I had to break this into two parts, it was getting ridiculous. I had several prompts that I could fill with this one, an anon wanting Killian to worship Emma’s legs and two anons wanting female ejaculation/squirting. The latter doesn’t happen here, but the first is teased a bit.
Two people taking part in the most elite competition in the world. Emma wants to prove that she and her teammate Elsa deserve to be here. Killian wants a second chance after being unable to compete in the 2012 games. Both just want to find a quiet moment to make use of some of those 450,000 condoms the Rio Olympic committee provided.
Part 1 is rated T for Tension. Part 2 will be rated X for Xxxxxxxxxxxxxcellent, I’m Finally Writing Smut Again. The completed piece, whenever it’s finished, will be posted on AO3.
The first time he saw her was on the monitors in the arena adjacent to Maracanã. Will was busy griping in his ear about the order of entry while Robin made sympathetic noises to try and shut him up – not their fault that Brazilian Portuguese put the Americans before Team GB – but a flash of blonde hair and an overwhelmed (but brilliant smile) on the broadcast distracted Killian from Will’s language woes. This, naturally, did not go unnoticed, and Will’s own attention was diverted from the Parade of Nations to taking the piss out of Killian.
Killian had to remind himself several time that an Olympic-level rugby player could kick his sorry arse up and down the beachfront several times without breaking a sweat, and took the abuse with grace and no fisticuffs.
“He’s just looking for a friendly face to keep him company when we take our leave,” Robin said at one point, valiantly trying to save Killian from Will’s teasing.
At this point they’d started to move across the grounds towards Maracanã, to take their place in line for the grand show. Robin did have a point – both he was competing in the morning and Will had practice; both had chosen to walk in the parade under the condition of leaving immediately after to be well-rested. Killian, on the other hand, had several days before competing and hadn’t gotten to know many of the others on Team GB well. Will merely shrugged. “Don’t matter, bloody dog’s been here four days and already trying to bed the competition.”
“If they didn’t want us to bed each other, as you so chastely put it,” Killian said, undoing another button on his shirt – didn’t this country know it was supposed to be winter here? – and wishing he could completely remove the blazer, “the planning committee wouldn’t have provided us with so many means to do so safely.”
Copacabana Dreams (1/2)
Published
It All Starts With a Dance 