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Early Morning Workout

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list February 2, 2001

Fandom: Roswell
Pairing: Max/Kyle
Summary: Early morning exercises. OK, this is a PWP
Archives: Rareslash, and Roswellslash. Other people please ask so I know where it's going.
E-mail: Disclaimer: OK. I don't make any money off of this. I don't intend on taking away any copywrite priviledges belonging to either Melinda Metz or Jason Katims.
Warning: m/m, some humour. Very short snippet of a country song.
Feedback: please


        Kyle lurched over and hit the 'off' button on his clock radio. It was 5:45 am. He rolled off the couch, scratched his balls and did a dozen jumping-jacks to get his blood moving. Neither his Dad nor Tess ever got up before 7:00 and so this was his private time. Without turning on the lights he stumbled into the kitchen and opened the door of the fridge. He squinted in the light and grabbed breakfast off of his shelf.

        He tossed two bean burritos into the microwave and set the timer to 3 minutes on high. He opened a carton of chocolate-flavour soy milk and drank it down. While he waited on the burritos he peeled and ate a couple of bananas. He wasn't ready to become a full vegetarian. Buddhism was about following the Middle Path, eating murdered animals was not good for his Karma but fighting with his Dad over 'Hungry Man TV Dinners' would not be conducive to harmony within the family.

        Like for the first time in his life, Kyle was getting along with his Dad. Which was way weird. Most of his friends were going through the sullen-adolescent- separation-from-the-parents stuff at the same time that Kyle and his Dad were starting to get along. Almost dying sort of changes things for a guy.

        And Tess, she was like the little sister he had never had. That is, if they had lived in Arkansas rather than New Mexico. Kyle could never figure out a cool way to ask Max if his sister had ever offered to 'Trim his wick'.

        After gulping down the burritos, Kyle made his way to the washroom. The place looked like a fetishist's wet-dream. Tess was a very girly girl; white lace, black lace and red satin were over EVERYTHING. Kyle carefully took everything down without wrinkling it and put them in piles in front of Tess' bedroom.

        Kyle was a practical guy. A shower was an opportunity to get so many things down at the same time. He shampooed with his right hand and brushed his teeth with his left hand. He used the shampoo as a body soap. While he waited for the conditioner to work he shaved.

        He had gotten out of the habit of jerking off in the shower. To the relief of the other guys on the football team. At least, that's what the petition said. After the shower, he towelled himself dry and fluffed up his hair. He put on a pair of red jogging shorts, a white sleeveless athletic shirt, red-banded sports socks and Nike runners. He grabbed his knapsack, containing schoolwork and change of clothing, and headed out the door.

        His breath steamed in the chilly desert air. The world was the opalescent twilight of the half-hour before dawn.

        Kyle jogged to the top of the hill and watched the sun rise. When the first sliver appeared over the horizon he clasped his hands together and bowed deeply.

        "I take Refuge in the Buddha. I take Refuge in the Dhamma. I take Refuge in the Sangha."

        He repeated his morning mediation eight times. Then opened his book "Chicken Soup for the Buddhist Soul" and read the thought for the day.

        "Everything thing you say
And 90% of everything you do
Is for your self
But there isn't one."

        Kyle looked at his watch, it was coming up to 6:30.

        He readjusted the straps on his knapsack so as it wouldn't bounce all over the place when he ran and took off. He didn't want to be late for his workout. He made it in less than five minutes and shimmied up the rope left outside the window.

        Max was doing push-ups, in the nude. An open condom and jar of lube were on the floor next to him.

        Kyle stared in appreciation at Max. The guy was so fucking beautiful: sweat glistening on golden skin, inky hair and a taut muscular body.

        Every step Kyle took away from the window he put something on the floor: his knapsack, his t-shirt, his shorts and his jock strap.

        He lay on top of Max and licked up the line of his spine. Max was spicy and sweet.

        Max said, "Enough with the mushy stuff. Give me 200 pushups."

        Kyle put the condom on and slid into Max' greased up ass like a sparrow returning to Capistrano. He started his push-ups with Max counting them out beneath him.

        Kyle knew that by the time Max hit the count of fifty that he would be all enthusiatic about the 'mushy stuff'.

        Yep, Kyle and Max sure loved their early morning 'Workout'.


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