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cupcakegirlaTitle: Retirement Pile-Up
Pairing: Various combinations of the following: Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, Eric Shanteau, Ricky Berens, Matt Grevers, Nathan Adrian, Brendan Hansen, Aaron Peirsol, Cullen Jones, Nick Thoman, Conor Dwyer, and Anthony Ervin. It’s an orgy ok? Everybody’s getting with everybody else.
Rating: NC-17 (obviously)
Summary: Michael’s retiring. The boys of the team decide to send him off with a proper goodbye celebration, naked style.
Author’s Note: To my twin, D, who has the single dirtiest mind of anyone I know… besides myself. Happy Birthday, Hon! <3
It had been Ryan’s idea. Everything that could potentially be reputation ruining was usually Ryan’s idea. Afterward Michael questions how he got pulled into the middle of it all. Peter would kill him if he ever found out.
Nathan would tell him he’d had to be a part of it. They’d done it for him, as a retirement gift/goodbye party. The girls had known because they always knew. And they, as always, didn’t care. Rebecca just shook her head and sent Ricky off with a kiss and a pinch to the ass. Jeri had practically shoved Eric out the door and told him to go have fun. Matt had sent puppy dog eyes at Annie until she rolled hers and gave him a big wet smack on the lips and nodded her permission.
So Michael finds himself being dragged into Ryan’s hotel room three days after they collectively leave the Olympic Village, only to find every available surface being lounged on by half naked male swimmers. He catches on pretty quickly to what’s about to happen. Especially when Ricky jumps up onto the seat of the couch and shouts with both of his arms in the air: “Mike’s here! Everybody get naked!” He’s immediately grabbed around the hips and yanked back down into Eric’s lap.
“Shut up, Ricky. Seriously!” he says with a laugh. Michael raises an eyebrow and turns to look at Ryan who merely grins and wiggles his eyebrows in response.
“For real?” Mike asks.
“Jeah. All for you buddy!” Ryan says clapping him on the back. Michael grins and reaches for the hem of his t-shirt. “Hold up. We’re not all here yet!” Ryan says, stopping the motion. Michael drops his arms and turns to look around. He scans the faces filling the room.
There’s Matt, Nathan, Eric, Ricky, Ryan, Cullen, Nick Thoman, Conor Dwyer, and Tony Ervin. That was pretty much everyone but…
“Shit. Tell me you didn’t invite that ass-wipe!?” he asks. Pretty much everyone in the room bursts out laughing.
“Clary? Hell to the no. We wouldn’t do that to you!” Cullen replies, flopping down to lean against Conor, which was unsurprising. They may be in this to have one nice US Men’s Olympic Swim Team orgy, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have certain… cliques. Cullen, Conor, Nick and Ryan. The North Carolina and Gator boys all had kind of a thing going on. Then there were the Longhorns, (once a Longhorn always a Longhorn!), which totally explained why Eric already had his hand down Ricky’s pants, even with the delay of game. Nathan was curled up around Tony, Matt plastered to his back, mouthing his neck. They looked pretty cozy but they were all three so popular they tended to float as far as this group dynamic went, and likely wouldn’t be glued to just each other for very long.
“Then who else is coming?” Michael asks, looking confused. There’s a knock on the door just then and Ryan practically bounces over to open it. He yanks the door open to reveal who’s standing outside, and the smile that spreads across Michael’s face is real and ecstatic.
“Aaron!?” he asks, pulling the older man inside, and wrapping him in a hug.
“Mike,” Aaron says patting him on the back.
“What are you doing here?” Michael asks.
“What? Am I not invited? Now that I’m old and retired and washed up I’m not good enough anymore?” he asks. Michael yanks him close by the front of his pants, pressing his mouth to Aaron’s in a sloppy kiss.
“Of course you’re invited. Wouldn’t be the same without you,” he growls, lips still pressed to Aaron’s mouth.
“Hello, I’m here too. Or do I not count?” Brendan asks, bolting the door, and waving hello to the assembled room. Eric and Ricky are both off the couch and flying over in an instant to greet them both. Then it’s like a big incestuous Longhorn family reunion. Hugs and handshakes and at least one tongue kiss being exchanged among the four. Mike leans against the wall and watches. This is going to be good.
Ryan claps his hands.
“Now the fun can begin!”
Things get a little blurry for Mike after that. He knows Ryan grabs him first, pushing him toward the bed, and stripping him efficiently in the process. Then suddenly Nathan and Tony are there, and he’s got hands and mouths everywhere. He has a clear image of Nathan’s mouth wrapped around his dick, of tattooed arms closing around his chest from behind, a mouth, Tony’s no doubt, sliding down the long line of his spine, to bite at the top of his tailbone, and of Ryan’s familiar lips on his own, hands buried deep in his hair, forcing his jaw wide, tongue diving deep.
The first orgasm takes Michael by surprise, rolling through him in a crashing wave and making him shout and arch back against Tony’s mouth as he comes down Nathan’s throat. He doesn’t just imagine that everyone stops what they’re doing to watch. Or that someone, he think it’s Conor, the cocky little shit, that shouts out “That’s one, only 21 more to go, Mikey!” from somewhere on the floor over by the fireplace.
Ryan laughs, letting his teeth nip at Michael’s flushed lips.
“Think you can handle 21 more?” he asks. Michael grins, looking down at Nathan whose crawling closer, wiping at his mouth and smiling to show a mouth full of bright white teeth.
“I believe in our team. If anyone can do it, we can. We are the best team in the world,” Mike says, still fighting to catch his breath. Nathan lets out a little whine as Matt wraps around him from behind, dragging him off the bed.
“Mine. You’re mine, Adrian,” he growls in Nathan’s ear, hands yanking at Nathan’s shorts. Ryan wastes no time by pulling Michael away from Tony, and flipping him over onto all fours.
“Excellent idea, Grevers,” he pants, reaching for the bottle of lube. Michael takes the opportunity to look out over the room again, watching the others is part of the fun. Aaron has Ricky spread out on one end of the couch, the younger man clutching the back couch cushion and moaning under him as he pounds deep. Beside them Eric sits astride Brendan’s lap, tongue exploring Brendan’s exposed throat, and hips rocking against Brendan’s in slow almost precise movements. Breaststrokers… they’re all about technique. It could be fucking infuriating. Michael knows from experience.
Michael has to take a break in his observations as Ryan starts to stretch him with first one finger than another, and his eyes close without conscious thought. He blinks his eyes open looking out over the room again once the initial burn has passed. The South Eastern contingent is tangled up in a puppy pile by the fireplace, a living breathing knot of long limbs and muscled backs, moving so fluidly it is hard to tell who is who, only the contrast of light skin on tan on dark indicating there was more than two people involved.
Michael’s observations are cut off when Tony slides in front of him, eyes squinting without his glasses but his mouth open and wanting against Michael’s. Michael moves, pulling Tony’s body under his own more fully, and kisses him back. He breaks the kiss when Ryan pulls his fingers free, returning a moment later to slide his dick inside. Michael’s groan is deep and heartfelt, and has Tony grinning up at him with pure delight. He arches his hips up against Michael’s, letting out a little groan when Ryan shoves Michael down and his hips press hard into Tony in a rolling push that sets off fireworks behind both their eyes.
“Fuck!” Michael growls. Ryan laughs.
“Trying too, Dude. A little help here?” he asks. Michael groans, pushing back up on to all fours. He locks his arms, and pushes his hips back into Ryan’s. He feels Ryan’s hands settle on his hips, directing their motion. Tony takes advantage of the extra room to reach for Mike’s dick and then his own. He presses the two together in a tight fist, and starts to jack them both off.
With Ryan pounding him from behind, and Tony’s mouth sucking and licking at his, their dicks pressed tightly together in Tony’s iron grip and being tugged just right, it doesn’t take Michael long to come for the second time. Ryan follows groaning in his ear, as he clenches down on his erection, and Tony arches up beneath him, hands wringing the last drops out of both of them.
Michael drops down to lay half across Tony’s chest, panting for air and grinning like an idiot. Ryan climbs off him and flops down on Tony’s other side, his chest red with exertion and his breathing heavy and loud.
Michael rolls over, burying his face in a nearby pillow.
“I need a minute. Just give me a minute!” he says, with a low moan. Tony laughs, smacking him on the ass. Michael raises his head to look at the older man.
“Looks like you really are ready to retire,” Tony says, with a cheeky grin, turning his attention to Ryan, who lays there spread out beside him, with his eyes closed. Michael starts to grin, as Tony readies his attack. He lands on Ryan with a flying leap that has Ryan nearly bucking him off the bed, and shouting with laughter. “Your turn, Lochte!” Tony says, grabbing for Ryan’s wrists. Michael ends up sliding off the bed in order to avoid the flailing limbs that result from Ryan trying to flip Tony off, and the wrestling match he knows is bound to follow. He lands sitting against the wall, naked and still trying to regain his breath. He relaxes there, looking up just in time to catch Cullen flinging himself into the middle of the bed. Michael knows he’ll have Ryan’s back, they’re tight like that. Anthony doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into with those two. He turns to survey the room once more.
At some point Nathan and Matt had migrated across the suite to curl up together in an armchair. They are talking quietly, and can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Michael briefly wonders if perhaps they are close to realizing what everyone else already has, that they are made for each other, just as surely as Matt and Annie are. And since she sure doesn’t seem to mind any they really should just stop fighting it already.
A shout of surprise has Michael turning to the couch the Longhorns have taken over. He looks up just in time to see Ricky getting dragged off into the corner of the room by Nick, which leaves Conor sitting in the middle of the floor looking a little bewildered and quite alone. Just then Aaron crawls out from beneath Eric, panting for air and laughing in post-orgasmic glee.
“Fucking hell! Guys I need a break!” he kicks at Eric’s grabbing hands, crawling rapidly away. “I’m an old retiree, remember!?” Aaron says, smiling widely. He slumps against the side of the TV cabinet, one hand pressed to his chest. Brendan rolls his eyes.
“Oh please! You just can’t keep up with us!” he snaps, dragging Eric back down beside him on the couch. “Get back here! You’re staying right here,” he orders. Eric smiles at him and slumps to rest against his side, head resting on Brendan’s shoulder. His eyes catch sight of Conor and the naughty delight that fills his eyes has Brendan smiling again. “Yo, Dwyer… get your ass over here!” he demands. Brendan never could resist giving Eric whatever he wanted. Michael momentarily feels bad for Conor, even as he’s yanked up onto the couch, but he figures the guy will probably come out of this whole thing fucking with better skill than he had at the start of the evening, so he shakes off the worry. Conor’ll be sore but fine come morning.
With that everyone had pretty much paired back up for another round of orgasms. And Mike was left huddled against the wall staring at Aaron. Aaron laughs at the lunacy of the entire night and tilts his head back against the wood of the TV cabinet. He turns his head and his eyes meet Mike’s. Mike smiles at him, and starts to crawl toward him. Aaron rolls his eyes.
“Leave me alone, Phelps!” he calls out, but he makes no move to get away. Michael reaches him, but instead of pouncing like Aaron expects him too, he turns to lean against the cabinet, sitting side by side with Aaron.
“Calm down, Aaron. I’m not here for your non-existent virtue,” Michael replies. “At least not at the moment,” he laughs. Aaron slumps sideways to press his shoulder to Michael’s.
“So, Mike, how are you enjoying retirement so far? You’re on what? Day 3? Day 4 now?” Aaron asks quietly, resting his hand on Michael’s bare knee. Michael sighs.
“I have to say it’s been pretty enjoyable so far,” Michael says with a snicker. It’s punctuated by a series of moans erupting both to their left from the bed, and their right from the North Carolina boys in the corner.
Aaron leans forward and calls across the room. “Nick! Nibble his ear!” Ricky immediately lets out a long low moan that can only be caused by a really good orgasm. Aaron sits back laughing only to find that Michael is much closer than before and he’s started leaning pretty agressively into Aaron’s personal space.
“You ready yet?” Michael asks, he asks, reaching out to run a hand down Aaron’s hairy thigh. Aaron’s never really had reason to say no to Mike. Now is no exception.
“Fine but you’re going to have to do all the work,” Aaron reasons. Michael pretends to consider it a moment before nodding.
“Fair deal,” he replies, and this time he does pounce.
It is several hours before the room quiets down. Michael’s come so many times he’s lost count, and his dick is sore. Someone’s hand, he has to follow the arm up to a shoulder and face to tell whose it is (Eric? Huh.), is still wrapped around the poor abused thing, and he sort of wants him to let go, but he’s afraid of waking Shanteau up and accidentally setting him going again. Why had he saved Eric and, he checks behind himself, Ricky?, for last? That was just plain stupid. Reaching down he carefully removes Eric’s hand, pulling it away. Then he starts the slow process of untangling arms and legs.
Finally he stumbles out of the bed. God, he hurts all over. One night with these guys was more painful than any 400 IM final. Stretching out his back and shoulders, he carefully steps over the motionless limbs sprawled out every which way across the floor of the suite, before finally making his way into the bathroom. Shutting the door he takes a piss, and then borrows a mouthful of scope from Ryan, because Dude, his mouth was nasty. After washing his hands, and yes, considering the state of the rest of his body, that does make him momentarily lose his shit and laugh rather loudly at the absurdity of even bothering, (he blames the exhaustion) he opens the door to return to bed. Only standing there waiting for him is Ryan.
“Hey,” Mike says softly, not wanting to wake the others. He leans against the doorframe, and smiles at the older man.
“Hey,” Ryan replies, stepping closer. He presses close to Michael’s side. “Did you enjoy your retirement party?” he asks, kissing Michael’s jaw tiredly and without intent.
“Definitely beats the little shindig I had planned for in a couple weeks in Vegas,” Michael replies. Ryan laughs quietly.
“Had to send the Greatest of All Time off with the very best,” Ryan answers.
“Will you two shut up!? Some of us are trying to sleep out here!”
“For fucks sake Conor, you pussy, quit whining about bein’ tired! You’re the youngest guy here!” Ryan turns to shout. There’s a sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Conor crying out in shocked pain. Ryan grins, rolling his eyes up to meet Mike’s.
“Come on, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow we have work to do. I’m pretty sure you’re a few times shy of your goal, and American’s don’t quit. Jeah!” he says, smacking Mike on the bare hip before heading back down the hallway. Michael slumps against the wall, watching him go.
How in the hell had he lucked out enough to be in a position where his retirement meant a 12 man orgy in a hotel room in London, England, during the Olympics!? This was crazy!
He steps back into the main room and finds that Ricky has curled up with Eric in his absence, but that Ryan has somehow managed to kick both Conor and Cullen off of the couch, and is waiting for him with a soft clean fluffy blanket. Mike picks his way back across the room, and stretches out beside Ryan, letting himself be tucked into Ryan’s side, and covered with the blanket.
“Sleep, I promise not to let anyone touch your dick for at least four hours,” Ryan promises in Michael’s ear. Michael passes out with a smile on his face.
Pairing: Various combinations of the following: Michael Phelps, Ryan Lochte, Eric Shanteau, Ricky Berens, Matt Grevers, Nathan Adrian, Brendan Hansen, Aaron Peirsol, Cullen Jones, Nick Thoman, Conor Dwyer, and Anthony Ervin. It’s an orgy ok? Everybody’s getting with everybody else.
Rating: NC-17 (obviously)
Summary: Michael’s retiring. The boys of the team decide to send him off with a proper goodbye celebration, naked style.
Author’s Note: To my twin, D, who has the single dirtiest mind of anyone I know… besides myself. Happy Birthday, Hon! <3
It had been Ryan’s idea. Everything that could potentially be reputation ruining was usually Ryan’s idea. Afterward Michael questions how he got pulled into the middle of it all. Peter would kill him if he ever found out.
Nathan would tell him he’d had to be a part of it. They’d done it for him, as a retirement gift/goodbye party. The girls had known because they always knew. And they, as always, didn’t care. Rebecca just shook her head and sent Ricky off with a kiss and a pinch to the ass. Jeri had practically shoved Eric out the door and told him to go have fun. Matt had sent puppy dog eyes at Annie until she rolled hers and gave him a big wet smack on the lips and nodded her permission.
So Michael finds himself being dragged into Ryan’s hotel room three days after they collectively leave the Olympic Village, only to find every available surface being lounged on by half naked male swimmers. He catches on pretty quickly to what’s about to happen. Especially when Ricky jumps up onto the seat of the couch and shouts with both of his arms in the air: “Mike’s here! Everybody get naked!” He’s immediately grabbed around the hips and yanked back down into Eric’s lap.
“Shut up, Ricky. Seriously!” he says with a laugh. Michael raises an eyebrow and turns to look at Ryan who merely grins and wiggles his eyebrows in response.
“For real?” Mike asks.
“Jeah. All for you buddy!” Ryan says clapping him on the back. Michael grins and reaches for the hem of his t-shirt. “Hold up. We’re not all here yet!” Ryan says, stopping the motion. Michael drops his arms and turns to look around. He scans the faces filling the room.
There’s Matt, Nathan, Eric, Ricky, Ryan, Cullen, Nick Thoman, Conor Dwyer, and Tony Ervin. That was pretty much everyone but…
“Shit. Tell me you didn’t invite that ass-wipe!?” he asks. Pretty much everyone in the room bursts out laughing.
“Clary? Hell to the no. We wouldn’t do that to you!” Cullen replies, flopping down to lean against Conor, which was unsurprising. They may be in this to have one nice US Men’s Olympic Swim Team orgy, but that didn’t mean they didn’t have certain… cliques. Cullen, Conor, Nick and Ryan. The North Carolina and Gator boys all had kind of a thing going on. Then there were the Longhorns, (once a Longhorn always a Longhorn!), which totally explained why Eric already had his hand down Ricky’s pants, even with the delay of game. Nathan was curled up around Tony, Matt plastered to his back, mouthing his neck. They looked pretty cozy but they were all three so popular they tended to float as far as this group dynamic went, and likely wouldn’t be glued to just each other for very long.
“Then who else is coming?” Michael asks, looking confused. There’s a knock on the door just then and Ryan practically bounces over to open it. He yanks the door open to reveal who’s standing outside, and the smile that spreads across Michael’s face is real and ecstatic.
“Aaron!?” he asks, pulling the older man inside, and wrapping him in a hug.
“Mike,” Aaron says patting him on the back.
“What are you doing here?” Michael asks.
“What? Am I not invited? Now that I’m old and retired and washed up I’m not good enough anymore?” he asks. Michael yanks him close by the front of his pants, pressing his mouth to Aaron’s in a sloppy kiss.
“Of course you’re invited. Wouldn’t be the same without you,” he growls, lips still pressed to Aaron’s mouth.
“Hello, I’m here too. Or do I not count?” Brendan asks, bolting the door, and waving hello to the assembled room. Eric and Ricky are both off the couch and flying over in an instant to greet them both. Then it’s like a big incestuous Longhorn family reunion. Hugs and handshakes and at least one tongue kiss being exchanged among the four. Mike leans against the wall and watches. This is going to be good.
Ryan claps his hands.
“Now the fun can begin!”
Things get a little blurry for Mike after that. He knows Ryan grabs him first, pushing him toward the bed, and stripping him efficiently in the process. Then suddenly Nathan and Tony are there, and he’s got hands and mouths everywhere. He has a clear image of Nathan’s mouth wrapped around his dick, of tattooed arms closing around his chest from behind, a mouth, Tony’s no doubt, sliding down the long line of his spine, to bite at the top of his tailbone, and of Ryan’s familiar lips on his own, hands buried deep in his hair, forcing his jaw wide, tongue diving deep.
The first orgasm takes Michael by surprise, rolling through him in a crashing wave and making him shout and arch back against Tony’s mouth as he comes down Nathan’s throat. He doesn’t just imagine that everyone stops what they’re doing to watch. Or that someone, he think it’s Conor, the cocky little shit, that shouts out “That’s one, only 21 more to go, Mikey!” from somewhere on the floor over by the fireplace.
Ryan laughs, letting his teeth nip at Michael’s flushed lips.
“Think you can handle 21 more?” he asks. Michael grins, looking down at Nathan whose crawling closer, wiping at his mouth and smiling to show a mouth full of bright white teeth.
“I believe in our team. If anyone can do it, we can. We are the best team in the world,” Mike says, still fighting to catch his breath. Nathan lets out a little whine as Matt wraps around him from behind, dragging him off the bed.
“Mine. You’re mine, Adrian,” he growls in Nathan’s ear, hands yanking at Nathan’s shorts. Ryan wastes no time by pulling Michael away from Tony, and flipping him over onto all fours.
“Excellent idea, Grevers,” he pants, reaching for the bottle of lube. Michael takes the opportunity to look out over the room again, watching the others is part of the fun. Aaron has Ricky spread out on one end of the couch, the younger man clutching the back couch cushion and moaning under him as he pounds deep. Beside them Eric sits astride Brendan’s lap, tongue exploring Brendan’s exposed throat, and hips rocking against Brendan’s in slow almost precise movements. Breaststrokers… they’re all about technique. It could be fucking infuriating. Michael knows from experience.
Michael has to take a break in his observations as Ryan starts to stretch him with first one finger than another, and his eyes close without conscious thought. He blinks his eyes open looking out over the room again once the initial burn has passed. The South Eastern contingent is tangled up in a puppy pile by the fireplace, a living breathing knot of long limbs and muscled backs, moving so fluidly it is hard to tell who is who, only the contrast of light skin on tan on dark indicating there was more than two people involved.
Michael’s observations are cut off when Tony slides in front of him, eyes squinting without his glasses but his mouth open and wanting against Michael’s. Michael moves, pulling Tony’s body under his own more fully, and kisses him back. He breaks the kiss when Ryan pulls his fingers free, returning a moment later to slide his dick inside. Michael’s groan is deep and heartfelt, and has Tony grinning up at him with pure delight. He arches his hips up against Michael’s, letting out a little groan when Ryan shoves Michael down and his hips press hard into Tony in a rolling push that sets off fireworks behind both their eyes.
“Fuck!” Michael growls. Ryan laughs.
“Trying too, Dude. A little help here?” he asks. Michael groans, pushing back up on to all fours. He locks his arms, and pushes his hips back into Ryan’s. He feels Ryan’s hands settle on his hips, directing their motion. Tony takes advantage of the extra room to reach for Mike’s dick and then his own. He presses the two together in a tight fist, and starts to jack them both off.
With Ryan pounding him from behind, and Tony’s mouth sucking and licking at his, their dicks pressed tightly together in Tony’s iron grip and being tugged just right, it doesn’t take Michael long to come for the second time. Ryan follows groaning in his ear, as he clenches down on his erection, and Tony arches up beneath him, hands wringing the last drops out of both of them.
Michael drops down to lay half across Tony’s chest, panting for air and grinning like an idiot. Ryan climbs off him and flops down on Tony’s other side, his chest red with exertion and his breathing heavy and loud.
Michael rolls over, burying his face in a nearby pillow.
“I need a minute. Just give me a minute!” he says, with a low moan. Tony laughs, smacking him on the ass. Michael raises his head to look at the older man.
“Looks like you really are ready to retire,” Tony says, with a cheeky grin, turning his attention to Ryan, who lays there spread out beside him, with his eyes closed. Michael starts to grin, as Tony readies his attack. He lands on Ryan with a flying leap that has Ryan nearly bucking him off the bed, and shouting with laughter. “Your turn, Lochte!” Tony says, grabbing for Ryan’s wrists. Michael ends up sliding off the bed in order to avoid the flailing limbs that result from Ryan trying to flip Tony off, and the wrestling match he knows is bound to follow. He lands sitting against the wall, naked and still trying to regain his breath. He relaxes there, looking up just in time to catch Cullen flinging himself into the middle of the bed. Michael knows he’ll have Ryan’s back, they’re tight like that. Anthony doesn’t know what he’s gotten himself into with those two. He turns to survey the room once more.
At some point Nathan and Matt had migrated across the suite to curl up together in an armchair. They are talking quietly, and can’t seem to keep their hands off each other. Michael briefly wonders if perhaps they are close to realizing what everyone else already has, that they are made for each other, just as surely as Matt and Annie are. And since she sure doesn’t seem to mind any they really should just stop fighting it already.
A shout of surprise has Michael turning to the couch the Longhorns have taken over. He looks up just in time to see Ricky getting dragged off into the corner of the room by Nick, which leaves Conor sitting in the middle of the floor looking a little bewildered and quite alone. Just then Aaron crawls out from beneath Eric, panting for air and laughing in post-orgasmic glee.
“Fucking hell! Guys I need a break!” he kicks at Eric’s grabbing hands, crawling rapidly away. “I’m an old retiree, remember!?” Aaron says, smiling widely. He slumps against the side of the TV cabinet, one hand pressed to his chest. Brendan rolls his eyes.
“Oh please! You just can’t keep up with us!” he snaps, dragging Eric back down beside him on the couch. “Get back here! You’re staying right here,” he orders. Eric smiles at him and slumps to rest against his side, head resting on Brendan’s shoulder. His eyes catch sight of Conor and the naughty delight that fills his eyes has Brendan smiling again. “Yo, Dwyer… get your ass over here!” he demands. Brendan never could resist giving Eric whatever he wanted. Michael momentarily feels bad for Conor, even as he’s yanked up onto the couch, but he figures the guy will probably come out of this whole thing fucking with better skill than he had at the start of the evening, so he shakes off the worry. Conor’ll be sore but fine come morning.
With that everyone had pretty much paired back up for another round of orgasms. And Mike was left huddled against the wall staring at Aaron. Aaron laughs at the lunacy of the entire night and tilts his head back against the wood of the TV cabinet. He turns his head and his eyes meet Mike’s. Mike smiles at him, and starts to crawl toward him. Aaron rolls his eyes.
“Leave me alone, Phelps!” he calls out, but he makes no move to get away. Michael reaches him, but instead of pouncing like Aaron expects him too, he turns to lean against the cabinet, sitting side by side with Aaron.
“Calm down, Aaron. I’m not here for your non-existent virtue,” Michael replies. “At least not at the moment,” he laughs. Aaron slumps sideways to press his shoulder to Michael’s.
“So, Mike, how are you enjoying retirement so far? You’re on what? Day 3? Day 4 now?” Aaron asks quietly, resting his hand on Michael’s bare knee. Michael sighs.
“I have to say it’s been pretty enjoyable so far,” Michael says with a snicker. It’s punctuated by a series of moans erupting both to their left from the bed, and their right from the North Carolina boys in the corner.
Aaron leans forward and calls across the room. “Nick! Nibble his ear!” Ricky immediately lets out a long low moan that can only be caused by a really good orgasm. Aaron sits back laughing only to find that Michael is much closer than before and he’s started leaning pretty agressively into Aaron’s personal space.
“You ready yet?” Michael asks, he asks, reaching out to run a hand down Aaron’s hairy thigh. Aaron’s never really had reason to say no to Mike. Now is no exception.
“Fine but you’re going to have to do all the work,” Aaron reasons. Michael pretends to consider it a moment before nodding.
“Fair deal,” he replies, and this time he does pounce.
It is several hours before the room quiets down. Michael’s come so many times he’s lost count, and his dick is sore. Someone’s hand, he has to follow the arm up to a shoulder and face to tell whose it is (Eric? Huh.), is still wrapped around the poor abused thing, and he sort of wants him to let go, but he’s afraid of waking Shanteau up and accidentally setting him going again. Why had he saved Eric and, he checks behind himself, Ricky?, for last? That was just plain stupid. Reaching down he carefully removes Eric’s hand, pulling it away. Then he starts the slow process of untangling arms and legs.
Finally he stumbles out of the bed. God, he hurts all over. One night with these guys was more painful than any 400 IM final. Stretching out his back and shoulders, he carefully steps over the motionless limbs sprawled out every which way across the floor of the suite, before finally making his way into the bathroom. Shutting the door he takes a piss, and then borrows a mouthful of scope from Ryan, because Dude, his mouth was nasty. After washing his hands, and yes, considering the state of the rest of his body, that does make him momentarily lose his shit and laugh rather loudly at the absurdity of even bothering, (he blames the exhaustion) he opens the door to return to bed. Only standing there waiting for him is Ryan.
“Hey,” Mike says softly, not wanting to wake the others. He leans against the doorframe, and smiles at the older man.
“Hey,” Ryan replies, stepping closer. He presses close to Michael’s side. “Did you enjoy your retirement party?” he asks, kissing Michael’s jaw tiredly and without intent.
“Definitely beats the little shindig I had planned for in a couple weeks in Vegas,” Michael replies. Ryan laughs quietly.
“Had to send the Greatest of All Time off with the very best,” Ryan answers.
“Will you two shut up!? Some of us are trying to sleep out here!”
“For fucks sake Conor, you pussy, quit whining about bein’ tired! You’re the youngest guy here!” Ryan turns to shout. There’s a sound of flesh hitting flesh, and Conor crying out in shocked pain. Ryan grins, rolling his eyes up to meet Mike’s.
“Come on, let’s get some sleep. Tomorrow we have work to do. I’m pretty sure you’re a few times shy of your goal, and American’s don’t quit. Jeah!” he says, smacking Mike on the bare hip before heading back down the hallway. Michael slumps against the wall, watching him go.
How in the hell had he lucked out enough to be in a position where his retirement meant a 12 man orgy in a hotel room in London, England, during the Olympics!? This was crazy!
He steps back into the main room and finds that Ricky has curled up with Eric in his absence, but that Ryan has somehow managed to kick both Conor and Cullen off of the couch, and is waiting for him with a soft clean fluffy blanket. Mike picks his way back across the room, and stretches out beside Ryan, letting himself be tucked into Ryan’s side, and covered with the blanket.
“Sleep, I promise not to let anyone touch your dick for at least four hours,” Ryan promises in Michael’s ear. Michael passes out with a smile on his face.
