A/N: New story time! No, this doesn't mean I'll forget about anything else. Updates still go out for other things, so long as I'm still able to read the stories on my alert.

Anyways, so psyched to get this one started. The ideas are really flowing for this one, and I'm pumped to say the least. No chapter names though, I'm not that good for that part. Oh, and this is 3rd person if you couldn't already see that. Hell with it, no more explaining, I'm starting it. This is "Olympian". Enjoy!

Oh wait, a warning- this is M for a reason. I didn't hold back like I have been for Dreamscape.

"stuff" = speech

stuff = emphasis

'stuff' = thoughts (note the single quotes)

Chapter I

"Carlos! Dinner!" James yelled from the kitchen. He looked out from the small kitchen in their two-person apartment to see Carlos sitting inches from the medium sized television screen. Being college students made sure that the living arrangements weren't too beautiful, but James' mom being rich and all meant that their apartment wasn't bottom dollar or anything.

"Just a minute!" came the reply from the Latino. "The gymnastics parts are my favorite, you know that!"

James chuckled at that statement. "You just love seeing the hot guys with nice packages in tight spandex," he smirked, earning a quick shrug from the tan boy.

"You know you do too. Now shush, my favorite gymnast is next!"

"Your dinner is gonna get cold at this rate, and your eyes are going to really fucking hurt from sitting so close to the TV…"

"SHHHHH!"

The tall boy merely sighed, picking up his plate of dinosaur chicken and strolling over to the couch, plopping down in a spot where he could attempt to see past his friend's wide back. On the screen was a brunette boy, hair spiked up from obviously way too much gel. He was wearing a regular spandex jumpsuit like all the other athletes, and James didn't really notice anything too remarkable about him. Other than the hot blonde in the business suit that he was talking to.

"Damn, blondie next to him is fucking fiiiine…"

"Shut the hell up! Logan is about to start!" Carlos yelled excitedly, scooting even closer to the bright screen. Logan Mitchell was the only reason Carlos was still watching the Olympics this year. James had turned it on the day before to see what events were on, and as soon as Carlos saw the pale, spiky-haired brunette on screen he fell in love. Ever since that moment Carlos plastered himself to the screen whenever Logan came on, adoring the beautifully defined muscle that decorated the boy's toned body.

They both watched as Logan nodded to the tall blonde, giving a half-smile before turning and walking over toward the High Bar. He looked over to the judges, one of whom nodded their head. Tensing his body, the pale boy jumped and grabbed onto the metal beam above his head, slowly but surely beginning to swing around the bar. Carlos watched on, completely mesmerized by the beautiful show that the boy was putting on, James still trying to see around him as he shifted all over the floor. Suddenly, after building up a good amount of speed, the gymnast let go of the bar, flinging himself into the air and performing a complex combination of flips and spins before grabbing onto the bar once again.

"Did you see that?" Carlos bubbled, bouncing up and down as he continued to watch the routine.

"No, I didn't, you're in th-"

"SHHHH! He's still going!" James rolled his eyes. The Latino was clearly obsessed with the pale boy on the TV, so he just gave up trying to communicate and strained his neck to get a view of the screen. Logan was about to dismount from the bar, revolving rapidly once more before catapulting himself high up and doing a series of corkscrew twists before landing on two feet on the mat below

"YES! HE STUCK IT!" Carlos cheered loudly, startling James enough to cause the plate of food in his lap to be sent onto the floor. The Latino continued to watch, seeing the boy on screen thrust his fist into the air, watching his muscular arms flex as they came back down to his sides, completely ignoring the glare James was sending him.

"Carlos!" The tan boy's head snapped to the side to see an angry brunette with yellowish grease stains on his once bleach white wife beater and dark blue jeans.

"Oops, sorry Jamie. But did you see that? He totally stuck the landing!" The tan boy's joy was boiling over, his wide smile infectious. James sighed, placing a hand to his forehead. It was hard to get mad at Carlos for too long, and seeing him so happy made James smirk back. "And did you see those arms? They're fucking huge!" The Latino waved a hand over his own medium sized bicep, making motions to show how big the gymnast's were comparatively. "Oh my God, why does the hottest fucking guy ever have to be so out of my league?"

"Carlos, come on now, he's done and you need to eat your damn dinner."

"I can eat something later, I want to see his scores." James frowned. Carlos had done the same thing the night before, but that time he had forgotten to eat before going to bed because he was up so late to see Logan's final performance, making James miserable in the morning when he woke up to Carlos whining about how hungry he was. The tall boy sighed loudly, standing up to pick up the pieces of chicken on the carpet and placing them on his plate. He quickly strode over to their little kitchen, his plate landing in the sink that was already overflowing with the dirty dishes that he kept telling himself to do.

Hazel eyes turned back to the television, seeing Logan once again sitting with the hot blonde in the suit.

'I'd like to get myself some of that… Carlos can have the stupid gymnast, I want a tall glass of sexy blond with a couple green eyes on the side.'

As soon as James turned back to the dishes another loud cheer ripped through the air of the apartment when Carlos saw the results of the final performer in the final round of Olympic High Bar. James' eyebrows rose upon realizing what that Latino had said.

"Perfect score!" The brunette stared back to the TV, eyes wide. He took in the scores plastered across the bottom; it was a perfect. James was stunned, although Carlos had been in the way of his view of the screen for almost the entire routine. But it still astounded him that such a young guy could win gold in an Olympic event. Usually the gold medal winners were somewhere in their mid to late twenties, but Logan Mitchell was their age: 20.

Carlos was dancing around the room, singing some love song to himself and twirling to the beat as he enjoyed the thoughts of his dream life next to Logan Mitchell. His fantasies basically worked out that he would meet Logan in some sort of strange situation which ended up with them falling in love, getting married, and living together in love for the rest of their lives. Logan would be a successful Olympic gymnast for a few more years, and Carlos would finish his degree in Video Game Design, and then… well, nothing specific except that they would live happily ever after. The end. The only problem was that they were only fantasies, probably never destined to come true in his lifetime; maybe in the lifetime of some alternate universe Carlos like in his comic books, but not in the life of the Carlos of this dimension.

Two quick snaps in front of his face brought the tan boy to a halt, opening his eyes to see James staring at him expectantly, a plate of dinosaur chicken in hand. "Eat," he commanded. The Latino puffed out his cheeks and pouted, trying to get the tall boy off his case, but James wouldn't budge. Groaning, he grabbed the plate from his friend's hands before shuffling over to sit down in front of the television again to watch the giving out of the medals.

The next morning, Carlos awoke to the shrill beeping of his alarm clock.

'Ugh… morning classes freaking blow,' he thought drowsily, hitting the button on top of the device and rolling out of bed. Smacking his lips a couple times and yawning while walking to the bathroom, the tan boy glared at the closed door to James' door enviously. 'Stupid music major and his stupid not-having-to-ever-wake-up-early-ness. And his stupid never-taking-summer-classes-ness.'

The Latino entered the apartment's single bathroom, starting the shower before turning to inspect himself in the mirror. His hair was still black, his eyes were still brown, and his skin was still a beautiful golden tan color. He was awake despite how disgustingly early it was (for him, 9AM was early), but he had gotten a great night's sleep, dreams filled with visions of Logan Mitchell sharing his somewhat small bed and peppering him with deep, passionate kisses. It was then that Carlos noticed his almost painfully hard morning wood, a blush spreading quickly across his cheeks even though nobody was there to notice.

Peeling off his black and orange dotted pajama pants, Carlos quickly slipped into the shower stall, setting himself down on the stone bench that was set into the shower wall across from the showerhead. He grabbed a hold of his length, slowly stroking up and down as his eyelids fluttered closed and an image of his favorite gymnast came into view. He continued to rub his now fully hard cock to the thought of Logan Mitchell slowly stripping just for him, a soft moan emanating from his mouth as he felt the warm spray from the shower mix with the sweat that was forming on his skin.

"Ah… Logaaaaan," he moaned softly into the steamy air, imagining a beautiful voice whispering right back into his ear, speeding up his motions. His thumb slid across the slit, smearing the precum that was collecting there across the head of his dick.

'This is all for you, my love," floated through his brain in the deep yet adorable imaginary voice of Logan Mitchell. Carlos' breathing became rapid and ragged, his climax quickly approaching. A familiar heat was pooling in his groin, and he knew that he couldn't hold on much longer. 'Cum for me Carlos,' the voice whispered, sending him over the edge.

"Fuck, Logaaaan," Carlos moaned loudly as his orgasm overtook his body, an overwhelming feeling of pleasure washing over him and a couple of laces of white spurting onto his lightly defined abs before dying down to a small bit just spilling over his hand. The Latino looked down at his mess, blushing a bit before standing to clean himself off. After a few more minutes of vigorous cleaning and hair washing, the tan boy turned the shower off, stepping out into the much warmer air of the bathroom. He cleared off the mirror, taking note of his very red features and splashing cold water over his face to clear the blush away.

Wrapping his towel around his waist and grabbing his pajamas, Carlos quickly traveled the short distance from the bathroom back to his bedroom to get dressed and ready for the boring school day coming up. But not before stopping to turn on the TV to see when Logan would be on again.

A/N: Well then. You got your fill of someone doing something inappropriate for now. No more for a long time.

…J/K. I'll write more soon (seeing as Dreamscape still needs its big moment too). I actually had a lot of fun with this, and although I'm sure you all did too, I'm pretty sure my reason for enjoying this is the writing part, not the reading of people doing things that would scar young children.

I love the idea of having both a smart-ish Carlos and having the boys be older (luckily, the guys IRL are all like young 20s age so their physical features don't change at all :D). It adds a little more depth to their characters in my not-so-humble opinion.

Anyways, this was shorter than I imagined it turning out being for the first chapter, and like a fifth of it is just Carlos doing personal stuff. Ah well. Please review, and the second chapter should be up shortly (shortly being anywhere from 1 day to 1 week). Thanks for reading, and see you next upload!