Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
44 seconds. He had done it. Against all expectations - and warnings - Declan had broken the Westwell College 100 metre freestyle time record. He pulled himself up out of the pool, the watery echoes turning into living cheer and applause from the judges, spectators and friends who were watching from the audience. Grabbing a towel from one of the aides, he made his way back to the blocks. Coach was the first to greet him, a massive smile curling under his moustache.
"Great work, kid!" said Coach, patting the young swimmer on the back. "It's a personal best, and you're carrying us to the state championships!"
Declan patted himself down, and shrugged modestly. It was what was expected of him in these situations.
"It's such a surprise."
It wasn't.
"I can't believe I could do it."
He could. He had to. He had been training for it every waking hour of every day, throwing everything into his swimming practice. If everyone else - Coach included - had decided to think against him, that was on them.
Declan looked around, to discover that most of the team had vanished. He looked to Coach.
"Where is everyone?"
"The boys? Dunno. You hit the showers, and then we'll celebrate. State championships!" Coach slapped his newest star on the back, and then left to mingle with the adjudicators.
"You shouldn't have done that," said a familiar voice somewhere behind Declan.
The champion turned to face Samuel, one of the other boys in the team. Declan and Samuel were on the younger end of the group, and as such had become something close to friends. Friends. It was an interesting concept to Declan. He had made a point of never befriending anyone who ran in the same sports as him. Samuel was a challenger at best, in Declan's eyes, and a rival at most - not that the young man ever knew it.
Declan gave his 'friend' a cheerful smile. ""Why's that, Sam?"
Sam was darker-skinned and curly-haired, Jewish, shirtless with an unzipped windbreaker, and sky-blue jammers so tight you could see his religion. He always carried a serious look, but tonight he was even more dour than usual.
"Adam's not gonna be happy. You broke the record. His record. You were warned about this last time."
Declan paused, his smile gone. "Yeah? Well, fuck Adam. If he was a better swimmer, he wouldn't have anything to worry about. I'm not here to play his rules or sit around and do shit all day. I'm here to win."
Samuel nodded, and looked away. "Alright. Fine. But you were warned. There will be repercussions."
"Sure, buddy. Whatever."
Declan pushed past his teammate, and made his way along the walk to the locker rooms. As he did, he ran the towel down the slim length of his body, patting at his pits, running it through his sandy blonde hair. He gave a quick wipe over his crotch and thighs, and a warm stir shot through his body. He had ignored himself in the days leading up to the competition - it was his habit now, borne out of routine and discipline more than anything else - but with the glory taken and the record broken, it was time for Declan's self love. And what love it was.
***
As the shower began to run, Declan looked at himself in the mirror adoringly. At nineteen years old, he was in his physical prime; boyish, smooth and hairless, but with a sharp jawline and a sinewy musculature that belied his rigorous training regimen. He had been chubbier when he was younger, but upon moving across the country, and starting a new life, he had remade himself. His body was the ultimate status symbol he could give himself; hard work to gain, and endless hours to keep. Declan ran his hand appreciatively across his abs, enjoying their firmness. But the best was what lay between his legs, currently trapped under the thinnest layer of white spandex. It was best that he was alone now, as Declan's ritual of self-appreciation turned him on immensely, creating a sizeable bulge that caught the locker room lights. Declan ran his palm up and down over his cock, enjoying the sensation of the spandex - cupping and form-fitting already - rubbing against his shaft and balls.
Making sure he was alone, Declan slid his hand into his jammers, and began to feel himself grow thicker in his palm.
"Who's the champion now?" he asked himself as he stepped into the shower.
Letting the warm water cascade over him, Declan washed the smell of the pool away, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His other hand stayed in his jammers, and began to play with his dick, giving him the fap that he had been thinking of for three days. His hand moved up and down, sliding against the slick wet fabric of the swimwear, slowly at first, building speed quickly - it wouldn't take him long at this rate to reward himself. His thoughts turned to the other boys in the swim team - all fully developed mountains of flesh and muscle squeezed into tight spandex. Declan had always known that he wanted every second of attention from the team - and he wanted Adam. Adam, the swim captain. Adam the shredded, chiselled, big-dicked ego of the group. Was that why Declan had done this? Broken the rules... to impress them? Maybe. Fuck them. He did it for him. Declan decided not to think too much about it. He instead closed his eyes, biting his lip in anticipation of what was to come-
"-I don't fucking believe it," said Adam.
Declan opened his eyes, and turned to look out into the steam that was curling through the cold air of the changeroom.
"Adam?"
A shape appeared in the mist, emerging to reveal the huge, dark-haired, broad-shouldered form that was Adam. At 24, with powerful arms and an Olympian swimmer's physique, he was the oldest, biggest and strongest of the swim team - a position that had been made clear to Declan the first day he had joined.
"You were warned," said Adam, as he stood before Declan. "You were warned. Everyone has their time, and their place. The record wasn't yours to break."
