their little escapade in the bathroom at Andine’s had proved how quickly touching could turn into far more.

Brian followed Chris up to their apartment, watching the ankle. Chris wasn’t favoring it too much. Still, Chris headed straight into his own bedroom to change, and the groan Brian heard wasn’t sexual.

Worry chewing at him, Brian changed with record speed, tugging on his sweats and not bothering with a T-shirt, and then knocked on Chris’s door. “Hey, can I come in?”

“Sure.” Chris was still on the bed, undressed, foot up in the air.

He went over and sat next to Chris, hand sliding over the ripped belly. God, he loved the warm, silky feeling of Chris’s skin. “You want some ibuprofen or something?”

“Nah. I’m simply elevating it.” Chris smiled for him, resting the leg against Brian’s shoulder.

Grinning, Brian turned a little so he could slide his hands along Chris’s leg, massaging the strong thigh muscles. He let his fingers go right up to the join where thigh met groin. “You did good tonight, Chris. You really did.”

“Thanks. That feels good.” Chris’s muscles jumped and jerked.

“Mmm. For me too. Your skin is like….” He shrugged, feeling a little shy about actually saying it out loud. “I love touching you.”

“Good.” Chris stretched a little, sighed. “The landings were solid? You think I’ll be good enough to get a sponsor?”

“Yeah, the landings were ace. And you’re already good enough to get a sponsor. They’re all gun-shy because of the accident, but I’m going to rent a video camera, and we’ll get some footage of you on the rings, the horse. Your landings.” He grinned and ran his hands over that amazing belly. “You think some of your old sponsors would come back? Or you want me to focus on new ones?”

“They weren’t mine. They belonged to Harry and Jeff. We’ll find new people.”

“You have anybody you don’t want for ethical or personal reasons?” A couple of Brian’s old sponsors had been really good people, and he’d bet they’d be responsive to him getting in touch with them as a coach. He’d already thought a few times about calling Bob Silmon at Mars.

“I don’t have any ethics. I just want a sponsor.” He got a wink, a grin. “You think there are any gay porn sponsors out there?”

Brian laughed, tickled. “I don’t know, but I’m not filming anything in the bedroom.”

“We could get double the money….”

He snorted and leaned forward, pushing Chris’s leg back to his shoulder. “It would be fun too,” he murmured against Chris’s lips.

“Uh-huh.” Chris’s balls were so soft pressing against him.

“Yeah….” Brian breathed against Chris’s mouth, looking into his lovely eyes. He licked Chris’s lips and then groaned. Mouth descending on Chris’s, he pushed his tongue deep.

A moan vibrated against Brian’s lips, and Chris opened for him, suddenly hungry and heated.

Brian slid his fingers over Chris’s skin, one kiss morphing into a second and then a third, each one longer than the last. Chris’s heartbeat pounded against him, that leg still caught between them. Chris tugged him close, dragging them tight together.

There was a joke there, something about making love with a flexible gymnast, but Brian didn’t want to make jokes. He wanted to touch and kiss and make Chris feel good. So he did.

His tongue moved against Chris’s while his hips made slow circles. The insides of his sweats were soft, but not as soft as skin. With an impatient hand, he pushed them down past his hips, groaning as their cocks met.

Chris brought his other leg up and hooked it over Brian’s shoulder so they were mashed against each other. A low moan pushed up from deep inside him, his hands opening and closing tight on Chris’s shoulders.

Their cocks slid together, his balls nudging against Chris’s as they moved slowly. And he held those amazing eyes as their mouths played and licked. It felt amazing, Chris shifting and undulating beneath him, using all those muscles to rock and slide.

He moved a little faster, meeting and matching Chris’s movements, the heat generated by their bodies rubbing together growing inside him. Chris’s cock was heated silk, burning against his, against his belly. So damned good.

Chris started panting, stretching underneath him, trying to buck and move in his bent-in-half position. Brian worked a hand between them, pinching Chris’s nipple, eager to give Chris more sensation.

“Sexy,” he muttered, nipping at Chris’s lips, the upper one first, and then the lower one. He took it into his mouth, sucking until Chris pulled away to speak.

“Soon. Soon, huh?” Chris bucked, hips jerking up toward him as he pinched again.

Brian dug his knees into the mattress, which gave him more leverage, let him grind down harder against Chris, and yeah, it was going to be soon. He brought their mouths back together again, pushed his tongue in, fucked Chris’s mouth to the rhythm of his hips thrusting against Chris’s, each movement from beneath him making him rock harder and faster. God. Soon. Yes, please.

Chris’s thighs went rock hard, and he let out a desperate little cry as his heated come sprayed over Brian’s belly. God, the smell…. A shudder went through Brian, and he moaned as he felt his own balls empty, more heat splashing between them.

Panting, he rested his forehead on Chris’s, tongue coming out now and then to lick at Chris’s swollen lips.

“Was this enough of a cool-down stretch?” Oh, look at those eyes dance.

He laughed, leaning in to nip at Chris’s jaw. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this particular stretch in any handbook I’ve read. We should write our own. Get that gay porn company to sponsor it.”

“We could write a book.” Chris eased his legs down, controlling the move. Nice. God, he did love the way Chris moved. Loved it.

Brian shifted to the side, grabbing the sheet to clean their bellies before curling next to Chris on the small bed, his fingers finding Chris’s thighs and massaging gently. “How’s your ankle?”

“It hurts, but nothing serious.” Chris relaxed into the massage, hummed.

“Cool. You should ice it while we’re eating, and I’ll wrap it for you tomorrow morning.” He tried to work off his sweats the rest of the way one-handed but nearly wound up falling off the bed, so he tugged them up instead—half-mast felt stupid.

Chris chuckled. “Dork.”

He stuck his tongue out at Chris. “Maybe. But I’m the dork who’s coaching Chris Allen. So go me.” He chuckled and shifted closer so his ass wasn’t hanging off the bed. “So how does it feel? Having finally gotten back on the vault?”

“Better than I thought it would. I’ll probably have to call Rob the next few times, but it was good.”

“Yeah? What does calling him do for you?” What he really meant was “What can he do that I can’t?”

“Pisses me off.” Chris pinked but grinned, the look sheepish. “He knows exactly what to say to make me madder than I am worried.”

“Christ, I’m not sure mad’s the best way to approach any piece of equipment.” Brian grinned as well. “But I guess if it gets you over the initial hump…. You’ll be sailing through it again like an old pro in no time, Chris. I bet it becomes your best apparatus.”

“Not a chance. I’m a rings man.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” He nuzzled Chris’s shoulder, nibbled the salty skin. “But if you can bring your vault up, you’re going to be the one to beat for All-around.”

“That’s what I want.”

Brian knew that. Chris wanted it all.

“You’ll have it too. You nearly had the landing on that last one. I think you’re still holding back a bit—which is why you kept landing on your knees instead of your feet.”

His fingers wandered to Chris’s belly to travel over the ridges and hollows. “Was it distracting?” he asked, his fingers stilling. “Me, I mean. Or rather us. This.”

“Us? No. No. Hell, I fought with you like I’d fight with anyone arguing with me.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Good. Good. I’d hate to be a distraction on the mats. I don’t mind being a distraction here.” He nudged Chris’s hip with his body. “Here it’s okay.”

“Good to know.” Chris kissed him, then grinned as his stomach rumbled. “Food. Fooooooood.”

Brian laughed. “And here I thought I was a distraction.” He curled over to blow a raspberry on Chris’s belly, then popped up and headed out to the kitchen before Chris could retaliate.

Chris’s laughter followed him into the kitchen, Chris coming along behind, limping a little.

“Why don’t you find a movie and get it set up while I throw together supper?” The longer Chris stayed off the foot tonight, the better he’d be able to work out tomorrow. And frankly, the idea of sitting and watching a movie together sounded good. Kind of like a date.

“You sure?” Chris moved over to the little cabinet that his parents had sent, which was filled with tapes and DVDs.

“Yeah, I promise not to add in too many extra carbs while you’re not looking.” He watched Chris move as he quickly threw together the stir-fry, getting the beef cooked first. Damn, he did like the way Chris looked. He snorted at himself. Truth be told, he liked everything about Chris.

“Bitch. Remember—soba noodles, not rice.”

“Am not. And I will.” He rolled his eyes. God, he wanted to find the coaches who’d told Chris he couldn’t have any carbs and whip their asses.

By the time Brian dished up two big platefuls of stir-fry, Chris had a movie in. He handed over the plate and chopsticks, putting a couple of forks on the coffee table in case, and settled in next to Chris.

It was nice, not worrying about whether or not he was sitting too close, knowing he could touch if he wanted to.

“So what are we watching?”

“The Matrix. I like the music.” Chris squeezed his thigh, smiled. “Smells fabulous.”

“So do you.” He grinned, nudged Chris with his elbow, and dug in. Pretty good, if he did say so himself. And he’d been good—taken the lion’s share of the noodles for himself.

Chris ate well, devouring the stir-fry and even taking another half serving of noodles.

He cleared up the dishes when they were done, hurrying so he wouldn’t miss the scene where Neo first went into the Matrix. “You want something for dessert?” The old saying “coffee, tea, or me” came to mind.

“Nope, I’m happy.” Chris sprawled on the sofa, hurt leg propped up on the back, foot in the air.

“Cool.” Brian came back and slid his hand along Chris’s leg. “Happy’s good.”

He had Chris shift enough so he could sit at the end of the couch, Chris’s head in his lap.

Happy was very good.

“When is it your folks are coming?”

“After the baby shows up. Sis is being stubborn.”

Brian chuckled, half keeping an eye on the movie, half watching Chris’s chest rise and fall with each breath. He was happy, actually, about that. It would give him and Chris a little bit of time to settle into… this.

He snuggled in.

Those pretty mismatched eyes shut, a soft purr sounding as he stroked Chris’s hair. Oh, man, that sound… he thought maybe he’d do a lot for that sound.

He kissed the top of Chris’s head. “This is my favorite part,” he whispered.

“Yeah. This is the real thing, man. The truth.”

He nodded, not caring if they were both talking about the same thing or not. “Yeah.”

The real thing.