Page 46 of Your Pace or Mine (Running for the Romance #1)

Darius

The Finish Line

T heir agreement to try again had Darius’s heart pounding harder than any race he’d ever run.

“God, is this what they mean when they talk about a runner’s high?” Jamie asked. “‘Cause I feel extremely buzzed, kind of horny, and also like I might puke on you.”

“Please don’t,” Darius replied.

He was a little concerned by how much Jamie was favouring his right side, so once they got through the excitement at the finish, he tried to steer him towards the first aid tent.

“Darius, I’m fine, I promise,” Jamie protested.

“You’re not fine, Jamie. Sebastien must be around here somewhere. I’ll get him to take a look and…”

Jamie was rooted to the spot, though, with a soft smile on his face. “Darius,” he whispered. “I did it.”

In that moment, everything slowed around him.

He could see the reporters milling around the finish line and hear the crowd cheering as runners continued to cross.

Cameras clicked and smartphones waved around them, but it all stilled as he gently turned back to Jamie.

The look of awe on his face was humbling, and Darius was so bloody proud of him.

He’d pushed through, even when he’d wanted to give up.

Darius pulled him into a kiss, and time quite literally stood still.

Darius held Jamie, sinking against him as his lips parted and their tongues met.

It was perfection.

Until Jamie’s legs caved beneath him, and they stumbled.

“That’s it. We’re going to the aid tent.”

It was a testament to the pain he must have been in that Jamie didn’t protest at all.

Darius steered them towards the elites’ tent rather than the standard first aid, telling himself there was better equipment there. Still, a tiny voice in the back of his head was also reminding him there was more privacy.

“Darius, hey! Good to see you.” Sebastien was manning the tent, likely roped into it by his husband, who worked for the events team. “And Jamie, congrats on the marathon!” he exclaimed. “How’s the application going? Do you want me to take a look at it?”

Darius had no idea what Sebastien was talking about, but Jamie was replying, thanking him for the offer.

“Application for what?” Darius interjected.

Jamie turned to him with a full wattage grin on his face.“I’m going back to university, or well, I’m applying. To study physiotherapy.”

“Jamie, that’s amazing,” Darius replied.

“I might not get in.”

Sebastien’s scoff echoed Darius’s, reminding him they still had company. Someday, Darius was determined Jamie would see just how exceptional he truly was.

Sebastien’s voice cut in. “I’m sorry about all the shit people have been saying lately. That must be hard—if you ever need anything—“

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 for words and digging through the first aid bins, where he finally unearthed a sealed tube of Deep 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 the Deep Heat onto 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.”

The tent was quiet, and the distant hum of the marathon crowds had faded into the background. All of Darius’s focus had narrowed into the tiny space between him and Jamie.

He could feel the tension in his chest, the air between them thick and charged.

“You know,” Jamie said, his voice lower now. “This is feeling less like recovery and more like something else.”

“There are different types of recovery,” Darius replied.

Jamie swung himself to a seated position and looked Darius in the eyes. “Tell me we’re going to be okay?”

“Jamie, we’re going to be better than okay,” Darius replied as he wiped the remaining Deep Heat from his hands.

They surged forward at the same time, lips connecting in a breathtaking kiss.

Jamie wrapped his legs around Darius’s back, fusing their bodies together as they kissed hungrily.

They slotted together like no time had passed at all, and Darius knew what he’d said was true.

“Touch me,” Jamie groaned.

Darius obliged.

Darius stroked Jamie slowly, enjoying every moment of being able to touch him again. The room smelled of menthol and perspiration, but all his senses were zeroed in on where their bodies met, his nerves buzzing with electricity.

Darius nipped at Jamie’s neck. It tasted of salt and sweat. “Want to taste you, can I?” he whispered in Jamie’s ear, eliciting a low rumble from his throat.

Darius took that as permission and lowered himself until he could engulf Jamie’s length in his mouth. The angle wasn’t ideal, but he could work with it.

Darius swirled his tongue around Jamie’s tip slowly before sucking him down to the hilt in one smooth motion.

“Fuuuck, OK, yes, I’ve missed you so much,” Jamie babbled.

Darius smirked, but he didn’t let up for a second, bracing his hands on Jamie’s thighs as he hummed around him.

Jamie’s hands found purchase in his hair as his hips started to buck involuntarily, but Darius held him down, controlling the pace as he focused all of his being on pleasuring Jamie.

It wasn’t long before Jamie was on the edge, and Darius wasn’t far behind.

Taking his cock in hand, he needed just two quick strokes before he was spilling all over the floor as he swallowed Jamie’s release.

Everything seemed to still between them for a moment in the aftermath.

Before either of them could acknowledge the shift or give voice to their feelings, there were shouts from the other side of the tent.

“Oi, lovebirds, get out here and celebrate with us.”

It was Jackson.

Because, of course , it was Jackson.

Darius tugged his shorts back on quickly, letting out what he hoped was a supportive-sounding laugh as he watched Jamie struggle back into his tight, sweaty leggings.

From the glare he received, he assumed it hadn’t been received as such. But a soft kiss to his temple wiped the petulant look off Jamie’s face.

They walked out from behind the shelving, Jamie still leaning on Darius for support, to find not only Jackson, but Chi, Adam, Claire, Mark, and, much to Darius’s embarrassment, his father, and Selena.

“We did it, Jamie!” Claire exclaimed, breaking the slightly awkward silence that hung in the air and rushing forward to pull them into a hug that quickly became a group event.

Darius broke free, leaving them to discuss their first marathon together.

His father was at his side in a moment, Selena close behind. Jackson moved to flank him, a steady, supportive presence.

“You didn’t race,” his father stated.

Darius let a smile play on his face as he watched Jamie and their friends interact, because that’s who the group was now— their friends.

“Nah, some things are more important.”

“You did well, son,” his father replied.

Darius bit his lip. “There’ll have been photos at the finish. Press…”

“I’ll get someone on it,” his father answered, nodding and clapping a firm hand on Darius’s shoulder as he pulled out his mobile and moved away. Off to prepare his press team, no doubt.

Jackson swung an arm over Darius’s shoulder. “Have you told Twinkle Toes about the launch next weekend?”

“Haven’t had a chance,” Darius replied. That was something he wanted to share with Jamie in private.

“You’ve been in here alone for ages, what could you possibly have been…” Jackson was interrupted by Selena hitting him gently on the back of the head.

“Oooh, I see.” He winked. “Very nice, Darius. That’s my kind of grand gesture. Was it as hot as I’m imagining? Can’t say I haven’t had fantasies of my own about this space.”

“Oh fuck off, Jennings. Not in front of my baby sister,” Darius replied with a laugh, which earned him a glare from Selena and an exasperated, “I’m nearly eighteen!”