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Title: GMC2 – Going For Gold
Pairing: Evan Lysacek/Michael Phelps/Apolo Ohno/Shaun White
Rating: NC-17
Series: Gold Medal Club 2, sequel to Joining the Club
Summary: The GMC isn’t about to miss out on Michael Phelps becoming the Greatest Olympian of All Time. Set during the London Olympics 2012.



When Michael gets back to his hotel room after a late night of interviews and press inquiries, he’s only sort of surprised to see he has company. With these guys not much they do is surprising. Though he is excited to see just who it is who’s there waiting for him. Evan is sprawled out on one end of the couch, Shaun stretched down the length of it with his head resting in Evan’s lap, eating cheese pop-corn by the handful. Apolo is kicked back in the adjacent arm chair an open beer in one hand, the other raised in greeting.

“Mikey! Good, you’re back! I was beginning to think we were going to have to send out a search party,” Apolo says with a grin, holding out a second beer. Mike takes it from him, bending down to press a kiss of greeting on Apolo’s smiling mouth.

“That was a dirty rotten trick showing up at the press conference, ‘Polo. Do you know how distracting it can be to get a boner in front of 500 reporters?” he asks. Apolo laughs, sinking lower in the chair. Mike continues past him to greet the others in their little club, setting his beer down on the end table as he goes.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he asks, climbing up to straddle Shaun’s waist, but Michael focuses his attention on Evan who, while still shy at the start of each encounter, had been fully ingrained in their little group for a good 2 ½ years now. Michael leans closer, letting his mouth graze Evan’s as he speaks. “You are not supposed to be here,” Michael says softly. “You are supposed to be back in LA training like a good little Olympic hopeful!” Evan shrugs.

“My manager wanted me to announce my return to competitive skating. Since the TODAY show is in London, and it’s all about Olympic sport at the moment I thought it would be a good place to come make my declaration,” Evan explains, a self-satisfied smile stretching across his face. Michael smirks pressing his lips to Evan’s. He hasn’t seen him in ages, both of them stuck on opposite sides of the states, too busy training to just hang out. Evan hums in response opening his mouth to Michael’s tongue.

“What about me! I’m here too you know!” Shaun says, his head coming up to butt Michael in the sternum. Michael breaks the kiss rolling his eyes and he sits back. He gazes down at Shaun with a quirk of the lips.

“I knew you were here. You sat with my mother at the aquatic center. Did you think I wouldn’t hear about that?” he asks. Shaun huffs.

“That doesn’t mean I don’t get a proper hello!” Shaun replies. Michael laughs, even as he’s moving back to lower his mouth to Shaun’s. Shaun meets him halfway, teeth nipping at Michael’s lips in retaliation, before letting himself be kissed properly. Michael groans, feeling hands tugging at his jacket, while others, slid down the back of his jeans. God he loved these guys and their complete lack of small-talk.

But then Apolo’s there, clearing his throat, one bare foot tapping against the carpet, as he reaches out and tugs on Michael’s ear. He breaks the kiss with Shaun lifting his head to eye the other man.

“Yes?” he asks. Apolo smirks, but turns his eyes to Shaun, who has his mouth affixed to Michael’s throat, and Evan, who’s using his long arms to tug Michael’s shirt up his back to bunch at his shoulders.

“Sorry. I called dibs. They’ll be plenty of time to play with these two later. For now, you’re mine!” Apolo grins.

Apolo stands up and drags Michael toward the back bedroom. He completely ignores the way Shaun rolls over in place and dives for Evan’s face. They step inside the dimly lit room, closing the door on a loud moan and the sound of a lamp falling off a table. Michael stares at the door wide-eyed.

“Should we?” he asks, pointing with one long finger. Apolo shakes his head taking a seat.

“Nah. I’ll pay for any damages. Now come here. I want to talk.”

“Talk? About what?” Michael asks, sitting on the end of the bed beside Apolo.

“I know you’re probably sick of talking about it by now, but how are you doing? With the retirement? I know how it can be.”

“Good. I’m ready. It feels right. And I’m having a good time saying goodbye. It’s good to go out on top. You know?” he asks. Apolo does.

“That’s kind of how I feel about things too. Vancouver was a great way to end things.”

“So, you’re not going back for 2014?” Mike asks. Apolo frowns and shrugs his shoulders.

“My heart’s just not in it anymore. Not really. And if I wanted to I would have to dive into hard core training right now. I’d completely disappear into the depths of Utah for the next year and a half, and I’m just not willing to do that right now. I want to travel. I want to see the world, and eat food that isn’t boiled and whose nutritional value isn’t carefully kept track of.” He flops down on the mattress next to Michael. “It’s time for me. Like it’s time for you,” he smiles. “Next big plans?” he asks. Michael shrugs.

“I signed on to do this golf show and I want to travel, see all the places I didn’t really get to see the first time four times I circled the globe. I’m just tired man.” He rubs at his eyes, groaning and flopping to lay out flat across the big bed.

“I understand Mike, I really do. You don’t have to explain that to me,” Apolo reaches over and ruffles Michael’s short hair. They lay in silence for a minute just staring at each other. Apolo breaks it when he grins suddenly. “Enough chit-chat. Let’s get naked. Want a congratulatory BJ?” Michael pretends to think about it for a minute, then sits up and tugs off his t-shirt.

“Sure, one more won’t hurt,” he laughs at the scandalized look on Apolo’s face.

“Mr. Phelps, do you mean to tell me, that you’ve been accepting congratulations hummers from people who aren’t me?” he says. Michael laughs.

“Maybe…” Apolo pushes him back to lay flat, climb up to straddle his hips again.

“Tell me, who was it?! You know I can keep a secret!”

“Let’s just say that some of those little gymnasts sure can suck like a hoover.”

Apolo’s hysterical laughter has Evan and Shaun pouring into the room, hair rumpled, and naked skin already red and sweaty.

“What? What did we miss?” Evan asks, scratching at his lower back. Apolo just shakes his head, reaching out to yank Shaun down on the bed behind him.

“It doesn’t matter. Get in here guys. I don’t trust you not to break something else if left unsupervised.”

Which is how Michael finds himself as the center of everyone’s attention for a change. With four people that rarely happens. Usually the end up paired off, two and two, or on a rare occasion when someone can’t make it out to a meet up, the three who can sort of trade off their attention so no one feels left out. But this time it is clearly all about Michael.

He finds himself on his hands and knees, panting and begging, with sweat dripping down onto the sheets below him. He has Shaun behind him, hips and cock rocking forward in a driving pounding rhythm that is all business. It’s the Shaun of the half pipe, mid-run. All controlled movement, and tightly coiled tension. Michael doesn’t get this very often, preferring to top himself. But this, nothing is like this. He cries out, and feels Evan’s hand tightening on the back of his neck, fingers sliding through his hair, and tugging him forward. Michael sucks in a quick desperate breath before sucking Evan’s dick back down his throat. He tastes delicious, heady, and lean, and the half-broken cry he always lets out when you take him deep, makes Michael hum in appreciation. He momentarily loses track of Apolo. Which doesn’t surprise him, because of all of them Apolo is the planner, the sneaky one. He’s always got some devious scenario winding through his quick little brain.

It does however send Michael’s body and head reeling when suddenly Evan is gone, pulling free of his mouth and leaving it wet and swollen and too fucking empty. And then Shaun is stilling his motions, pressing deep inside of Michael’s ass and staying there, hands gripping Michael’s hips to keep him immobile. The combined lack of stimulation makes Michael whine like a kicked puppy in confusion, and open his eyes. And of course Apolo is there, helping Shaun maneuver him into a sitting position. He ends up leaning back against Shaun’s smaller frame, thighs spread impossibly wide to accommodate the differences in their heights. He sinks deep, deeper than before, and Shaun curses into the back of his shoulder, arms tightening around Michael’s waist to yank him back against his solid chest.

“Fuck, Mike,” he pants, hips giving an unconscious little push forward that makes Michael’s prostate practically sing in reaction.

“Ah,” Michael gasps, shoving back once. He shudders and blinks up at Apolo, sweat stinging his eyes. Apolo’s as naked as the rest of them, flushed pink and hard as a rock, and Michael reaches for him instinctively. But Apolo backs away, looking away and nodding.

“Oh this is going to be good…” Shaun whispers, dropping open his mouth and letting his teeth close on Michael’s shoulder, but not hard enough to mark.

It takes only seconds for Michael to catch on, because suddenly Evan’s there, crawling back onto the bed, and turning away so his back is too Michael. Apolo smirks and reaches for Michael’s dick, an unwrapped condom in one hand, and a tube of lube in the other.

Michael barely makes it through Apolo’s application of first the rubber and then the handful of slick he adds on top. And then Evan is there, backing into place, and Apolo’s guiding his dick into moist tight heat.

“Fuck, wait. Wait!” Michael hisses, arching forward into Evan’s broad back.”Gotta…” he groans, “gotta stretch him first. Fuck, Evan!” he cries. Evan’s ass settles back against his crotch, and Michael’s buried deep. He pulls Evan closer, winding one long arm around his body to yank him backward into his own chest. And fuck, Michael’s never felt anything like this before. He’s never done this, fucked and gotten fucked. And all he can think is fuck and God, and please and more. He never wants it to end. Wants to go on taking and being taken, and feeling this surrounded on every side forever.

Which of course is the perfect time for things to get even better. Because suddenly Apolo’s there, and he’s pressing up against Michael’s side, somehow sliding into the space there and staying. One of his hands roams Michael’s chest, tracing the ridges of his abs, coming up to follow the curve of his shoulder. And Michael leans into him, letting go of Evan with his left arm to slide it around Apolo. All four of them are moving together then, Shaun pushing into Michael, pushing into Evan, Apolo following the movement and riding it out with them. Michael has a moment of sudden clarity and thinks for half a second that they’re going to break the bed, and then it’s gone, because Apolo’s mouth is closing on his neck, kissing up the long expanse to press behind his ear, where the hair is sweaty and sticking up in strange patterns. He kiss up Michael’s jaw and across his cheekbone. Michael tries to be patient but he can’t. Not with all three of them touching him like this, with this much pleasure rushing through his system. So he turns his head, and takes Apolo’s mouth as soon as it’s close enough.

And from there he loses his time, lost in the back and forth of thrusting hips, and guttural cries, of gripping hands and sweat slick skin. He comes suddenly, crying out against Apolo’s lips, around Apolo’s tongue, and presses deep inside of Evan, who’s clawing at the sheets and begging so prettily that Michael almost wants to back up time and delay things just a touch longer. He pulls his mouth off of Apolo’s and falls forward over Evan, bracing himself against the mattress, as Shaun pulls out of him, still hard, and laughing with delight. Evan whines, reaching backward blindly with one grabby hand. Michael rocks his hips, grunting at the feeling and watches Evan twitch with need, before he rolls away, tugging himself free. Evan turns to glare at him, forehead creased with want, his whole face flushed red and sweaty.

But then Apolo’s there, dick covered with a condom, and expression predatory. Michael grins, still panting for air, and tugs Evan over on top of himself, hugging him chest to chest. Evan makes a small sound, and buries his head in the side of Michael’s neck.

“Fuck, come on,” Evan growls, face hidden from view. It’s all the prompting Apolo requires.

Michael braces Evan, letting his weight rest on Michael like he weighs nothing, lets him clutch at Michael’s shoulders and rut against his hip, and eventually come sobbing against the hollow of his throat, belly’s wet and sticky. Apolo’s left hard, body coiled tight with tension and slick with sweat kneeling in the center of the bed. Evan slides up against Michael’s side, one hand dragging through the mess on Mike’s chest and lips grazing the corner of Michael’s jaw.

“How long you think?” Evan asks, with a grin, still panting for breath. Michael grins back.

“3… 2… 1,” he answers and suddenly Shaun is there, back from his self-exile in the corner of the room. His voyeuristic tendencies generally tended to go both ways. He enjoyed watching as much as being watched himself. And for someone painted by the media as being sporadic and impulsive, when it came to sex, Shaun liked to take his time, to be patient. But apparently he was done waiting, because in what feels like half a second he has Apolo pinned, long pale hands pressing against Apolo’s shoulders to push him to lie down on the bed. Their expressions both gleeful. Shaun’s mouth is greedy against Apolo’s, hands tugging and pulling and repositioning them until they curled on and around each other, hands twisting and gripping between them. Apolo yanks Shaun’s head closer with a hand in his hair, lips sucking and teeth nipping.

Michael and Evan watch from the head of the bed as Shaun and Apolo get each other off, both of them moaning and rocking against each other, in a scene that could be straight out of any porn movie.

By the time they’re finished the four of them are all sprawled out across the large bed, in a tangle of arms and legs, and in one corner of the mattress, excessive amounts of red hair (Shaun).

This is the part Michael thinks he might like best about this thing they do. The orgasms are great, and they share a lot of laughs, but it’s this that feels most important. Most valuable. He’s got Shaun counting down the days until Sochi and getting smacked by both Apolo and Evan. There’s Apolo breaking the news that he’s agreed to go on DWTS All Stars, and getting ribbed for it by Evan. There’s inquiries about what Mike is going to do next, and teasing questions about dorm room antics back in the village.

Michael feels like he could tell these three men anything, and everything. So when they fall silent, all staring up at the hotel ceiling and breathing in unconscious tandem, he blurts it out.

“I’m not sure if I’m really ready. To be retired, I mean. I want to be. I’ve been looking forward to it. But part of me is afraid it’s a mistake.” There’s a beat of silence as they all process that.

“What do you have left to do to feel satisfied?” Shaun asks. Michael sighs, rubbing a hand across his eyes.

“Nothing. I’ve done everything. It would just be more medals and I think I really do have more than enough of those,” Michael explains. Apolo hums in response.

“You aren’t losing the water, if you retire. You’re just losing the competition and you have golf for that. What are you going to regret more 20 years from now? Spending another four years locked into a routine you hate just for more medals you don’t need? Or spending the rest of your 20s seeing the world?” Apolo asks. Michael sighs.

“When you put it that way…” he says with a soft laugh. They fall silent again, and when it’s broken it is Evan speaking.

“I pulled my groin in practice a few months ago,” Evan confesses. Shaun makes an enquiring noise. “It’s not healing. My coach probably won’t let me compete for at least another six months, which means no Nationals or international competition until the season of the Olympics,” he explains. They all get where that’s going.

“You think you’re done?” Michael asks rubbing a hand up Evan’s back. His body heaves with a deep breath.

“I don’t know. I just don’t want to come back for my third Olympic run and make a fool of myself. I don’t want to go out like that.” Evan confesses. They lay in silence for a few minutes, everyone touching everyone else.

“Well if we’re all having heartfelt career confessions,” Shaun says, and gets smacked for his trouble. He laughs, but it dries up quickly. “I feel old,” he says quietly.

“Says the youngest man in the room,” Apolo teases. Shaun sighs, and Apolo’s grin disappears instantly. “What’s up?”

“Is it weird that I’m tired of competition? Like….” He pauses. “I love snowboarding. I love working on a new trick, trying it over and over again until I get it just right. I love flying through the air, and staying out on the snow until I’m so cold I can’t feel my feet. I’m just not sure I love the competition anymore. I feel like I always have something to prove. I’m all the commentators talk about, and if I make the slightest little mistake it’s like it’s the end of the fucking world. They’re sucking the fun out of it.” It’s Michael’s turn to yank someone closer, and he pulls Shaun around until his head is next to Mike’s on the pillow.

“If you want to keep snowboarding, keep doing it. But if you’re not having fun, if it’s not what you want to be doing, you’re just going to make yourself feel like shit, and do a bad job while you’re at it. At this point you’ve got to decide whether you’re in or you’re out for Sochi. So make a choice, and commit to it. You can always change your mind after Sochi, either way.” Shaun nods.

“That sounds like sage and wise advice from someone who knows where I’m at,” Shaun says. Michael shrugs.

“You guys have been around the last 2 years. You know what I’ve been through.” They fall silent again.

“So are you guys going to come cheer me on to victory?” Apolo asks.

“Of course!” Evan replies, arching his back and letting out a pained sounding groan at the stretch. “Did you get Julianne again?” he asks. Apolo shakes his head.

“No. I asked her to come back, but she’s too busy with her career. Singing and acting. She felt it would be a step back for her,” he frowns.

“Oh, maybe you’ll get Anna!” Evan says, excited. Apolo laughs.

“Nah, I got Karina,” he explains. He and Evan share a look.

“Ohhh… guys we’re going to have to rally around Apolo here over the next few months. He’s going to need us!” Evan laughs.

“That bad?” Michael asks circling one hand around Evan’s wrist and tugging him closer, Apolo following like a magnet to press closer to them all.

“Worse,” Evan and Apolo answer together.

Michael sinks down into the mattress, letting the conversation wash over him as the three of them bicker about who is the hardest dancer to deal with on the show, and then which beach they should go to the following summer to get away. Shaun makes another plea for them to go with him up a damn mountain after the following games, and Apolo pats him on the head saying of course they all will.

This is why Michael stays in contact, stays a part of the club, with these guys. They understand each other, as different as their various sports are, as different as their fans and career goals can sometimes be, they still get it. They’re there for the good stuff and for the bad. Michael never feels like he’s in it by himself.

And with all the turmoil retirement will surely bring, as everything in his life shifts away from summer and swimming pools and heat to the winter and the snow and ice he feels ok. Like he has people who will have his back if things go South. And there’s a certain security in the knowledge that he’s not alone, that he has Evan and Apolo and Shaun to go through all the crap with him. He’s got stuff left to do. Stuff that doesn’t require a Speedo. And he’s anxious to get going, eager to start. But for right now he thinks he deserves some sleep. It’s easy to drift off surrounded by the warmth they bring, listening to the low murmur of voices.
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