The First Seduction

[kcdave]

Chapter 1: The Gaze

The natatorium was a cathedral of echoes—water lapping, vents humming, the faint splash of a teammate finishing a late lap. I was 19, a sophomore butterfly specialist at State, my Speedo clinging to me like a second skin after a brutal practice. My chest heaved, water dripping from my hair, pooling at my feet. Most of the team had cleared out, but Ryan lingered.

He was our freestyle king, a junior with a body that made you believe in gods—long limbs, cut abs, shoulders broad from years of pulling water. His navy Speedo hugged him tight, the fabric stretched over his thighs, leaving little to the imagination. We’d been buddies since I joined the team, trading jabs over burgers and groaning about 6 a.m. swims. But tonight, something was off. He stood by the starting blocks, toweling off slow, his eyes catching mine in a way that made my stomach flip.

“Nice swim, Jake,” he said, voice smooth as he closed the gap between us. His shoulder brushed mine, casual but electric. I fumbled with my goggles, the straps knotting in my damp fingers. “Thanks,” I mumbled, glancing at the tiles. I’d always noticed him—how could you not? The way his Speedo framed his hips, the flex of his quads when he climbed out of the pool. I’d told myself it was envy, wanting that ease, that power.

He smirked, tossing the towel aside. “Almost had me in that relay last week. You’re getting cocky.” His tone was light, but his gaze roamed—down my chest, over the wet fabric clinging to my groin. My breath hitched. I’d caught myself staring at him too—showers, warm-ups, those moments when his laugh made my pulse jump. I’d buried it deep, chalked it up to team vibes. Now, with him this close, that excuse felt thin.

“You ever think about what else goes down here?” he asked, nodding toward the locker room. His grin was teasing, but his eyes dared me. I froze, water dripping down my spine. “Like what?” I croaked, playing dumb. He stepped closer, his bare toes brushing my puddle. “You know what I mean, Jake.” His voice dropped, and I couldn’t look away.

Chapter 2: The Spark

The air thickened, chlorine mixing with the heat off his skin. Ryan’s hand hovered near my hip, not touching yet, but close enough I felt the promise. “What are you getting at?” I asked, voice cracking. My mind raced—every glance I’d stolen, every time I’d lingered watching him adjust his Speedo. Was he seeing through me?

He shrugged, casual but deliberate. “We’re always here, half-naked, pushing each other. Ever wonder what’d happen if we… pushed more?” His fingers grazed my hip then, light as a ripple, and I flinched—not from disgust, but from the jolt that shot through me. My Speedo tightened, betraying me, and I prayed he didn’t notice.

“You’re screwing with me,” I said, half-laughing, half-pleading. He didn’t laugh back. “Am I?” His hand stayed, firmer now, thumb brushing the edge of my suit. I swallowed hard, eyes darting to his—green, sharp, locked on mine. My brain screamed retreat, but my body leaned in, drawn to the heat of him.

I’d admired him for months—his form cutting the water, the way his Speedo rode low after a swim, exposing that V of muscle. I’d told myself it was normal, guy stuff. But now, with his touch searing my skin, I couldn’t lie anymore. “Ryan, I—” I started, but he cut me off, stepping so close his chest nearly brushed mine. “Don’t think. Just let it happen.”

Then he kissed me. It was sudden, rough—lips crashing, teeth bumping, tasting of pool water and sweat. My hands shot to his shoulders, gripping the slick muscle, and I kissed back, clumsy but desperate. He groaned, low and hungry, and the sound flipped a switch. I pressed into him, our Speedos rubbing, the friction sparking something wild.

Chapter 3: The Play

We stumbled back, hitting a bench, a tangle of wet limbs and racing pulses. Ryan’s hands roamed—down my back, over my ass, tugging me closer. I mirrored him, palms sliding over his chest, tracing the ridges I’d stared at too long. His Speedo strained, and mine matched, the fabric no match for what was building.

He pulled back, panting, forehead pressed to mine. “You good?” he rasped. I nodded, dizzy. “Yeah.” He grinned, then dove back in, kissing my neck, teeth grazing. I shivered, hands slipping lower, brushing the bulge in his suit. He hissed, hips jerking, and I froze—then did it again, bolder. “Fuck, Jake,” he muttered, and I laughed, shaky but thrilled.

His fingers hooked my Speedo’s waistband, tugging it down slow, teasing. I tensed, then helped, kicking it off. He followed, his suit hitting the floor, and there we were—naked, hard, staring. I’d seen him bare in the showers, but this was different. This was ours. He reached for me, hand wrapping around me, and I gasped, grabbing him in return. We played like that, stroking, exploring, every touch a revelation.

“Been wanting this,” he said, voice thick, guiding my hand. “Since when?” I asked, breathless. “Since you strutted around in that damn Speedo after that 100-fly.” I flushed, then smirked, tightening my grip. “Pervert.” He laughed, then kissed me, and we lost ourselves in the rhythm—hands moving, bodies pressing, the bench creaking under us.

Chapter 4: The Leap

The air was heavy, our breaths loud in the quiet. Ryan slid off the bench, kneeling between my legs, his hands on my thighs. “This okay?” he asked, eyes searching. My throat tightened, but I nodded, heart pounding. He smirked, then leaned in, lips brushing me—soft, then firm. I groaned, loud and raw, hands fisting in his hair.

He took me in, slow at first, then deeper, and I unraveled—every nerve screaming, every thought gone. The heat, the wet, the way he moved—it was too much, and not enough. “Ryan,” I gasped, hips bucking. He hummed, the vibration pushing me closer, and I clung to him, lost in it.

When I couldn’t take more, I tugged him up, kissing him hard, tasting myself. “My turn,” I said, voice rough. He grinned, sitting back, legs spread. I knelt, hands shaking as I gripped him. He was hot, heavy, and I hesitated—then licked, tentative. His moan spurred me on, and I took him deeper, mimicking what he’d done. “Fuck, Jake,” he growled, fingers in my hair, guiding but not forcing.

We traded like that—sucking, teasing, learning each other—until the tension broke. He came first, shuddering, and I followed, spilling over the edge with his name on my lips. We collapsed, sweaty and spent, sprawled across the bench, the locker room silent around us.

Chapter 5: The Dawn
Reality hit slow—the cold bench, the faint drip of a shower. Ryan lay beside me, arm over his eyes, chest heaving. I stared at the ceiling, naked, my Speedo a crumpled heap nearby. What had we done?

“Guess we’re not just teammates,” he said, rolling to face me, grin lazy. I snorted. “Yeah.” Inside, I churned—gay? Bi? I didn’t know, but I’d loved every second with him. “You freaking out?” he asked, sharp as ever. “A little,” I admitted. He bumped my shoulder. “First time’s weird. You’ll figure it out.”

“First time?” I echoed. He nodded. “Not mine. Knew I liked guys forever. You’re new, though.” I swallowed. “Never thought I’d… you know.” He smirked. “You do now.” We stood, grabbing our gear, and hit the showers. I didn’t look away this time—he winked, and I laughed.

Next practice, he brushed my hand under the water, a secret in plain sight. I didn’t have answers, but with Ryan, I wanted to swim toward them.

End part 1 of 2.

 

[kcdave]

Part 2.

Chapter 6: The Invitation

It was a Friday, three weeks after that locker room night, and the air between Ryan and me had shifted—charged, like the moment before a storm breaks. We’d kept it subtle at practice—stolen glances, brushes in the water—but the tension was a live wire. I couldn’t stop replaying it: his hands, his mouth, the way he’d unraveled me. I wanted more.

After a late swim, I caught him by the pool deck, toweling off, his Speedo dark against his skin. “Hey,” I said, voice casual despite my pulse. “You free this weekend?” He raised an eyebrow, smirking. “Why? Got a hot date?” I rolled my eyes, shoving nerves down. “Nah, just… come over. My place. We can chill.”

His grin widened, sharp and knowing. “Chill, huh? Sure, Jake.” We set it for Saturday, and I spent the next day cleaning my cramped off-campus apartment—vacuuming, hiding dirty socks, pretending it wasn’t a big deal. It was. That night, he showed up in jeans and a tight tee, a bottle of cheap red wine in hand. “Fancy,” I teased, letting him in. He shrugged. “Figured we’d need it.”

I’d cooked—pasta, nothing gourmet, but edible. We sat at my wobbly kitchen table, plates steaming, wine poured into mismatched glasses. The first sip hit warm, loosening my tongue. “So,” I said, twirling spaghetti, “you ever think about that night?” He leaned back, sipping slow. “Every damn day. You?” I nodded, cheeks heating. “Yeah. A lot.”

Dinner blurred into laughter, stories about meets and dumb teammates. The wine bottle emptied, and I felt bold, buzzed. “Hey,” I said, standing to clear plates. “Why don’t we smoke a couple bowls? I’ve got some weed.” His eyes lit up. “Hell yeah. Lead the way.” I grabbed my stash from a drawer—a small pipe, some green—and we settled on my couch, the night stretching ahead like an open lane.

Chapter 7: The Haze

The first hit was sharp, earthy, curling smoke into my lungs. I passed the pipe to Ryan, watching him inhale, lips wrapping around it like they’d wrapped around me. He exhaled slow, a cloud drifting between us, and grinned. “Good stuff.” I took another hit, the room softening, edges blurring. “Yeah,” I said, voice thick. “Relaxes me.”

We smoked in quiet, passing it back and forth, the couch creaking under us. The wine’s warmth met the weed’s haze, and I sank deeper into the cushions, legs brushing his. He stretched out, arm along the backrest, fingers grazing my shoulder. “You’re different tonight,” he said, eyes half-lidded but sharp. “Loose.”

“Blame the weed,” I quipped, but it wasn’t just that. It was him—his presence, his heat, the way his tee clung to his chest. I met his gaze, green and steady, and something clicked. The air thickened, not with smoke, but with us. I leaned in, slow, testing. He didn’t pull back.

Our lips met—soft at first, wine-sweet, then deeper. His hand slid to my neck, pulling me closer, and I groaned, tasting smoke and him. We kissed like we were starving, tongues tangling, hands roaming. “Fuck, Jake,” he muttered, breaking for air, and I laughed, dizzy. “Yeah.”

Clothes came off fast—tees tossed, jeans kicked away, until we were down to boxers, hard and obvious. I tugged his off, then mine, and we paused, naked, breathing hard. His body was a map I’d memorized— swimmer’s lines, tan skin, the curve of his cock. “Bedroom?” I asked, voice rough. He nodded, and we stumbled there, crashing onto my unmade bed, the night tipping into something new.

Chapter 8: The First Touch
The mattress dipped under us, sheets cool against my back. Ryan hovered over me, knees bracketing my hips, his hands braced by my head. “You sure?” he asked, voice low, and I nodded, pulling him down. We kissed again, slower, savoring—lips, necks, chests. His skin was salt and musk, and I traced it with my tongue, earning a shiver.

My hands slid lower, cupping his ass, firm from years of kicks. He groaned, grinding against me, our cocks brushing, slick with want. “Been thinking about this,” I admitted, voice raw. He smirked, kissing my jaw. “Me too. All the damn time.”

I flipped us, pinning him beneath me, and he laughed, surprised but willing. I kissed down his chest, nipples pebbling under my tongue, then lower—past his abs, the trail of hair, until I reached him. He was hard, leaking, and I licked, slow and deliberate. “Fuck,” he gasped, hips bucking, and I took him in, sucking deep like he’d done for me.

He writhed, hands in my hair, moans filling the room. I worked him—tongue, lips, a rhythm I found fast—until he tugged me up, panting. “Your turn.” He pushed me back, mirroring me, his mouth hot and eager. I groaned, loud, clutching the sheets as he sucked, his hands roaming my thighs. We traded like that—teasing, tasting—until the edge loomed too close. “Wait,” I said, pulling him up. “Want more.” His eyes darkened. “Yeah?”

Chapter 9: The Deep End

We fumbled for supplies—lube from my nightstand, a condom I’d stashed months ago. Ryan lay back, legs spread, watching me with a mix of trust and heat. “You done this before?” he asked, voice steady but curious. I shook my head, slicking my fingers. “Nope. You?” He grinned. “Once. Liked it.”

I started slow, circling him, then sliding a finger in. He tensed, then relaxed, breath hitching. “Good?” I asked, and he nodded, eyes fluttering. “Keep going.” I did—two fingers, then three—stretching, coaxing, his moans guiding me. “Fuck, Jake,” he said, rocking against me. “Now.”

I rolled the condom on, hands shaking, and positioned myself. He pulled me down, kissing me as I pressed in—slow, tight, overwhelming. He gasped, gripping my shoulders, and I froze. “You okay?” He nodded, breathless. “Yeah. Move.” I did, tentative thrusts building to a rhythm, his legs wrapping around me.

It was raw, messy—sweat, grunts, the slap of skin. He pushed back, meeting me, and I felt it—control, power, a fit that clicked. “Harder,” he urged, and I gave it, driving deep, his moans spurring me on. He came first, shuddering, spilling between us, and I followed, collapsing as the world spun. We lay there, tangled, catching our breath, the night sealing us together.

Chapter 10: The Weekend

Saturday blurred into Sunday—a haze of sex, sleep, and discovery. We woke tangled, fucked again—him riding me, then me behind him, learning each other’s edges. Between rounds, we ate cereal naked, smoked more, laughed about nothing. The weed kept us loose, the wine long gone, but it was us—his hands, my mouth—that fueled it.

Sunday night, sprawled on my bed, he traced my chest. “I’m a bottom,” he said, half-smirking, like he’d just figured it out. I laughed, kissing his temple. “Guess I’m a top.” It fit—me leading, him yielding, a dynamic we’d stumbled into. “Good weekend?” I asked. He grinned, pulling me close. “Best.”

Practice loomed Monday, but we’d carved something here—raw, real, ours. The water had brought us together; now, we’d swim in this too.

The End