fic: foxes chase the hound
foxes chase the hound
ryan lochte/michael phelps
nc17, 2310 words
warnings for curse words and sex. the sex in this fic is based off this gif (nsfw).
Ryan starts laughing the second Michael walks through the door.
“Shut up,” Michael says, ears bright red as he sets his bags down. Ryan laughs harder when Michael has to limp across the room to punch him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” Ryan cries and rubs at his shoulder where there’s probably an angry red mark under his shirt from Michael’s fist. “You’re a dick,” the athlete whines but he wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m glad you showed.”
“Said I would,” Michael replies and just barely misses Ryan’s eye roll. He pulls away and punches Ryan again which ends up being a mistake because Ryan doesn’t stop bitching about the pain in his shoulder until Michael runs his thumb over the marks left by his fist soothingly.
“You’re such a baby,” Michael complains but leaves his hand on Ryan’s shoulder just to feel the heat of Ryan’s skin through his USA issued shirt.
“If you weren’t such an abusive asshole I wouldn’t be such a baby,” Ryan says and looks at where Michael’s hand still hasn’t moved. He stares at Michael’s unnecessarily long fingers, and before Michael can call him out on how weird he’s being Ryan turns his head, leans up and kisses him. It’s nothing big, just a quick brush of lips without any tongue, but it’s enough to leave Michael grinning like an idiotic teenager.
“You’re such a fucking sap,” Michael says after Ryan kisses him again, this time harder, a little more persistent.
“Dude, I’m fucking romantic,” Ryan corrects but he stops kissing Michael to sit on his bed and poke at Michael’s boot with his toe. “Whatcha do?”
Michael doesn’t let it show that he’s disappointed Ryan’s stopped kissing him. He just looks down at his boot-clad foot with contempt and shrugs. “I fractured it.”
“Doing what?” Ryan presses and continues to poke Michael’s foot. Michael can’t really feet it through the material of the boot but it’s starting to get annoying. He steps away from Ryan and laughs when he has to struggle to reach him. “Playing golf,” he says.
Ryan gives him an incredulous look. “The internet says your new girl broke it so you couldn’t run away from her.”
Michael frowns. “She’s not-”
“Mhm,” Ryan cuts him off. His eyes are guarded but he makes grabby hands for Michael like an overgrown baby. Michael reclines on the bed next to him, propped up by his elbows while Ryan lies back, arms under his head. “You know I don’t like them.”
“I know,” Michael replies because there’s nothing else he can really say. They’ve talked about it and they haven’t talked about it and they’re nowhere close to reaching a resolution. “Peter said it would be a good idea to bring her.”
Ryan doesn’t reply for a long time and when he does he changes the topic. “I’m going to Australia. You’re not coming with me, are you?”
“No,” Michael replies because Australia’s too far for him to follow and it’s too long for him to be away. He’s a selfish dick, he knows, and Ryan knows too because he didn’t have to ask Michael to come with him because he already knew the answer would be no. Even retired Michael can’t stop being a dick.
Ryan makes a noise and then Michael tries to swing his leg over to straddle him, but he forgets about the weight of the boot on his foot and how Ryan’s feet are still planted firmly on the floor and ends up falling off the bed, twisting his fractured foot under him. Thankfully the boot is so bulky he only ends up hurting the skin right around where the boot starts and not his actual foot but Ryan’s a dick and starts laughing as soon as Michael’s ass hits the floor.
“Shut up,” Michael hisses, ears red in embarrassment. “Shut up, shut up.” Ryan continues to laugh. Michael punches him in the thigh.
“Fuck!” Ryan yells, fingers automatically going to his thigh but his voice is still filled with laughter. Michael flicks his leg, earning another curse from Ryan, and proceeds to ignore him until his laughter dies down.
“Oh come on,” Ryan says after Michael ignores his are you okay? “You’re not gonna pout like a bitch because I laughed at you.”
“I’m not pouting like a bitch,” Michael huffs, though his bottom lip is out. “I was trying to be romantic you prick.”
Ryan just grins and reaches out for Michael, manhandling him until Michael is up on the bed with him, a safe distance from the floor. Michael’s still embarrassed and sort of angry but he relaxes down on the pillows while Ryan takes his booted foot in his lap and examines it.
“Dude,” he says, “how are we supposed to fuck with this?”
Michael blinks at him because he didn’t know fucking was an option. “What about your taper?”
“Fuck taper,” Ryan grumbles. “Can you take this off?” He asks and starts to mess with the straps keeping it on. Michael’s only supposed to take it off to shower and sometimes just to let his foot breathe but other than that it’s supposed to stay on. He doesn’t try to stop Ryan.
When his foot is finally free Ryan throws the boot in a corner. Michael’s foot is still a bit swollen, but when he flexes his toes he doesn’t feel any real pain. “Your feet are nasty,” Ryan says.
“You’re the one who wanted to hold it,” Michael lisps but pulls his foot out of Ryan’s reach. Ryan just grins and wiggles his way out of his shirt and then frowns when he notices that Michael’s still wearing a shirt. “Dude,” he says, “hurry up and get naked.”
“You could buy me dinner first, dick,” Michael grumbles. Ryan rolls his eyes and crawls up the bed, nudging Michael’s knees apart and being careful of his foot. His fingers sneak under the hem of Michael’s shirt and lift until Michael’s forced to lift his arms and slip out of the shirt. The shirt’s not even on the floor before Ryan’s kissing him, all lips and tongue this time, nothing like before. Michael’s arm gets stuck between their bodies, hand pressed to Ryan’s chest, but that’s okay because Michael’s been meaning to get his hands on those abs since he landed.
Ryan bites at his lip and Michael arches into him until they’re humping like horny teenagers, Ryan grinding down on him and Michael meeting him halfway. “Naked,” Michael gasps when they pull apart to breathe.
Ryan grins like an idiot and pulls away long enough to get naked. When Michael doesn’t move fast enough he bumps Michael’s fingers out of the way and drags his shorts off. They get caught on Michael’s bad foot and it takes some maneuvering to get Michael’s underwear off without hurting him again, but when he’s naked Ryan kisses the inside of his knee in apology. Michael grins, drunk on the stupid things Ryan makes him feel, and digs his fingers into Ryan’s short hair to pull him up and kiss him, Ryan fitting easily into the space between his thighs.
From there’s a whole lot more kissing and humping each other like teenagers until Michael can’t take it anymore. Ryan’s dick slides against his and Michael fumbles under a pillow where he knows Ryan always stashes lube even if it’s just going to be him and his hand. He finds the bottle just where he knew it would be, but it’s new and unopened.
“You could have opened the bottle if you knew you we’re going to get laid,” he bitches. Ryan takes the bottle with a roll of his eyes and rips off the plastic safety wrap with his teeth before he dribbles a large amount on his fingers and hooks Michael’s leg over his shoulder. Ryan’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth and Michael laughs at the innocent illusion it gives the other man before his smile gets erased by one of Ryan’s fingers working its way inside of him.
It feels odd, foreign almost. Michael doesn’t get on his back for anyone but Ryan, and since they’ve had more downs than ups recently they haven’t really fucked in months. Michael shifts and then it becomes easier, starts to feel better. Ryan’s finger works in and out and when he fits a second finger in he leans down and kisses Michael, momentarily distracting him. Ryan curls his fingers and Michael cries out against his mouth, thrusting down against his fingers.
“Fuck me,” Michael breathes when he’s had enough of Ryan’s fingers and wants more. Ryan stops his fingers and says, “get on top” and Michael nods a bit shaky, but he lets Ryan roll them so he’s on top and Ryan’s trapped beneath him. Ryan’s cock rubs against his ass and Michael grinds against it until Ryan sits up a little to roll a condom on and Michael distracts him by kissing him senseless because Ryan’s lips are right there.
“Stop,” Ryan laughs between kisses, “can’t get the condom on.”
Michael stops attacking his lips to nibble on Ryan’s ear, Ryan’s fingers fumbling against his ass as he tries to get the condom on. When it finally slides on Ryan shuffles down to lie back against the pillows, one hand firm on Michael’s hip and his other on his own cock, holding it in place as Michael lifts up and then sinks down on the thick head. It hurts because it always does, and Michael feels a pang in his foot, but it’s not enough to make him stop. He relaxes and sinks down slowly until he sits on Ryan’s lap and then from there it’s just a matter of lifting up and sinking down, trying to find the right rhythm.
Ryan doesn’t thrust up in to him but that’s okay because Michael gets to place his hands on Ryan’s chest and feel how solid he is beneath him as he rides his cock. Ryan’s staring up at him, grin lazy and a bit sloppy in happiness and it’s such a weird thing to have Ryan look at him like that while they’re fucking. “Stop,” he says.
“What?” Ryan replies and finally places both hands on Michael’s hips and thrusts up. Michael’s mouth hangs open in a silent ‘o’, not caring what his face looks like, especially not around Ryan, and when Ryan loses his momentum and Michael comes back to himself he says, “stop looking at me like that,” while Ryan frowns and replies, “you want me to close my eyes?” and does so.
Michael laughs, thrusts down hard three times despite the weight of it bothering his foot before he doubles over, face so close to the other man’s that their foreheads rub together every time Michael moves. He closes his own eyes because it's easier that way, just moving his hips and breathing the same air as Ryan, lips sometimes brushing against each other. Ryan runs his fingers through Michael’s hair, sometimes digging in when Michael’s hips move harder and faster, relaxing when Michael’s foot starts to protest and he has to do all the work.
Michael sits up at one point, one hand still on Ryan’s chest and the other on his jaw, thumb at the corner of his mouth. His foot is hurting like a bitch, feeling a lot like he did when he first fractured it. “My foot,” he says and Ryan stops moving to say, “hold on,” fingers under Michael’s ass and lifting, Michael working with him until Michael is on his back, pressure and weight off his foot.
Ryan lifts the leg with the bad foot close to Michael’s chest and then it’s faster after that, the angle not as good as it was before but Ryan makes it up with the speed of his thrusts. He kisses Michael again as Michael works a hand between them to jack his dick, Ryan shifting just enough to hit his prostate every other thrust.
“Fuck, fuck, come on,” Michael says against his ear when Ryan leans in to kiss him again, “let me feel you come.”
Ryan groans, hips slamming in, fingers tight around Michael’s leg where he’s still grasping it and then he comes, cock slamming in and staying there until he’s done and then Ryan just thrusts into him shallowly, like his hips can’t stop moving.
Michael grabs Ryan’s hair gently and kisses him, fingers still working his cock until Ryan knocks his hand out the way and does it himself. Michael curses and comes, painting his stomach and Ryan’s hand in come as he arches and thrusts to meet Ryan’s hips.
“Fuck,” Ryan curses and pulls away just enough to tie the condom off and throw it somewhere near the trash can. It misses and lands close to the bed Michael assumes belongs to Clary. Michael lowers his foot back onto the bed, the pain duller than before but it looks more swollen.
“How’s the foot?” Ryan asks, settling into the space next to Michael on the bed. He’s got a serious case of toddler bangs going on and Michael pushes them off his forehead. “Hurts,” he replies and wiggles his toes.
“Sorry,” Ryan says actually looking sincere. “But I couldn’t miss an opportunity to tap that fat ass.”
“Fuck off,” Michael hisses and shoves Ryan with his shoulder to knock him off the bed. He only succeeds in shoving Ryan an inch or two.
“It’s a nice fat ass,” Ryan says, batting his eye lashes. Michael stares at him and then uses all his weight to shove Ryan. This time he actually succeeds in knocking him to the floor.
“Fuck!” Ryan yells, “You’re a dick.”
“Love you too,” Michael replies.
ryan lochte/michael phelps
nc17, 2310 words
warnings for curse words and sex. the sex in this fic is based off this gif (nsfw).
Ryan starts laughing the second Michael walks through the door.
“Shut up,” Michael says, ears bright red as he sets his bags down. Ryan laughs harder when Michael has to limp across the room to punch him in the shoulder.
“Ow!” Ryan cries and rubs at his shoulder where there’s probably an angry red mark under his shirt from Michael’s fist. “You’re a dick,” the athlete whines but he wraps an arm around Michael’s shoulders and pulls him into a hug, lips brushing against his ear. “I’m glad you showed.”
“Said I would,” Michael replies and just barely misses Ryan’s eye roll. He pulls away and punches Ryan again which ends up being a mistake because Ryan doesn’t stop bitching about the pain in his shoulder until Michael runs his thumb over the marks left by his fist soothingly.
“You’re such a baby,” Michael complains but leaves his hand on Ryan’s shoulder just to feel the heat of Ryan’s skin through his USA issued shirt.
“If you weren’t such an abusive asshole I wouldn’t be such a baby,” Ryan says and looks at where Michael’s hand still hasn’t moved. He stares at Michael’s unnecessarily long fingers, and before Michael can call him out on how weird he’s being Ryan turns his head, leans up and kisses him. It’s nothing big, just a quick brush of lips without any tongue, but it’s enough to leave Michael grinning like an idiotic teenager.
“You’re such a fucking sap,” Michael says after Ryan kisses him again, this time harder, a little more persistent.
“Dude, I’m fucking romantic,” Ryan corrects but he stops kissing Michael to sit on his bed and poke at Michael’s boot with his toe. “Whatcha do?”
Michael doesn’t let it show that he’s disappointed Ryan’s stopped kissing him. He just looks down at his boot-clad foot with contempt and shrugs. “I fractured it.”
“Doing what?” Ryan presses and continues to poke Michael’s foot. Michael can’t really feet it through the material of the boot but it’s starting to get annoying. He steps away from Ryan and laughs when he has to struggle to reach him. “Playing golf,” he says.
Ryan gives him an incredulous look. “The internet says your new girl broke it so you couldn’t run away from her.”
Michael frowns. “She’s not-”
“Mhm,” Ryan cuts him off. His eyes are guarded but he makes grabby hands for Michael like an overgrown baby. Michael reclines on the bed next to him, propped up by his elbows while Ryan lies back, arms under his head. “You know I don’t like them.”
“I know,” Michael replies because there’s nothing else he can really say. They’ve talked about it and they haven’t talked about it and they’re nowhere close to reaching a resolution. “Peter said it would be a good idea to bring her.”
Ryan doesn’t reply for a long time and when he does he changes the topic. “I’m going to Australia. You’re not coming with me, are you?”
“No,” Michael replies because Australia’s too far for him to follow and it’s too long for him to be away. He’s a selfish dick, he knows, and Ryan knows too because he didn’t have to ask Michael to come with him because he already knew the answer would be no. Even retired Michael can’t stop being a dick.
Ryan makes a noise and then Michael tries to swing his leg over to straddle him, but he forgets about the weight of the boot on his foot and how Ryan’s feet are still planted firmly on the floor and ends up falling off the bed, twisting his fractured foot under him. Thankfully the boot is so bulky he only ends up hurting the skin right around where the boot starts and not his actual foot but Ryan’s a dick and starts laughing as soon as Michael’s ass hits the floor.
“Shut up,” Michael hisses, ears red in embarrassment. “Shut up, shut up.” Ryan continues to laugh. Michael punches him in the thigh.
“Fuck!” Ryan yells, fingers automatically going to his thigh but his voice is still filled with laughter. Michael flicks his leg, earning another curse from Ryan, and proceeds to ignore him until his laughter dies down.
“Oh come on,” Ryan says after Michael ignores his are you okay? “You’re not gonna pout like a bitch because I laughed at you.”
“I’m not pouting like a bitch,” Michael huffs, though his bottom lip is out. “I was trying to be romantic you prick.”
Ryan just grins and reaches out for Michael, manhandling him until Michael is up on the bed with him, a safe distance from the floor. Michael’s still embarrassed and sort of angry but he relaxes down on the pillows while Ryan takes his booted foot in his lap and examines it.
“Dude,” he says, “how are we supposed to fuck with this?”
Michael blinks at him because he didn’t know fucking was an option. “What about your taper?”
“Fuck taper,” Ryan grumbles. “Can you take this off?” He asks and starts to mess with the straps keeping it on. Michael’s only supposed to take it off to shower and sometimes just to let his foot breathe but other than that it’s supposed to stay on. He doesn’t try to stop Ryan.
When his foot is finally free Ryan throws the boot in a corner. Michael’s foot is still a bit swollen, but when he flexes his toes he doesn’t feel any real pain. “Your feet are nasty,” Ryan says.
“You’re the one who wanted to hold it,” Michael lisps but pulls his foot out of Ryan’s reach. Ryan just grins and wiggles his way out of his shirt and then frowns when he notices that Michael’s still wearing a shirt. “Dude,” he says, “hurry up and get naked.”
“You could buy me dinner first, dick,” Michael grumbles. Ryan rolls his eyes and crawls up the bed, nudging Michael’s knees apart and being careful of his foot. His fingers sneak under the hem of Michael’s shirt and lift until Michael’s forced to lift his arms and slip out of the shirt. The shirt’s not even on the floor before Ryan’s kissing him, all lips and tongue this time, nothing like before. Michael’s arm gets stuck between their bodies, hand pressed to Ryan’s chest, but that’s okay because Michael’s been meaning to get his hands on those abs since he landed.
Ryan bites at his lip and Michael arches into him until they’re humping like horny teenagers, Ryan grinding down on him and Michael meeting him halfway. “Naked,” Michael gasps when they pull apart to breathe.
Ryan grins like an idiot and pulls away long enough to get naked. When Michael doesn’t move fast enough he bumps Michael’s fingers out of the way and drags his shorts off. They get caught on Michael’s bad foot and it takes some maneuvering to get Michael’s underwear off without hurting him again, but when he’s naked Ryan kisses the inside of his knee in apology. Michael grins, drunk on the stupid things Ryan makes him feel, and digs his fingers into Ryan’s short hair to pull him up and kiss him, Ryan fitting easily into the space between his thighs.
From there’s a whole lot more kissing and humping each other like teenagers until Michael can’t take it anymore. Ryan’s dick slides against his and Michael fumbles under a pillow where he knows Ryan always stashes lube even if it’s just going to be him and his hand. He finds the bottle just where he knew it would be, but it’s new and unopened.
“You could have opened the bottle if you knew you we’re going to get laid,” he bitches. Ryan takes the bottle with a roll of his eyes and rips off the plastic safety wrap with his teeth before he dribbles a large amount on his fingers and hooks Michael’s leg over his shoulder. Ryan’s tongue sticks out the corner of his mouth and Michael laughs at the innocent illusion it gives the other man before his smile gets erased by one of Ryan’s fingers working its way inside of him.
It feels odd, foreign almost. Michael doesn’t get on his back for anyone but Ryan, and since they’ve had more downs than ups recently they haven’t really fucked in months. Michael shifts and then it becomes easier, starts to feel better. Ryan’s finger works in and out and when he fits a second finger in he leans down and kisses Michael, momentarily distracting him. Ryan curls his fingers and Michael cries out against his mouth, thrusting down against his fingers.
“Fuck me,” Michael breathes when he’s had enough of Ryan’s fingers and wants more. Ryan stops his fingers and says, “get on top” and Michael nods a bit shaky, but he lets Ryan roll them so he’s on top and Ryan’s trapped beneath him. Ryan’s cock rubs against his ass and Michael grinds against it until Ryan sits up a little to roll a condom on and Michael distracts him by kissing him senseless because Ryan’s lips are right there.
“Stop,” Ryan laughs between kisses, “can’t get the condom on.”
Michael stops attacking his lips to nibble on Ryan’s ear, Ryan’s fingers fumbling against his ass as he tries to get the condom on. When it finally slides on Ryan shuffles down to lie back against the pillows, one hand firm on Michael’s hip and his other on his own cock, holding it in place as Michael lifts up and then sinks down on the thick head. It hurts because it always does, and Michael feels a pang in his foot, but it’s not enough to make him stop. He relaxes and sinks down slowly until he sits on Ryan’s lap and then from there it’s just a matter of lifting up and sinking down, trying to find the right rhythm.
Ryan doesn’t thrust up in to him but that’s okay because Michael gets to place his hands on Ryan’s chest and feel how solid he is beneath him as he rides his cock. Ryan’s staring up at him, grin lazy and a bit sloppy in happiness and it’s such a weird thing to have Ryan look at him like that while they’re fucking. “Stop,” he says.
“What?” Ryan replies and finally places both hands on Michael’s hips and thrusts up. Michael’s mouth hangs open in a silent ‘o’, not caring what his face looks like, especially not around Ryan, and when Ryan loses his momentum and Michael comes back to himself he says, “stop looking at me like that,” while Ryan frowns and replies, “you want me to close my eyes?” and does so.
Michael laughs, thrusts down hard three times despite the weight of it bothering his foot before he doubles over, face so close to the other man’s that their foreheads rub together every time Michael moves. He closes his own eyes because it's easier that way, just moving his hips and breathing the same air as Ryan, lips sometimes brushing against each other. Ryan runs his fingers through Michael’s hair, sometimes digging in when Michael’s hips move harder and faster, relaxing when Michael’s foot starts to protest and he has to do all the work.
Michael sits up at one point, one hand still on Ryan’s chest and the other on his jaw, thumb at the corner of his mouth. His foot is hurting like a bitch, feeling a lot like he did when he first fractured it. “My foot,” he says and Ryan stops moving to say, “hold on,” fingers under Michael’s ass and lifting, Michael working with him until Michael is on his back, pressure and weight off his foot.
Ryan lifts the leg with the bad foot close to Michael’s chest and then it’s faster after that, the angle not as good as it was before but Ryan makes it up with the speed of his thrusts. He kisses Michael again as Michael works a hand between them to jack his dick, Ryan shifting just enough to hit his prostate every other thrust.
“Fuck, fuck, come on,” Michael says against his ear when Ryan leans in to kiss him again, “let me feel you come.”
Ryan groans, hips slamming in, fingers tight around Michael’s leg where he’s still grasping it and then he comes, cock slamming in and staying there until he’s done and then Ryan just thrusts into him shallowly, like his hips can’t stop moving.
Michael grabs Ryan’s hair gently and kisses him, fingers still working his cock until Ryan knocks his hand out the way and does it himself. Michael curses and comes, painting his stomach and Ryan’s hand in come as he arches and thrusts to meet Ryan’s hips.
“Fuck,” Ryan curses and pulls away just enough to tie the condom off and throw it somewhere near the trash can. It misses and lands close to the bed Michael assumes belongs to Clary. Michael lowers his foot back onto the bed, the pain duller than before but it looks more swollen.
“How’s the foot?” Ryan asks, settling into the space next to Michael on the bed. He’s got a serious case of toddler bangs going on and Michael pushes them off his forehead. “Hurts,” he replies and wiggles his toes.
“Sorry,” Ryan says actually looking sincere. “But I couldn’t miss an opportunity to tap that fat ass.”
“Fuck off,” Michael hisses and shoves Ryan with his shoulder to knock him off the bed. He only succeeds in shoving Ryan an inch or two.
“It’s a nice fat ass,” Ryan says, batting his eye lashes. Michael stares at him and then uses all his weight to shove Ryan. This time he actually succeeds in knocking him to the floor.
“Fuck!” Ryan yells, “You’re a dick.”
“Love you too,” Michael replies.