It had been a hell of a day. Literally. Hills that, in combination with the one hundred and twelve degree heat, felt like they could rival those of the Pyrenees and no team members to draft for two hundred twisting, turning miles.

It was the annual Davis Double Century in northern California, and JD Dunne had come to ride.

JD had been a student at the University of California campus, located a long bicycle ride west of Sacramento, before he'd won a spot on the Four Corners-Clarion cycling team. He wanted to finish school — he'd promised his mother before she died — but his mother had left him just enough money to disqualify him from receiving any grants and his grades weren't good enough for any scholarships. Working as a mechanic at the Bike Barn and as a stable hand at the UC Equestrian Center helped him buy his textbooks, but it left little time for him to study, and no cash with which to do anything except survive off of peanut butter and no-jelly sandwiches.

When he'd heard about tryouts for a new, professional cycling team, JD had jumped at the chance. His bike was for shit; he couldn't afford a decent one, but since he didn't have a car, all that meant was that every day he had to ride and every day he became stronger. The team loaned him a bike, lighter than his backpack full of textbooks, and he'd flown up the mountains during his tryout like Mercury on a mission for the gods.

Now he was doing what he'd been unable to do while a student in possession of a steel-framed, three-speed, archaic Schwinn™: he was riding the Davis Double Century. One day, two hundred miles. It wasn't a race — they made that clear. It was a personal endurance trial. Amateur cycling enthusiasts came from all over to participate. JD had met one guy who'd done the ride every year for the past two decades, since he'd been a student at U.C. Davis; JD always knew cyclists were a bit crazy, but this was bona fide confirmation.

The sun had long set by the time JD arrived back at his motel in South Davis. He pried off his leather cycling shoes and then peeled off his Lycra^® jersey and shorts before climbing into the shower where he stood, under cool, fast running water. Accumulated sweat melted from his body along with the caked-on layers of sun block he'd needed to protect his fair skin from the baking sun.

When JD finally emerged from the shower, he realized how stiff he was and where he was really the most sore. A soak in the tub might have done him more good in the long run than the shower, but JD knew of something even better. Someone, actually.

He slipped on a loose pair of sweatpants, a clean t-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops before leaving his hotel room and making his way down the corridor. He knocked on room number three and waited for a response. Only a few moments later, Nathan Jackson, the medic for his pro-cycling team, opened the door.

"Good ride?" the sports doctor asked.

JD nodded his head, as vigorously as his tired body would allow. The participants had been friendly and enthusiastic, even near the end. He'd met some really nice, supportive people at the rest areas — some riders, some volunteers. It was unlike any experience he'd had in the pro world where he had firsthand knowledge of being bodily shoved off the road and having a bike pump shoved through his spokes by competitive opponents. He'd lost more layers of skin than he knew he even had!

"Sore?" Nathan next asked him.

JD nodded again.

"Come on in." Nathan held the door wide to allow JD entry.

Inside were two queen-sized beds with the bedspreads both stripped away. Spare blankets had been laid in their places. JD had done the same thing in his own room, after hearing Nathan talk about the rampant bacterial count on bedspreads that motels washed infrequently in order to save money.

"Strip and then lie down over there," Nathan said, pointing toward the bed closest to the bathroom.

JD tugged up the hem of his t-shirt, but it caught on his shoulders. He was bone-tired — more so than after any of the training sessions the Team Director Josiah Sanchez had ever put them through. JD wondered if this is what he might feel like at the end of a day during the Tour de France. They were going, and Josiah firmly believed they had a shot at winning. Chris Larabee, their team leader was close to being in the best shape of his life. Buck Wilmington was an incredible domestique; it was like he knew what Larabee was thinking a split second after the man thought it. Hell, the whole team was starting to gel like that — they'd be ready for France when it came. JD just hoped he wouldn't disappoint any of them, that he wouldn't make any stupid, rookie mistakes. He knew as well as any of them how important this race was to all of them as individuals and as a team.

"You don't have to prove yourself, you know," Nathan said, as he helped JD pull off his t-shirt. "You're past the probationary stage. You're on the team. And you wouldn't be if Josiah didn't think you could pull your weight. Everyone knows you're a good climber — raw, natural talent — so you don't have to keep proving it, at least not until there's a race to be won, and I know for a fact this Double Century isn't a race."

"I know. But, I wanted to do this ... for me."

"And Josiah let you?" Nathan asked as JD worked at the knot on the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"Yeah. Well, not at first, but after I explained it to him...."

"You mean after you threatened to go AWOL and do this all on your own, without me here to lend you a hand after...."

JD nodded, a bit embarrassed by his behavior now. But he'd made Josiah understand just how important this was to him, and how it would be a good experience before they hit the Alps and the Pyrenees Mountains, places JD had only dreamed about visiting.

When JD's sweatpants finally slipped to the floor, Nathan said, "On the bed."

JD flopped face down onto the blanket, naked as the day he was born and not caring one bit. It just felt so nice to stretch out on something soft. A few moments later, he felt Nathan sit down beside him and place a cool, slick hand on his shoulder.

"So, where do you hurt the most?" the medic asked as he worked over the major muscles groups, trying to ascertain the worst of the tension and stress.

When JD didn't answer, Nathan asked a follow-up question, "How were the hills today? Did you strain anything, pull any muscles?"

"The first hill, Cardiac, wasn't as bad as the name sounds," JD said, mumbling into the mattress. "Resurrection Peak was pretty far into the ride, but the decent made up for the killer climb." This is making up for it, too, JD thought to himself. Nathan had the healing touch, that was for certain.

"I'll take that as a No, Nate, I didn't pull any muscles. Thanks for asking," Nathan replied with more humor than sarcasm in his voice. "But is there something that hurts worse than the rest?"

JD didn't answer.

"JD? You need to tell me. I can't help you if you don't. And believe me, there's nothing medically in this sport that I haven't see before. I could tell you stories, yes, sir—"

"My crotch," JD finally blurted out. Nathan had once been a team medic down in Columbia and JD knew the man's stories could get graphic. It just wasn't something he wanted to hear right now.

Nathan didn't say anything, but JD felt the man move his hands down JD's back to his thighs, nudging them apart; JD spread as wide as he could.

JD felt the warmth of a flashlight after a few minutes, then felt gentle fingers moving over his skin. It was a sensitive area, but it wasn't like no one had ever touched him there before — doctor or otherwise. As much as Buck liked to believe he was, because he'd yet to hook up with anyone since joining the team, JD was no virgin. He may have had difficulty finding time to study when he was in college, but the same couldn't be said for sex. After all, what normal, healthy, eighteen-year-old male ever passed up the opportunity? It would be like a starving man saying no thanks to a decent meal — just doesn't happen.

"You've lost a layer of skin," Nathan finally pronounced.

JD had figured as much.

"You'll never make it through The Tour if this is the result of a single two-hundred mile ride," Nathan said. "I'll talk to Josiah on Monday—"

"No! You can't." JD wanted to be here, so badly. He'd worked hard. And to be thrown off the team for this ... for something so minor, caused by a stupid non-competitive ride was just not fair. "I've lost skin before—"

"Sure, on your arms and legs, but never in an area this sensitive."

"But Tyler Hamilton rode The Tour after dislocating his shoulder. This is nothing compared to that," JD insisted.

"But Hamilton and his team didn't win, did they?" Nathan countered.

JD tried to roll over, needing to look Nathan in the eye while they had this conversation about the fate of his future on the team, but a large, firm hand on his lower back kept JD prone on the bed.

"And we're going to France to win, JD. We all have to want it badly enough to believe it's possible."

"I do! I do want it that badly; I want it as badly as everyone else does."

"Then don't fight me on this. Not this of all things."

JD stopped struggling. There was nothing he could do. If Nathan went to Josiah and said JD was medially unfit to ride, Josiah would have no choice but to replace him; there'd be no argument, no suspended sentence; it would be the end of JD's new-found career.

"I don't know why you're so upset about this, JD. It just means a new saddle, a little extra padding in your shorts; it won't make any difference outside of the time-trials, and Ezra's the one shouldering the pressure in those."

"New saddle?" JD asked, not quite believing what he was hearing. "You're not gonna kick me off the team?"

Nathan laughed now, good and loud. "For this? It's just a layer of skin, JD, not the end of the world. Besides, we can't lose you now; there's not another rider out there with your talent as a climber. Oh, don't get me wrong: you're gonna be sensitive for a few days, but I've got some ointment that'll help. Then, we'll get you all fixed up to tackle the Pyrenees."

JD smiled, and then really relaxed. He wasn't getting kicked off the team! He was going to France! He was going to have the opportunity to ride through the Alps, and show those European riders how it was really done! He almost cheered aloud.

"Now, sit still while I get this cream on you," Nathan said, before warning, "It's gonna feel a little cold."

JD flinched at the first contact, both from the pain of the rawness as well as from the temperature of the ointment.

"Just lie still," Nathan said quietly. "Just let me work this in ... give the medication a few moments to start taking effect...."

But it was already having an effect on JD. Nathan rubbing him, between his thighs, between his balls and his ass ... it was making him hard. JD couldn't help but squirm.

"That's okay, JD. Just let me put a bit more on ... should start taking effect real soon...."

But the more Nathan rubbed the cream over his skin, the harder JD became. No one had touched him like this in a long time, not since before he'd left school. And he'd been working so hard to prove himself worthy of being a part of the team that he hadn't realized how much he'd missed this sort of intimacy.

"Okay, that should do it," Nathan finally said as he began to pull his hand away.

"No," JD managed to say. "Please. Keep, uh, keep rubbing. It helps. It ... it feels good."

Nathan's hand returned, and his fingers gently worked over the ointment-treated area for a few moments before meandering further a field.

"Like this, JD?"

JD felt his ass being massaged; he felt his inner thighs being rubbed; he felt the back of his balls being caressed. His entire body, sore and tired, was being churned into butter by Nathan's amazing hands.

"Yeah, just like that," JD muttered.

"I wish I'd known," Nathan said. "I wish you'd told me."

"Told you what?" JD barely managed to form the words of the question. Nathan's hands were so distracting. After the hills of Cardiac and Resurrection, after his two hundred mile journey, JD had finally reached Nirvana.

"I wish you'd told me that you liked this sort of massage. That it helps. That's what I'm here for, JD. I'm here to help, to help you feel better."

"Feels great," JD mumbled.

JD sighed deeply as a large hand cupped his balls and gently began to knead them. His dick was rock hard now, aching for the same attention Nathan was giving to the rest of his privates. If he'd had the energy, he would have reached down and touched himself.

"Am I missing any spots?" Nathan asked. The kid nodded. "Here?" Nathan asked.

JD felt a finger working over his hole. It felt incredible, but it only increased the aching of his dick. A moment later, he felt that same finger penetrate passed the tight ring of muscle. He groaned, which seemed only to encourage Nathan. Soon the finger was being moved in and out, deeper and deeper each time. JD squirmed beneath him, wanting more, needing more of what Nathan was offering him.

A second finger joined the first and, moments later, an itch deep inside his bowels was being scratched. The medic's long fingers had reached JD's prostate and were now working over the gland, sending bursts of pleasure along every nerve of his body. JD pushed his ass into the air, as best he could; the desire for more contact, more stimulation was greater than the fiery ache in this thighs.

Nathan must have realized what JD was putting himself through, because he pressed him back to the mattress as he pushed deeper into him.

"Let me do the work, JD," he said. "You've done enough for one day. I can't risk you straining a muscle during this, not if we ever want to do this again."

"Again," JD moaned, though he really meant Now and More and Oh God, that feels incredible.

As Nathan continued to work his finger into JD's hole, JD wondered if a man could actually come this way, just from this sort of penetration. It had never happened to him, but the sensations were so strong. He wanted to come, at that moment as badly as he wanted his team to win The Tour, but he wasn't sure he wanted to do it without feeling Nathan's hand deftly working over his length. It seemed like he'd be missing out on something, without that contact. It would be like watching his team from the sidelines as they sped passed all the other riders down the Champs Elysées.

"I want it, Nate," he said, unable to hide the strain in his voice.

"You sure? We don't have to do this tonight. There will be other opportunities."

"I'm sure," JD replied, not caring at the moment if it sounded like begging. He was too tired, too sore, too needy for it to matter.

He felt Nathan's fingers leave his hole and their absence made him ache even harder. Then strong hands were on his hips, slipping under, rolling him onto his back.

"It'll be easier for you this way."

Easier than on his hands and knees, JD thought, agreeing. As badly as he wanted this, he wasn't sure he had the energy to support himself at the moment. He nodded at Nathan, trying his best to return the man's encouraging smile.

Nathan stood for a minute, quickly striped himself of his shorts and polo shirt, before returning to the bed.

JD allowed Nathan to take hold of his leg and press it up slowly toward his chest, gently stretching the well-used muscles. JD felt Nathan's weight as the man leaned in to achieve maximum extension; it was a technique JD had seen the sports doctor use on all of his teammates at one time or another.

JD's leg was slowly lowered back to the mattress before Nathan repeated the process with JD's other leg. JD could feel the tight muscles stretching; it ached at first, but the burn receded quickly and when Nathan lowered his leg to the mattress, JD let out a long sigh of relief. His legs felt better; enough that he thought kneeling with Nathan behind him might not be such an impossible task after all.

But Nathan seemed happy right where JD was. From his bag, Nathan retrieved a condom and a small tube. JD watched, marveling at the man's size, as Nathan unrolled the sheath down his long length; he looked nearly seven inches long and at least five inches around. JD wondered how much it was going to hurt, having all of that dark flesh thrusting deeply into him — he was eager to find out. At least he'd have an excuse if he ended up walking funny tomorrow; he'd simply blame it on the chaffing he'd received during his Double Century ride.

Then Nathan took the small tube and squeezed a generous amount of clear gel onto his fingertips. He rubbed it between his fingers, like JD often did with hair product prior to application; he knew doing so warmed the gel, liquefied it slightly, easing distribution through his hair. He imagined Nathan was applying the same basic principles.

A moment later, JD did as Nathan indicated and pulled his legs up to his chest. Then Nathan began spreading the warmed gel over and into JD's exposed hole. It felt good, that gentle, insistent rubbing. JD was still tender from his ride, but not in that particular area, for which he was thankful, and JD realized that at this angle, Nathan would avoid accidentally rubbing against the chaffed areas when he thrust.

JD allowed his head to lull back against the mattress. He was almost content to allow Nathan to continue fondling him in this manner. He thought again of reaching down, fingering his own, hard dick. Still, he knew he'd rather feel Nathan's hands on him, knowing the man's touch was like no other he'd ever felt.

But, instead, he felt a moist heat travel slowly up his length. JD opened his eyes to see Nathan tonguing his dick, a moment before his mouth engulfed the swollen head. JD let out a moan. It was better than he'd hoped for, more than he could have asked of this man, who, before tonight, had been no more of a friend than anyone else on the cycling team.

Like before, JD thought that he might come this way, but again he felt it would be a shallow release. He wanted it all, he wanted Nathan filling him as he came, he wanted Nathan to feel him coming.

"Nathan..." he breathed, having a difficult time finding the words he needed to speak.

Nathan looked up at him, his full lips moist with saliva and, probably, the first few drops of JD's pre-cum. They stared at each other for a moment, until Nathan finally asked, "You sure? You ready?"

JD nodded. He was as ready as he was ever going to be for Nathan's huge dick. He swallowed when he felt the head against his hole. Nathan rubbed over the puckered muscles — it was an exciting sensation — and JD relaxed in eager anticipation. Then Nathan pressed forward until JD felt himself breached. He let out a gasp.

"You okay?" Nathan quickly asked, neither moving deeper nor pulling out.

JD nodded, saying, "I will be...." He knew sometimes things hurt, but if you just worked through the pain, it was all worth it in the end. He focused on his breathing as Nathan pressed forward; he just had to get through this first part, had to let his body adjust. It had been so long for him and Nathan was so big. But, it was no worse than the burn caused by lactic acid build-up in his thighs when he was on a particularly arduous climb. It was no worse than the pain he'd felt that very day as he pushed himself through the heat, not to win a race, but to satisfy his own personal need to do his best in accomplishing something he'd dreamed of doing for a long time.

"JD?" Nathan asked, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of causing pain rather than alleviating it.

"It's okay," JD replied. "I'm okay. Just ... keep ... going."

And Nathan did. JD felt him slide partway out and then push forward again, repeating the simple, steady stroke until JD felt the man's balls press up against his cheeks — he was as deep as he could go and the pain was now just a memory. Nathan continued his slow thrusting, easing his huge dick into JD's tight hole, rubbing over JD's prostate and sending dizzying waves of pleasure coursing through JD's body.

JD reached down, wrapping his hand around his dick, stroking his length in time with Nathan's thrusts. He never expected this when he joined the team; hell, he'd never expected that he'd be able to confide his preferences to anyone, let alone find someone who shared them. And he was glad it had turned out to be Nathan. Buck was just too much of a brother; it would have been too strange. Josiah, of course, was too old, too much like a father. And the others, well, they were too intense; JD liked his sex slow and easy. He couldn't see Chris delivering anything except a hard pounding or Ezra anything but a fast and furious fuck. And Vin, well, he was still an unknown commodity to JD. The lanky Texan was quiet, never giving much away; he was like Chris in that respect, only Chris had Buck who was always willing to talk about him if he thought it might help someone understand. Still, it was always the quiet ones who were the loudest in bed, sometimes even the roughest.

But this is what JD liked: an easy cadence. The long, steady, even thrusts rubbed his prostate, raising the level of endorphins in his brain, producing a high so similar to what an athlete felt when he pushed passed the wall, passed the point where the average person would give in, give up.

But JD was in this until the finish, until his cries of release sent Nathan over the edge. He watched the man now: head down, face intense, mouth slightly open, and lips still moist. He felt Nathan slightly tightening the grip on his thighs; he reached up with his left hand and slipped his fingers between Nathan's.

JD smiled through the building tension when Nathan opened his eyes and looked at him. He continued smiling as Nathan's eyes wandered down his body, stopping to watch JD stroking himself. JD changed his grip, pulling a bit more, teasing the head. He thought Nathan liked what he was doing. Nathan reached out with his left hand to touch JD's nipple, bringing it to peak.

JD was reminded once again how talented this man was with his hands. He bit his lower lip and then let out a long, low groan as Nathan began to roll the sensitive nub between his fingertips.

Sparks shot straight to JD's dick and within moments he felt the impending signs. "Nathan," he moaned. "Nathan!" He felt the man's cadence increase; he felt the trusts deepen as Nathan began to pound into him, all the while squeezing and tweaking JD's nipple until JD gasped as come began to squirt from his swollen tip.

Nathan groaned as he returned his hand to JD's thigh, steadying himself as his thrusts became erratic, deep and quick. JD felt Nathan shudder against him and knew the man was coming as well.

Nathan slipped a hand between them before pulling out. He peeled the come-filled condom from this softening length and then dropped it in the garbage before returning to the bed to sit beside JD, who was sprawled out across the mattress, content.

"How're you feelin'?" Nathan asked, rubbing a gentle hand along JD's outstretched thigh.

"Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Damn fine."

Nathan smiled. "As good as you felt climbing Resurrection Peak today?"

"Yeah. And almost as good as I felt on the decent," JD replied, grinning.

"Almost?"

"Hey, it was over seven thousand feet, and the scenery was—"

"A blur?"

JD nodded. "A sweet blur ... all blues and greens...." JD lapsed into silence, remembering the ride.

It was an event he hoped he would never forget. He'd done what he'd come here to do, ride the Double Century and finish under his own power. He'd never expected to be ridden as well, never expected to feel better at the end of the day than he'd felt at the beginning. He'd have to thank Josiah for letting him ride and for insisting that Nathan come along; it had made all the difference.

"Here," Nathan said, handing JD a small tube of ointment. "You're going to have to apply this to the chaffed area once every four hours. Can you remember to do that?"

"I don't know," JD replied. "I might need reminding. Might need you to show me again how best to apply it."

"Then I reckon you oughta stay the night."

JD smiled over at Nathan, wondering if he could wait four long hours before feeling the man's healing hands on his sensitive skin again.

^{^}^^{^}

The End

October 2003

Comments would be most welcome if sent to: C.V. Puerro

Please do NOT repost this story anywhere outside of the Blackraptor Fiction Website.

This story was inspired by the Tour de Force alternate universe created by Charlotte Hill. Thanks go to Charlotte for allowing me to use her AU concept. Please note that this story may end up contradicting elements in Charlotte's establishing story and, therefore, this story should not be viewed as "canon" for this alternate universe.

Thanks to Antoinette for taking the time to beta read this story.

Characters from "The Magnificent Seven" were used without permission and this story in no way signifies support of, or affiliation with, The Mirisch Group, MGM, Trilogy Entertainment, or CBS Worldwide, Inc. The story itself and any non-Magnificent Seven characters belong to the author. This story will not be sold for any reason.