Synchronised Motion (BoyxBoy)

Chapter 15

I feel a fire. A burning.

I grit my teeth pushing through it. An effort that feels twice as hard and a body that feels three times too heavy. But I welcome the burn with open arms. I embrace the pain because it's distracting; which is reward enough.

I'm not following any routine or pace, I'm just running. Fast. Away from everything. I'm not a runner—not by a long shot. The only sport I'm half decent at is swimming, obviously. But I'm still band from the pool so this feels like my only option.

When my emotions feel like too much, I've learnt that making your body hurt is a pretty good distraction. A pain simpler to focus on.

A student runs past me, her looking a lot less red then I can only imagine mine would look like. She looks graceful, each stride effortless and breathing measured. She's wearing a dark grey top.

Gray.

Oliver's boxers were gray.

My face burns, and I'm pretty sure it isn't from my lack of fitness this time.

I run harder.

My breathing is loud now, loud enough that I can hear it over my music. Perspiration between my shoulder blades and curls of hair sticking to my damp forehead. My thigh muscle won't quit shaking and it's starting to bug me, but I keep on running.

I look up to the sky, avoiding looking at the grey top girl as she runs past me. The sky is blue.

Blue, like Oliver's eyes.

Oh fuck.

I close my eyes. My legs are on fire, my chest burning, but it is my mind that is crippling me the most.

I run harder, my distraction not efficient enough.
Not distracting enough.

I look at my feet. At the pavement of the road below my feet. The sound of my feet hitting the road. White lines guiding the road.

White.

My sheets are white...

Sheets that had a boy in them last night and this morning.

My mind flashes back to this morning...

The bed's too small. The bed's too small and Oliver's too close. The bed's too small, Olivers too close, and I'm painfully hard right now.

I tighten my jaw, embarrassed. It's not my fault, I try to reassure myself.
He's just... he's breathing on my collar. Hot breathe. And he's just touching my skin. And he's topless.

He's just a really pretty boy that is half-naked in my bed.

I bite my lip. Hard.

A pretty boy in my bed that's also my swimming captain. My biggest rival. My enemy.

And he's in MY bed.

It's innocent enough, he's not even trying, not even doing anything. But I'm horny and I can't remember the last time I... yeah...

And just thinking about that now makes me want to shove a pillow over my face. But I can't, because Oliver is asleep very close to me, and if I move he is sure to wake up.

Did I mention he's topless? Cause he is.

The sheet hugs around his hip giving a generous view of his toned chest well established from countless hours of swimming. Years of it has made his body strong, primed for swimming. His hair is tousled, curly strands falling across his forehead. His pink lips parted slightly and light freckles dusted across his nose and the tops of his cheeks.