Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídky
Pozn. autorky: Příběh byl napsán nedlouho předtím, než jsme se dozvěděli, že Johnny změnil trenérku a rovněž místo, kde trénuje. V této povídce Johnnyho dosud trénuje Priscilla Hill a jeho domácký stadion je v Newarku v Delaware.
Jen tak pro informaci: Denis Petukhov a Melissa Gregory jsou taneční pár reprezentující USA. Jsou Johnnyho dobří přátelé a společně spolu byli na dovolené v mexickém Cozumelu. Turné, které v příběhu zmiňuji, je turné Champions on Ice.
In the beginning, he doesn’t think anything of it. There’s not much room for thought, anyway, with Denis’ dick up his ass and Melissa’s lips wrapped around his own erection. The double assault makes stars dance in front of his eyes, it sucks all air out of his lungs and turns his muscles into jelly – he’d be afraid of crumbling down onto the bed if it wasn’t for Denis’ body behind him and Denis’ arms around him, holding him firmly. He’d never had a threesome before, which, he concludes, is a shame considering how great it feels. And – to his surprise – he doesn’t even mind that one third of the threesome is female.
When he lies on the bed afterwards, his head still buzzing from the sensory overload, his head on Denis’ chest, Melissa’s body a pleasant warmth against his side, he can’t help but wonder what he did to deserve this, to luck out like this.
They’ve been close for years. He saw them at the rink every day, he’d been out with them, dancing until late, he’d been invited for dinner or a movie-evening every now and then, even spent the night at their house a couple of times. And yet it would never have even crossed Johnny’s mind to think of them in anything but an innocent, friendly way. Well, aside from the occasional wank-fantasy featuring Denis, but that didn’t count.
In the end, he blames it on the Vacation. There was this thing about vacations, this feeling of recklessness and freedom that made one do things that would seem unthinkable in everyday life.
They were in a bar in Cozumel, the second night of their vacation, and they were all getting a little – but only a little – drunk on margaritas, when Melissa and Denis shared a meaningful look, a smile... It was all a bit blurry from then on. He remembers Denis talking about marriage and routine and spicing up their life, about how much fun he and Melissa always had when Johnny was with them. He can still see the tease in Denis’ eyes as he casually dropped his hand under the table to rest it on Johnny’s bare knee, the subtle movements of his fingers sending sparks of anticipation up Johnny’s spine. He recalls Melissa’s playful smile, the scent of her hair when she leaned closer, the honey in her voice when she whispered sweet, persuasive words into his ear.
“We don’t want to push you into anything you don’t want,” he remembers Denis saying, his tone completely sincere even though his eyes roamed over him with a hunger Johnny had never noticed in them before, even though his fingers spasmed a little as he struggled not to push his hand further up Johnny’s leg, under his shorts. And he knew it was the truth, knew he was safe with them – he trusted them. With that realization, Johnny said a reckless why not to himself and plunged into what Melissa had called a little, private adventure. It was all fun, it was all safe, after all – or so he believed at that point.
What starts out as a one-night thing becomes a two, three, four-night series of sensual sex, a row of kisses, touches, licks and thrusts so intense and long that, in the end, it doesn’t even matter whose hand it is fondling his cock, whose teeth sinking into his neck, whose voice gasping his name.
They all seem to know, however, that once the vacation is over, once they leave Mexico and get back on tour, their little adventure will end. And end it does, or so Johnny thinks until that night about a week after their return from Cozumel.
That night, he’s woken by a knock on his hotel room door. He answers the door, slightly pissed because he gets so little sleep in general and the last thing he needs are random late-night visits from godknowswho. He’s surprised to find Denis standing in the corridor, and a very distressed, rumpled-up looking Denis at that. He’s about to ask what happened, if everything is okay, when Denis pushes him back into the room, a palm flat on his chest, and pulls him close the moment the door closes behind them.
“Wha-“ he starts, but Denis shuts him up, pressing his lips to his mouth, sliding one hand to the nape of his neck to hold him in place. Johnny freezes, then continues with a very feeble and half-hearted attempt to push Denis away. Opening his mouth to protest just gives Denis the opportunity to slip him a bit of tongue, though, and as soon as that happens, Johnny gives in, melting into the kiss, into Denis, relishing the heat radiating from his body.
They break apart eventually, breathless.
“I’m sorry,” Denis pants and meets Johnny’s eyes for a brief moment, then tilts his head to ravish Johnny’s neck.
“I just-“ He nips at his collarbone.
“-couldn’t-“ He marks his shoulder with a light bite through the cotton of his shirt.
“-stop-“ He sweeps his tongue up to where Johnny’s pulse is fluttering under his skin.
“-thinking about you.” He looks up again and accentuates his words by placing a gentle, almost tender kiss on Johnny’s mouth. They stare at each other in the wake of that kiss for a moment.
“What about Melissa?” Johnny finally asks, a little quiver in his voice. Your wife, he almost adds and at that thought a red alarm goes off in his head. He’s married! Married! You don’t sleep with married men. Johnny feels a sudden chill inside his gut.
“She’s sleeping,” Denis answers, as if it was that easy, as if that was what Johnny asked about. And then Denis is kissing him again, his hands sneaking under the old t-shirt Johnny likes to sleep in, and it becomes so damn difficult to stay rational. You already slept with him. And she was there. She knows. It’s no problem, whispers a sly little voice in his head and Johnny, already growing hard from Denis’ ministrations, decides that one more time won’t hurt anyone.
He comes a few minutes – filled with frantic touching and grinding – later, with Denis on top of him, his cock hot and burning inside him. He digs his nails into Denis’ back, oblivious to the fact that – should the marks not fade in time or even leave bruises – Melissa will see and know.
The sex leaves him spent and shaking. Denis brushes his hair back afterwards and kisses his forehead, his closed eyelids, his temples and nose and cheeks and, in the end, his lips, tasting a little salty. He holds him for another while, stroking his hair, gingerly tracing the curves of his bones nestled under heated skin – his jawline, his collarbones, his shoulders, his ribs, one by one he touches them all as if he was trying to memorize their structure, memorize Johnny – and it makes sense because this is their last time together.
Then, when Johnny’s almost fallen asleep in his arms, Denis shifts and disentangles himself.
“I have to get back,” he says quietly.
“I suppose,” Johnny replies, thinking of Melissa asleep in their room, alone in their bed.
Denis sits up and Johnny closes his eyes, waiting for him to leave. Minutes pass and he grows fidgety. Finally, he half-opens his eyes again to find Denis just sitting there, watching him intently.
What? he’s about to ask, but before he can open his mouth to speak, Denis leans down, propping himself on one elbow, and kisses Johnny on the lips. It’s a soft, lingering kind of kiss, no blinding passion, just a gentle touch of mouths, as if to say goodbye. Denis breaks the contact after several seconds and buries his face in the crook of Johnny’s neck for just a moment, taking a few deep breaths.
When he finally gets up, he quickly picks his clothes off the floor and pulls them on. He stops at the door, though, hand resting on the doorknob.
“Spokoinoi nochi, Johnny,” he whispers, casting one last look at him. Then he slips out of the room with a soft click of the door and leaves Johnny lying awake in the dark room, wondering if Denis is going to take a shower and risk waking Melissa, or if he’s going to slip right back into bed next to her and risk that she’ll notice Johnny’s scent on him.
Another week goes by and by the end of it Johnny is half frantic with need to be with Denis again, and half crazy with a guilty conscience.
On Friday, he lingers in the men’s locker room longer than usual, hoping… He isn’t even sure what he’s hoping for. He considers his hopes fulfilled, though, when Denis meets his eyes across the room and he glimpses the same desperate mix of want and guilt in them that he himself has been feeling these days. His undefined hopes are exceeded when, after a moment of hesitation, Denis comes to stand in front of him, hands clenched into fists in an effort not to reach out and touch Johnny.
The door slams shut as Ben Agosto leaves the room with a quick bye and they’re alone.
Denis’ look is darting between Johnny’s eyes and lips as they stand there in nervous silence, unsure of what to do or say.
Johnny averts his eyes.
“We should tell her,” he says, surprising even himself, then quickly leans against the wall behind him for support, desperate for something to hold on to in his emotional conflict. He flattens his sweaty palms against the cool wall, squeezing his eyes shut to clear his thoughts a little.
“We should –“ he begins. We should stop before it gets out of control, he wants to say, but he never gets the chance.
“I should have,” Denis grunts, his voice a little raspy. “I should’ve said something or done something a long time ago,” he shakes his head in discontent, but grabs the front of Johnny’s shirt, pulling at it until Johnny tumbles forward into his arms. He weaves his fingers into Johnny’s hair, and the rush of exhilaration coming from their kissing, from the mere physical proximity, is enough to silence the urgent, bewildering thoughts forming inside Johnny’s head.
They break apart a few moments later, gulping for air, and Johnny drops his forehead onto Denis’ shoulder, shaking both with excitement and guilt.
Denis’ hand comes to rest on his nape, stroking gently, soothingly.
“You’re not crying, are you?” It’s a whisper close to his ear, concerned.
He lifts his head, coming face to face with Denis.
“No,” he says, though he’s afraid he might, sooner or later, because there’s no way this could lead to anything but a hideous mess.
“Okay,” Denis gives him a small smile, then freezes and takes a step back, turning their intimate closeness into a passable friendly distance.
Johnny registers the steps outside and a few seconds later, the door opens and they’re joined by Evan Lysacek, who nods at them, sits down and proceeds to unlace his skates.
“I’ll come tonight,” Denis says so quietly Johnny barely hears him and glances nervously towards Evan. Johnny follows his look, then nods, the feeling of wrongness in his chest growing more insistent again.
“You know, you can’t think I don’t love Melissa,” Denis confesses ponderously while he and Johnny share a post-coital cigarette. Their skin is sticky with drying sweat, they’re both exhausted – physically and emotionally, and the deep inhaling is a perfect way to come down to Earth after the few moments of sheer bliss.
“Of course I don’t think that,” Johnny manages, struggling to keep his face neutral even as the dull ache inside him explodes with a momentary blast of sharp pain. Once again, he’s reminded of how stupid and pointless this is, and that it would be much, much wiser to grit his teeth and run, run as far from Denis as possible. Give Denis a break, give him time to realize that he’s acting on a whim, let him remember that he’s happily married, that he doesn’t do boys, not really. It would be for the best, Johnny knows, because he’s already feeling things he shouldn’t feel... And he doesn’t fancy another heart-wrenching experience.
Denis doesn’t seem to hear Johnny’s comment, nor notice his sudden discomfort.
“But you,” he continues speaking, dragging at the cig, then passing it to Johnny. “You make me feel,” he pauses to turn his face to him, his features all soft in the lamp light, eyes glowing. “God, do you have any idea what you do to people, Johnny? What you do to me?”
Slowly, cautiously, Johnny shakes his head, not allowing himself to indulge in the wild hopes that flood his mind as he extinguishes the cigarette. He turns a quizzical look at Denis, quirks an eyebrow.
“You... You make me think and act in ways I never thought possible,” Denis says and there’s a hint of wonderment in his voice, as if he was still sort of puzzled by it. “There’s something about you that makes me bolder, makes me want to... be freer, on ice and off. I never realized it before, but now I see why everything always seemed brighter after you came to visit us. I loved Melissa the most with you around, you know,” Denis laughs softly and reaches out, fingering Johnny’s cheek. “It just didn’t occur to me that maybe...” he lets his voice trail off, never finishing the sentence, leaving it hanging in the air for Johnny to mull over.
“It’s like something inside me, something new and exciting and amazing, something nobody has touched before.” Denis pauses, rolls onto his side, head propped up on one elbow, silently studying Johnny for a moment. Then he continues in a quieter, more intimate tone.
“And lately, it’s like… like I might go crazy if I don’t kiss you or touch you or at least look at you. You make me feel so alive – so much that it makes me wonder if I’ve ever truly lived until now. And sometimes you make me think of ridiculous things. Like… What it – we – could be if the whole situation wasn’t so damn complicated and impossible.” Denis exhales and lays back down on his back, staring at the ceiling, but his fingers are attached to Johnny’s wrist, clutching so hard it makes Johnny’s hand go numb after a while, but Johnny doesn’t mind.
“Thank you,” he whispers, voice thick with emotion.
He hears Denis sigh quietly beside him and then he releases Johnny’s wrist, sliding his palm against his instead, entwining their fingers.
That night, Johnny falls asleep before Denis leaves, slumbering with Denis’ warm arm around him.
When he wakes up the next morning, though, he’s alone and he’s cold.
A part of him now wishes Denis and Melissa lived at the opposite end of the country, so he would be forced to stop this. The other part is happy as hell that they train in Delaware, because he’s not sure how he’d cope with being thousands of miles away from Denis after spending three nights a week with him on tour.
The situation scares him more than anything he’s ever experienced before – the knowledge that he’s developed many more feelings for Denis than he should have scares him because he’s aware of the futility of it all and yet can’t stop himself from gradually falling for him. It scares him because he knows it can’t go on forever – he’s sure Melissa is going to find out, eventually. It scares him because he knows Melissa will never forgive him. But what scares him most is that Denis might never forgive him, once he comes to his senses.
He makes a fruitless attempt at breaking it off one night in mid-September, telling Denis never to come to him again. He’s so unfocused and distraught the following morning that he nearly breaks his ankle at a simple triple toe in practice. It goes on like that for a few more days until Priscilla tells him to stop being stupid, Johnny, and get a grip on yourself, advising him to go back to the state he was in before.
He complies – not because of Priscilla’s concerns, but because he’s suffering withdrawals so bad it makes him want to fling himself under a train.
Denis doesn’t say anything when Johnny appears at his and Melissa’s doorstep that evening. He just leads him to the kitchen, sending Melissa off with a few hushed words and a quick kiss on the brow, then sits Johnny down at the kitchen table and pours them both mammoth shots of vodka.
Johnny does cry that night and stops only after Melissa sticks her head into the kitchen and rushes in to hug him and ask him what’s wrong. The irony of it almost makes him want to laugh.
A short time after that incident, after which Johnny gave up trying to put an end to this thing with Denis, Melissa gets suspicious. Oh no, not of Johnny, of course. He overhears her talking to one of her friends at the rink one day, voicing her worries that Denis might be seeing some other woman.
Johnny sarcastically ponders whether telling her oh, don’t worry, he’s still just sleeping with me would calm her.
He witnesses a few fights, held in half-whispers at the rink. What really makes him feel like shit, though, is when he notices Melissa and Denis getting more and more out of sync on their twizzles, when he sees their perfect on-ice harmony fall apart a little more every day. And he hates himself for that every day, for endangering not only their marriage, but also their season, and yet he still can’t find it in him to give the Goodbye, Denis act another go. Johnny’s afraid that it might be too late, that it might have been too late for weeks already.
The shit hits the fan in November, at Cup of Russia. It’s the early evening after the short program and Johnny is both giddy and anxious as a result of finishing second, only a fraction of a point behind Lambiel. They meet up in Denis’ and Melissa’s hotel room, for Melissa has gone to the team doctor to loosen the stiffness in her hip from where she’d slipped out of Denis’ hold during a rotational lift in practice earlier that day. Johnny knows he should feel guilty about taking advantage of her unfortunate injury, but he can’t – he’s way too nervous about tomorrow’s free skate, high on the adrenaline of competition, and way too desperate to spend at least a few moments with Denis.
They’re gentle with one another that evening, none willing to take any risks where tomorrow’s skating is concerned. They kiss for what seems to be an infinity and Johnny feels the nervous knot in his stomach loosen up a little, letting the sensation of Denis’ tongue sliding against his soothe him, drawing a sense of calm from his tenderness. They undress, eventually, and Denis enters him, slowly, carefully, then stays motionless for several moments, waiting for Johnny’s breathing to even out. It’s so different from their usual fucking, so much more intimate, and Johnny relishes the sweetness of it, wondering whether the competition really is the only reason behind Denis’ changed behavior, or whether there might be more to it. He doesn’t dare to interpret too much into it, though, he’s not naïve enough to seriously consider the possibility of getting anything but a few more nights with Denis, a few more orgasms, a few more conversations. That doesn’t stop him from wishing for more, though.
Denis reaches out with one hand, twining their fingers together and giving Johnny a short squeeze, his other hand a caress on Johnny’s cheek. He moves inside him, a few unhurried, long thrusts that make Johnny’s skin prickle but are by far not enough to bring him any closer to climax.
Denis is looking at him, smiling, and there’s something new in his face, an expression Johnny doesn’t remember seeing before.
“Johnny, I-“ he begins, then shakes his head and closes his eyes for a second, laughing quietly. He takes a breath and meets Johnny’s look once again. “I-“
There’s so much in that look; it makes Johnny’s breath catch in his throat. Maybe he is naïve enough, after all. He never gets to hear what Denis wants to say, though, because in that instant, the door opens behind them.
Johnny is surprised, afterwards, in how much detail he remembers everything that followed. As if he was watching the scene in slow-motion, he hears the quiet gasp that escapes Melissa’s lips, the low thud when her bag slips out of her grasp and hits the floor. He remembers the void, empty feeling when Denis pulls out of him, and the way he keeps their hands clasped together for another moment before letting go and sitting up on the bed. For a while, he feels vulnerable and exposed in his nakedness, his cock still half-stiff between his legs. But then, thinking of the preceding moments, a surprising calmness settles over him.
They knew it would come to this, eventually. The way it happens, though, couldn’t be more different from Johnny’s expectations. In all the scenarios he pictured in his head, there was always a sense of panic in the air, Denis jumping up in an effort to get as far from him as possible, as quickly as possible, Melissa screaming and throwing things. Instead, there is the quiet, disbelieving shock on Melissa’s part, and the serene acceptance between him and Denis. He picks up his clothes, pulls on his boxers quickly, the rest of his belongings gathered in his arms. He chances one last look at Denis over his shoulder and Denis smiles, he fucking smiles, a small, crooked smile, but still.
“You – how could you?” Melissa whimpers into his face in a weak, shaky voice as he passes her by, her eyes huge and disbelieving, already glazing over with tears.
“I’m sorry,” is all he can say, though he knows his apology means absolutely nothing.
Johnny is sure there will be screaming and drama a little later when he’s not there to witness it, but he’s not worried about leaving Denis there to deal with it on his own, because he knows Denis will be fine.
The following day, he watches the original dance on the little TV in the skaters’ lounge, waiting for his own competition to begin. He’s not even surprised to see Denis and Melissa drop from fourth to tenth place, not after the performance they delivered.
He’s a little concerned about his rippled emotional state affecting his skating, but when he steps onto the ice that afternoon, he suddenly realizes that there is no need for anxiety. He floats through his free skate, not thinking, just letting the music carry him through.
His program is titled Hope and he finds it easier and more natural to do than ever, because that is exactly what he feels – hope – when he remembers Denis’ expression from before Melissa walked in on them. Despite all reason, he hopes that this might become something real.
He finishes, knowing that he was flawless, and as ovation explodes all around him like a firework of sound, he looks straight into the camera and mouths the words he thinks Denis was going to say the previous night. He smiles, hoping that Denis is watching.
Thanks, Reet, for beta-reading./Děkuji Reet za beta-read.
* Spokoinoi nochi = Good night in Russian./Rusky dobrou noc.