(no subject)
Title: Feel Better
Author: icebear_cw
Fandom: swimming
Pairing: Ian Crocker/Aaron Peirsol
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: It's RPS. This is fiction: I don't know them, don't own them. It's not real.
Note: Set in early 2004 in Austin/Texas
cross-posted: swim_fiction, crocker_fic
I need to hold back a snort and almost end up coughing my lungs out again. But seeing him like that is worth everything.
I mean can you imagine a grown up 21-year-old swimmer wearing nothing but an apron with a Longhorn on it and carrying a tray with soup bowls?
No? Me neither until now.
It’s so damn cliché-like. And he knows how much I hate that.
I can’t help but laugh and grin at him. It is cute in a way.
And he tries to make me feel better. That’s why I forgive him everything.
Almost everything.
I wouldn’t forgive something like a Longhorn slip or things equally disgusting.
I’ll have to see if he did that, too. I hope for him he didn’t.
Not that I would do anything drastic then I just wouldn’t be able to stop laughing at him for at least some hours.
Not a good way to recover from a minor pneumonia and mono.
He grins, comes closer and sets the tray on the floor. He crawls up to me but stops shortly before our lips meet.
I don’t know why but I growl impatiently at him. This is mean. And evil. He can be so damn evil sometimes; it’s just not true.
He can look at you with those incredible innocent blue eyes and smack your ass at the same time.
He just laughs and pats my head.
And kisses me then.
His hands wander. Caress me through my t-shirt. Massages my hurting back muscles.
God, that feels good.
More.
I want more. So much more.
I am just damn happy that Mooney isn’t home. Or Tommy for that matter. Could be a bit embarrassing. At least for him in that outfit.
It’s just so silly.
I start laughing again going over into another coughing fit. And he scowls at me.
Not for laughing but for not getting better.
As if that is my fault.
I bet he wishes I would stay like that for a bit so that he can wear this damn apron without getting shit from the other guys.
And they say I am the dork.
He and his damn Longhorn fetish.
Embarrassing, I tell you.
He is close again, stroking me cheek, smiles that cute smile.
And I just have to grin back like the lovesick fool I am.
God, who did allow him to be so cute? To be so loveable?
I just kiss him.
His hand moves into my pants, stroke my lower back and my hips. He knows so well that it is making me crazy.
But then he takes one of the bowls hands it to me and grins evilly.
Oh I know what comes now. Oh please.
"Be a good boy. Eat that up and Uncle Ian will come back later and get you a desert."
He stands up grins even more kisses me on the forehead like moms do with their sick children gives my hard dick a squeeze and vanishes.
I told you. Evil.
I hate love him.
Author: icebear_cw
Fandom: swimming
Pairing: Ian Crocker/Aaron Peirsol
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: It's RPS. This is fiction: I don't know them, don't own them. It's not real.
Note: Set in early 2004 in Austin/Texas
cross-posted: swim_fiction, crocker_fic
I need to hold back a snort and almost end up coughing my lungs out again. But seeing him like that is worth everything.
I mean can you imagine a grown up 21-year-old swimmer wearing nothing but an apron with a Longhorn on it and carrying a tray with soup bowls?
No? Me neither until now.
It’s so damn cliché-like. And he knows how much I hate that.
I can’t help but laugh and grin at him. It is cute in a way.
And he tries to make me feel better. That’s why I forgive him everything.
Almost everything.
I wouldn’t forgive something like a Longhorn slip or things equally disgusting.
I’ll have to see if he did that, too. I hope for him he didn’t.
Not that I would do anything drastic then I just wouldn’t be able to stop laughing at him for at least some hours.
Not a good way to recover from a minor pneumonia and mono.
He grins, comes closer and sets the tray on the floor. He crawls up to me but stops shortly before our lips meet.
I don’t know why but I growl impatiently at him. This is mean. And evil. He can be so damn evil sometimes; it’s just not true.
He can look at you with those incredible innocent blue eyes and smack your ass at the same time.
He just laughs and pats my head.
And kisses me then.
His hands wander. Caress me through my t-shirt. Massages my hurting back muscles.
God, that feels good.
More.
I want more. So much more.
I am just damn happy that Mooney isn’t home. Or Tommy for that matter. Could be a bit embarrassing. At least for him in that outfit.
It’s just so silly.
I start laughing again going over into another coughing fit. And he scowls at me.
Not for laughing but for not getting better.
As if that is my fault.
I bet he wishes I would stay like that for a bit so that he can wear this damn apron without getting shit from the other guys.
And they say I am the dork.
He and his damn Longhorn fetish.
Embarrassing, I tell you.
He is close again, stroking me cheek, smiles that cute smile.
And I just have to grin back like the lovesick fool I am.
God, who did allow him to be so cute? To be so loveable?
I just kiss him.
His hand moves into my pants, stroke my lower back and my hips. He knows so well that it is making me crazy.
But then he takes one of the bowls hands it to me and grins evilly.
Oh I know what comes now. Oh please.
"Be a good boy. Eat that up and Uncle Ian will come back later and get you a desert."
He stands up grins even more kisses me on the forehead like moms do with their sick children gives my hard dick a squeeze and vanishes.
I told you. Evil.
I hate love him.