It wasn't a mobile toilet house this time, but a well-kept toilet facility of a hotel near the finish line, which had been reserved for the special needs of the athletes who hated their bus toilets.

When he had finished his business, Olav washed his hands and then poured cold water over his face. The throbbing behind his temple slowly subsided. He pulled the towel from his shoulders and dried himself before looking at his exhausted face in the mirror.

Li stood beside him and watched him angrily. "You hit the brakes."

Olav lowered his head and stared at the sink. He had a thick lump in his throat. He wanted to say something, but the only thing that came out was "Sorry".

Li clicked his tongue annoyed and leaned against the neighbouring sink.

Olav wiped his eyes with the back of his hand, but he could not stop the tears. Quickly, he pressed the towel against his face.

"You've changed, Olav." It was the first time Li mentioned his name. "What has become of you? Pathetic! The Olav I know would not have hesitated to take victory."

The Olav he knew had an accident last year. He existed no longer. Olav Olsen from a year ago was dead. All that remained was a pathetic copy that did not fit into the way too large shoes of his predecessor.

"Stop it now! Come on, show me your face! Let me look at that face and show me that Olav Olsen is still in there somewhere!" 

He tried to fight back, but he was too weak.

Li ripped off the towel. He could see him. The weak Olav, standing in a men's restroom, crying because he had lost. Just because he got the creeps at the decisive moment.

Li raised his hand. Olav narrowed his eyes. Li grabbed him by the collar.

"You are..." 

Would he shake him? Tell him off right now and here in the toilet?

His heartbeat accelerated. He was terrified. But he had to say it. It had to come out of him. "The Olav you know no longer exists. I've forgotten everything that happened at the Tour last year. Everything!" 

When he opened his eyes, his gaze was determined. "There, now it's out! I'm no longer the rival you hoped for! I'm-"

He did not get any further, because he suddenly felt the lips of the overgrown Chinese on his own. "Mmm-pf!" He had to lean on the sink to keep his balance.

Li put his hand under Olav's chin and forced him to open his mouth. Wet and hot, his tongue pushed inside and began to challenge the brunette's.

Olav actually wanted to resist, but the kiss was... Good. Too good. Slowly he closed his eyes and gave in to the sensual play of their tongues. The blood rushed not only into his ears, but also into his loins.

Oh, no.

Li must have known exactly what was going on inside of Olav, because he put his hands around his hips and pulled him even closer. Gently he stroked his sides. He bit and sucked lightly on his lower lip before he entangled him in a play of tongues once more.

It felt familiar. Familiar and right.

Olav wasn't even ashamed anymore that now and here, in a men's restroom at the Tour de France, he was flirting with another ace sprinter. That it turned him on and that he wanted to have sex right now and right away. That he wanted to feel it, Li's big cock, deep down inside.

He sighed into the kiss and let his hands wander over the other's backside. 

It felt so incredibly good. So tight and firm. So, uh...

Someone cleared his throat and turned on the tap. 

Olav pushed Li away from himself hastily and stared at the other cyclist who had just stepped out of the toilet cabin and washed his hands, as if two men kissing in the men's toilet were the most natural thing in the world.

"Kim, you?" Olav turned bright red and reached for the towel, but it was too late. Kim had already noticed what was going on between his legs and looked at him amused.

Shit! Why did cycling shorts have to be so tight that you could always see everything immediately!

He dried his hands and shook his head. "Das, was du gerade getan hast, war sehr dumm von dir, Olav!" (You did a really stupid thing just now, Olav!)

The eyes, as blue as a mountain lake, wandered back and forth between Olav and Li.

Was it distrust, suspicion, or simply regret that could be seen in those blue eyes?

Kim threw the paper towel in the trash can. 

Li hissed as the sprinter of the Helvetia Hearts stood between him and Olav. "What do you want? And speak English when you talk to me!"

But Kim, the Swiss man with Korean roots, ignored him and continued in German. "Egal, was er sagt und tut, hör bloß nicht auf ihn!" (No matter what he says or does, don't listen to him!)

He reached for Olav's hand, which the brunette still held before his loins protectively. "Li lügt und manipuliert, wie es ihm gerade passt." (Li lies and manipulates as he pleases.)

Olav trembled, but Kim's hand radiated a soothing warmth.

"Shut the fuck up, Kim!" The otherwise so stoic Li was foaming with rage and grabbed the Korean by the shoulder firmly.

But Kim continued to ignore him. Instead, he led Olav's hand to his mouth and breathed a fleeting kiss on the back of his hand. "You can't know which of us is lying and which of us is telling the truth. So please be careful, Olav", he continued in English.

Li's grip on his shoulder relaxed. "At last we speak the same language, Kimchi."

"Have I allowed you to call me that, Wok Wonder?"

Li wrinkled his nose and crossed his arms. "What do you want?"

Kim put his hand on his chin and winked at Olav shortly afterwards. "I have a proposal to make. Since Olav doesn't seem to remember anything from last year, it would be best to give him a helping hand."

Olav felt exposed. Both Asians looked at him like an object to be decided upon so easily, while he was still struggling with his erection. He thought back to the meetings with Punyaa and Nobuhiko, which had also taken place near the toilets.

Maybe he should get into the habit of going to the toilet with Haakon or one of the other Viking Spades in the future? Just to be on the safe side...

"Resting day is in three days. So how about we make a deal?" 

Li's eyes narrowed suspiciously in view of Kim's friendly face. "What kind of a deal?"

Olav laughed nervously. There you go. There was some reckless horse-trading going on here.

"In two days, the stage will lead from Nantua to Chambery", Kim said. "At the end of it, a gruelling descent awaits us. A decent where we can show off our skills as sprinters."

Li slowly understood and a thieving smile crept into his face. "So you mean that the winner of the stage can do whatever he wants to Olav on his day off?"

Kim laughed softly. "That's right. The one who wins the day after tomorrow will get a date with Olav!"

"Wait a minute! If anyone here can get a date with him, it's me!"

The door slammed against the wall. Nobuhiko had heard the last words and built himself up in front of the three sprinters, broad-legged and wildly determined.

"So if you're all going to join in, I want a piece of the cake too!" Punyaa clapped his hands in delight.

Olav's passion cooled down instantly. Now he was standing here, in the men's restroom, together with four other professional cyclists from different teams, who obviously all wanted something from him. Four guys, of which one was the one he fell in love with head over heels a year ago.

But unfortunately he couldn't remember last year because he had a serious accident on the cursed ninth stage. And now it had to be the ninth stage once again, where his fate would be decided?

Olav laughed again nervously. They couldn't be serious! That must be a dream! In reality he had collapsed after the last sprint for sure and everything that was going on here was only in his mind.

"Hello-hoo, Olav?" Punyaa waved his hands in front of his face excitedly.

"Olav?" Nobuhiko frowned and pursed his lips.

Li clicked his tongue again. "What do you say, Olav?"

Kim winked again and nodded at him confidently. "Olav?"

His head was spinning. Olav took a step back and looked at the four men, who couldn't be more different, but were all Asian and had all damn attractive backsides.

So, to refresh his memory, he was supposed to have a date with one of them in three days?

...

If that was the plan, he wished for the first time for nothing more than for Max Mustermann to win...