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skinsharpenedteeth · 3 years

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Coming Up Easy - The First Job

Here’s this weeks installment of Coming Up Easy. Read it on Ao3 here!

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Alex stared at the suit he’d laid out on the chair next to his bed in preparation for the next morning. He’d been at his new job as a systems analyst for a week and a half and he was pretty overwhelmed by it. He’d interned doing something similar, but this was a lot more pressure than he’d been expecting. He sighed and listened to the quiet of the apartment around him. If he strained, he could detect his neighbors above him padding through their apartment and talking. It was late and most of the building around him was dark as people shut down to await the next day. He wasn’t feeling like shutting down. He was feeling restless. Guiltily, he looked at his phone and thought about Michael. It wasn’t as late in New Mexico as it was in Toronto.

Me 1:08 a.m.>> You up? <<Michael 1:12 a.m.>> I am. Miss me? Me 1:12 a.m.>> Shut up. Me 1:13 a.m.>> Yes. Me 1:13 a.m.>> It’s quiet tonight and I don’t feel like sleeping yet. Talk to me. That always makes me tired. <<Michael 1:14 a.m.>> Ouch! <<Michael 1:15 a.m.>> Thought you loved my mouth… ;) Me 1:16 a.m.>> Only when it’s otherwise occupied. <<Michael 1:18 a.m.>> Noted. <<Michael 1:20 a.m.>> So how’s the new job so far? Me 1:21 a.m.>> Ugh. A job. It’s a lot. I think I’m beginning to understand the salary. <<Michael 1:22 a.m.>> Need me to come take you for lunch?

Alex grinned and flopped down on his barely-made bed. It was still just a mattress on the floor. He hadn’t yet gotten around to going to Ikea or Target to get proper furniture past what he needed to absolutely survive.

He closed his eyes and imagined Michael strolling into the 12th floor lobby area in his dusty cowboy gear, curls sunkissed and wild, looking around all the granite, marble, and glass trying to spot Alex’s office. He imagined the few coworkers he saw regularly side eyeing him as they hustled around with their print outs and portfolios and he smiled to himself. It was a nice fantasy.

Me 1:25 a.m.>>Maybe someday. Me 1:28 a.m. >>Remember when I worked at the Emporium and you came up and practically mauled me in that little closet behind the ticket booth? <<Michael 1:29 a.m.>> The one where you had the safe and you kept all the extra papers and shit? Yeah, I remember it. I still smile when I pass by. Me 1:30 a.m.>> That was the first time you kissed me. <<Michael 1:31 a.m.>> That was the first time I did a lot of things with you. ;)

Their mingled breath stirred and barely registered in the hot, cramped stock closet. Alex had hastily hung up the Back in 5! sign and shoved Michael into the closet so they could “talk.” He’d barely had a chance to turn from shutting the door when he felt Michael’s large, warm hands grabbing his face and holding him still so he could press his lips against Alex’s. It was too rough, too dry, and too sudden, but it still managed to knock Alex’s socks off for sheer enthusiasm. When Michael finally pulled back, they stared at each other for a moment in silence. Both of them with their eyes wide and surprised and Michael’s with so many questions. ‘Is this alright?’, ‘Did he do good?’, and ‘Is this what Alex wanted too?’ chief amongst them.

Alex pushed forward and pressed his open lips against Michael’s, pulling them slightly in invitation as he moved fluidly from one kiss to another. Michael caught on quick and after a few minutes, let Alex lead while he improvised elsewhere. His hands roamed over Alex’s shoulders and arms, down the sides of his ribs to his waist and hips, around to his back and up. He seemed to want to touch everywhere he could and it was exhilarating and exciting and distracting to Alex who wanted to kiss until he died of asphyxiation because somehow this was the hottest thing to ever happen to him. This fumble in a closet that smelled like plywood, brown paper, and metal was wiping clear the cluttered memories of naked guys in the locker room or suave twenty-somethings offering to show him a thing or two in the bathroom of Planet 7.

“You’re such a good kisser,” Michael mumbled when they absolutely had to break apart, his lips brushing against Alex’s as he talked. They couldn’t get close enough. Alex could feel how much this was working for Michael against his hip and he was sure Michael could feel his agreement with the situation as well. Alex shifted down to his knees and quickly started pawing at the button on Michael’s jeans. “HOLY SHIT, what are you doing?!”

“I was going to blow you if that’s okay,” Alex sassed, giving him a sarcastic quirk of his eyebrow before triumphantly getting Michael’s pants unfastened.

“You don’t have to do that…” Michael started, sounding less sure as Alex pulled his jeans and underwear down to mid thigh, exposing his erection to the open air. He smelled like sweat and faintly like musk, but also clean and the sight of him made Alex’s mouth water.

“I don’t have to do anything I don’t want to do. But I want to. Do you want me to?” Alex asked, looking up to check Michael’s face. Michael looked dumbstruck, but he nodded when Alex caught his eye. “Then let me do it. I have to get back out there in ten minutes.”

Without further ado, Alex reached out and smoothed his hand over Michael’s cock. He pushed back his foreskin and swiped his tongue over the sticky, wet cockhead, and then he went to town.

The rest of the memory is sensation and the sounds of Michael’s high, breathless sighs above him and the feeling of his spasmic, clenching fingers against the muscles of his shoulders. Alex remembers wiping his mouth, embarrassed by the fact that he’d been able to cum just from blowing Michael, and thinking he needed to get back out there and possibly to a bathroom to clean up.

He stood up while Michael was still breathing hard and collapsed on top of the metal safe.

“Wait, where are you going?” Michael asked, grabbing his hand as he turned to leave.

“I’m… bathroom. To clean up?” Alex replied, eyes darting down to the barely-discernible damp spot on the front of his black dickies.

“Oh…” Michael said, sounding somehow impressed and disappointed. “Does… does this mean we’re dating?”

“What? No. I can’t have a boyfriend, my dad would literally murder both of us if he found out,” Alex replied quickly, almost laughing at the idea. It was the kind of laughter that comes from an absurd truth that one couldn’t deny.

“Then, what is this? I mean… I’d like to do this again. Maybe this time I’d get a chance to touch you,” Michael said slowly. The cum cooling in Alex’s underwear was unpleasant, but Michael’s face was breaking his heart. He looked a little hurt and a little lost and a lot hopeful.

“Friends…. With benefits. We’re friends with benefits. That’s all I can do right now,” Alex said apologetically. Michael smiled wryly, but nodded. He understood scarcity and secrecy too well. Alex nodded once back and then left the closet.

Me 1:33 a.m.>> You know, I could never go into that room without thinking I smelled you in there still. <<Michael 1:34 a.m.>> Scent memory is a thing, but I thought it was like you had to smell something and it brought up memories, not the other way around. Me 1:35 a.m.>> Maybe it’s both ways.

Alex yawned and shut off the light next to his bed. The ambient half-dark of the city glowed in past the slits in his curtains and illuminated his room slowly as his eyes adjusted to the dark. He felt his phone buzz where he’d left it laying on his chest.

<<Michael 1:36 a.m.>>I always think of you when I see ticket booths for museums. Me 1:37 a.m.>> Good. Me 1:39 a.m.>> I’m going to go try and sleep. Talk to you later. Michael 1:40 a.m.>> Miss me. Me 1:40 a.m.>> Will do.

#coming up easy #malex wip #wip wednesday

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jj-lynn21 · 4 years

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Roman & Princess: Castle in the Desert ch 4

Warnings: fluff, lust, female/female, blood

ch 1 ch 2 ch 3 ch 5

“You ready to go down?” Roman puts his seatbelt back on as you do the same.

“I think I already did that,” you smirked.

“Seat belts/shoulder harnesses — secure.” Bill started his descent list. You buckled up. “Landing gear — Down.”

The wheel squealed as they hit the grown gripping the runway. Roman had complete control as he slowed to a stop near another plane at a hanger. A limousine waited for their departure from the plane.

“That was the most fun I have ever had on a plane.” You took your seatbelt off standing.

Roman took his seat belt off. Stood up to stretch. Then grabbed you around the waist. Pulled you close for a deep kiss. “Glad to know I’m the only one you joined the mile-high club with.”

You giggled.

The Limo driver got the luggage when Roman opens the compartment and places in the trunk. He opens the back door for you and Roman to get inside. You can see the Castle in the distance. It only took minutes to drive to the Castle from the plane hangar.

As you and Roman stepped through the heavy metal doors holding hands a multicolored carpet stretched out before you. This was the Casino level. It included the Casino, a bar called Bloody Mary’s resort, a buffet restaurant called dragons layer that had a dragon’s head with green glowing eyes above the door and a food court with a Subway, Pizza Hut, Chipolte, Auntie Anne’s and Taco Bell. There were 14 table games and a myriad of slot machines from fifty-dollar machines to a section of penny slot machines. A sign stood at the entrance that told customers to follow each color of the carpet blue, orange and red to a specific area.

You and Roman looked around in awe listening to the sounds of coins, cards being shuffled and the excitement a win can bring. The place wasn’t full, but it was busy enough to make a profit you suspected. King Bill and Queen Jen waited for you to notice them. Relishing the looks on your faces.

Roman noticed them first, “Hey man, this is a big place. I bet it spins a better profit than the smaller clubs.”

“We are doing alright at all are locations,” Bill said stoically. “Would you like to see the rest of my Castle, Prince?”

“You don’t need to call me that,” Roman fidget under Bill stare.

Jen eased her hand into your free hand, “We are quite formal here, for the guests, so you might as well both get use to it, Prince and Princess Godfrey.”

You smile slightly nervous. One hand still holding Roman’s. The other, your fingers weave through hers. Your eyes meeting hers. Your lips dry. Her red lips shimmer in the lighting.

“Let me show you my favorite place in the Castle, Princess, while the guys talk business or whatever they wish to do.” The Queen gently pulls you away from Roman.

As you loose grip on his hand you look to him, “Roman?”

Roman looks to you with a comforting smile, “It’s ok Princess. Go on with the Queen for now. I will see you before the ball.” He releases your hand fulling going off with Bill.

You walk the other way holding the Queen hand. “So, what is your favorite place in the castle?”

“The spa is amazing” She led you to a elevator that took you to the top floor.

The elevator opened to the ballroom. “This is where the Ball will be held tonight.” Jen guides you through the open room to where the blood red carpet over a black marble floor ends at the thrones. “You will be seated on the throne to Roman’s right. Go on and take a seat Princess.”

You sit holding your head up high. Then you laugh at the absurdity of the seriousness she seems to put on such a roleplay.

Jen raises an eye brow, “The throne suits you my dear. Keep your head held high. Those customers that come though the door tonight expect it. They demand it with their eyes and body language. All we do is appease them to make them comfortable. Tonight, I will show you the ropes so to speak. Choose a few customers one by one to take to a room so we can drink. Then we wash it all away other than a nice memory for them to take home. I will heal the wounds. It will be better than anything. Better than the rawness of the club we have in Hemlock Grove, I promise you.”

“I’ll have to take your word on that for now,” You get up. “Its one thing to be referred to as Princess. It’s a whole other thing trying to act like one truly.” You laugh at the thought again.

“I had that problem myself,” she reached out for your hand again. “You are more natural in the role than you think.”

You walk with her down a hallway of rooms. At the end are two suites. She opens the door to one, “This will be you and Roman’s room. I’ll bring you back here after some time at the spa. The air does wonders for the skin right before a Ball.”

You head down another hallway to the right. There is something familiar about the crimson tapestries from floor to ceiling with a plush ebony rug below your feet. You just can’t pinpoint where you have scene something like it. As soon as she opens the glass doors of the spa the thick chlorinated air hits you. You take in a deep breath. Its warm. A haze is caste over the room from the heat coming off the pool.

“Come this way Princess,” Jen heads into another room with lockers and robes. “Off with your cloths my dear and on with a fluffy white robe for now.”

You do as she asks.

“You want a drink?” You follow her out to sit on one of the lounge chairs near the pool.

“Sure,” you sit in the chair beside her.

Jen snaps her fingers. Two young people, a boy, and a girl barely legal, kneel beside you and her. Their wrists turned to the insides. Heads bowed.

“Have a fresh sip Princess,” I’ll take care of them after. They live to serve. She grins fangs showing before biting down on the females wrist. The girl never moves. A smile of adoration on her lips although she never looks up.

You bite into the young man’s flesh. As you take a safe sip, he moans. You finish licking the blood from your lips.

Jen finishes and heals her food source. “Thank you, Anabelle. You served me well, go about your other work. Samuel come here so I can help you.” The young man goes to kneel bye her. Blood still seeps from the wound you made. She heals him. “Thank you, Samuel. Go about your work.”

“Mmmm I always like fresh so much better,” you practically moan from the enjoyment, “Feels better.” You close your eyes.

Jen stands walking to the edge of the pool. She drops her robe. You open your eyes and just watch her. Your eyes moving over her shoulders, down her back taking in every luscious curve you see. She dives in the water swimming to the other end where you can barely see her.

“Come join me, Princess” she beckons, “It’s warm.”

You stand, look around before disrobing and diving in, to swim to her side. The water is warm almost like a hot tub.

“You are beautiful in a very special way Princess,” She said as you emerged from under the water.

You blushed as you leaned against the wall by her. Your eyes closed as you leaned back. You felt cool lips on yours first. Hands stroking down your curves. You thought about what Roman would think as you felt the desire to kiss her back.

Jen pulled you over her. “It is alright Princess. Our men know how strong our love for them is even if we have other needs sometimes. Roman is getting well taken care of right now.”

Your legs up against each side of her body, head back as she finds that sweet spot on your neck that drives you so wild. “I, we…”

She quiets you with another sensual kiss. You kiss her back. It feels so right. Any trepidation you have is pushed to back of your mind. Her hand moves between your legs.

“How’s that sweet girl?” She runs her fingers over your clit. starts making tiny circle.

You relax into her touch moaning softly, “you’re,” Your voices catches, “good.”

“Just wait until you are bound. There will be no fear in your heart, Princess.”

The dream of the ropes binding you. The hallway. The voice saying “you need to be bound” floats into the front of your mind. You push away from Jen stunned

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goodguidanceptc · 6 years

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Louisville IM Race Report October 14, 2018

Welcome coaches, training buddies, close friends and masochists/insomniacs. As with prior race reports, be warned that this post contains STRONG LANGUAGE. Here goes:

Abstract:

Read the Athlete Guide. Always. Miserable cold and wet conditions. Water temp warmer than air temp, wetsuit legal. Absurd Swim (shortened due to aggressive current); T1 was all about gear choices; Adequate Bike under demanding conditions; T2 was also all about gear choices; Tough Run. Two key takeaways: 1) Read the Athlete Guide; 2) I haven't quite properly calibrated in-race fueling.

Total race time result = 10:18*

* Under grossly dis-humane weather conditions and my own flubs, that is a good result...with which I am completely unsatisfied. A no-surprise, well-managed bike and a somewhat uneven run (matched stand-alone marathon result). Feel free to stop reading now.

Pre-Race (aka: “the Dumbening”)

I cannot emphasize strongly enough: no matter how many races you’ve done, how confident you may be in knowing the procedures, the timing, the places, etc... read and re-read the Athlete Guide.

So although I cannot provide details, just know that I--through my own dumbness--was told to acquire my timing chip in T1 after an official manually noted my swim start time, while standing on the dock to jump into the Ohio River. Clearly communicated in multiple places: check-in closes at 5pm Friday.

Brief rewind: woke up, standard pre-race breakfast, uneventful gear check and load bottles onto bike, walked over to Swim in. Shoulda found an IM staffer then, but didn’t think. Just didn't think it through; too cold and pre-race- process oriented. Got a little tunnel vision to get to the front of the self-seeded “1-1:10″ swim line.

Announcer: The current is so strong, some of the pros were struggling to get up river. Swim shortened to .9 mile, in other words an Olympic distance. Race delayed.

Some squats to stay warm, chat up some folks in line, never once thought to go get my chip before passing though that big black arch.

Swim (:18 min or 1:18/100 pace)

I swear to you by all the barge traffic and catfish whiskers in the Ohio River, there is no way I was in that river for 18 minutes. More on this in T1. Feet first into the river, sight that first buoy and...

Ever look through a kaleidoscope? Or imagine a Disney version of puke from a flying whale? The view from my goggles was:

[Kayaks + swim caps + buoys]

(river current exceeding posted speed limits)

flying Disney whale puke (as I imagine it rendered)

Just utter chaos. I aimed for the big wall, hit the metal steps and out. To quote one of my training partners, “My hair barely got wet.”

T1 (9:20)

Up the steps and skipped the peelers. Rationale: stay as warm as possible as long as possible. Jogged to changing tent, quickly passed the clumping “under 1 hour” swimmers, grabbed a chair near the exit.

Decision time on what to wear and how much skin to cover for the bike. I went with 100% coverage. Socks, thermal legs, long sleeves, gloves, balaclava. Plastic bag under the jersey and five of those little hand warmers hunters use (squeeze and shake for 6+ hours warming) in my back jersey pockets.

Out to bike rack, unhook and... it’s find-my-chip time. Found an IM staffer who radioed multiple people before finally sending me past the Bike Out arch to where the chip folks were.

I. Stood. There. Forrr -- evv -- errr.

Trying to alleviate my own frustration and anxiety, I literally put my head in my hands and made Hulk sounds.

Now, even in my adrenalized and hyper-performance-oriented state, I remember that I brought this shit on myself. So any expectation of special treatment, expedited problem-solving or what I call the lack of a “hop to!” by IM staffers simply cannot be criticized. This crapola? All. On. Me.

Furthermore, I'm grateful. (Check prior race reports, if you must. OR just trust me when I say that...) I thank all the volunteers and cops and EMTs and Traffic Management and general staff within earshot. No matter what speed I’m biking or running. Seriously. I’m all about appreciation.

All that said, Swim and T1 times are clearly inaccurate. Although IM staff noted the time of day I jumped into the water, another IM staffer wrote my time on a clipboard when they activated my chip and yet another other IM staff told me they’d estimate my T1 time. But I didn’t know precisely where to go in T1. So I lingered.

[So again: read the Athlete Guide.]

And if you are ever in that situation--which I guaran-frikkin-tee you I will NEVER be--I recommend you DO NOT stop to ask questions. Continue until you happen upon the chip folks. Worst case: you miss them and back track... the biking equivalent of going back to get dropped nutrition.

Bike (5:43)

While I definitely did not feel myself relax heading down River Road, I did feel a certain familiar comfort. I’d ridden this course a few times so even in the cold, wet wind, I was pretty confident I could manage the bike.

In the spirit of gratitude, whether passing or getting passed, I try to say something positive (looking good, go git some, stay strong).

Even on a hilly course, I ended up pacing with a few others. I try to be sensitive to any ‘gamesmanship’ (I’m not trying to get in your head competitively) but I'm definitely chatty. And the cold and wet just invited comment, even if only to distract from the misery.

Stick out and first loop was uneventful other than the number of people shivering on the sides of the route. Second loop had more than a few cars on course that seemed patient and considerate (relatively, IMO) but still required careful negotiations.

A FEW FIRSTS FOR ME

BLINDING ANGER. I admit I might have been “kicking the cat” but I’ve never experienced this on course.

On the back side of the loop, in the narrow stretch of blacktop through the small neighborhood just after the long descent out of La Grange, there’s short, steep descent with a well-marked/painted “BUMP” before a short, steep uphill. I’m a technically strong and confident cyclist so getting through here on the first loop was a piece of cake. Second time though, there was a hefty pack of windbreakers weaving(!) across the entire width of the road. Despite shouting “on your left” repeatedly and loudly, I had to brake. On an uphill. Dropped my chain. Nearly fell. Unclipped. All in the tiny 8ish yards of that short ascent.

What did I do? Stood there trying to get my chain back on and swearing profusely that dickhead bucket-listers with fucking no fucking business fucking leaving their fucking strip-mall periodontist practices should fucking learn to handle their goddamn bikes.

As I passed them on the descent towards the hay-bale bullseye, I gently advised them about blocking, race etiquette and having some goddamn self-awareness. In my defense, I averaged very nearly 20mph that day. And when I accidentally felt somebody too close as they passed, I always apologized. In retrospect, I’m sorry I was that guy right then.

PROFOUND SOLITUDE Stay with me as I get a little bing-bongy here... At the split to repeat the loop or return on the stick, most folks (the fat part of the bell curve) go left for their second loop. I was returning on the stick.

Suddenly I was not saying or hearing “on your left” or listening for the difference between aero wheels or a passing car.

I was alone. Like the guy in that Robert Frost poem. Miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep. And the mental chatter started. Cold. Grey. Wet. Stupid. Wasteful. What ego on you, chump. Clips from Moby Dick, Chapter 96. Burning ship, drove on to some vengeful deed. Gloom. There is a wisdom that is woe; but there is a woe that is madness. ee cummings A Leaf Falls.

[Stop wasting your time with this race report. Go read some actual writers.]

Even my mantras had abandoned me. I may have started singing or rapping something from my training playlist to shut down the negative chatter. And that’s about when I realized how well I was managing this bike leg. I think that’s called a paradox.

DON’T BLOW IT NOW Somewhere along one of the last ascents, I realized that I’d dressed properly! Coach Robbie’s advice for plastic grocery bag was spot on. Sure the toes and fingers were cold, but functional. Ears and neck felt okay and core temp was a non-issue. I wondered if I’d taken enough calories (thought: probably) but come on! I’d handled some real shitball conditions pretty well.

T2 (8:49)

Pulled off everything soaking wet except kit shorts. Replaced with dry thermal long-sleeve top, dry hat, dry gloves. Run belt, bottle, dry socks, shoes. Go.

While neither T1 or T2 were very fast, I really didn’t linger in the warmth. I remember thinking, “Take two deep breaths, make this decision and move it.” In other words, time was spent actually changing clothes.

BTW, Transition volunteers? True Guardian Bros. Can’t thank em enough.

Run (3:58 aka: avg 9:03/mi)

Two MAJOR joyous moments within the first mile:

1) As we’d pre-planned, my unbelievably awesome wife told me I was 18 minutes behind a podium slot. She told me later that I barked, “FUCK!” Regardless, I steal a kiss every race. Better than a GU and just as sweet. [Yes she reads these. Wink!]

2) Coincidentally, she was standing a few feet from Coach Robbie (C26), who I recognized but accidentally called Mike (his podcast co-host who I knew was on course). I think I shook his hand? Or maybe just shouted a happy shout?

So those two intercepts helped make the first 25% of the run all good. I kept turning down the pace because, as Coach Robbie has said, “your legs are lying to you.”

Then all that good ju-ju abandoned me like buoys on the Ohio River on the backside of the first loop.

I’d dropped my Infinit before finishing the entire first 24oz bottle. Why not stop and get it? I got no good rational answer. Ditched hat and gloves and actually rolled up my sleeves. My legs and shoes were soaked. (Walk-peeing wasn’t doing me any favors.)

I felt better once I had another bottle from my Special Needs bag, but by then I’d already burned my biscuits (another C26 gem) so I was well below my planned and expected 8:40/mile pace.

I may have even cried a little. Apologies to extremely helpful volunteer who graciously ignored a grown-ass man losing his shit. I KNOW i was talking to myself, “It’s all in your head. Move it.” and other more terrible words.

The last 25% in-bound was an exercise in utter stubbornness. Coke Gatorade Coke Gatorade Coke Gatorade and tons of verbal self-flagellation to keep going. I sincerely believe I passed two guys in my AG out of pure self-loathing.

The Fourth Street Live finish lived up to the hype. There’s photographic evidence that I actually smiled as I crossed and nearly collapsed (again, super kudos to the volunteers). I was wheeled straight to medical, shivering and borderline shock-ey. Broth, blankets, checked vitals (core temp too low). As planned, Susan brought me multiple layers of dry clothes. Changed. Got my mental shit together after finding out I’d finished 16th. Gold star to Al V., the med tent massage therapist. Another Guardian Bro. Limped home.

OVERALL RACE GRADE: PASS

As with prior races, IM-LOU yielded incremental improvements in all racing phases. As I said at the top, this was a good result, with which I am completely unsatisfied.

Am I one of the guys at the pointy end of the bell curve? Clearly yes.

Did I KQ? Unequivocal NO. Not even close.

There is clearly opportunity for additional incremental improvements to all five aspects of my racing:

Swim pace was an anomaly. 3x/wk in the lap pool could be improved by 2x/wk in endless pool.

Bike power was lost due to shitass Garmin tech. But from what I remember, I was mostly high Z2 with relatively few power spikes given the course and conditions. I definitely managed the bike with patience and smarts.

Run suffered due to fueling strategy that is just not... quite...perfected. And again, deplorable conditions.

Fuel strategy. I over corrected from IM-AZ (early run GI problems). Calories, liquids (no solids) and delivery method feels right. Timing around T2 needs tweaking.

Transitions were what they were. MY dumbassery in T1 was offset by my smart gear decisions.

See you in New Zealand in March, 2019!

WITH GRATITUDE FOR...

I’m very grateful to my lovely wife Susan and my wonderful kids, Peter and Veronica for their support. Susan, you are my salvation.

I’m grateful to have the expert professionals Coach Klebacha and Coach Sharone and the entire Well-Fit staff and athletes who generously share their wisdom.

I’m grateful to my inspiring and impressive training partners, including but not limited to the TriFam, the Well-Fit Elite Team (too many bad-asses to list but special GOLD STARS to LIZ and LAURA) and other triathlete rockstars like Nic, Dana, Andrew, John, James, Tony, and all the Pauls and Mikes.

I’m very grateful to anybody willing to excuse my terrible smell, deplorable language and barbaric sounds during training.

Maximum gratitude to Well-Fit, FFC, UIC, Whitney Young, Get-A-Grip, Live Grit, Fleet Feet, the Lakeshore path, Louisville Landsharks.

I’m grateful for Crushing Iron (C26), Matt Fitzgerald, Joe Friel, Training Peaks, Scott brand bikes, Apple, Ironman.

Thank you to all the on-course maniacs cheering and making signs and wearing all sorts of crazy outfits to show love and support. For strangers exercising.

Special thanks and appreciation to Bernie Mc for the most amazing on course support. Extra special Top Marks to Bernie!

I’m grateful that I’m able to race triathlons. Thanks for reading.

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professor-riddikulus · 7 years

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On a Clear Night - Ch 11

Professor-Riddikulus is proud to present, Chapter 11 of OaCN – Haven’t read any of this madness yet? Start from the beginning!

Excerpt: “Harry and Sirius spent the last few days of holiday going through all of Sirius' old records, laughing at the music that the Marauders used to listen to. Harry might not have shared Sirius' love of punk music to the extent that Sirius hoped, but he did learn some mean air-guitar moves, and Remus almost broke a rib laughing at the two of them rocketing around the living room and jumping from the furniture. And Remus wasn't merely a spectator, he and Sirius had left Harry speechless with embarrassment when they performed their lip-synced performance of Bowie's 'Starman' (which of course Sirius had taken as a personal anthem back in their younger days).”

Rated M - Romance/Angst - Remus/Sirius Words: 41,357

There’s something to be said for starting at the beginning. No? Okay, well you’re just a rebel without a cause. On to the fic!

"Oh my fucking god." Sirius groaned, running his hands slowly and delicately over the curves of the dark leather seat on the motorbike, stars in his eyes. Remus chuckled to himself softly, if Sirius could love him half as much as he loved that bike...well he knew that would never happen. Nothing came between Sirius and the bike. But he'd take a close second.

"God I was fucking incomplete without you, baby" Sirius was practically purring to the bike.

"Okay, Pads are you talking to the bike now?" This was getting a little ridiculous, Sirius was, at least superficially, a grown man.

Sirius shot him a glare, which was far less effective considering he had his cheek pressed against the side of the motorbike, making him look a bit like an angry chipmunk, "You don't understand the relationship we have."

"Okay, okay," Remus restrained himself from rolling his eyes again or he was going to get a headache from the number of times he had done so in the last hour or so, "Here's the key, she's all yours again."

Remus thought for a moment that Sirius might cry as he took the key from Remus. I can't believe I'm giving this damn thing back to him. He's a menace. But Remus couldn't help it. The two of them were meant to be together, and after all, the bike had just been sitting in the storage locker for years, it was better that someone get some enjoyment out of the thing. He'd never understand the appeal but he could also never say no to Sirius. They were planning to go through the rest of the effects they had stored in the storage locker soon, maybe get out Sirius' old records for Harry, but Sirius couldn't wait until then to get the bike back. They were incomplete without one another.

"Come on Moony let's take her back to Grimmauld."

"I don't think we should vanish the bike back to Grimmauld Place Sirius, you could actually crush someone."

But Sirius had a sly smile on his lips. He reached into a small box next to the motorbike and pulled out a two black helmets, one with a pawprint airbrushed on the back, the other with a crescent moon.

"No, no no I don't think so" Remus protested, backing a few steps away, "No one has been on that thing in years, it needs a tuneup at the very least or…"

"Hey we won't know what's wrong with it unless we giver her a spin."

"Oh yeah that's a great way of testing it - with our LIVES."

"What's life without a little risk, eh Moony?" Sirius flashed his canines in a signature smirk.

"You know I hate riding…" Remus ran a hand through his hair, "I'm not a fan."

"Come ON Moons," Sirius pleaded, "she's not going to hurt you and it's been ages. Would I really put you in danger?"

Remus nearly laughed, he could think, actually, of more instances of Sirius putting the both of them in danger than not. He raised his eyebrows and looked at Sirius, his rebel in a leather jacket.

"Okay," Sirius laughed, "Maybe the wrong question to ask, but come on. It's been ages. Live a little."

Remus took the helmet from Sirius and wiped the dust out of the inside before putting it on his head, "I think it's more likely that I'm going to die a little."

But Sirius wasn't listening. He was already happily wheeling the bike out of the storage locker and checking her over like a nervous parent reunited with a child they hadn't seen in some time. Remus almost expected Sirius to start asking the motorbike if it had been eating enough or washing behind its ears. Remus closed and locked the storage shed behind them, praying that there would be something just slightly wrong with the bike after all its years there and that they could apparate home like safe, sane people instead of riding some half-Muggle deathtrap.

But before Remus knew it Sirius had somehow magically got the thing running again - Remus found himself straddling the humming bike and wrapping his arms securely around Sirius' waist.

"We are not flying this thing until you get it looked over, Black." Remus yelled over the sound of the engine, "Don't even fucking think about it. I will never touch you sexually again."

Sirius cracked up laughing, "Touch me sexually?! What?! Who talks like that Moony? You spent too much time as a professor."

Remus knocked him in the stomach, "Shut up! You know exactly what I mean."

Sirius waved this concern away, "Okay okay Moons, I promise no flying. Just relax."

And they were off, the wind rushing around them as Sirius pulled the bike into the street, his heart thundering so hard with excitement that Remus could hear it through the leather jacket covering his chest. Remus closed his eyes and held Sirius a little tighter, pressing his face up against the other man's back. He never liked the bike. Something about the feeling of weight and machinery between his legs, darting between cars, the roar of the exploding engine, was more than he could handle. It wasn't nimble and light with the speed and agility of a broomstick, it was a beast of burning metal and exhaust, liable to burn you or buck you off. And that was how he felt about it on the ground. Flying on the thing was a whole other level of crazy, he felt like the heaviness of the object was absurd. Some things were just not simply supposed to fly.

However, he did like the feeling of being pressed against Sirius' back, the soft worn leather of his jacket against Remus' cheek. He liked the feeling of the hard planes of Sirius' chest under his hands, the sturdiness of the other man's torso under his grip. He could admit, if he had to, that there was something comforting about holding on to Sirius this way, something grounding and calming, something that made trips on the death machine at least a bit bearable.

Sirius whooped as he kicked the bike into a higher gear, speeding forward even faster laughing, "FUCK YES MOONY FEEL THAT?" Remus just nodded against Sirius' back and tried not to think how many minutes it was between Camden and Grimmauld Place. Don't look at the ground, don't look at the buildings, don't look at the other cars.

But they made it back to the square without dying and even Remus had to admit that Sirius looked completely and deliciously fuckable letting his hair fall out of the helmet, a pink tinge in his cheeks from the whip of the wind against them. Remus got off the bike first, then leaned over to kiss Sirius deeply.

"Had a good time then?" Sirius teased.

"I rather prefer looking at you on it than being on it myself."

"Is that a double entendre my dear Moons?"

Remus laughed, "Maybe."

They were parked in front of Grimmauld and Sirius was climbing off the bike when the door to the house opened and Harry ran down the front steps with a huge grin on his face, his hair wild and a huge smile on his face.

"Oh my god is that your bike?"

Sirius beamed, "Whose do you think it is pup? Yup, here she is, my firstborn."

"Okay but, when can I have a go?"

Remus rolled his eyes, of course Harry was going to want to get on the death trap, "Harry, Sirius needs to give the bike a once-over, it has been in storage for most of your life."

Sirius put an arm around Harry and steered him towards the house, false-whispering at him "Soon kid. I'm gonna get this fucker tuned up proper and we'll give it a go. Maybe even fly it on holiday over the summer."

Remus trailed after the other two shaking his head and spelling the bike to follow them back to the house. He had a feeling that no matter his protests, his godson would have his own helmet come summer. No doubt the two of them would do exactly what they wanted to do, just as James and Sirius had done. But that was alright, Remus was used to being outnumbered. Sirius opened the door to the house and just before they went into the house Harry looked back at Remus and then at Sirius.

"You two back together now? All done fighting about nothing?" he sassed them, before entering the hallway triumphantly.

Remus' retort was lost as they entered the house, as Mrs. Black was unfortunately still stuck to the wall and so they had to be quiet as they walked slowly past her. Remus had a feeling that Harry had timed this cheeky comment exactly for this reason so that neither of his godfathers could give a quick response, but the need for silence didn't stop Sirius from giving Harry a smart smack to the back of the head.

The next day the three of them cleaned out the storage locker out, and put the Camden flat mostly back together. Remus had decided to stay there for a bit while he and Sirius sorted things out and 'got to know each other again'. Sirius made it known through various long sighs and huffs that he wasn't particularly happy about this arrangement, but as they would spend pretty much everyday with each other at one house or the other he gave up this act after less time than would be normal. Perhaps he realized that Remus was going to need a bit of space, even if it ended up being mostly symbolic.

Harry and Sirius spent the last few days of holiday going through all of Sirius' old records, laughing at the music that the Marauders used to listen to. Harry might not have shared Sirius' love of punk music to the extent that Sirius hoped, but he did learn some mean air-guitar moves, and Remus almost broke a rib laughing at the two of them rocketing around the living room and jumping from the furniture. And Remus wasn't merely a spectator, he and Sirius had left Harry speechless with embarrassment when they performed their lip-synced performance of Bowie's 'Starman' (which of course Sirius had taken as a personal anthem back in their younger days).

They cooked together too, giving Kreacher a few nights off in the last week or so that Harry had off from Hogwarts. Harry was a startlingly good cook, having learned a lot from cooking from the Dursleys for all those years. But Remus took great pleasure in teaching Harry that cooking didn't have to be a chore, teaching him to be creative in his recipes and encouraging him to experiment. Sirius, of course, was all too happy to watch and be the guinea pig who chowed down on the fruits of their labor.

Another day Harry had the bright idea to take Padfoot to a Muggle dog park, where he and Remus earned an incredible amount of respect from the other dog owners when they showed a crowd how Padfoot could not just sit and roll over but respond to highly specific instructions and do math problems by barking out the answer. Padfoot basked in all the attention and Harry tried, mostly successfully, to stop himself from completely dissolving into laughter.

When they went to drop Harry off at the train, they did that together too. Sirius had his arm around Remus' waist as he clapped Harry on the shoulder and told him to make sure he got into some trouble this semester.

"I think everyone will be too focused on the last task of the tournament."

"Exactly," Sirius smirked, "So you'll be able to get away with more."

Remus broke away from Sirius and hugged Harry, "Just be smart about it okay? We're really going to miss you."

Harry laughed, "Don't worry, I've got Hermione on my side. Smartest witch of her age, remember?"

"Thank god for that. Someone has to look after you."

"I'll say," Hermione walked up to them, quickly taking in the way that Sirius leaned just a bit towards Remus, she raised her eyebrows, "It looks like we have a lot to catch up on Harry."

Once Harry was safely back at Hogwarts, Sirius and Remus quickly fell into a routine of lazy mornings and long afternoons in bed. As hesitant as Remus was to live off Sirius' inheritance, he had to admit that there was something appealing about laying around all day. London was a different place with Sirius back in it, it was warmer and brighter (even when the sky was heavy with drizzle). It had been years since Remus was so happy.

They spent each night with one another, either at the Camden flat or at Grimmauld, rediscovering each others' bodies and resurfacing the years of pain, of heartache, of uncertainty with soft words and hot breaths. Remus learned every inch of Sirius' skin, ran his hands hand lips across the crooks of his elbows, the crease between his eyes, the soft skin at the base of his neck. Sirius traced the crooked pathways of Remus' scars, learned the places that tickled, and the places that made Remus gasp. And as they reacquainted themselves with each other's bodies, they reacquainted themselves with each others' hearts. Things would never be the same as before, they weren't the same people. They were worn in places they hadn't been worn before, they had seen things that had changed them. But slowly, cautiously, they began to realize that maybe that was okay. Maybe their scars, inside or out, had strengthened the threads that stretched between them.

So the days easily stretched into weeks, Remus got a job at a nearby Muggle bookstore just to keep himself busy. Sirius still argued that after twelve years in prison he deserved a few restful years and so he spent most of his time hanging around the bookstore bothering Remus, or else working on his bike at the house. Every night they wrote to Harry together. They spent the full moons running the countryside, Padfoot keeping the wolf in check as they explored various deserted and rugged landscapes. Remus' transformations hadn't been this easy since he was at Hogwarts. He woke with little pain and he hadn't had one new scar since Padfoot had been looking out for him. They may have lost a few rabbits along the way but at least Moony largely ignored the deer. Sirius and he wondered aloud if the werewolf did this out of respect and remembrance for Prongs.

When the time came for the last challenge in the Triwizard Tournament, Harry even invited both of them to come watch and cheer on Cedric. They got decked out in their Hogwarts gear and spent an evening under the stars and the flickering lights of the castle watching the champions race to the center of the maze with Harry, Ron and Hermione while simultaneously stuffing their faces with as much caramel popcorn and Chocolate Frogs as they could eat. The crowd was electric, full of children and parents alike from all three schools, chattering away in their native languages, playing music, waving banners. Sirius had complained loudly on the way to the event that he couldn't see why they weren't also doing quidditch this year, but Remus assured him that next year they would be there watching Harry play, and this time Sirius would be sitting in the stands instead of crouching on the ground in the rain as a thoroughly soaked Padfoot.

Harry was overjoyed to see them, his face painted, like many of the other students, with a large Hogwarts 'H'. Remus teased him gently that Harry had to be pretty self-absorbed to paint his own initial on his face when they were supposed to be cheering for Cedric - a joke which Ron jovially joined in on for the duration of the night. When Cedric had hoisted the cup, they shouted themselves hoarse with the kids before the Gryffindors (led by Fred and George who had nicked a huge amount of snacks and booze, Remus looked the other way at this) decided to head back to the tower for an after party. Harry hung back, Ron and Hermione pushing him towards his godfathers. Remus shared a confused look with Sirius, who shrugged.

"Harry," Hermione said pointedly to them, "had something he wanted to ask you."

"Hermione!" Harry kicked a rock on the ground as Fred yelled at them to hurry up or they'd miss the beginning of the party.

"I'm assuming you're not asking us to come drink stolen Firewhiskey in Gryffindor?" Sirius smirked at Harry.

"Go on and ask them Harry."

"Well, I didn't want to make the two of you row again but I still really want to be an animagus."

Remus sighed but smiled. He knew that Hermione could probably figure out the process on her own and there was very little they could do to stop the kids if they were fixated on the idea. He looked over at Sirius who was looking back at him cautiously.

"Okay. But if you're learning you have to get registered. And your godfather too." Remus looked pointedly at Sirius, who shrugged.

"What about Hermione and I?" Ron added quickly looking hopeful, "We can't let Harry have all the fun."

Sirius laughed, "Your mom would literally kill me Ron. But if your parents said it was alright then maybe? And get that in writing too, don't think I'm just going to take your word for it Ron, you know I'm smarter than that."

Ron smiled but also looked slightly defeated.

"We'll get started in the summer Harry, it's a long process and there's no guarantee that you'll even be able to achieve your form over the summer. Some witches and wizards have an aptitude and for others it's immensely difficult."

"Don't worry," Hermione smiled, "we like a challenge."

When they arrived back at Grimmauld, where they were staying for the night, Sirius looked fondly at Remus as Remus unwrapped his Gryffindor scarf.

"Haven't seen you in that for a long time." Sirius closed the gap between them in a few steps and kissed Remus softly, "It looks good on you."

Remus kissed him back, breathing deeply and letting the smell of Sirius' leathery cologne wash over him, "It seems like a long time ago that we were the kids wearing those scarves to class everyday."

Sirius grinned, "And now we've got a kid of our own in the stands instead."

"He's a good kid, no thanks to you. He's looking more and more like James every moment."

"I can't believe I'm going to be teaching teenagers to become animagi. If McGonagall knew she would have my head."

"She'd have both of our heads."

"Well of course," Sirius said as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, "we're in this together now, like it or not."

Remus smiled at him fondly, running the tips of his fingers through Sirius' long hair, "You're a pretty good dad you know that? James would be shocked."

"Don't be ridiculous," Sirius scoffed, an arm around Remus' waist pulling him closer, "James knew we would be good parents."

Remus wondered, as he leaned into another of Sirius' deep and heart-stopping kisses, how it is that he found himself a family after all these years alone. So many years he had spent thinking that his existence was predetermined - he'd been resigned, even willing to accept his fate as a, well, lone wolf. A monster that needed to protect others from himself. He saw himself as a danger, and if he were honest, it wasn't just because of the wolf. It was because he was sure that if someone saw him, really saw him, then it would hurt so much more to lose them. He'd already lost so much.

But things were different now. In typical Sirius fashion, 'no' hadn't been good enough, and Harry was too much like James - he also knew exactly how to break down the walls that Remus had built. He couldn't ignore them and he found that he didn't want to. There was nothing more he wanted than to provide some stability for these two people who mattered most to him. They deserved that much, after so many years of struggle, and perhaps...perhaps he deserved it too. Sure, it may have been a weird, over-the-top family consisting of a ex-con and the Boy Who Lived but it was his family, and they loved one another. What more could he possibly want but this?

#on a clear night #oacn #flying motorcycle #leather jackets #marauders #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black #remus lupin #harry potter #marauders fic #wolfstar #ron weasley #hermione granger #triwizard tournament

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