Olympic Slash...
Aug. 24th, 2004 03:25 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
bluetears07Disclaimer: Don’t know these boys only seen them on NBC.
Paring: Dax Holdren/Stein Metzger (U.S. Men's Beach Volleyball Team)
Summary: Determination just doesn’t go as far as it used to…(Ficlet)
Rating: PG-13
AN: (Dax’s POV) I can’t help myself…the U.S. last hopeful team for Men’s Beach Volleyball needs a hug after being bumped out of the medal contingency thanks to Switzerland. It’s actually rather sad but in a nice slashy hurt/comfort perfect set up sort of way. *big grin* Small warning for Hally being a tease…again…
Guide: ‘Thoughts’
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I’ve always heard it said before that for every heart-stopping high there is an equal gut-retching low. Friday against fourth ranked Germany, when my Metzger put away the final match point, that was our undeniable high. We were the last U.S. men’s team left to advance into the quarter finals. Sunday we’d have to play one hell of a game to move up into semi-finals in order defend the U.S. domination of the gold metal in Beach for the past two Olympics. However, our lowest moment came not even forty-eight hours later against undefeated Switzerland on searing grains of sand almost 107 degrees.
We had played the Swiss before, but that was back when they had no clue as to what we as a duo could accomplish. All of our fellow competitors called our style ‘scrappy’ and seemingly inconsistent. Our styles and height were so similar that many thought it would be a terrible combination and clash if we teamed up. There were times when even we weren’t sure what results our decision to team up could possibly yield. In some ways we were a bit of a wild card that not many could pin down. But today they’d finally figured us out and prayed upon our weaknesses. They knew just how to block Metzger’s knuckle balls and find the holes in my blocks. We just fell apart; baking under the scorching Athens mid-day sun…
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The searing grains of sand shifted beneath my bare feet as I sprung up to block the final match point from Kobel. I could hear Stein just behind me as the ball deflected off the very tips of my fingers. There was nothing I could do now to pop the ball up and back into play; it was all up to Metzger. His voice cracked, screaming as if the sound would some how mange to prevent the ball from dropping to the sand as he tried desperately to chase it down. Too late to salvage even one set against the Swiss, I watched the ball collided with the soft sand in a spray of powdery granules.
Before I could even begin to process what the final play meant to our Olympic hopes I watched Stein slowly trudge towards me, feet shuffling through the sand. His all-telling eyes were masked behind the gleam of sunglasses. I felt his arms slip about my shoulders in a bittersweet embrace. His body heat, intensified tenfold by the exertion of playing at mid-day, mingled with my own in an almost unbearable concentration as I pulled him impossibly closer. Sweat slipped along the sun-kissed flesh of his arms, smearing with my own as he tightened his grip on me. Pressing his face against the juncture of my shoulder and neck, I felt the brim of his white baseball hat jostle against the fabric of my dark U.S. jersey. A ragged breath rushed past my lips as he turned his face to whisper. The all too familiarly ghosting of his lips against the sensitive shell of my ear was what finally brought me back down to the sweltering Athens mid-day.
“Amazing run, Seabiscuit,” I couldn’t help but smile at the teasing nickname Metzger gave me after finding out about my knee surgery, but knowing that despite it nothing would stop me from still digging up balls and blocking hits for him.
‘Your little, injured horse that could, right Metzger…’ I thought, turning my face to press a barely-there, hidden kiss just below his ear, along the slopping line of his jaw. My hand slipped up his back to grip the nape of his neck, threading my fingertips through the damp strands of hair curled up around the fabric of his hat. One last squeeze and Stein pulled away with an encouraging slap against my back before we turned to congratulate the two Swiss who would be advancing into the semi-finals to play against the number one ranked Brazilian team.
In a final blur of white and red fabrics accompanied by sweaty palms clasped together we snatched a few extra bottles of water from the cooler set up off to the side of the court. With one last look back at the Olympic net and burning sand we stalked off to the locker rooms; defeated for good and finishing fifth in the world.
It still amazes me just what Stein’s body does to my own when stretched out to his full six-foot-three stature, laying flat out on one of the metallic benches set up between the two rows of lockers. Thanking the added coolness of the wall to wall concreting, I couldn’t help but become transfixed by a wayward bead of sweat tracing a smooth path down from Metzger’s curved jaw to pool in the tanned hollow of his throat. The image sent a currant of unbidden heat coursing through my veins, far more intoxicating than any adrenaline rush I get when playing a tough set. Well, except maybe the rush from Friday just before I essentially pounced on Stein, causing him to topple over on top of me with my legs hooked around the backs of his knees for the first time on international television.
With one trembling hand, Stein pulled off his sunglasses along with the white cap from his head to expose shaggy auburn strands with sun-bleached tips of sweat dampened hair. Bending a leg to prop up on the bench, he threw an arm over his face as I finally settled for sitting down across from him, clutching an open bottle of mineral enhanced water. My back curved into an arch as I leaned forward to press an elbow against the dark fabric covering my thighs. Finally looking away from where Stein’s shorts had ridden up to expose a lighter skinned inner thigh, I pull off my plastic sunglasses and tossed them onto the bench next to me. Biting back a surge of desire as Stein moaned, though I knew it was in self disgust, I took a long sip of the ice cold fluid.
“I’m sorry Dax…” Stein murmured, his voice muffled by the flesh of his forearm pressed tight against his mouth. It wasn’t his fault, why was he apologizing? We play as a team; therefore we lose as a team. After a few moments of dead silence Stein chanced a glance in my direction. In his eyes I found every fear and broken hope that I knew to be mirrored in my own jaded gazed, but just beneath that surface I caught a glimpse of what I thought must have been unadulterated loss. Our future playing together was still so undetermined; we’d walk on egg shells waiting for the other to ditch and run like our former partners had just before the Olympic tryouts.
In the blink of an eye his body snapped up and he was suddenly standing on the opposite side of the bench, pacing back and forth. He’d get this way after losing or winning big sets; pacing and muttering to himself about everything that he could have improved upon. Every time he would run through the plays we had made and try and figure out how the defensive blocks had been set up. It was the only real defining difference between our two similar personalities; he was just a little more hotheaded and analytical, like he’d been today with the referee who was constantly calling double touches.
Pausing for a moment, he slumped against the full length lockers and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. The flickering florescent bulbs over head cast a shimmering glow upon Stein’s skin as the light caught the slowly drying sheen of sweat covering his face and neck. His eyes slid closed as he drew in a deep breath before continuing his self-deprecating recount of the set.
“I-I just couldn’t get there…” Stein mumbled, banging the back of his head against the metal locker. I watched as his large, tanned hands moved up to lace together at the back of his neck. “I saw it come off your block and I knew that there would be no way I’d get there in time…” After placing the half empty bottle of water next to my sunglasses, I finally stood up and crossed the short distance to where Stein stood, staring unblinkingly up at the ceiling. Hooking my fingers around the back of his head, overlaying his hands tangled together at the base, I tilted his head down to press my forehead against his. As my eyes slid shut I heard a sharp intake of breath as the fingers beneath my hands shifted loose. Nudging the tip of my nose against his cheekbone, I felt his hands slip out from under mine to press against the exposed skin covering my collarbones. Once again I found my fingers wound up in the lighter curled tips of Metzger’s hair. The callused pads of his thumbs started to run along the defined line with slow, methodic motions as his breathing finally began to slow to a normal rate.
“Stein, we’ve just placed fifth in the Olympics…” I said, pouring every ounce of encouragement and optimism into my voice. As I spoke the soft, pale pink flesh of Stein’s lips just barely brushed against my own. With the slightest tip of his head back, Stein tentatively pressed his mouth against my own. The soft flesh of his nose gently brushed against my cheek as he tilted his head to slowly move his lips upon mine. His hands slowed their ministrations until they lay still against the sides of my throat.
At first the caress was slow and bittersweet as Stein seemed to be accepting the fact that our first Olympics were finally over but that he still had me as a partner, in every sense of the word. However, after a moment of purely lips languidly moving against one another I felt Metzger’s hips shifted forward to grind teasingly against mine. A gasp, muted by Stein’s slick tongue slipping into my mouth, passed through my parted lips at the nearly searing contact of burning desire matching up with an answering heat. Beneath my hands I could feel the muscles of his shoulders relax just before they slumped as he tilted his head back further to allow my tongue to slip deeper inside the soft warmth of his mouth. Loosening my grip on the nape of his neck, my hands moved back to press against the cool metal of the lockers. As my palms lay flat against the metal I felt Metzger’s hands quickly slide down to grasp the dark fabric covering my hips and give them a quick jerk to press flat against his eager body.
“Mmmm, I know…” He finally moaned in a husky whisper just after pulling his pale pink lips away from mine. With a gentle push against my hips, Stein silently instructed me to move back. Picking up on the request, I stepped back only to find Metzger moving with me as my calves hit against the metal bench. My hands were tightly grasping the skin covering the now tense muscles of his shoulders as he grinned at my slightly shocked reaction to his forthright advances.
“You remember what we decided when we first teamed up?” I managed to ask as his hands finally slipped under the hem of my jersey. As his fingers traced up my sides, quickly hitching up the 2004 U.S. jersey to take it off for the last time in Athens, I focused on what I was asking of Metzger.
“Yes,” he whispered with a quick kiss against the corners of my lips before tugging the jersey completely off my shoulders. Before I had a chance to continue, his fingertips were suddenly dipping below the elastic waistband of my shorts. Catching my breath, I felt his fingers trace along the lines of my hipbones as the action caused my shorts to hang lower off my hips.
“Uhhh,” I muttered unintelligibly, scrabbling with the hem of his jersey and tugging it quickly over his head. As soon as I had his shirt off and cast away to lie upon the concrete floor I managed to find my words again. “We said that-” I stop abruptly as Stein’s lips collided with mine with bruising intensity. Working his jaw restlessly as his lips move against mine, Metzger’s hands push once more on my hips, forcing me to sit down on the metallic bench. Just as his tongue traced along the thin line of my lower lip I pulled away with a disgruntled moan as Stein’s only reply to the action. “That if we finish fifth or better we’d st-t-ay together…” I stuttered as I watched Metzger slowly descend to his knees between my wide-spread thighs. My hands were gently splayed against the sweaty skin stretched taut over strained muscles of his arched back as he leaned forward. His fingertips gently tugged once more at the waistband as a wicked smile spread across his lips.
“Exactly,” he whispered against my paler skin, trailing slippery kisses along the lines of my hips before finally pausing just below my navel. The muscles of my stomach tightened as I knew just what Metzger had in mind. Casting a last glance up at my face, Stein gave the shorts one last jerk as the first optimistic phrase slipped through his lips, “Plus there’s always Beijing.”
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AN: Okee I've tried and I hope anyone who likes these two boys enjoyed my attempt...sorry for any grammar mistakes and misspellings. *hides*
Paring: Dax Holdren/Stein Metzger (U.S. Men's Beach Volleyball Team)
Summary: Determination just doesn’t go as far as it used to…(Ficlet)
Rating: PG-13
AN: (Dax’s POV) I can’t help myself…the U.S. last hopeful team for Men’s Beach Volleyball needs a hug after being bumped out of the medal contingency thanks to Switzerland. It’s actually rather sad but in a nice slashy hurt/comfort perfect set up sort of way. *big grin* Small warning for Hally being a tease…again…
Guide: ‘Thoughts’
+++++++++++++++
Determination
+++++++++++++++
+++++++++++++++
AN: Okee I've tried and I hope anyone who likes these two boys enjoyed my attempt...sorry for any grammar mistakes and misspellings. *hides*
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2004-08-24 01:23 pm (UTC)WAH! SO HOTT! THEIR LOVE IS LIKE, SO OLYMPIC!
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Date: 2004-08-24 05:39 pm (UTC)THEIR LOVE IS LIKE, SO OLYMPIC! I KNOW!!!
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Date: 2004-08-24 02:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-24 05:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-24 02:39 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-24 05:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-24 05:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-24 05:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-25 11:35 am (UTC)But Stein Metzger - what were his parents thinking? Metzger means butcher in German, Stein means stone. Stone Butcher. What a name! The poor guy *hugs him*. Although, would have made a great dwarf name....
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Date: 2004-08-25 05:53 pm (UTC)I didn't even know that about his name! Stone Butcher...you're right poor guy...ahah, great dwarf name....
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Date: 2004-08-27 02:36 pm (UTC)Oh, I love spending my time thinking about the important things in life. :-D
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Date: 2004-08-28 04:10 am (UTC)<3!
Date: 2004-08-26 06:30 pm (UTC)Re: <3!
Date: 2004-08-27 06:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 04:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-28 04:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-31 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-09-01 03:04 am (UTC)