Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídkové cykly

Liquid Daze
~by Estriel~

It feels just like six years ago. Just like back in Sofia. Only this time it's not Christina Aguilera Johnny is writhing to, but some sort of a crazy club song remix. And this time it's not only Johnny who's drunk – this time Evan's drunk, too. Or maybe wasted would be more exact. Also, it's not the Junior Worlds Johnny's kicked his ass at. This time it is – like in the past few years – the shiny National Champion title that he's snatched away from Evan. Perhaps the saddest thing about the situation is the fact that Evan doesn't even care. Not right now, anyway. For right now, all he cares about is the sexy curve of Johnny's hips as he swings them to the music, and the absolutely way too lickable neck that gets all exposed whenever Johnny decides to throw his head back, and the wicked smile on his face as he dances himself into oblivion. And – of course – the cute blond boy who's dancing too close to Johnny for Evan's liking. He hates the boy. He hates him just like he hates the Swiss bastard Lambiel, just like he hates Rudy Galindo, and all the Russians Johnny is so in love with. He hates them because they have – or did have at some point in time – what he doesn't. He hates Lambiel because he got to sleep with Johnny and didn't even appreciate it. He hates Rudy because he and Johnny have become best buddies over the course of the tour this summer. And probably more than buddies, he comes to a bitter conclusion, as he remembers all the times the two had spent backstage together. And he's figured out by now that he hates all Russians because Johnny loves and adores them.

Evan watches the blond guy move even closer to Johnny, watches him wrap his arms around Johnny's waist and press himself up against Johnny suggestively. He watches as the blond buries his face in Johnny's neck… After that he closes his eyes because there's only so much he can endure. He draws a deep breath in an attempt to calm down, banish the loneliness and the emotions that are so close to the surface, trying to persuade himself that I. Don't. Give. A. Damn. He fails.

He re-opens his eyes and gets up, which takes a lot more effort than it should. Nevertheless, he's making his way towards Johnny determinedly. Maybe it's the alcohol, or maybe the frustration that has been accumulating for years, but this time he doesn't just politely ask Johnny's admirer to leave. This time, he's roughly shoving the boy away, telling him to fuck off. At least that's what he thinks ends up leaving his lips. He grabs Johnny's wrist possessively and pulls him closer, as if to make the matter clearer to the dejected blond. When Johnny looks up at him, all surprised eyes and mouth already half-open in protest, Evan just leans down and shuts him up by kissing him. It's a sloppy kiss, because he's too drunk for anything else, but it's exciting and new, and when Johnny's lips part under his in response, it sends a jolt of desire all through his body.

Pretty soon, Johnny's hands are clawing at his back, his hips a hot, insistent pressure against Evan's thigh, and it's all he can do not to start fumbling to take off Johnny's clothes right there on the dance floor. He's about to start complaining when Johnny suddenly pulls away from him, but then Johnny gasps a breathless Mensroom. Now, and Evan lets him grab the front of his shirt and drag him all the way across the dance floor and into a bathroom stall. As soon as the door slams shut behind them, Johnny's all over him again, his hot mouth back on Evan's, one hand pushing his shirt out of the way, the other working on the fly of his jeans.

Evan doesn't get the time to think about this, gosh, he barely gets the time to breathe! So before he can decide whether this is the way he wants things to happen, Johnny has already slipped a condom on Evan's dick and braced himself against one of the walls of the stall, his pants pulled down to his knees… And of course Evan takes him, he would be stupid not to, and he feels stripped of all will to protest against his body anyway.

It's over in a few blissful moments filled with urgent movements and random cries of oh yeah and aah harder. Evan comes hard and so does Johnny; then they both collapse against the opposite wall, spent, Evan leaning against it with his back and Johnny trembling in his arms.

Seconds pass and then, when they've both regained some breath and enough control over their legs to be able to stand without support, Johnny bends and reaches for his pants, pulling them back up. Then he turns around in Evan's arms and looks at him. His face is flushed and beads of sweat pearl on his temples, hair sticking to his forehead. He stares at Evan for what seems to be an eternity, then his eyes widen in horror as if he'd only just recognized him.

"Oh my god," he whispers, stepping back. He reaches for the door, unlocks it and slips out of the stall, leaving Evan standing there with his pants still down and a look of incredulity on his face.
It takes his exhausted body several seconds to process this new development, but then Evan zips up his jeans quickly and starts after Johnny, only to see him disappear in another of the bathroom stalls. He approaches the stall and knocks on the door.

"Johnny?" he says insecurely, puzzled by what's happened.

The sound that comes instead of a response makes Evan's stomach clench uncomfortably.

"Johnny, are you okay?"

For a while, he hears only unnatural coughing and choking, then a weak voice comes from inside.

"Go away."

"But… I… What's wrong?" He asks dumbly, though he doesn't really need to, because an ultimate feeling of horror has already started to spread through his insides. He hates you, a little voice in his head whispers malevolently. And Evan suddenly feels sick, too. When the guy you just fucked throws up after realizing who you are, something is seriously wrong. Evan is sober enough to understand that. But he gives it another try and softly knocks on the stall door one more time.
"Johnny, please…" He sounds pathetic and knows it, but fuck, this is not good. Not good at all.

"Just fuck off, Evan." This time, the tone is angry and spiteful and makes Evan shiver.

He stands there for another five minutes, resting his palm on the stall door, calling Johnny's name every now and then, asking him to open the door and talk to him, but when there's no response at all, he finally gives up and leaves, tired, confused, scared and fucking miserable.
By the time he arrives at the hotel, he's so sick due to the booze he's had earlier that he doesn't even have the strength to cry.


Thanks for beta-reading, Reet.

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