Making It (Short Gay Sports Erotica)

MAKING IT

By

Louis Stevens

KINDLE EDITION

* * * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

DeviantErotica.co.uk on Kindle

Making It

Copyright © 2013 DeviantErotica.co.uk

Thank you for downloading this eBook. 

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental.  The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

*****

MAKING IT

Drew was finding it difficult to concentrate. He knew the moment he hit the water, life would be bearable again. Everything made more sense off-land than it did on solid ground - life always did. He could still hear the crowd going wild, but it wasn’t right. They didn’t cheer for him. He could hear the quiet through the loud cheers. He knew that within the roaring crowd hid a few occupied chairs, people who didn’t get up and cheer with the rest of the crowd, sitting quietly, motionless, as his dreams were shed to tethers.

Before he allowed his mind to drift back to that day, he ran the short way to the edge of the pool and made the jump. All the bad memories faded as water soon engulfed his being. He was home. Pushing his lungs to the limit, he stayed under for as long as his burning lungs would allow him. He forced his head to the surface out of pure need for oxygen. Drew made a satisfying gasp for fresh air before noticing his ASCA coach standing at the edge of the pool. Coach’s arms were crossed across his swimmer-chest as usual, the omniscient scowl of disapproval peering at him from behind his black shades.

“Got that out of your system today?” said James.

Drew ignored him and dipped his head backwards, letting the water run through his hair again before making his way over to his coach. He took the swimming cap and goggles from James, trying not to notice the thin trunks stretched over his coach’s bulky thighs. He instead, expertly put on the gear before shooting back into the pool.

“You know me, I’m always happiest inside the pool.”

“Get it out of your system, we have work to do,” James said.

His coach’s all-business approach was one of the things he appreciated most of him, most of the time. Sometimes, though, like today, it got on his nerves, and not in a good way.

“Did you do your drylands?”

“Did you get out of bed this morning?”

“Well, if you’re making quips already then you’re half way out of your funk.”

“Who said anything about a funk?” Drew said as started his usual warm up routine.

“Get on with it,” James said and blew his whistle a few seconds longer than usual, for extra emphasis it seemed.

Drew didn’t need to be told twice. He got to work on his warm up routine and got blissfully lost in the monotonous exercises he’d been doing for years and had been doing in his sleep for almost longer.

He was called out of his reverie by the shrill of his coach’s loud whistle and finished his lap before taking off the goggles and catching his breath.

“Once you’re done with the easy stuff, we can get started on the routine,” his coach said.

Drew had gotten caught up in his warm ups and knew he would probably have spent the entire practice session keeping to the easy stuff if he didn’t have his coach to drill him. But he still didn’t look forward to practicing his fly.

“Get on with it,” James said impatiently.

Drew shot back into the pool and started working on his butterfly stroke.

“I’m still not happy,” James said as Drew made his way to the showers.

Practice was finished for the day but his time with coach wasn’t done yet. It was time to rehash the day’s practice, work on pointers, strategize, emphasize his weak points and work on a way to improve, develop, advance and finally place on the team.

“You and I both,” Drew said before hitting the showers.

He stripped off his trunks and crumpled it at the entrance to the locker room. The hot water hit him like hot lava spewing from the shower head. While the pool was his main therapy, hot showers were his after-therapy. The hot water pounded his sore muscles and cleaned the chlorine off his skin and out of his hair. It burned his body and left him red hot, reminding him that he was still breathing.

As the buzz of the practice session wore off and the shower was stretched to its end, the memories threatened to overtake his mind again and Drew could feel the cloud start to settle back over him. The last four years had been a waste, but he was determined this would be his time.

*****

Chapter Two

“Why are you so vested in him?” Alice asked.

James stared at his beloved friend and topped her wine glass in lieu of an answer. Her gaze didn’t let up and he settled back into the recliner.

“He’s one in a million,” he said eventually.

“He dropped you bad,” she said. “But then everyone deserves a second chance,” she conceded.

“Are you playing devil’s advocate and representing the state at the same time?” he smiled, referencing to her tough legal persona.

“I just don’t want to see you waste another four years of your life,” she said finally.

He knew his good friend was only looking out for him. But he couldn’t let it slide.

“Drew just barely missed out of the qualifier,” he said. He knew he sounded defensive, and visibly relaxed.

“You spent four years getting him to the
USA Swimming Olympic Trials Swim Meet and he messed it up in the worst possible way. He missed it by a millisecond. It was your shot just as much as his. He didn’t just disappoint himself that day,” she said. “He only has a short window left to compete, to really compete. You know this. He’s got one more, at the most two more chances, then he’s basically out of chances,” she said.

Drew knew all this, better than his assistant district attorney friend.

“I can get him to the Olympics,” Drew said finally.

He sounded confident, almost as confident as he really felt. He believed in Drew, and believed in his talent. If only he could get the kid to step out of his own head.

“I’ve seen hundreds of swimmers in my years Ally, gifted swimmers, but none like him.”

“As long as you’re sure,” Alice said, “you’re not getting any younger yourself,” she finished.

“Is that another thirties joke?” he said.

He tried to scowl at her but was too tipsy to care and smiled instead.

“Once you hit the big three zero, it’s just downhill from there,” she said. “Believe you me.”

“Well, we’ll always have our Wednesday nights,” he said and topped up his own glass of wine and smiled, oblivious to the sadness behind his friend’s eyes.

*****

“You’re late,” James said.

“Barely,” Drew said as made his way past.

“You know the rules,” James said. He knew he sounded tough, but it was necessary too, he knew.

“Seriously, dude, I know you mean well, but back the hell off.”

He could see something was up with Drew, but he was a firm believer in leaving your shit at the door and stepping up to the plate when needed.

“You couldn’t let me know you were going to be late? Just because you’re father’s paying my fee doesn’t mean I’m fine with having my time wasted. I’ve got a waiting list the length of my arm of serious athletes waiting for my call,” he said.

“What the fuck? It’s the first time I’ve been late all season,” Drew said defensively while hurrying into his swimming gear.

“And it’s damn well going to be the last,” James said, annoyed by his charge’s bad attitude.

Having a bit of a headache from the leftover hangover of the night before, he made his way over to Drew and grabbed hold of his toned shoulders, forcing him to look him in the eyes.

“What happened?” James asked.

He could see the struggle behind green eyes as Drew struggled with the question of opening up to him or not.

“My father pays you to coach me, not to play shrink to me,” Drew finally said and shrugged off his hold on his shoulders before covering his chest with the soon to be drenched lycra tight bodysuit.

James had been noticing the outline of his swimmer’s body more and more these days. The boy was filling out in his early twenties, and couldn’t even be classified as a boy any more. He was turning into a man, and the training was developing his body in all the right places. If only maturity came with these growth spurts.

“You’re not doing it right,” James said.

His coach sounded far more exasperated than usual. Normally he had to screw up a lot more than this before he got his coach to this level of annoyance. It must have been the stupid quip about the shrink that had set him off, he thought. He just didn’t want to go there with anyone yet, especially not his coach. No use in berating himself further, he thought, and instead of showing vulnerability or remorse for his actions, Drew did what he did best and challenged the authority in his life.

“Well if you’re such a goddamn expert, get in here and show me the perfect fly,” he said.

James did an expert backward dive from the diving board.

“Show off,” Drew said under his breath as James came up for air.

“The secret to the perfect butterfly stroke,” James said, “is the body-dolphin. And speed. You can’t hesitate. You have to know it off by heart,” he said as his hands glided off Drew’s body, helping him to get the posture right.

The guy was passionate, Drew conceded, and it was infectious. Soon the bad mood was lifted, and they got involved. James was so graceful in the water, more than he could ever hope to be. Drew felt most comfortable in the water, but he saw the deftness with which James carried himself inside the pool, the ease, the joy that came with being in his element, imparting his expertise. He also noticed his coach’s muscular swimmer’s chest, the water catching in his lightly furred chest, rolling down each time he lifted himself out of the water.

“Why didn’t you ever go pro?” Drew blurted out while taking a two minute break from practice and doing freestyle strokes.

He saw the carefree expression on his coach’s face replaced with a slight shadow of furrowed brows and the familiar, set crease lines. He instantly regretted the question. Readying himself for a rebuff, he was surprised by the directness of his coach’s reply.

“I didn’t have what it takes to make the big time,” he said.

Drew watched him as he continued with his K-treads. He just imagined his coach’s heavy glutes contracting and releasing underwater and felt his lycra start to stretch over a certain part of his body. He couldn’t take his eyes off his coach, however.

“…but you do,” Drew said, and within a split second his coach had made his way to him from the other side of the pool.

“Enough with the small talk,” James smiled. “Time to get to work again,” he said.

Drew found it difficult to concentrate for the rest of practice, with his coach spending the rest of the session in the pool with him helping him with his technique, but he gave it his best shot.