longitudinal | au inbox;

[ the rooms at the manor are nice, if a bit stuffy. he misses the chic, modern elegance of hotel rooms in france and greece, but for a change of scenery? it’s exactly what someone would expect when visiting england. after his morning swim at the pool, he jumps in the shower,
ignoring the second door, figuring it was a water closet or some kind of linen closet, even though the towels always seem to be laid out fresh and pressed every morning.

he’s just getting into the shower, stepping under the hot water when he hears noise - the door, maybe, or something from outside. he doesn’t pay it any mind, the glass fogging as he scrubs his fingers into his hair, scuffing out the chlorine.

but it wasn’t a noise elsewhere, no. it’s the door. the door across that is certainly not a water or linen closet. ]

Good morning. Sorry, did I wake you up? I’m an early riser.

[ he doesn’t stop his shower, instead lathering shampoo into his hair as he talks. ]

[the house is too big, too full of weird noises, especially sleeping alone in the unfamiliar suite and ignoring his phone, so koby had stayed downstairs until the wee hours of the morning, chatting people up in the piano bar or out by the pool, making himself comfortable in the manor's environment. he'd gone home with someone, a fuzzy face, a blur of hands and heat, and had stumbled back home close to five, tumbling into bed and passing out immediately.

now it's mere hours later and koby's shuffling into the en suite bathroom, hair a fuzzy mess, contacts dry and itchy, making him wince and rub his eyes against the light against the gleaming porcelain. he doesn't immediately register the sound of the water -- the weird noises, it's probably old pipes sounding too close -- his mind a foggy cloud of haze. but then -- a voice, making him jolt and whirl around at the sink, then immediately groan at how that sends his head spinning.]

Jesus fuck, can you -- not yell, please? [he hadn't, he'd spoken at a very normal, pleasant register, but every sound feels magnified by a thousand in koby's wildly hungover ears.]

[ well for someone who is clearly dying from hangover, he's actually pretty cute. but quentin knows beauty when he sees it - it's why he has the reputation he does. he tilts his head, scrubbing in shampoo now as he watches the guy whirl around, a one act play all by himself. ]

I'm not yelling. I think your skull might be splitting from the looks of it. Long night?

[ he does make an amused effort to lower his voice. ]

You look like shit. [ a shrug of a bare shoulder, his soapy hair now left behind so he can start scrubbing himself down with a bar of soap. ]

[a wordless grumble, koby leaning back against the sink and trying to recover the shreds of his dignity, of his composure. he never walks into a situation without being in complete control. especially with a new, potentially advantageous attractive man.

but here he is, apparently looking a hot mess and burying his face in both hands with a groan.] Don’t go to the piano bar, that’s all I’m gonna say about that. [it’s not; he’s going to complain about this headache all he can and milk it for all it’s worth.

spreading his fingers apart, koby peeks through them at the stranger, thoughtfully.] Thanks. You look swell. [flatly, like an accusation, but – it is true.] Sorry to disappoint, I guess.

Did I say I was disappointed? Are you hearing things?

[ quentin huffs a laugh, watching this poor guy and his hungover misery. he considers just letting him go on his way before he rolls his eyes. he's been there - drunk and dried out and done with anything that resembles morning.

he offers out a soapy hand, uncaring that he's dripping water all over the floor or that he's basically showering naked in front of a perfect stranger. there could be worse things. ]

The water's still hot so hurry up - you might feel a quarter human once you get cleaned up. If not, then this place makes bottomless mimosas and that will be the next stop. That or you can stand there looking miserable and I'll enjoy my shower, thank you. But feel free to stay and watch if you choose that option.

-- what. [koby drops his hands a bit, eyes narrowing a bit in skepticism at the laugh, at the sudsy audacity of this literal stranger. his booze-and-powder-addled mind doesn't click fast enough to connect the gleaming, soaking wet god of a man to the blurry myspace photos on teo's page -- not yet, not until later, until after he's stumbled out of the bathroom, warm and sleepy.

now, though, koby's eyes are bleary and his expression is one of bewilderment, some of the sharpness leaving him as he waits for a punchline that...doesn't come. instead: an invitation. an absurd one, but that seems to be par for the course with this place. besides, the last four conscious minutes have been hellish, so why not take every opportunity to improve his current situation, right?

so koby sighs, straightening up and pulling his shirt off, light catching the piercing in his navel as he stretches and tosses the garment in the general direction of the door.] Better have bottomless bloody Mary's too. I need the hardcore shit today. [pajama pants are next, puddling at koby's feet, and he pauses a minute to take in what he can see of the soapy, dripping body before him.]

Koby. Who're you?

[ quentin doesn't pay him too much mind as he begins to rinse the shampoo from his hair. he'll have to condition it, too, else the chlorine will turn his waves into a mess. he's not blind, though - he passes a glance as the guy pulls his shirt off and yes, his eye catches the little piercing at his navel. he gives koby an appreciative once over. ]

Quentin. Most people call me Q.

[ he grins, a little doggish. ] If the shower's not enough then I can definitely find you something stronger than a bloody mary. I've already found a few good spots in this house.

[ and he reaches out his hand again, wiggling soapy fingers. ] You coming in or not? Trying to decide if I need to wash my own back or if you can lend a hand.

Mmm. Less syllables. [koby mumbles it, hooking his thumbs into his underwear – boyshorts, clingy and dark, hugging the curve of his ass – and tugging them down in one smooth motion. he’s not self conscious in the least, yawning and scratching his fluffed-up hair with a grimace, the same downy pink as the neatly-trimmed fluff between his legs.

not waiting for quentin (q) to respond, koby kicks his shed clothes towards the door, then pads over to the shower, looking at the soapy, offered hand with a scrunched nose.] You usually shower in clothes? I’m moving slow, be nice to me, I’m dying of a hangover. [he sets one hand into the offered one, using the grip to balance his wobbly legs as he neatly steps into the tub, careful not to slip.] Probably gonna die right here, right as you’re making me wash your back.

[koby huffs and puffs, but, after ducking under the spray and letting it stream hot and scouring and restoring over his exhausted body, he flicks his hair out of his face, then prods at quentin’s shoulder with his fingertips.] Go on, turn around.

[ quentin glances back over at koby, admiring the tone and the shape of his body - not his usual type, really, but he's alluring enough to keep quentin's attention as his underwear comes off. even more surprising when he sees the thatch of pink hair, the deep vee between his thighs.

quentin enjoys surprises. ]

I wasn't actually expecting you to wash my back, but since you're offering...

[ he turns around in the spray of the water, sighing as it runs down his chest. he has a swimmer's build, his thighs nothing but lean, ropey muscles, his back broad. he's not bothered by his own nudity, a happy trail of dark fuzz down his front now that he's letting his hair grow. his chest the very same. ]

I'll do yours once you think you can stand upright. I'd feel terrible if I knocked you face first into the tub.

[despite his raging, violent hangover, koby makes a softly appreciative sound at the broad expanse of warm-toned skin in front of him, reaching out to trail his fingers lightly down quentin’s spine, from the nape of his neck to his narrow waist, resting his palm there for a moment. his hands are careful, roughened, palms callused, but they rest there like he knows the spot intimately, like he’s touched quentin there a million times b̷͖͑é̴̦c̸̼͝â̵̞u̸̲̅s̵̞̍e̵̖̕ ̵̯̽h̶̰́ẻ̵̻ ̵͜͠ḥ̴̄a̶̫͊s̶̻͂–

the thought slips away, like the water coursing down his back, now that the direct spray is being diverted. the bathroom is warm enough, steamy and heated, that koby doesn’t feel a chill as he reaches to grab one of the many, many little bottles of body wash and pop the top.] Well, don’t say things you don’t mean, maybe, dumbass.

[grumbling, grumbling, pouring the sandalwood-scented soap into his palm, then rubbing his hands together briskly.] Yeah, pretty sure that’d count as premeditated. The tequila shots are an accomplice, though, so maybe you’ll get off with a misdemeanor or something. [there are sponges, washcloths, even a few loofahs, but koby uses his hands to start sudsing up quentin’s back instead, skillful and focused, instinctively seeking out any knots of tension and starting to knead them away.]

Should I talk a little louder in retaliation? Remember, I'm the one with the weapon here, Mr. Hangover.

[ quentin laughs a little, but he quiets when the other man's hands slide along his back, the tense muscles from a morning of swimming. he's not the type to invite random strangers into bed or the shower when he's not under the influence of something, but something about this guy feels safe. it shouldn't, of course, but - t̸͍͉͉͋͑͘h̵̙̫̪͑͒̕e̵̙͇̺̽̈́͠y̵̡͙͙͑͒͠'̸̢̢̾͌̓v̴͖͎̈́̓̔e̴̡̻͔̔̔͊ b̵͇̠̦͋͒͆e̸̙̼̘̔̔͝e̵͚̠̦̚̕͠n̴̡͓͓̐̽͐ h̴͖͙͖̽͐͑e̴̘̝̓̓r̸͖̻̙̽̔͝e̸͔͎͙͆̒͝ a̵͔̟͔͒͋̚ d̴̡̪̟̈́͌o̴͕̟̽̿͠z̴̪̝̪͋̐͆e̴͉͍̝͋͊͠n̸̢̝̞͐̿̐ t̸̘̘͕́̀̔i̸̫̝͑̒͊͜m̸͓̟͇̈́́̒e̵̡͉͎͌͘̚s̵̡͍̼͒͐̿ b̴̫̪̀̿̓e̸̻͍͓͌̀͠f̵̢͉̻͛͆o̴͕͖͕͒̀͝r̸̡̘̫̐̀e̴͉̝͉̔́̈́

- tequila shots. it all makes sense. ]

A misdemeanor isn't so bad. I don't mind a little bad press, but can we wait on the whole murder thing until after the Olympics? I'd like to at least pretend I stand a chance at placing.

[ he hums, leaning his back into the callused hands. ] You can join my showers hungover any time you want with hands like those.

I refuse to negotiate with threats against my poor exploding head. [huffy, pressing both thumbs nearly too hard against a knot of sore muscle, wanting to see quentin tense, wanting him to twitch away, wanting to watch the ripple of all that muscle when faced with a bite of pain.

and then he softens them, returns to gentle, practiced massage, listening idly. an olympian, interesting – not usually on the radar; the clean-cut image tends to make seedy business deals something they avoid. but that michael phelps guy made a killing in sponsorship deals after the ‘04 olympics, so maybe…maybe it’s worth his time.

besides. koby is fine sharing a bathroom with some guy if he’s hot and talks in a voice like hot butter and makes those kinds of sounds when he’s touched. still working his way over the relaxing, loosening muscles, he moves closer, brushing thigh against thigh, letting the warmth of his body radiate, present and right there.]

Everyone’s got bad posture or a bad back or shoulder or something. Take a couple massage courses and you’ll be a hit anywhere you go. [a shrug, a huffing laugh, hands going lower and lower and...] Showers, parties, funerals...

[ q flinches, the hard press of fingers enough to make a little pained sound tumble from his lips. it's enough for his back to arch away from the touch, glutes flexing, thighs tensing. he thinks this guy is probably doing it on purpose, but he also doesn't mind that. he likes a little pain - but he's not had that kind of attention in a while.

their bodies are closer now, he can feel the heat of the guy behind him, hands lower and lower... but he reaches back for them just as they reach the meat of his ass, pulls them around him, laughing. ]

Trade me.

[ he smooths hands over the guy's arms, turning in the circle of his trapped arms to face him, grinning. his back feels better, more relaxed, and he sighs. ] Close your eyes.

[ all gentle, almost amused, and he reaches for the shampoo, lathering it in his hands before he slides his fingers into koby's hair, going slow and applying the tiniest bit of pressure. ] Tell me about your massage courses. [ cheeky, considering he's performing a little scalp massage right now. ]

[there's a bemused huff, an exhale of heat against the tensing jut of a shoulderblade, watching beads of water drip down across shivery, dusky skin beneath koby's kneading, relentless hands. there's an artistry in the way quentin moves, breathes, and koby's more than ready to follow this to the natural conclusion, to get closer and enjoy himself and because -- because someone wants to, because he's tired and his head hurts and it's what he knows. so he moves lower and lower and --

and then quentin is gently moving his arms away, so effortlessly and smoothly that koby doesn't have time to blink before the other man's moving, turning and grabbing the shampoo and --] Oh. [a little dazed, squinting one eye shut, then the other, genuinely taken off-guard by the gentle scrub of quentin's fingers through his curling, pale-pink hair.] It, uh -- it was in some guy's house. It smelled like patchouli and weed.

You don't...I mean. [trying to recover his composure, to be detached and composed and in control. he keeps his eyes scrunched shut, huffing softly.] You don't gotta do that. If you don't wanna.

[ quentin's hands work through koby's cropped hair, nails scratching into the scalp - a deep clean, if koby asks, nothing more - humming to acknowledge he's listening. the morning swim and the hot water have left him amiable and relaxed, muscles tired and stretched. ]

Patchouli and weed is exactly what I'd expect it to smell like. I went to a PT once for a shoulder thing and I left smelling like a cannabis shop. And hush - if I didn't mind doing this I wouldn't. So maybe I want to do it.

[ he scrubs through koby's hair, massaging his scalp toward the end of it, sliding his fingers around the hungover man's temples, the hinge of his jaw, the ridge behind his ear and down his neck. ]

How's that headache of yours?

Why? [koby means for it to come out sharp, a snappy retort, but that’s right when quentin’s fingers have found that place where his jaw meets his neck, massaged away the tension that’s lived there as long as he can remember. so it’s soft instead, unsure, unsteady, footing on a foundation of sand.

swallowing, he forces himself to uncross his arms – body language matters, even naked, especially naked, crossing his arms and scrunching his shoulders telegraphs unsurety, awkwardness, self-consciousness. still, koby can’t quite push himself back into the square-shouldered cockiness, not with the hangover well and truly banished.

so he turns his head, lifts his chin, looks over his shoulder and up at quentin with his wet hair in his face and his big eyes solemn and searching.] Better. Gone.

Maybe I should’ve taken lessons from you instead. [it’s a flirty line, delivered with absolutely zero flirtiness, because koby’s too busy looking, looking, tracing quentin’s features up-close, feeling something (r̶̻̊͋͝e̴̩̖̩͛̊c̷̥̭̱̐o̵̝̘̿̿͜g̷̡̼͓̉̀ṅ̵̳̆̚ị̴͍͖̃͛͝t̸̮͊̆͐i̵̹͕͑̑̕õ̸̭ṇ̶͆̀ḷ̴͑ȏ̶̢̥͛v̷̙̜̘̌e̵̟̊͝ḽ̴̿͐o̸̫̭̗͗͗s̸̪̝̃̄̋s̶̬͐̑g̶̩͎͕͛̋̚r̵̺̚͠i̸̻͗̎ẽ̵̫̘̃̃ͅf̵̬̼̼͌̚͠d̶̛̀͆͜ě̴͚̙̐̄š̷̡̞̹̎̊ṕ̷̱̰͗͠a̵̘̙̬̓͂͂į̷̭͙̇̍̃r̴̥̠̔) in his chest. he swallows hard, exhales, reaches up to push his hair out of his face.]

Thanks.

You still could, you know.

[ there's a softness in his voice - a hint of flirty still, but more amused than anything. koby is warm and curious and though he won't say it out loud, feels like an old soul l̴̢̫̻͒͐͝i̵̫̫͋͛͛k̴̺͇͇̽̚e̴̺͙͍͆͝͝ h̵͇͙̠͋͝e̵̟͍̠̒̚'̴̙̘̫̽͘͝s̵̢͖͕̾̚̚ l̵̞͎̽̀͜͠o̴̪̦̽͊v̸̞͖͕̽̀͝e̸̻͚̦̓͋͘d̵̢͕͓̈́͝͝ h̵̝̞̔͆͘i̴̙͕̫͑̾͝m̸̼̟̘͐͑͝ a̴̠͉̔͐͘l̸̺͙͕̈́͆̓l̵̻̺͛́̐͜ a̵̺̦̔͛͜l̵̺̟͕͒͆͛o̵͚͖̿͛͛͜n̵͍̘͓͑̓̚g̸̼͇̈́͋. quentin grins doggishly down at koby and tilts his head. ]

It's no problem. We're saving the earth you know - saving water.

[ but he wants to kiss him - can feel the need to dive in and learn what its like to breathe under water. strange, the way he always goes back to water, but even more strange is that koby reminds him of the lake. water that can be volatile as much as it can be calm, but maybe it's just the alcohol. ]

Did you go to the party last night?

– yeah, maybe.

[it’s absurd. he’s here for a reason, he has a job to do, he has expectations riding on him from back in sydney. 500k by the end of the month, or he’s stuck back under alvida’s thumb indefinitely, earning the money she’s owed for raising him before he can even think of doing anything else. koby absolutely shouldn’t be wasting any time learning how to swim, of all things.

but – here he is, soaked and smelling of expensive british soap and looking up at a complete stranger and agreeing to let him teach swimming lessons. because he’s never learned. because he can, maybe. because instead of immediately trying to cop a feel like he’d expected, quentin was just smiling at him in a warm, pleasant, irresistible way.

the question has koby shrugging, leaning to grab some conditioner – might as well – and pouring some into his hands.] I go to all the parties. Figure that’s kinda the whole point of being here, right? Turn around, lemme get this sitting, you gotta let it stay for the full sixty seconds or it doesn’t work.

The parties are some of it, yeah. It's my first time here so I'm just getting the lay of the land and pretending to prepare for training. I don't know that I'm succeeding.

[ it's a nice view, koby like this in front of him, the water at his back, the pink of his hair matching the flush of heat in his cheeks. he wants to reach for him, get his arms around him, holding him close to his chest. he looks impossibly warm, and quentin has always been drawn to warmth. ]

Conditioner, too? I didn't realize I was in the shower with a master stylist.

[ but he turns, even tips his head back so koby can better reach, which puts a pretty arch in his back. ] The water stays warm here no matter how long you run it. Incredible, really. But - you know the party scene. Take me to one. Something tells me you know where all the fun spots are.

Yeah? My first time here too.

[he’s heard about it, of course – knows a good amount of the people here, either personally or by reputation. quentin’s been off koby’s radar, though, since olympians tend to be a little too clean-cut and image-focused to be susceptible to shady business ventures. that and the complete lack of anticipated handsy behavior has koby caught off guard. softened, somehow.

a swallow, an exhale, then he rubs his hands together as quentin turns around, bends back, the line of his spine going tight, arched. koby drags his eyes upwards with a stuttering inhale, before starting to work the conditioner through the heavy, silky curls tumbling down quentin’s back.]

Conditioner is like basic shit, dude. [the accent thickens, drawls now, another guard let down.] It’s one level above soap. I’m not making you use gel or mousse or any shit like that.

[koby blinks a couple times, running his fingers slowly through quentin’s hair, coating every inch with the silky, sweet-smelling conditioner.] Yeah? There are some cool spots, for sure. The casino they set up down in Otherworld kicks ass, and people are always throwing parties on the roof or in the garden or whatever. Kinda the Balfours’s whole thing.

[ it's silly to close his eyes but he does, the feeling of koby's fingers in his hair soothing, some of the tension further easing itself from his back. he's half listening, and even with his back turned he reaches back, idly steadying himself with a hand on koby's side. ]

I use conditioner normally, thank you, but I was giving you an out. I'm a gentleman first.

[ he can't even say it with full seriousness, huffing a little laugh. ] I'm not complaining, though. You have nice hands. And something tells me you'd be very good at poker. It's a real riot here, though. Parties at all times and every day - the money must be nice.

[ not that he doesn't have money - he has enough to be paid to compete, enough from his father that if it falls through there's plenty to be had there. but he doesn't want to rely on his dad - his dad who is kind and adoring but wants the best for him. quentin doesn't know what the best is, either.

his eyes open slowly and he lets out a low sigh. ] Turn around - I'll do yours while mine soaks in.

Edited (hit enter to soon!!!) 2025-06-22 23:34 (UTC)

Oh. [it’s soft, a response both to the words and to the gentle, almost soothing hand pressed to his side. koby’s eyes skip down for a moment, twining quentin’s dark curls around his fingers, and he lets out a soft huffing exhale.] Right. Yeah. Uh – well, it’s. In there. Soaking.

[a cleared throat and koby’s turning around quickly, nearly slipping, setting a hand against the tiled wall to support himself.] Y-Yeah, it’s – yeah. Riot. All kinds of money, yeah. Not that it’s much use here – I think any of the casino wins are set aside til we go home. Don’t really need money when room and board’s paid for.

[back to quentin, koby finds himself half-anticipating the press of those long, clever fingers into his hair, remembering the odd calm it had prompted before. he tells himself it’s because the almost-massage had helped with his headache. nothing else.]

I’ll show you the cool ones. The parties. You looking for, what – sponsorship deals? Is that how it works?

[ quentin can't help the reaction - reaching out to touch koby's side again and grip him, steady him until he's back up on his feet proper. his fingers linger a little longer, making sure he's not going to slip again before he pulls them away.

he squeezes some of the conditioner into his hands and reaches to slowly work it into koby's hair, ends to root, taking his time with it. he massages koby's scalp again, slow and steady, waiting for the conditioner to have time to settle into the hair, but this is an easy way to keep his hands busy. ]

No sponsorships. This trip is all fun before the work begins. Besides, the Olympics has their own sponsors, I don't have to worry about that, thankfully. But The cool parties? That's what I want to know.

[ he slides his fingers down to koby's nape, rubbing tension out of his neck. ]

Once I'm back in training it's non-stop until the games.

[quentin gives them away, the touches of his broad, warm hands, like it’s easy. like he’s not second-guessing every glancing bit of contact, paring out himself in neat, bite-sized portions. koby can’t even conceptualize it, that sort of open, easy warmth.

but he relaxes into it, bows his head at the return of the strong, warm, lingering touch down the back of his neck, through his hair. like welcoming something familiar home, a thought that flickers in his mind like a ghost of something s̴̜͔͔͆̌́o̸̝̭̓m̵̢̉͜ě̴̝ṫ̵͓͖h̸̢͔̐͜ḭ̵̤̲͑n̶̹̮̿̀̚g̶̹͚̈́̇]

Ahhh, you’re burdened with the good old-fashioned need to have a damn good time, huh? [koby grins over his shoulder, turning with his outgrown hair – pink at the tips, blond at the roots – flopped into his face, his cheeks rounded on that smile that reaches his eyes as they catch quentin’s.] I can help you with that.

[a soft chuckle, a relax into the working massage of those hands, knots of tension melting like ice, the water endless and plentiful and so, so warm.] Stick with me, Q-baby, I’ll take good care of you.

Hey hot stuff. How's the training going?

I'm on break, actually. Just finished trials, qualified. I get a little time off to enjoy myself before it's all work and no play. 😔

How's the family?

[ because that's about as loaded as "how's it going" ]

Edited (dont perceive me ) 2025-06-02 05:37 (UTC)

You did?? And you didn't say anything??? Q, that's amazing!

Judgmental hypocrites. As always. I'd rather talk about you. Do I get to come see you in Beijing?

I wanted it to be a surprise. It will be officially announced this weekend.

You can come see me whenever you like, you know. 😘 But also I get some travel expenses covered for me and a partner. They won’t know the difference.

How’s a summer in Beijing sound? Bet there’s all kinds of trouble we can get into. That and I miss you.

It sounds incredible. Even if I have to see Phelps beats your ass in every race 😋

More time for us to hang out and see the sights. I've never been.

Hey, can I ask you for a favor? It's a fun one, promise.

Edited 2025-06-02 15:44 (UTC)

At least you'd be seeing mine and Phelps' ass. It's a win win.

I've never been either - we can discover all Beijing has to offer. And hopefully live to tell the tale.

But shoot - what's the favor, Teo? If it's fun, you know I can't say no.

You’re not on the relay team, are you? Don’t get distracted.

I’m holding you to it!

Go on a couple really public and obvious dates with me? My dad’s hounding me about seeing older guys, but he always liked you. That’s not weird, is it?

No, thank god. I'm terrible at relay. 500m freestyle again.

Ooh, someone's in trouble, huh? Tell me what our first date's gonna be then I'll decide.

[ that's basically a yes, teo. ] Make sure it's fun and not weird. 😉

Well, I know you’ve got the endurance for it. You’ll win.

Our first date is the arcade. Nice and wholesome. But we’ll slip down to the nightclub after, drink a little too much, and knock over a priceless vase in one of the hallways while we’re making out. Got to keep it believable.

I'd wager my endurance is even better now than before.

But you'll win at all the arcade games, you always do. I guess that means I need to kiss you well enough to make you take out the vase. It's a trade off.

Second date should be polite - a picnic by the lake. It isn't my fault if you get wet and we end up having to wrestle in the water, is it?

You really are going for gold this time. Maybe we'll end up testing it out.

Not always. Not Mortal Kombat.

That would be my fault. I get so clumsy when I'm excited to get on my knees.

I'd like to show you how much I've improved if we do test it out.

I'll take the blame for it, how could I let anyone fault you when you look so pretty on your knees like that? Besides, clumsy is cute.

No, you should stay scandal free until the games. My reputation can't get worse, so I might as well take the heat.

Breaking a vase isn't what I'd call a scandal. I have people accusing me of fucking my coach to get my spot on the team.

A vase is a nice change of pace. Just have to make sure you don't get cut by the glass while you're down there.

Don't they televise the trials? That's bullshit.

...did you fuck him, though?

They do, which is why it's absurd. But they think there's favoritism - that it's why I was asked to qualify to begin with.

... he was disappointing. He came too quick. And he was grabby, but not in a sexy way. I didn't have to pay for my drinks though, so that was a plus.

Favoritism for what? My sport was football, so correct me if I'm wrong, but quickest time wins. Easy.

Rotten luck. Not the worst deal though, if he's not expecting any repeats.

The coach acts like he's spending more time with me - more attention. It's just a pissing contest.

And no, he knows there are no repeats. It was boring, Teo.

But tell me - the dating. What's the favor for? Who are we trying to fool, and why?

Have they tried just swimming faster?

My parents. They're all up in arms about "inappropriate age gaps".

Edited 2025-06-04 05:00 (UTC)

That's what I keep telling them. Skill issue.

But wait - age gaps? Who's the lucky old man?

No one. Well, I'm seeing someone, but it's not serious.

Harry. He's 37 and recently divorced. Papa's on a tear.

Ooh you're seeing someone? I haven't seen it in the tabloids yet so it must be juicy.

Also 37 isn't that bad, what's their deal?

I can trust you with a secret, right? Top secret.

They want to marry me off to someone richer or more famous, I guess.

My lips are sealed, sweetheart. Have been this whole time.

And gross that they think the can dictate that. We'll get fake married if that's the prerogative. Really cause a scene.

The tabloids have seen us together. Everyone has. They just don't know it's him.

They'd come around on it, if you can pull out the win.

Shit. No better way to hide a secret than in plain sight. Where's he now?

And I don't know about gold - guess I'll have to settle being your long-term trophy wife and you can have all the mistresses you want.

He's around here somewhere.

You know I wouldn't put you through that. The marraige part, at least.

Do you still want to be around him?

Also please. Marriage with benefits. We get the health insurance, all the clout, and we can both see who we want until we decide we like someone. Then we can have a very messy and dramatic breakup, get twitter hot on our tails and live happily ever after.

Sure. He’s sweet. Just a little intense.

God, you’re right. Marry me immediately so you can move to Europe and not have to worry about bullshit like health insurance. Might not be too late to swim for Italy.

Intense how? Hopefully only in a good way.

Oh see, now you're talking. Good healthcare, a hot husband, and an Italian villa? Say less. Let me get a ring. 😉

Oh, you know. He wants me to be more than the younger guy he fucks through his mid-life crises. Gotta calm him down every once in a while. He's great though. He'll make someone really happy after he wraps up his meltdown.

💍💍

And you think he's going to forget you once he's done with his meltdown?

Also how many carats are we talking? I'm not a gold Olympian yet!

They always do.

Depends on how you place :)

You're a difficult one to forget, sweetheart. Trust me.

... you're impossible. If I get gold, you get to pick the ring. We'll go shopping together.

[ fake marriage or not, he'll buy tim a cute little ring. ]

That's what they all say.

I have too much faith in your winning chances to take that deal, Quentin.

You'll believe it one day.

And wait - if you take the deal only you benefit from it. You could pick any ring in the world.

Phelps is going to kick my ass though, so you're probably making the safe bet. I just need to bring one more medal home and I think dad will be happy.

Don't try to marriage trap me! I looked it up, he doesn't even do the 400m. You're downplaying your chances so I'll agree.

Meaning...you're gonna quit after Beijing?

I might.

I don't know what I'd do after that, anyway. Dad will probably try and make me enlist again but that's not happening.

Enlist? Eww, no. You're not doing that. What do you WANT to do?

Is it childish to say I don't know?

Travel, maybe. But that takes a job, which makes money, and then I'd just be working to figure it out. Might as well swim, right?

No, I don't think so.

Are you okay? For money? If you need to get away for a while, I can make that happen, you know.

Money isn't it. We have enough of that thanks to my dad's rank.

Just feeling the itch for something different. Something different from swimming or shitty clubs. Beggars can't be choosers etc etc etc. 🙄

I appreciate it though. Maybe we take a trip sometime. Get friends together, spend a few weeks somewhere beachy and warm.

Well, I could always use the help. You'll probably get kicked off the team if you get yourself in trouble, but you'd be welcome.

I was telling Koby we need a vacation somewhere with a beach.

You'd be surprised what the team doesn't know.

I'm pretty sure your best friend might be my suite mate, btw. So agreed to vacation with all of us.

You think it won't make the news if an Olympian gets arrested in Italy?

You like him?

Who says I'll get arrested in Italy? That means we'd get caught.

He's cute. We showered together the other morning.

Ambitious. I like it.

Just showered?

I haven't been caught yet, you know. ;)

Just like I never kiss and tell, Teo.

Well, Koby does. So I'll find out, you know.

That's alright. It's more fun that way.

He's fun. You should have introduced us properly, and sooner.

This is his first time here! I've been occupied 😘

He fits right in.

Where'd you meet him?

We were chasing the same guy at some bar. Once we realized it we decided we should make out to get his attention but he ended up being boring. We hit it off though! We've been close ever since.

Hope the guy knew what he missed out on.

Well you better dance with me at the next party. Drag him in too sometime. He's easy on the eyes.

[ but it's always more than that, of course. ]

I'll save one for you at the orgy. Koby wouldn't miss one for the world.

You'll let me know if you need anything, won't you? I'm always happy to block out one of my morning sessions.

I might have to. All the training and the flight has my back in knots.

It'd be nicer if it was a different kind of tension that I had to deal with.

Massage seems like our first order of business, then. Wouldn't do to have our resident Olympian pulling a muscle in the pool.

A massage sounds great. When are you free?

I just qualified, so I have a few weeks off before training really begins.

Take your pick of morning or evening, and you can have me tomorrow.

I certainly won't dissuade you from Saltburnt's debauchery, but I'm here if you need a detox before training starts in earnest.

Morning. It'll be after my swim.

A detox session - I might need a few you know.

au inbox;

@koby

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