"I am so bored," Warren moaned.

"The computer not interesting enough, Snugglebear?" Sophie joked.

"After a while, it kind of pales, you know? I’m caught up on my studies, especially considering I haven’t been to class in over a week."

"We’ve got the wheelchair coming for next Monday, so you’ll be there then come hell or high water."

"Which is good, I’m far behind enough as it is. Of course, we’d been missing a few days this week anyway because of Skate America."

"It sucks not going," Sophie said.

"Yup."

"Does that contraption drive you nuts?" Sophie asked, pointing at it. It was like a tub with some sort of whirlpool effect—it circulated cold water over the knee, to keep swelling down.

"Not really. It’s cold, but that’s it. It’s the immobility that drives me nuts. I feel like I’m just wasting away to nothing. Too many years of practice and weightlifting, the inactivity is getting to me."

"You need exercise," Sophie grinned.

"True enough, but I won’t get any until I can start my rehab."

"Sure you will," she said, and sat next to him on the bed. She instantly went to the waistband of the shorts he was wearing. "There’s lots of types of exercise."

"Ah," Warren grinned. "Somebody’s horny."

"It’s been a week and a half, you bet I am." She had tugged Warren’s shorts down far enough to release his dick, then went to work on her own clothes. She got naked in a hurry, and crawled onto the bed. "Lie flat, sweetie," she said to him, assisting him to do so. Then she crawled up and straddled his head.

"Sit on my face, and tell me that you love me," Warren sang, as Sophie giggled.

"Good idea!" She lowered her pussy down to his waiting mouth. He greeted it with a nice long lick up its length. Sophie moaned at the contact, and kept moaning softly as he kept his tongue moving up and down her pussy.

Warren raised his hands to her hips and held her steady as he nibbled on her clit. Well, as steady as he could—she was bucking up a storm on top of him, and, unable to use his legs, he was having trouble getting any leverage. But he managed, gripping her hips as his tongue lashed around her clit.

After she came—with a howl—she crawled back down his body, straddling his hips. She grabbed his cock, aimed it at her pussy, and sank down on it with a sigh.

"You know," Warren said, "I fail to see how I am getting any exercise here."

"Well, your tongue got a workout," Sophia giggled, "and now your dick will."

"Ah," he laughed.

She started moving up and down on top of him, tentatively.

"This is a wee bit difficult," he said.

"Is it?"

"I can’t get any leverage so I can’t push up at you."

She giggled. "That’s OK, sweetie, I got these nice strong skater’s legs. Just let me find a rhythm." She kept moving up on him, making sure she took full strokes up and down. She found herself a good rhythm, then sped up a bit. He reached up and grabbed her hips to keep her steady. "OK?" she asked breathlessly.

"Oh, yeah," he moaned. She slammed down on top of him, fast and hard, and he managed to buck up a little bit, using his undamaged left leg to get a little leverage. It worked—it wasn’t long before Sophie went, and Warren went right with her.

She collapsed next to him. "How’s your leg?" she asked after a bit.

"Fine. And the rest of me is better than fine."

"Good," she laughed.

------------------------

Warren got back to class the next Monday, in a wheelchair, glad to be back after missing two weeks.

"How’d it go?" Sophie asked him that night.

"Fine. The Professors were all understanding and I’ll have some time to catch up. My molecular biology class actually has an exam on Wednesday but he’s going to give me until next Monday to catch up. And there were plenty of people willing to share notes."

"Really?"

"Yup," he laughed. "Funny how all of them were very female and usually cute."

"Ah," Sophie grinned. "Yes, it’s the Wounded Hero concept. All the better when said wounded hero is a world champion athlete. It’s like you’re putting out he-man pheromones."

"Like I said," he teased, "most of ‘em were damn cute."

"Uh-huh," she laughed. "Well, if one of them can figure out how to have you with all that paraphernalia on your knee, more power to ‘em."

"You managed," he grinned.

"Remember, Snugglebear—I’m very, very good."

"That you are."

"Don’t worry, sweetie—I’ll let you enjoy all the fawning attention."

"Thank you so much."

---------------------------

Warren started rehab that week, also. It was a week later that his therapist, a blonde in her thirties named Renee, stumbled in and saw him and had to shake her head.

He was locked into this contraption that forcibly moved his leg back and forth, bending and unbending his damaged knee. This thing was sadistic. The therapists called it The Torture Device. It was necessary, however, for regaining range of motion in the knee. They had put in on Warren earlier than they might otherwise have, because range of motion was extremely important to an ice dancer.

The therapists became used to seeing patients, especially patients in their first week or two in the thing, to be in extreme pain. Renee couldn’t believe it when she walked in and saw Warren, strapped into the machine, calmly reading a textbook.

"How’s it going?" she asked.

"Fine," he said calmly.

"Most people find that thing to be very painful."

"It is," Warren grinned. "I just have to get through it, is all."

"Are you on painkillers?"

"Just ibuprofen. I’ve got percocet prescribed, but I only take it at night. I have trouble sleeping on my back, and I have to with this shit on my knee, so I need the percocet to sleep. Outside of that, though, I’m avoiding it."

"Why?" she asked incredulously.

"Mainly because I went back to class last week. I’m a senior pre-med, I can’t afford to not be able to think. That percocet zonks me. Plus I don’t want to become at all dependent on it. I don’t want it to be tough to wean off of. I’m an athlete in an Olympic sport, and you know what that means—drug testing," he grinned.

"Ah. I can see that, the schoolwork part especially. I’m still stunned to see you here reading a textbook like you were calmly sitting on a bench." He laughed at that. "And, we’ve talked about it—you’re one of the easiest patients we’ve ever seen! You don’t complain. You don’t whine, even though you have an ice skating career that hangs in the balance. You come in here, smile at everyone, and do what we tell you. We wish they were all like you."

Warren laughed. "Well, I got to do what I got to do, right? Here, sit," he said, pointing to a chair next to him. "I’ve been through a lot. When I met my wife, she was 14 and being beaten. She’s been raped. She broke up for me for two months Freshman year which was torture worse than anything any of these machines can do to me. Shortly after that, I was raped." Renee gasped at that. "The next year, she unexpectedly got pregnant. We skated in the Olympics with her two months pregnant. There’s been some other stuff. Honestly, having a fucked up knee that I have to deal with isn’t that much of a big deal."

"How old are you?" Renee asked.

"I’ll be 22 in January."

"That’s a lot in a short time."

"Tell me about it," he laughed. "But, you know what I’ve learned? It all works out. I recovered from the rape. Sophie and I are married now and deliriously happy about it. The kid is a delight. Life’s not always easy, but it works out, especially if there’s love in it."

"That’s a wonderful philosophy," Renee told him.

"Hey, despite some of the shit that’s gone on with me, I’m lucky, and I know it. I met my one true soulmate the day after my fourteenth birthday—how many people get to say that?"

"I see your point, but you don’t worry about this?" she pointed at the knee. "You’re not worried about skating?"

"Hey, if I never skate again, so be it," Warren said. "I have Sophie, I have a ticket to med school. As for the skating, I have a World Championship, an Olympic silver medal, and a pile of prize and endorsement money. If it ends now, I can live with that." He grinned at her. "That’s not to say I’m not going to work my butt off trying to get back, mind you. The Olympics are a year and a half away, I would like a gold medal."

"I can see where you would," Renee laughed.

------------------

That night, Warren and Sophie were snuggling on the couch, prior to going to bed.

"By the way, where’s Jessie?" Warren asked.

"Out with Ryan again," Sophie giggled.

"This is getting serious, isn’t it?" Warren asked.

"I think so." She looked at him. "You notice she’s been spending most nights in her own bed? I thought it was because she was worried about your knee. I don’t think that’s the case anymore. I think she’s weaning herself away from us."

"As long as she’s happy," Warren said.

"I agree. I just worry about what happens when Ryan’s lovely little partner figures out what’s going on."

"Oh, shit—you’re right."