Re: [Capital University: Misha & Damian]
The fingers in the waistband had been distracting. Perhaps not how Misha intended, but they were distracting. There was more drag when Damian swam, as his dick as harder in his shorts than it had been, and if he had been timed before, he would have been slower now, though the difference was largely negligible. He noticed it, and not solely as he was aware of his own dick.—Still, Damian was much faster than Misha and much more skilled in the art of speed. He was at the other end of the pool when Misha surfaced in the middle and he watched then as the boy splashed the rest of the way. He turned in his own lane as Misha took hold of the wall and held himself up, out of the water, to breathe. He smiled, smug and triumphant. He did love to win.
As Misha reclined against the wall then, Damian ducked beneath the lane divider and swam over. The angel was breathing laboredly, and Damian came very close, his shoulder to the cement Misha leaned against. He was inches away, watching, watching that exhale and how it moved droplets of water on pink lips. There was no heed taken for personal space, though Damian did not touch Misha, and when he spoke, it was practically in the boy's ear. "I win. The pants are mine."
He pushed from the wall to float in front of Misha in the lane, his feet tickling against paler shins. "Did you attempt to cheat?" He meant the fingers in the waistband. He lifted his toes up to Misha's thigh, beneath the shorts. "It would not be angelic of you to do so." He hooked the boy from the wall then with his foot beneath shorts, up one leg. He perhaps also made the shorts slip on narrow hips, but he did not care about this. "You are fussed from last night still, yes?" It was time, Damian thought, to broach the topic. Having won, he was feeling magnanimous. It was the least he could do.