? ? ?
Thecommon room was empty when Lex got there at half one. He’d showered and put on clean shorts and a vest, then brushed his teeth with extra attention. The bruise along his jawline had deepened to a colour that existed somewhere between aubergine and deep regret. He looked like he’d been hit by a car, but he smelt fantastic because he’d used his good cologne: Dior Homme. It made him smell expensive. Barnaby claimed to hate it, but that never stopped him from nuzzling up against Lex anyway.
Barnaby was already on the sofa.
He was sitting at his end with his legs crossed beneath him and a book open on his knee. He was wearing the oversized jumper that Lex once mentioned he liked on him. It made Barnaby look small and delicate, which he wasn’t, not really, but the excess fabric drowned his shoulders and swallowed his frame. It made Lex want to pick him up and throw him over his shoulder like a caveman hauling a conquest he was about to ravage back to his cave.
He looked up when Lex walked in, and his eyes softened. He gave Lex a small smile. “Congratulations,” he said.
“Cheers, Barns.”
“That’s two, then.”
“That’s two.”
Barnaby closed his book. He set it carefully on the arm of the sofa. Lex sprawled one cushion closer to him than usual, close enough that his knee pressed against Barnaby’s thigh. Barnaby didn’t move away, but his eyes narrowed, tracking the grin that Lex was making no effort to suppress.
“I’m not going to give you a wet willy, Lex.”
Lex grinned. “Yes. You are.” He let his voice drop to a low and intimate register.
“No. That’s a fucking disgusting tradition! We do a stirrup cup, in the equestrian team. I suppose you…boxing ‘blokes’ could drink champagne from your glove after a win, like a semi-civilised person.”
“Barns.” Lex leaned in, slid his hand around the back of Barnaby’s neck, and kissed him. He pulled Barnaby’s lower lip between his teeth, bit down gently, and when Barnaby’s mouth fell open on a gasp, Lex licked into the heat of him, tasting him slow and deep. Lex took Barnaby’s hand and pressed it flat against the hard length of him through his shorts. Barnaby’s fingers spread, mapping the shape of him, and Lex’s hips jerked forward before he could stop them. Thank fuck for the fabricbetween them, because without it, with Barnaby’s bare hand on his bare skin, he’d have been done embarrassing himself in about thirty seconds. “I want you to give me awet willy, Barnaby Fitznorman-Bicester.”
“Oh,” Barnaby breathed. His eyes went wide and dark. “Oh,” he said again, even more quietly.
He swallowed. The television was on behind them, another game show, a woman in a green bodysuit navigating some kind of rotating obstacle.
Lex laced his fingers through Barnaby’s, got on his feet, and tugged. “Let’s go to my room, Barnaby.”
“All right,” Barnaby said.
? ? ?
Lex’sroom was identical to every other room in the Olympic Village. It held a narrow bed, a single window, and had walls so thin he could hear the bloke next door brushing his teeth. But Lex had won two golds, and he was standing in the doorway with Barnaby Fitznorman-Bicester, so that made it the absolute best room in Tokyo.
He locked the door behind them and turned around. Barnaby was standing in the middle of the room with his hands at his sides, holding himself like he’d been called into the headmaster’s office and wasn’t sure what for.
“Right,” Lex said. “Strip.”
Barnaby reached for the hem of his jumper and pulled it over his head in one smooth motion. The oversized thing turnedinside out as it came off, and Barnaby folded it carefully. He set it on the desk. Then he reached for his belt.
Lex felt a spike of pure lust, watching him work the leather through the loops of his jeans. Thank god for athletes being pre-conditioned to follow instructions, and for the discipline that had built this masterwork of a lean body that was now slowly being exposed to Lex’s hungry eyes.
Barnaby’s fingers moved to the button of his jeans, popped it, and pulled down the zip. He pushed the denim down his thighs and stepped out of them, and now he was standing in the middle of Lex’s room in black boxer briefs that sat low on his hips and left absolutely nothing to speculation.
He was lean and pale, his hipbones cutting sharp shadows across his lower abdomen. His chest was smooth, though a line of pale blond hair ran from his navel down to the waistband of his pants.
Lex committed it all to memory. This beauty. Knowing that only the strangest twist of fate had brought them together, and that normally someone like Barnaby existed behind velvet ropes in a world where Lex would be given strict instructions to wash his hands before being allowed within touching distance of this golden boy.
“Those too,” Lex said, jerking his chin at the boxer briefs.
Barnaby hooked his thumbs under the waistband and pushed them down. He stepped out of them, and now he was standing there naked, shoulders back, his spine straight. His cock was hard, flushed pink against his pale skin, and Lex’s own cock thickened within his shorts.
“Fuck me,” Lex said quietly. “You’re gorgeous, Barns.”
Barnaby’s ears went pink. He looked away, jaw tight, and Lex grinned. He pushed off the door and crossed the room. Pulled his vest over his head, dropped it on the floor, and shoved his shorts down his thighs. His cock was already half-hard, thickening as he stepped out of the fabric, and when he straightened up Barnaby’s gaze dropped to his crotch.
