An Olympic Moment by KETanner

The crowd was screaming and cheering. The announcer's voice was tense, filled with excitement and anticipation. Eight well-toned athletic bodies sliced through the rippling blue water easier than a hot knife through melted butter. Vin Tanner sat perched on the edge of his seat, fists clenched, eyes glued to the TV set, his heart pounding in his chest as he urged his countrymen on.

"C'mon, ya bastard, swim! Don't let that sonuvabitch catch ya! C'mon, faster!"

Eight bodies completed the final turn, the last fifty meters ahead of them, the Olympic men's 2 X 400 relay, a race previously dominated by the incredibly talented team from Australia. They were the gold medal winners of this event in the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games. The crowd noise grew even louder, more furious, more excited. The announcer's voice was nearly drowned out by the noise. The swimmers' arms and legs churned faster, fighting for position, the lead...the gold medal. The camera panned in tighter, focusing on the two figures ahead of the surging pack.

"C'mon, Keller, fly!" Vin urged, his voice cracking with the strain. "Go...go...!"

But Ian Thorpe, the man known to the world as The Thorpedo, was chasing Keller down, narrowing the margin established by Phelps and the other elite members of Team USA. Vin's stomach tightened into a painful knot.

"No!" he howled to no one in particular. "Go...go...U-S-A...U-S-A...U-S-A...!"

The last twenty-five meters...it was going to be close. Vin ground his teeth together in anticipation. His fingers furled and unfurled, clawed at the leather sofa, beat against his denim-covered thighs.

"U-S-A...U-S-A...U-S-A...!"

Ten meters...

Five...

The touch...

It was close...so close...too close...

Then Vin was hurling his body into the air, arms raised in triumph, hollering his elation to the patterned ceiling above. They'd done it! The USA Men's team had won the 2 X 400 Olympic relay, just barely ahead of the powerful Australians. Keller had just barely managed to out touch Ian Thorpe, one of the best swimmers ever to grace the waters. Vin danced, twirling and jumping across the carpet, sharing in the celebration, his excitement echoing throughout the empty house—what a hell of a race!—until finally, exhausted and breathless, he dropped back down on the sofa, grinning drunkenly as he gasped from his exertions.

Damn, it almost felt like he'd done that last fifty meters himself!

Wow!

Talk about Olympic history in the making!

Settling back down on the sofa in a boneless, breathless sprawl, Vin grinned, his glowing eyes then returning to the brightly lit screen, seeing once again the replay and hearing the announcer's call. There was a slow-motion close-up of Keller and Thorpe's hands under the water as they reached for the wall, the difference of victory - of gold - so incredibly close, the margin mere hundredths of a second.

Then the camera panned upward and across, showing what Vin had missed, showing the American men's swim team as they looked to the board for the results, tense and waiting, then celebrating joyously an instant later...and Vin's mouth dropped open wide, his jaw working soundlessly as all the air raced from inside his lungs.

Hot damn, but that Michael Phelps was one good-looking kid!

A tingle of excitement arrowed straight to Vin's groin, his hips unconsciously twitching at the unanticipated response.

Kid, hell! He was only nineteen years old but Phelps was definitely a man...no kid on the face of the earth ever had a body, or more specifically, a chest that looked like that!

Vin stared, transfixed. He couldn't help it. Tall and smooth-faced, broad shoulders and impossibly long arms. The graceful length of toned muscles, tanned wet skin, sharply defined pecs, the hairless chest with its pinpoint brown nipples. Vin took a deep breath, humming softly. His right hand drifted across to his groin and he rubbed himself through the denim. On TV, Phelps raised his arms, pulling the width of his muscular chest tight, a bright grin surrounding the flash of white teeth. Vin couldn't stop the lusty groan torn from the back of his throat.

Ah, damn!

He didn't bother to unbutton his jeans, just slipped one hand inside the shadowed gap in the front, burrowing beneath the layer of his cotton boxers as his skin heated up with the flush of his arousal. He wrapped long fingers around his rapidly growing cock, enjoying the delicious pressure inside the moist confining warmth of his pants.

Damn it all, where the fuck was Larabee when he needed him?

His eyes remained glued to the TV screen, watching yet again the Americans' joyous celebration. Vin's tongue slipped out to caress his lower lip, wetting the parched surface before ducking back inside. Arms raised, Phelps jumped and cheered and Vin's gaze then drifted lower, across the tuck of his tight abdomen, the flat six-pack, the narrow waist and slender hips, the hairless velvety skin.

God damn!

Vin nearly swallowed his tongue. Phelps' Speedo swim trunks were lowered way past the arch of the man's hipbones, hugging somewhere along the length of his upper thighs. Just a bare millimeter from exposing the base of his cock...and he was clean-shaven.

Hairless.

All smooth, moist, heated, silky skin.

It didn't take much imagination to see the thin neoprene sliding even lower and Vin had a great imagination. He groaned thickly, envisioning himself on his knees, mouth open and waiting, down in front of Phelps. The kid was definitely walking poster material for a man just begging to get blown!

His breath now coming in quick gasps, Vin's right hand gripped his aching cock even tighter. He slid lower on the sofa, spread his legs wider, dropped his left hand down to cup his balls through the layer of heavy denim. His fingers worked steadily inside his jeans, stroking and pulling his thick shaft, enjoying the tight heady excitement coursing through his veins. God, he loved the heat and the pressure, the urgency, the lust. He welcomed the almost agonizing imprisonment of his pants. The ache of want was just all that much sweeter for the extra pain. It reminded him of the first time he'd ever jacked off. He was fifteen and looking at the pictures of a naked men's volleyball player in a Playgirl magazine he'd found. The guilty pleasure of his release had far outweighed the consequences of getting caught.

His gaze riveted, Vin watched replay after replay of the Americans' victory celebration, his heated blue eyes glued to the waistband of Phelps' tight Speedos, hoping and praying for a glimpse...just a glimpse...just a slight slip lower...Vin's lips and tongue rounded into a silent "o"...waiting...hoping...his mouth watered hungrily. He could almost taste the bittersweet fluid, smell the heat and musk.

Phelps' stomach twitched as he turned and took a breath. Vin groaned again, his slender hips jerking as the ache in his cock became almost intolerable.

Damn it, where in the hell was Chris when he needed him?

There was a snick at the front door and then that voice, "Hey, Vin. I'm home."

The hurtling form that flew from the den into the entryway didn't even give Larabee time to do much more than set down his briefcase and get his jacket part of the way off before the blond was pinned face first against the wall. He grunted in surprise. Vin's mouth dove straight for the side of Chris's neck, nuzzling beneath the collar length hair, latching on and sucking hard even as one hand slipped around to rip at the buttons of the taller man's shirt. Hard fingers of the other hand reached down, gripping and kneading Chris's ass.

"Vin..?" Chris gasped, startled to say the least at finding himself ploughed face first into the wall. "What th--?"

But even with a denim covering, there was no mistaking the hard length pressed against his right hip or the repeated frantic thrust of Vin's hips into his backside. Tanner was hot, hard, horny and desperate and it looked like Chris was going along for the ride. Not exactly how he'd planned to spend his evening after a long day of procedural meetings but then again, who was he to argue when Vin was being so obviously demanding?

"Wait and let me..." he laughed softly only to be silenced by an angry sounding growl.

Aw, hell...one of those nights! Chris's cock twitched and immediately jumped to attention. His skin tingled with anticipation as his heart rate and breathing kicked up another notch. Last time Vin was this desperate, it had taken three days before he was able to walk straight!

"Vin..." he tried again only to grunt as he was shoved forcefully against the wall. Hard hands tugged roughly at his jacket, stripping it down the length of his arms. It landed somewhere on the floor. The last two remaining buttons on his dress shirt were ripped free, Vin's fingers gripping the material, ruthlessly pulling it from Chris's torso while keeping him pinned in place. Chris was glad he wasn't wearing an undershirt. Vin was so eager to get at him that he probably would have shredded it to pieces.

A hot mouth nailed the back of his naked shoulder, sharp teeth raking across his skin, and Chris hissed in reaction, quickly losing the train of thought warning him that Vin was out of control. His body quivered in heated reaction, an ache of longing and lust coiling deep inside his gut. Caution and restraint were obviously not on the menu tonight but he was and that excited Chris even more.

Vin spun him around and Chris was hardly aware of the glittering light of the TV and the faint strains of the national anthem as he was hustled through the den. Vin's mouth and hands were on him constantly, those long hard fingers groping his body without mercy. He landed on his back with a definite "oomph," bouncing as he was shoved down onto the bed. His attempted protest left him with his mouth filled by the hot length of Vin's demanding tongue, the nearly cruel force of lips tight against his own.

Vin pressed close, laying flat out, burying Chris back into the bed sheets, the heat and scent of his lover's body only fueling his desperate need just that much more. Chris tried to reach for him but Vin swatted his hands away. He didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be kissed or petted, didn't want to be distracted. He wanted cock. He wanted Chris to lay there and take it while he proceeded to suck him dry.

His hands dropped to the waistband of Chris's dress slacks, furiously tugging open the button, the rasp of the zipper drowned out by the harshness of his breathing. He stripped them from the length of Chris's incredibly long legs, took the black dress shoes with them, then ripped his own t-shirt off over his head before throwing it on the floor. Diving back down, he again swatted Chris's hands away, squirming and rubbing against his lover's naked chest, taking in mouthfuls of flesh as he bit, licked and nibbled his way along the length of one hard collarbone. His hips thrust of their own volition, the denim chafing him painfully as Vin humped against Chris's thigh.

Hungry for more, he slithered downward, moving his mouth lower across the expanse of Chris's chest, ignoring his lover's breathless cries. Something tickled his chin and Vin frowned in sudden displeasure. Chris had only a light covering of chest hair but that wasn't what Vin wanted. He wanted that skin naked and smooth, velvety soft, hot and damp beneath his lips. There was something scratching at his belly too — the tangle of Chris's pubic hair, coarse and wiry, the dark blond curls framing the prize he sought. Vin snarled his disapproval.

He wanted that naked and smooth as well!

Vin Tanner became a man on a mission. Surging upward, he thrust his tongue into Chris's mouth yet again, blistering the other man's parted lips with a hungry kiss. He then growled deep in his throat, a wordless demand for Chris's obedience. Throwing himself from the bed, Vin rushed into the master bathroom, quickly gathering the necessary supplies. Returning to the bedroom, he paused oh-so-briefly to admire the splendid view.

Propped up on his elbows, Chris lay on his back in the middle of their bed, blond hair tousled, his bare torso gleaming with heat and sweat in the softness of the lamplight. One long leg was bent upward at the knee. He wore only a pair of white socks and a glazed expression upon his handsome face. The man looked all sexy as hell, just begging to get blown, and Vin's mouth watered hungrily at the sight of him.

A soft chuckle tickled upward in his throat, the heady excitement firing through his veins even as his heart raced wildly and a fine layer of sweat beaded upon his brow. Grinning, Vin ignored the pain in his groin that made it hard to walk, climbing a bit stiffly onto the bed and directly on top of Chris. He delivered another ravenous kiss, plastering the blond back into the depths of the tangled bed sheets.

A moment later, Chris gave a startled yelp at the cool gel that landed in the middle of his chest. Vin ignored the cry of protest and slapped away the hand that tried to grab his wrist. He warmed the gel into foam with his fingers, spreading it over the bare skin before quickly applying the razor. Three deft sure strokes and Vin accomplished his intended goal, a cotton towel then wiping away the mix of shaving cream and chest hair, leaving the surface smooth and clean. Leaning down, he nuzzled close, pressing his face against the hot skin, mouthing and tonguing, licking at one tight nipple, inhaling deeply of the scent of heat, sweat, musk and mint. Panting softly, he dragged his face down the length of Chris's chest, felt the hard belly muscles tighten and ripple beneath his tongue. Hands tangled in his hair but he resolutely shook them off.

Another squirt of gel and a wicked grin lit Vin's face as the naked body beneath him went absolutely still. He could feel the heat of the green gaze riveted on his hands, the sudden tension in the air. The cool blue gel quickly became foam, white creamy puffs of it coating the trail of hair on Chris's lower belly. Nimble fingers slathered it across the older man's groin, up and down the length of his thick cock, pushed between Chris's long legs to cover the tight full balls within their lightly furred sac. All the while, Vin kept his eyes cast downward, focused, intent. He didn't dare look at Chris.

Chris sucked in a breath and held it as he realized what Vin was going to do. He thought briefly to protest, to at least say something, but the words died in his throat. Vin was one of the most steady and sure-handed men he knew, but there was just something about the possibility of distracting him, of causing his hand to slip, that made Chris decide to keep his mouth shut.

That and having a razor blade so damned close to his vulnerable privates.

Exhaling slowly through pursed lips, Chris dropped his head, sternly reminded himself that he trusted Vin, and forced himself to lie still.

Deft sure strokes and nimble fingers quickly and efficiently shaved Chris clean. There was not even a nick left behind to mar the now smooth bare skin. The remaining cream and loose pubic hair were wiped away, the feel of the cotton somehow rough against Chris's sensitized flesh. His cock felt cold, naked, exposed, and Chris lifted his head to glance down as his freshly shaven groin. One hand drifted over to touch the tender skin only to be slapped away with a heated growl of warning.

Vin tossed aside the towel, eyeing his unadorned prize. Dropping down, he gasped before roughly nuzzling his face against the baby-soft skin. His tongue licked a wet trail along the underside of Chris's erection which had flagged beneath the proximity of the razor. The slender hips jerked and twitched at his rough caress, the thick shaft quickly filling again with blood and Vin wasted no time in taking what he wanted. He wanted that gold medal. A low feral snarl escaped him and then his mouth, lips and tongue were sucking Chris deep into his waiting throat.

Chris yelped as the sudden heat enveloped him, his eyes going wide, mouth rounding silently even as his hands slapped helplessly against the bed. Vin took him straight down, going deep, throat muscles working convulsively around his cock and Chris felt a shaft of lightning shoot straight into his aching balls, up into his gut, his throat. Vin's hands and body held him still. He couldn't move, couldn't thrust, couldn't think. The length of Vin's oh-so-wicked tongue curled deliciously around him. Sharp teeth raked over him. Moist heat sucked so fervently at his length that it took away even his ability to breath.

He was lightheaded, breathless, dizzy, flying out of control. Chris's entire world centered upon the hot mouth working him so diligently. Hard hands pushed his thighs apart and then a rough length speared his ass, the dry finger-fucking driving him further towards the edge. He was all but mindless of the soft auburn locks drifting over his naked skin or the head that bobbed diligently up and down above his groin. Vin gave a soft, low growl. The hunger and vibration of it sent Chris sharply over the precipice, flying out into the darkness as pinpoints of light exploded upon his vision. He burst into the heat of Vin's mouth, a sharp cry torn from his lips, felt the powerful swallow of Vin's jaws and throat, knew the other man was drinking him down, sucking him dry, leaving him completely empty and spent.

Long moments later, his heart rate slowing, when Chris could think and breathe again, he lifted his head from the depths of the tangled, sweat-dampened sheets. His throat felt raw and hoarse from his screams of mindless pleasure.

"Vin...?"

The long brown hair barely stirred, a warm gusting breath floating across the dwindling heat of Chris's naked groin.

"Mm-mmm...?"

"You okay?"

The length of the tanned backside lifted and squirmed as Vin ground his over-sensitive cock into the sloppy, wet puddle inside his jeans. Wetness and warmth oozed around his cock and balls, between his thighs. A silly smile of contentment lifted the edges of his lips.

"M'good...better'n good..." he murmured with a breathless sigh, two fingers stroking the curve of his lover's hip.

Chris stirred a bit trying to get more comfortable, long legs straightening to frame the sides of Vin's bare torso. He let his head fall back again, blond hair tousled, his body relaxed and boneless, sated. Arching an arm across his forehead, eyes heavy with sleepy satisfaction, he was still stunned by the sudden ferociousness of Vin's attack.

"Wh-what the hell...was that?" he gasped, not entirely sure he wanted to know.

An evil grin crooked the left side of Vin's face where it lay against his lover's skin. He wondered what Chris would say if he told him he'd gotten horny watching Michael Phelps and his buddies in their swim trunks. No, it probably wasn't a good idea to tell him that. Larabee could be one hell of a possessive son of a bitch. Diversionary tactics were definitely in order. Vin was good at those, especially where Chris was concerned.

"Jes havin' me one o'them Olympic moments," he shrugged carelessly. "Decided ta go fer th'gold..." He snickered softly at Chris's answering moan.

A long moment later, Vin raised his head as he heard the other man's breathing become slow and deep, felt the even rhythm of it beneath his gently wandering hand. Glancing up, blue gaze narrowed, he saw that the angular features were relaxed and the deep lines were softened around the pouting lips. The normally vibrant green eyes were closed with fatigue, sleep and sexual release.

Moving carefully, Vin eased himself out from between Chris's legs, sliding off the bed and waddling somewhat on his way into the bathroom. Stripping down, he tossed his soiled clothing into the hamper and quickly cleaned himself off. Turning, he went back into the bedroom, staying silent so as not to awaken his sleeping partner. He shook his head, grinning again at the picture Chris made against the sheets.

Damn.

Vin stood naked at the end of the bed admiring the length of the toned, equally naked body laid out before him even as he eased the white cotton socks from Chris's feet. He couldn't help but smirk.

Who in the hell needed Michael Phelps?

He had Chris Larabee.

Easing down beside the blond a moment later, he snuggled close while burying his nose against the side of his lover's neck. Vin inhaled, sighing deeply, then drew the blankets tight around them. As he drifted off to sleep, a hint of mischief quirked his lips as Vin wondered if he could talk Chris into getting a pair of Speedos.

THE END