It was the arms that did it for Kurt; watching them thrash through the water with terrific speed, his biceps flexing and retracting, over and over and over...

He seemed to win every race he was in, this mysterious Blaine Anderson. It being his first Olympic year afforded him to somehow slip beneath the radar; his rival swimmers had no idea how good he’d be - many of them had written him off.

Kurt hadn’t. Kurt had watched him from the start. Before that, even. He’d watched his lithe body make through the water effortlessly; watched him leave his rival swimmers behind; watched all of his muscles move together, creating one strong, powerful swimmer.

And mostly, he’d watched those arms.

As Blaine got out of the pool, hugging people victoriously, giving interviews to the surrounding journalists as he gained his breath, Kurt made his way slyly over to him. His abs were toned, visible just slightly, and his skin was tan. There was no doubt the man would be picked up by the media when this was all over; he was positively handsome. He’d be semi-naked in adverts and on billboards, sporting Nike swimwear or some new Gucci fragrance. Kurt certainly wouldn’t mind.

He patted Blaine on the back as he reached him, and, when the boy turned from his group of rejoicing friends to look at him, said, “great swim, well done.” Blaine seemed to beam at the compliment and shook his hand quickly, before he was jostled away from Kurt by more of his friends.

He was one of Kurt’s opponents in the final the following day. The one he had to beat to retain his place as the current Olympic champion for the 400m Men’s Freestyle.

------

It was late in the evening when Kurt lay his head back on the side of the jacuzzi. His race for the day had gone well, of course - first in his heat and a favorite to win the final the next day. He’d spent most of the day afterward training and watching his competition.

There was nobody else in the spa. Perhaps none of them wanted to relax just yet, finals being but a day away. Kurt wasn’t worried. This was his ‘thing’. He’d be so relaxed come the final that his body would have fully recovered from the previous day and he’d beat all of his rivals by a long way.

The door opened with the slightest of squeaks, and Kurt looked across the dimly lit room to identify the intruder.

Well, well. If it wasn’t Blaine Anderson and his toned biceps.

The boy got into the jacuzzi silently, glancing at Kurt, but not saying anything. They sat for a while, the only sound the bubbling of the jacuzzi. Kurt wondered if the boy would say anything. He kept glancing his way, just missing his eyes every time. They continued with their back and forth for a while; Kurt looking at Blaine, Blaine glancing away, Kurt withdrawing his gaze as soon as Blaine’s head turned back to face him.

Eventually, Blaine broke the silence.

“You’re Kurt Hummel.”

It wasn’t a question, but Kurt answered in the affirmative nevertheless.

“Then you’re my competition tomorrow,” Blaine said, a smile on his face that could almost have been cocky.

“I am, Blaine Anderson. And quite some competition I am, too.”

“I’m sure you are, Mr. Olympic champion. Your first Olympic appearance was when you were, what? Seventeen?”

“Sixteen. Four years ago. And I’ve got a title to defend. So I won’t be letting you off easy tomorrow.”

Blaine laughed, and sprawled his arms out behind him as he lay his head back, eyes closed. Kurt stared at the muscles fully on display and licked his lips slightly. What he wouldn’t give to have those arms pinning him to a bed...

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Kurt. “How old are you?”

Blaine smiled. “Nineteen.”

Kurt relaxed. There was only a year between them, at most. He wasn’t simply being a pervert, eyeing some poor sixteen year old. “You ready for tomorrow?”

“Oh, I’m more than ready. That gold medal is as good as in the bag.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there. I’ve been watching you, you know. You’ve still not quite made my world record time.”

Blaine raised his head, and Kurt just knew that the smile painted across his face was flirtatious.

“Been watching me, have you?”

“Oh yes,” Kurt returned, his grin every bit as flirty as Blaine’s. “For a while now, actually. I looked you up online, saw some of your races before the Olympics. Your times, your medals, who your competition was. I saw some videos. You really do crash through the water like a mermaid. But you can’t go faster than me. I’ve never seen you do it.”

Blaine was inching closer to Kurt, his smile widening. There was an unmistakable chemistry in the air all of a sudden, the two of them sharing eye contact that burned with a kind of lust.

“Maybe I’m saving myself. So tomorrow I can thrash you and you won’t see it coming.”

Kurt raised his eyebrows; he was almost daring Blaine to try just that. To try and beat him.

Blaine’s thigh brushed against Kurt’s under the water, and Kurt gasped a little at the sensation.

Kurt had not had a relationship in over a year - had spent his last twelve months training so hard that he’d not had the time, not even thought about sex. Blaine was looking at him in a way that suggested that he’d been the same. So many of them were like this - their sport and their training meaning so much to them that they’d put it before everything else. Somehow, for Kurt, it had all cultivated to this one moment.

Kurt didn’t know quite what to do with himself. Blaine was so ridiculously close to him now that there was nothing to do beside catch his face between his hands and pull their lips together in a hungry kiss.

Blaine’s face was a little wet, splashed with the bubbles that continued on around them and Kurt’s tongue tasted chlorine on his lower lip before it slipped into Blaine’s hot mouth, the taste there of peppermint. Kurt could feel Blaine’s smile as the two of them made out, until eventually Blaine withdrew. Kurt heard himself whine, unsatisfied, until he felt Blaine’s legs straddling his waist and his lips working his neck.

Kurt groaned, his hands flying up into Blaine’s hair as he threw his head back. The star-like spotlights above them blurred in Kurt’s vision as all of his blood rushed southward and as Blaine gently gnawed at the flesh of Kurt’s neck his hand trailed its way down Kurt’s body, beneath the waves of the water and slipped into the skin-tight Speedos that were just barely covering Kurt’s erection.

“Isn’t there some kind of rule about this?” Kurt muttered amidst his sharp, shallow breathing. “‘Opposing Olympic teams must not fuck each other in the hot tub’ or something.”

Blaine laughed against Kurt’s skin, planting a line of kisses from his shoulder to his earlobe. “I concur that fucking in the hot tub is probably frowned upon. But I’m pretty sure Olympians can fuck whomever they want. Especially the competition. Tactical sex, or whatever. Get the opposition all hot and bothered-” as he said this, his fist clasped around Kurt’s cock, causing the latter to groan - the sound of it echoing around the spa “-so then they can’t concentrate.”

Kurt laughed, eyes clamped shut in a kind of bliss. “I hope that’s not your intention here, Mr. Anderson. I assure you, nothing will distract me from that race tomorrow. Tactical sex is not your answer.”

“Oh no,” Blaine said, his lips kissing and licking away the chlorine from Kurt’s shoulder, down to his chest. “No, this? This is because I couldn’t resist your ass in those Speedos.” There was a beat of silence and Kurt looked at Blaine, eyebrows furrowed. “Ever since you congratulated me earlier... I’ve been watching you, too.”

Kurt dug his nails into Blaine’s shoulders as Blaine twisted his wrist and flicked a thumb over the tip of Kurt’s cock.

“Surely it’s unhygienic to come in a public hot tub?”

“I won’t tell anybody if you don’t...”

Kurt made a noise that was somewhere between a laugh and a moan, and his toes curled up as he felt the overwhelming sensation of an orgasm building up inside of him. Blaine crushed his lips against Kurt’s, their tongues colliding together as Blaine’s fist continued to work Kurt’s cock, a thumb caressing the tip with every up-stroke. Kurt groaned into Blaine’s mouth, his voice deeper than usual as he thrust his hips up into Blaine’s fist and came, his heart pounding in his chest and a trickle of sweat falling from his temple.

When Kurt opened his eyes Blaine was leaning a few inches away from him, looking at him with a smile.

“What are you so happy about?” Kurt asked.

“Oh. You know. Just Blaine Anderson winning the gold medal in the Men’s Handjob Event. It’s one of my many athletic strengths.”

Kurt snorted. “Well wait a minute. I was under the impression that this was a medley event. You have to do all of the activities to be a gold medalist... and this was only the first heat.”

Kurt readjusted his boxers and stood up, sashaying out of the jacuzzi with a flirtatious smile on his face. He made his way over to the steam room, his eyes periodically glancing back at a gaping Blaine, and eventually he opened the glass door and disappeared into the thick fog that emanated from behind it.

He waited. He was not kept waiting for long.

Blaine joined him in the room in a heartbeat and Kurt pushed him against the wall as soon as the door closed behind him, his lips on Blaine’s and his hands pressing Blaine’s arms - those arms - to the tiles behind him.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth, eyelashes on cheeks, Kurt’s fingers on Blaine’s wrists. Kurt pressed his body up against Blaine’s, felt the other boy’s erection pressed against his thigh and with the slightest smirk - which Kurt doubted Blaine could even see through the steam - Kurt sank down onto his knees, pulling Blaine’s Speedos down past his thighs and filling his mouth with Blaine’s length. Blaine moaned, his knees buckling just slightly at the sensation.

Kurt’s nose burnt as he breathed in the scentless hot air of the steam room through his nostrils, but he continued to work his mouth up and down Blaine’s length, his tongue flicking across the tip of Blaine’s cock, tasting the pre-come there. Blaine’s hands were in Kurt’s hair, sliding through the droplets of sweat that clung there and locking around the bak of his head, urging Kurt to take him in further.

Kurt complied, relaxing his throat to allow Blaine in deeper. Kurt swallowed around him, and he whined as Kurt withdrew his mouth with a pop that sounded almost pornographic.

“Patience,” Kurt muttered, the sly smile on his face evident in his voice. He sucked on his index and middle fingers, slicking them with his saliva. Blaine - either just seeing him through the haze of steam that surrounded them or somehow instinctively knowing what Kurt was about to do - parted his legs slightly, allowing Kurt easier access.

Kurt’s finger made it’s way behind Blaine’s thigh, finding his entrance and pushing steadily up until his finger was inserted as far as his first knuckle.

“You sure you want me to do this?”

“Yes-”

Kurt hesitated. “Blaine?”

The other boy whined in response.

“Is this gonna affect you tomorrow? I’m not gonna enjoy winning the competition if I know you’re struggling to swim through pain.”

“No - Kurt-” Blaine threw his head back as Kurt’s tongue danced across the tip of his cock. “Just do it. Please.”

At his encouragement, Kurt proceeded, pushing his finger fully inside Blaine and, freezing momentarily to allow Blaine to become accustomed to the intrusion, crooked his finger, hitting Blaine’s sweet spot.

Kurt grinned at the response he was rewarded with.

Blaine’s knees buckled, his strength faltering and he slid down the wall slightly. His moan echoed around the steam room, and Kurt recaptured Blaine’s cock in his mouth, teasing him, his tongue encircling the length of him, saliva thick in his mouth.

“More, Kurt. I need more...”

Kurt complied. He added a second finger, slowly at first, easing his fingers in and out until, at Blaine’s encouragement, he became faster, crooking his fingers in all the right places, at all the right times.

Blaine’s breathing quickened, shallowed. His thighs were slick with sweat, the heat and humidity of the steam room closing in on them both. Kurt smiled slyly, taking Blaine into his mouth and humming from deep within his throat. His eyes trained on Blaine’s face, Kurt watched as the other boy’s features contorted in ecstasy. Without any warning but the strangled cry that escaped his lips, Blaine came hot and hard into Kurt’s mouth.

They stayed still for a short while, letting the steam cloud around them, both of them breathing heavily. Their skin sparkled with sweat, the lips curled into smiles with their remaining energy, both of them sated. They shared a single, chaste kiss before they made their way to the showers, the two of them separating into their own cubicles to clean themselves down. Kurt was the first out, wrapping a towel around his waist and walking over to his locker to retrieve his things. Blaine followed a little while after.

“Well that was fun,” the younger boy remarked with a cheeky smile.

“Most fun I’ve had in months,” Kurt agreed.

“Listen,” Blaine said earnestly, turning from his locker to face Kurt. “Just... good luck for tomorrow, you know? Whatever happens we’ll both be men about it and shake hands and be proud of each other, right?”

Kurt nodded. “Maybe when I win I’ll drag you back in here for condolence sex, or whatever.”

Blaine raised his eyebrows. “When you win? I think you got your pronouns mixed up there. I’ll be the one winning gold in the final tomorrow. But be assured, Hummel, that you’re most definitely a gold medalist in the bedroom.”

Kurt scoffed. “You’re a gold medalist in cheesiness.”

Blaine laughed. “No, I think my brother wins that one, but I’d be a close silver for sure.”

Kurt held a hand out to Blaine, a truce settling between them. “May the best man win.”