Page 91 of Your Pace or Mine
That seemed to be Darius’s cue.
“Thanks, Sebastien,” he replied. “Do you think we could steal the elites’ tent for a bit? Jamie’s knee was bothering him earlier, and well, with what the press has been like lately, we could use the privacy.”
“Of course, it’s empty by now anyway,” Sebastien replied, a knowing look in his eye that irritated Darius. “There should be all the kit you need in there, but just shout if not.”
Darius nodded his thanks and led Jamie back towards the tent, usually reserved for elite athletes to recover in. It was a space not unfamiliar to Darius and well-equipped with massage tables, first aid equipment, and a plethora of snacks. With most of the elites finishing hours earlier, they’d all have moved on to post-race interviews or travel by now, so he expected total privacy, which sent a little thrill running down his spine.
“Wow, this is proper posh!” Jamie exclaimed.
“It’s a tent,” Darius replied.
“A tent with massage tables!”
Darius steered Jamie towards the one at the back of the tent, behind the shelf of first aid supplies. “Up you get, and lie down on your stomach.”
“Wait, am I actually getting a massage?” Jamie asked incredulously.
“Oh, well, yes?” Darius hesitated. “But if you don’t want me to do it, I can get Sebastien or one of the volunteers…”
“No, I want you to, Darius.” Jamie cut him off. “I really, really want you to,” he said, his voice deepening and blue eyes sparkling with unspoken promise.
Jamie practically vaulted onto the massage bed, stretching himself out on it immediately, leaving Darius fumbling forwords and digging through the first aid bins, where he finally unearthed a sealed tube ofDeep Heat.
He looked at Jamie, his skin-tight leggings left little to the imagination, but they’d have to go if he was going to treat the knee. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.
Darius waved the tube at Jamie. “You’ll need to lose the leggings.”
Jamie flushed a lovely pink colour as he tugged his leggings down. The sweat was making them stick to his legs, so it took some effort, treating Darius to an impromptu, if rather clumsy, show.
Darius nearly choked on his tongue when Jamie folded over completely to tug them off. His gaze traced over the large tattoo on his right thigh, then further upwards to the tiniest pair of briefs known to man. God, he’d missed this view.
“Does everyone get such special treatment from pace runners?” Jamie teased.
Darius hummed. “No, only idiot dancers that push themselves too hard.”
Jamie nodded sagely. “Ah, I’m afraid there are many of those around.”
Darius tried to focus on the job at hand and squeezed some of theDeep Heatonto Jamie’s knee. Jamie flinched as the cold gel hit his warm skin.
“Well, luckily for me, I’ve only run into the one today,” he said.
“Lucky you indeed,” Jamie smiled.
Darius massaged around his knee thoroughly, checking earnestly for any knots or damage. Once he was relatively certain there was no serious injury, he started to allow his hands to wander, tracing patterns up and down Jamie’s inner thigh as he teased Jamie about the race, their banter thawing something deep in his heart.
“God, your legs are a mess,” Darius muttered, his voice low and teasing. “You know you’re still overstriding, right? Have you been doing the exercises Sebastien set you?”
Jamie let out a muffled laugh. “Yes, sir.” He glanced up slightly, smirking. “I’ve been a very good boy.”
Darius’s cock twitched as his hands slid up Jamie’s thighs, working out a particularly stubborn knot before they softened, tracing up and down his legs softly, committing the feel of his skin to sense memory.
“Tell me where it hurts,” he breathed.
Jamie’s voice took on a huskier quality as he replied. “Higher.”
“Here?” Darius asked, his voice catching in his throat as he traced up his inner thigh, his fingers teasing along the line of his briefs.
“Yeah,” Jamie sighed. “Perfect.”
