Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení
“Does she always do this?” Johnny asks and sits down heavily, sighing in relief as he unties his skates. A not quite unpleasant tingle tickles his feet as blood rushes back into his numb toes.
“No,” Viktor answers and Johnny exhales, glad to have his fears negated. “As long as you don’t break any rules,” Viktor adds, drawing a defeated huff out of Johnny. Galina’s rules will take some getting used to. Being reprimanded for being one minute late, for wasting precious ice time on warming up and then spending said precious ice time on basic moves in the field because Galina wasn’t happy with the stretch of his toes... Johnny’s this close to regretting his decision to switch coaches. After the first session. He’s not sure if he has the guts for this.
“You’ll be fine,” Viktor says and gives his knee an encouraging pat. Johnny hopes Viktor is right.
“How did you survive this?” Johnny sighs and winces in pain as he bends down to loosen his laces.
“Painkillers,” Viktor shrugs, then laughs when he notes Johnny’s horrified look. “Just kidding. I got used to it. I only took them sometimes,” he says, then takes mercy on Johnny and offers to help him with the skates. He’s on his knees and working on the laces before Johnny can refuse.
“You are strong,” Viktor concludes once he pulls Johnny’s feet out of the boots and examines first his ankles, then – running gentle fingers up his shins – his knees. “You’ll be fine.”
Johnny tries to trust Viktor, because there’s nothing else he could latch himself onto. And he needs something to cling to if he’s to make it through another session like this.
“Will she beat me up?” Johnny tosses the question over his shoulder as he passes Viktor, rushing towards the locker room, already halfway out of his street clothes, but still running late. Too late.
Viktor glances at his watch. “No,” he states. “She’ll kill you.”
“Do you always fuck your students?” Johnny asks with a smile, comfortably lazy and basking in the afterglow of his climax. The bed is warm and soft and he’s wonderfully tired, so much that it makes him drowsy. Maybe he’ll even manage to sleep tonight.
“No,” Viktor says. He props his head up on one hand to look at Johnny, sweeps his eyes across Johnny’s body. “Just the ones who are strong enough. And legal.”
“Strong enough?” Johnny quirks an eyebrow. “How do you mean?”
Viktor doesn’t answer. He trails a finger down Johnny’s chest and stomach, thoughtful. He stops the movement just before he reaches Johnny’s dick, then withdraws it.
“Get dressed,” he orders.
“What?” Johnny blinks, confused.
“Get dressed. You should get going,” Viktor says calmly, patiently.
Johnny stares at him for a moment, then opens his mouth to argue: “But – “
“No buts,” Viktor interrupts him and shakes his head, his eyes suddenly stern. “I’ll see you at the rink tomorrow morning,” he adds, all business, as if he hadn’t just fucked Johnny’s ass raw. He gets up and heads for the bathroom.
Johnny listens to the sounds of running water for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what just happened. He blinks away the moisture in his eyes, cheeks heated with half anger, half humiliation, the sweet post-coital sleepiness gone.
Then he takes a breath and bites his lips, swallows the tirade building up inside him. You don’t talk back to your coaches.
“I’ll be fine,” he whispers to himself through firmly clenched teeth and slides out of Viktor’s bed to pull his clothes back on.
“Oh my god,” he breathes, eyes glued to the mini-screen in the skater lounge. “Oh my god!” he repeats, speaking past the excited quiver in his throat. He accepts the hug from Galina, beaming as she whispers a proud molodiets into his ear. He just won a fucking medal!
“I’m sorry,” Viktor says while they stand by the long counter laden with food, filling their plates.
“For what?” Johnny asks, puzzled. The thrill of winning his first World medal hasn’t worn off yet and he can’t quite think of anything but the bubble of joy inside him.
“For hurting you,” Viktor replies solemnly, face troubled, and follows Johnny towards their table.
“I’d say that should be Galina’s phrase,” Johnny winks at him, thinking back to the sessions consisting of series of again-again-again... until every bone in muscle in his body was screaming in pain. It was so worth it!
Viktor gives him a meaningful look.
Johnny sighs, then answers in a soft tone: “I know why you did it. I should thank you.” It had hurt his pride and broken him inside a little... Only to make him harder and steel his determination to prove that he can do this, that he is strong enough. Just like Galina’s on-ice lessons.
Viktor relaxes visibly, chances a little smile. “I knew you’d be fine,” he says as they sit down, squeezing Johnny’s knee under the table.
“Does this mean that you won’t do it again?” Johnny asks, snickering.
“No. I won’t,” Viktor says and his smile reaches his eyes when Johnny pouts in response. “Galina will, though?” he offers.
Johnny sighs dramatically. “Damn,” he says. “The fun parts never last.”