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“C'mon, G. I'll beat you this time, one more round.” Sid huffed, arm resting on the side of the pool like he'd just ran a marathon. That concluded the fourth race to the other end of the massive pool in Geno's backyard.
“You think you are beat?” Geno chuckled. “I win four times already.”
Geno was an impressively good swimmer. Sid had even remarked he should've picked that over hockey. He was desperate to beat him.
“One more?”
“Okay, Crosby. Good luck.” The two propped up against the pool edge, ready to push off.
Sid counted down from 3.
3
2
1
Geno pounced off of the sturdy concrete wall, diving underwater, giving him a speed advantage against his aerodynamic partner. He got about halfway across the pool before diving up for air. As he went back down, he blinked water into his eyes, a sudden sting hit his corneas. He kept swimming, trying to ignore the burning. He had hit the wall faster than last time.
Geno came up, prepared to laugh in Sid's face, that was until he'd realized that in his chlorinated mishap, he had made an accidental turn. He looked towards the end of the pool, finding Sidney approaching, hitting the wall and speeding back to the starting side.
“Yobanaya suka!” He yelped, diving back towards the side Sid had just bounced from. Before he was even half way back, he had lost.
“Told you.”
“Viyebnutsa.” He sneered lightheartedly.
“What's that?” The pair giggled. Geno swam down to meet Sid. “So what's my prize?”
“Prize? I win, I am best of three. I should get prize.”
“Oh really?”
“Da.” Geno closed the gap between them. Sid's hands slid up his wet body, reaching his jaw. He pressed his lips to Geno's, opening up his mouth and letting himself inside. Geno's arms came up to cradle the back of Sidney's head. The pair disconnected with a click.
“How's that for a prize, eh?” His lips had turned a shade of pink that could be found in the Miami sunset behind them. The clouds framed Geno like a painting.
“Good prize.” Geno laughed with bee-stung lips.
“You could at least give me a consolation prize.” Sid doe-eyed him.
“What kind of prize?”
“The kind that involves you drying off and taking me inside.”
“Yeah?” Geno blushed.
“Mhm.”
“I might take you in pool right now.” He smirked, trying to size Sid up.
“Eugh,” He groaned, “gross, G.”
“What, why not?!” He looked disappointed.
“All of our sweat and shit would get in the pool, gross.”
Geno sighed, “Sid right, c'mon.” He moved up the concrete stairs and quickly dried off. Sid towered himself on one of the pool chairs. Geno could see his erection forming. “You're so easy.”
“Shut up.” He smacked him with the towel.
“No you shut up.”
“No you.” They went back and forth, giggling and muttering until their lips met. Geno moved onto the small pool chair with him, effectively blanketing Sid. He began to grind into him but Sid stopped him.
“G, not here, we shouldn't.”
“Why not, private house, private beach, everything private.”
“Doesn't Gonch still have keys?”
“Gonch busy, lunch with Ovi or something.” He rolled his eyes, “It's okay, lyubov.”
“You sure?” There was nothing like Geno's Russian sweet talking to convince him to do stupid things.
“Yeah.” And with that Sid pushed his head up to kiss Geno. His mouth trailed down, sucking around G's clavicle, and drawing a groan from him.
As Sid nursed the muscles of Geno's chest, Geno's hands found themselves sliding up Sidney's legs. He ever so slowly peeled the wet, sky blue, trunks from Sid's body. To Geno's knowledge, he had to get the waistband tailored from an extra-large to a large, just so the legs of the shorts could fit around his thighs.
Sid cursed under his breath as his leaking cock found friction on Geno's abs. The pair rutted against each other for a moment, lips connecting, as G grew increasingly hard.
“Sidney, Sidney, wait–” Geno paused him, voice growing ragged with need. He could tell Sid was about to build himself up with the noises he was making. “Swap places.”
“Yeah, yeah. Okay, yeah.” He huffed, his breathing heavy and sporadic. Somewhat shakily he rose, just long enough to get over Geno.
G pulled his trunks off just enough to free himself. Sidney found a seat on his lap. Geno, using one of his index fingers, gathered the pre-come from Sid. Mixing it with his, he began to stroke himself.
After decades together, Sidney didn't need much prep. With Geno's hands guiding his thighs, he was lowered onto his thick cock.
“Oh fuck.” His head lolled back. Geno slowly lifted him up and helped him back down. A rhythm began to develop between the two. Sid brought his thighs down as much as he could, trying to deepen Geno.
Even after all of these years, Sid could never truly get enough of Geno. Every little thing about him was perfect, his laugh, his awkward little jokes, the way he treated Sid like nobody else.
Geno, after managing to open his eyes, joined his hand with Sidney's cock. The noise Sid made was exquisite.
“Zh-” He choked on his spit. “Zhenya, fuck.”
Geno could faint on the spot.
“Sid, you can't,” Geno muttered, suddenly stumbling around words. Heat built in his chest at godspeed. “You're kill me, Sid.”
Without warning Geno found himself spilling inside of Sid, snapping his hips up in a way that made Sidney sob with pleasure. It was like that little nickname flipped a switch in his mind. Before he could remember that he was touching Sid, he felt warmth leaking into the spaces between his fingers.
Sid nestled his head into the crook of Geno's neck, idly sucking at the base of his shoulders. Between nips at his skin, G could swear he heard Sid whispering, “Zhenya, Zhenya, Zhenya..”
“Sid, how did you know?”
“Know what?”
“That name.”
“What, Zhenya?” Geno shivered. That name sounded so foreign coming from Sid's mouth, yet it sounded like it should only ever come from him.
“Mhm.”
“You think that I could spend a week with you in Miami, and not notice all of your Russian friends calling you that?” He honked.
“I guess I think you not paying attention.”
“Of course I am, G. Every minute I'm with you I'm paying attention, I don't want to ever miss a single second with you.” Geno was at a loss for words. The stars in Sidney's eyes told him that his words were sincere. “Maybe I should start learning Russian, eh?”
“Maybe finish learning French first.”