(no subject)
Title: "Touch the Gas a little"
Author: icebear_cw
Fandom: Swim RPF
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Matt Lauer
Timeline: Olympics 2004
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: It's fiction. I don't know them, I don't own them and I have no idea about their sexuality.
No money is made.
Notes. This is a birthday present for a friend. Thanks to Matt Lauer for making this nice comment
Feedback: Yes.
Note: x-posted to olympic_slash,swim_fiction
"Touch the gas a little, Michael, come on."
He knows that he is in trouble the second he hears Matt.
It’s just teasing. Nothing more. He knows this. It’s perfectly logical. Matt is like that, always teasing. Mike knows that he is nothing special.
So why on earth is Matt telling him to touch the gas turning him on like hell?
He definitely is in trouble.
Shifting would be good now. But Matt would see it. More teasing then. Oh yeah, exactly what he needs. The voice itself could do it for him. But the voice and the teasing together. He is so lost in thoughts that he does not hear him standing up and coming closer, so he almost jumps when the hand lands on his shoulder.
“Hey, little one. Were you thinking?”
He hates it, hates that Matt even knows his team intern nickname. But only for a second because deep down he loves it. And he knows that he does. So he refrains from coming back with a snarky remark or something. He smiles instead and nods, like everyone is expecting it. He plays. Plays the teenager. The nice boy from next door. He has perfected the image Peter created for him and wants him to show to the world.
And he knows that Matt looks behind all this. That Matt can see everything. Everything behind the mask. Mike can’t tell why and how Matt is able to do that but he knows that it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would.
Mike blames the journalist in Matt, who can detected moods and call people on them, for Matt knowing exactly what he wants and is doing. He blames the horny teenager in himself for telling him now that he has a chance just because Matt is standing so close to him. A chance for it to happen on the boat.
It’s an impulse, an instinct. Mike knows it but he still does not stop himself from leaning slightly backwards against the solid frame. It’s dangerous. With his mother, sister and coach on board. With the cameras and all the other people.
The blue sky is a cliché but it helps him to care less. To go with the game Matt started earlier. And it is a game. A secret one between them and no one really knows the rules. But maybe that’s why both of them love doing it so much. The danger of being found out, the secrecy and the knowledge of having something which is only for themselves.
The sway of the deck beneath his feet, the sun burning down on him and Matt almost pressed against him, a perfect moment. Just almost but enough for Mike.
And he cannot resist. He touches the gas a little. The scale rises, two points, four points. He feels the waves. Feels the hand on his hip. Just a little touch. Mike smiles and knows that Matt is grinning. They are good this way. Subtle.
***
“Come on Mike.”
The voice. He shudders. This voice has him. Not that he minds it much but it still is sometimes a bit astonishing for him to actually realize it.
Two hours since the gas incident. Two hours and he knows it was worth the little play. The innocent looks, which always drive Matt crazy. Payback for the teasing, the gas comment. Shy smiles and little touches he had placed strategically during the boat trip. Just to make the oh-so cool moderator a tiny bit nervous.
“Come on.”
It’s whispered this time. Against his neck, making him shiver again. Strong arms, just to be cliché again, come around his hip and he leans back. This time the blue sky and the sun are held behind a window screen high above the bay. The hotel suite is air-conditioned and the breeze can almost be held for one of the ocean. Just almost but enough for Mike. Enough for Mike to feel good.
“Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”
He nods, thinks about the day. The way he enjoyed himself and for a second asks himself if he has the right to feel like this. If he has the right to secretly claim Matt for himself and mark him as his own. But then a gentle tongue is tracing his neck and everything is forgotten. Almost everything.
He grins
“Touch the gas a little Matt. Come on.”
Matt groans and he has to laugh. He cuddles close, snuggles into Matt’s body and sighs.
It feels good. Almost too good.
It is almost perfect. Almost but enough for Mike.
Author: icebear_cw
Fandom: Swim RPF
Pairing: Michael Phelps/Matt Lauer
Timeline: Olympics 2004
Rating: PG 13
Disclaimer: It's fiction. I don't know them, I don't own them and I have no idea about their sexuality.
No money is made.
Notes. This is a birthday present for a friend. Thanks to Matt Lauer for making this nice comment
Feedback: Yes.
Note: x-posted to olympic_slash,swim_fiction
"Touch the gas a little, Michael, come on."
He knows that he is in trouble the second he hears Matt.
It’s just teasing. Nothing more. He knows this. It’s perfectly logical. Matt is like that, always teasing. Mike knows that he is nothing special.
So why on earth is Matt telling him to touch the gas turning him on like hell?
He definitely is in trouble.
Shifting would be good now. But Matt would see it. More teasing then. Oh yeah, exactly what he needs. The voice itself could do it for him. But the voice and the teasing together. He is so lost in thoughts that he does not hear him standing up and coming closer, so he almost jumps when the hand lands on his shoulder.
“Hey, little one. Were you thinking?”
He hates it, hates that Matt even knows his team intern nickname. But only for a second because deep down he loves it. And he knows that he does. So he refrains from coming back with a snarky remark or something. He smiles instead and nods, like everyone is expecting it. He plays. Plays the teenager. The nice boy from next door. He has perfected the image Peter created for him and wants him to show to the world.
And he knows that Matt looks behind all this. That Matt can see everything. Everything behind the mask. Mike can’t tell why and how Matt is able to do that but he knows that it’s not making him as uncomfortable as he thought it would.
Mike blames the journalist in Matt, who can detected moods and call people on them, for Matt knowing exactly what he wants and is doing. He blames the horny teenager in himself for telling him now that he has a chance just because Matt is standing so close to him. A chance for it to happen on the boat.
It’s an impulse, an instinct. Mike knows it but he still does not stop himself from leaning slightly backwards against the solid frame. It’s dangerous. With his mother, sister and coach on board. With the cameras and all the other people.
The blue sky is a cliché but it helps him to care less. To go with the game Matt started earlier. And it is a game. A secret one between them and no one really knows the rules. But maybe that’s why both of them love doing it so much. The danger of being found out, the secrecy and the knowledge of having something which is only for themselves.
The sway of the deck beneath his feet, the sun burning down on him and Matt almost pressed against him, a perfect moment. Just almost but enough for Mike.
And he cannot resist. He touches the gas a little. The scale rises, two points, four points. He feels the waves. Feels the hand on his hip. Just a little touch. Mike smiles and knows that Matt is grinning. They are good this way. Subtle.
***
“Come on Mike.”
The voice. He shudders. This voice has him. Not that he minds it much but it still is sometimes a bit astonishing for him to actually realize it.
Two hours since the gas incident. Two hours and he knows it was worth the little play. The innocent looks, which always drive Matt crazy. Payback for the teasing, the gas comment. Shy smiles and little touches he had placed strategically during the boat trip. Just to make the oh-so cool moderator a tiny bit nervous.
“Come on.”
It’s whispered this time. Against his neck, making him shiver again. Strong arms, just to be cliché again, come around his hip and he leans back. This time the blue sky and the sun are held behind a window screen high above the bay. The hotel suite is air-conditioned and the breeze can almost be held for one of the ocean. Just almost but enough for Mike. Enough for Mike to feel good.
“Let’s go to bed. It’s late.”
He nods, thinks about the day. The way he enjoyed himself and for a second asks himself if he has the right to feel like this. If he has the right to secretly claim Matt for himself and mark him as his own. But then a gentle tongue is tracing his neck and everything is forgotten. Almost everything.
He grins
“Touch the gas a little Matt. Come on.”
Matt groans and he has to laugh. He cuddles close, snuggles into Matt’s body and sighs.
It feels good. Almost too good.
It is almost perfect. Almost but enough for Mike.