I was on my bike trainer tonight gutting out a 50 min ride and got this silly idea. Yes, training for a Triathlon, even a short one is a pain in the ass. Ugh... that being said, can COVID go away so I can do another? ;-)

Kiss It Better

Harm was in pain.

Every single inch of his body from his head to his toenails ached something awful. His quads were angry, calves even angrier. His feet had blisters and he was chafed in areas no man should ever be.

He was now a triathlete.

What began as a dare in McMurphy's against Sturgis became a one year training cycle from hell. Swim. Bike. Run. Rinse and repeat over and over. He was exhausted between work and the rigorous training schedule.

Despite his strength and tenacity, there had been low points in the middle of it all when he wanted to quit. It was after a particularly long assignment wreaked havoc on the training and his body responded by forcing him to stop.

He was injured. Nothing major but the constant ache in his achilles made every step unbearable and he almost threw in the towel. Almost until the woman now laying by his side had intervened.

Harm was sure he didn't need a coach. Military discipline helped him create a plan and stick to it. However, coming back from an injury proved almost insurmountable.

Mac appeared in his apartment one Saturday morning at the ass crack of dawn wrapped in running tights and nothing else other than a sports bra. 'What? One boo boo and the big bad Navy man is gonna quit? You had fifteen miles on your calendar, Commander. MOVE IT.'

It wasn't so much her words but the outfit that had him dressed and heading off after her. Harm chased Mac through the city, into Rock Creek Park and out again. He'd hung back a time or two admiring her sweet six when she ran in front.

Mac became his coach, the greatest of motivators. She made sure he kept true to his schedule, was eating properly, sleeping properly. She listened to him whine about the aches and pains, and was the first to throw down a hundred dollar bill into the office pool, betting on him to finish the first out of the small group of officers registered.

One night he'd missed a stop and nearly careened into an suv. He lost the grip on the bike, fell off and was considering limping home until he thought about calling her.

Mac came to his rescue of course, took him to her apartment to nurse his wounds. He got cleaned up in her shower and came out wearing a blue robe of hers while his clothes were being washed and dried.

She slathered ointment on his scrapes and scratches; iced the bump on his hip. 'You gonna kiss and make them better, Mac?'

Christ, he hadn't intended to sound so seductive but then neither of them ever followed through with the innuendos amway. Until then.

'Is that a request?' She'd grinned at him in a cat that ate the canary kinda way and again, the expected one of them to cease with the teasing. This time it just wouldn't be him.

'What if I say yes?'

Mac began kissing the scars on his hands, his knuckles trailing up the long scratch up his forearm. She kissed his knee, raised the tip of the robe up to kiss the road rash on his thigh.

He caught his breath and held it each time her lips moved somewhere else. Harm was sure that any sound from his part would make her stop and he didn't want that. She'd kissed his hip over the fabric of the robe and then scooted forward to kiss his face.

'You have a few cuts here.' She pointed out, gently caressing his jawline with her fingers and then replacing them with her lips. Eventually her mouth found his and she placed a few, barely there kisses on the corners of his mouth.

'I think my lips are hurt a little as well.'

'Mmm…' She'd moved closer to him, her body practically covering his as Mac pretended to examine his injuries. 'Yeah, you need some kisses there too.' And that was all it took, the spark which set ablaze and into an uncontrollable inferno.

Mac kissed him gently at first as if testing how his lips felt on hers. And then he was lost in her. Soft kisses became ardent, urgent and desperate. He clung to her out of fear that any breath would end this moment.

It was Mac who took the lead, equally exhausted by their dance and just as eager to consume that thing between them. She led him to her bedroom, pushed him onto her mattress and just like that all of Harm's aches and pains were forgotten.

Dreams and fantasies just didn't come close to the real thing for being inside Mac, feeling her squeeze and knead him was all of the Heaven he could ever ask for.

Harm sighed happily as he stood outside on the balcony of their hotel suite. He was still wearing his racing kit, a triathlete medal hanging from his neck. "I'm proud of you." Mac said, wrapping her arms around him from behind.

He was stinky and sweaty but she still kissed the center of his back, still holding him tight. "I'm happy but, I'm in so much pain."

"I'll kiss and make it better." Mac took his hand and lead him to the shower where he pointed out each painful area. She did kiss it better.