Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Povídky
Pozn. autorky: Povídku jsem začala psát ještě před finálem Grand Prix. Vím, že povídka v místě, kde se mluví o výsledcích finále, neodpovídá skutečnosti, ale dovolila jsem si ten kousek ponechat beze změny.
In the figure skating world, everybody has their secret habits. Rituals. Little things that they believe help them skate better. Stéphane strokes the nose of his toy-ladybug before he goes on ice. Evgeni kisses his ring. Joubert fondles his silver-bracelet. Emanuel does fouettés and pliés and whatever these ballet steps are called backstage.
Evan doesn't have any special rituals. Nothing he'd repeat every time before he skates. He does have a secret habit, though, something he can't resist doing whenever it is possible. Evan likes to watch Johnny Weir skate – practice, warm-up or the actual competition.
It all began at Junior Worlds in 2001 and seemed perfectly innocent at that time. Back then, he simply wanted to know how his teammate, a fellow American, would do. Later, he realized that he liked how fluid Johnny's skating is – it was calming, somehow. After years and years of doing it, watching Johnny Weir skate has become his second nature.
He usually just… glanced. With one eye. For a second or two. Or for five minutes, but that didn't happen very often. When his glancing began to occur when they were off ice, too, and when it eventually turned into gazing, Evan started to suspect that maybe it's not about the quality of the skating per se, but about the skater.
His little habit eventually turns into a big problem when Frank notices.
"What are you looking at?" he snaps at Evan during the first official practice at the Grand Prix Final.
"Nothing. Sir," Evan replies, taking a sip of water out of his bottle. Johnny chooses that moment to skate by and Evan's eyes can't help but follow.
"Are you looking at Weir?" Frank lowers his voice considerably at the last word, as if he was saying something terrible and nasty.
"No," Evan lies, very aware of the fact that he's never been a very good liar, especially not with his coach.
Frank glowers at him in a way that makes it very clear that he's not buying it.
"We'll talk about this later," he grumbles. "Now skate."
Evan complies and focuses on the skating, because when he's busy with his own quads and triples, he's less likely to notice Johnny Weir and how good his ass looks in his tight practice outfit.
Evan medals at the Final, and so does Johnny, so Evan gets to sit right next to him at the press conference table and it's very hard to keep his eyes from traveling to the right.
Not even the danger of international press and the ISU officials noticing persuades Evan's treacherous eyes that sending longing looks in Johnny's direction is a bad idea. A very, very bad idea, he reasons with himself, but... It's just too tempting, for Johnny is gesturing with his hands (slim and beautiful, yet strong, somehow) right next to him; he's playing with his hair (like black silk… what would it feel like to touch it?) when the journalists turn their attention to Joubert, and then he's smiling and talking again when they aim a question at him (those lips…I wonder what it would be like to -)
"…take for you to beat Johnny at the upcoming US Nationals?"
Evan realizes that they're all looking at him, the cameras go snap-snap-snap, and thank god he's heard at least part of the question!
"So tell me.... What reason can you give me for staring at Johnny Weir during practice? And in competition. And at the banquet," Frank inquires when they sit down on the plane. Damn. Evan almost thought that Frank had forgotten about it.
"I wasn't - "
"Don't lie to me, Evan."
Evan sighs audibly, wishing he could get up and disappear. Unfortunately for him, the plane is ready for take-off and there is nowhere for him to run.
"I… It's just that… He's…" Evan isn't quite sure what he plans to say. I want to fuck him so bad doesn't sound like the kind of thing he could tell Frank, although – he realizes – that's probably the blunt truth.
"Okay, listen. I'm not sure if I want to hear any of this."
Something about the disturbed expression on his coach's face tells him that maybe he didn't even need to say the actual words – Frank seems to have gotten the picture. Evan wonders whether he's really that obvious, or whether his coach can magically read people's minds. Or maybe just his. They'd been friends and working together for long enough.
"But whatever it is… You're not to do it. I want this to stop. This is a distraction. I want you to take your eyes off him and focus on your skating instead. You are not to get involved in anything concerning Johnny Weir. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir," Evan says in a low voice, nodding.
Evan manages to keep his promise. Until Nationals, anyway. But it proves so much harder to stick to it with Johnny around. It doesn't help much, either, that he's been jerking off to the mental picture of Johnny riding his cock for the past… three weeks?
By the time he arrives to Spokane, Evan is in perfect clarity about what he wants – he wants the title and he wants the three-time and reigning (but not for long anymore!) National Champ.
He just wants to know what it would feel like to run his fingers over that smooth skin and tight muscle, to bury his hands in Johnny's dark curls. He wants to see those green eyes glazed with ecstasy and to find out what Johnny's red lips would feel like on his mouth, on his cock… He's hopeful that after he's done this, after he's satisfied his curiosity, he'll be able to move on and get rid of his secret habit of Watching Weir. Frank won't even need to know. After all, he'll just be breaking his promise for one night.
It happens on the free day between the short and the long. Evan is rushing because he's late for practice when Johnny Weir appears out of nowhere in the empty corridor and blocks his way.
Evan tries to walk right past him with a quick hi, but Johnny doesn't seem to notice or care that Evan's in a hurry. He reaches out and grabs a fistful of Evan's shirt, then ushers him through the closest door and into a small room full of random junk – some old decorations, detergents, a few empty buckets, one or two brooms…
This shouldn't be possible, Evan realizes. It shouldn't be that easy for somebody as small as Johnny to drag him around like this! Evan blames it on the fact that he's been taken by surprise. Otherwise, he tells himself, I'd totally sweep the floor with him if he tried this.
Johnny stops and stands in front of him then, eyeing him with a piercing look. "What is it that you want, Lysacek?" he asks, crossing his arms over his thin chest.
"I want to win, of course," he laughs nervously. He hasn't even finished his sentence and Johnny is already shaking his head.
"That's not what I mean. What do you want from me?"
"What… do you mean? I mean. What makes you think that –"
Once again, he's interrupted in the middle of his sentence.
"Oh c'mon!" Johnny rolls green eyes at him. "You've been staring at me for ages, surely you didn't think I wouldn't notice." Johnny takes a small step forward, into Evan's private space but still keeps some distance between them. "So tell me, Evan. What is it?"
Evan's words get stuck in his throat, which suddenly feels raspy and dry, as if he'd swallowed a spoonful of sand. It's also getting a little hard to breathe – he can smell Johnny now, and something about his scent makes it hard to concentrate.
Another step and now Evan can feel the heat radiating from Johnny's body; the smallest movement and he'd brush against him. Evan is too transfixed to move or talk, so he just keeps staring into Johnny's eyes.
This is not how it's supposed to go, he thinks. He shouldn't turn into a quivering wreck in Johnny's presence, his thoughts shouldn't lose their focus like this and his heart shouldn't be galloping in his chest like crazy. But then Johnny moves forward the last inches, pressing up against Evan, reaching up and pulling him down into a kiss and Evan decides that thinking is superfluous.
It is a fierce, slightly clumsy kiss, not like those perfect kisses Evan had imagined while he lay awake in bed. Johnny's lips are soft, but his chin and cheeks are not. The scratchiness is somehow… nice, though. And Evan fears that he's doomed forever, because kissing Johnny Weir is so much better and more intense than he thought it would be. Kissing Johnny Weir is something he'd like to do again… and again…
Too soon, Johnny pulls away and steps back, looking at Evan with alert eyes, clearly searching for something in his face.
"Is this what you want?" he asks, a little out of breath.
"Y-yes," Evan stammers, leaning against the wall behind him for support.
"Find me after the final banquet, then," Johnny tells him, gives a small, almost coy smile, and before Evan can say anything, he's out of the door and gone.
Evan stays in that room for a few more minutes, trying to catch his breath and waiting for his cock to come down. The last thing he needs now is Frank's questions about why he comes to practice late and with a boner.
Evan sits in the skaters' lounge, waiting for all his competitors to finish their performances. For once, Frank doesn't object and lets him watch Johnny Weir's free skate on the small TV sitting on a table in front of him.
When Johnny nails a quad sal with a ride-out so exquisite and smooth that it would make even Plushenko jealous, Evan realizes that he's probably not going to get the title this year. It seems that Johnny has broken his long program curse of the last couple of seasons and is actually not going to fuck up.
When he steps onto the podium some time later to receive his silver medal, he feels angry. Angry with himself, with Weir, with the whole world. He glances to his left – no, he doesn't need to look up, because Johnny is barely as tall as him when he's standing on the top step of the podium.
There he is, beaming, fluffy-haired, with a completely stupid ice-dancerish headband – four times National Champion. Johnny turns to the right in that moment, catches Evan's look, and smiles – unlike many of his smiles, this one reaches up to his eyes, and Evan determinedly squishes the warm fuzzies that pop up in his stomach. He beat me, he tells himself. He's still cute. But he beat me.
By the time he climbs onto the top podium to pose for pictures with Johnny and Scott, Evan's hurt pride has lost the battle against the temptation standing next to him and he allows himself to enjoy putting his arm around Johnny, squeezing his shoulder a bit more than would have been necessary.
When Johnny nudges him with his other shoulder and digs his fingers into Evan's waist, Evan feels a different kind of smile tug at his lips. He might not have the title (yet!), but he's still getting the champion, it seems.
He's never really enjoyed the official USFSA banquets and parties. They're stiff and boring with everybody trying to be good boys and girls, because annoying the federation is not something you want to do if you want to have any chances of winning in the next season. Not even Johnny, despite his little rebel image, ever dares to do or say anything that might be considered inappropriate right under the officials' noses. And so they all talk, smile, dressed in pretty dresses and handsome suits, perfectly proper and perfectly nice.
This time, though, the banquet seems to be even longer, duller, and more annoying than Evan remembers it being. Maybe it's because he really doesn't want to be proper and nice tonight. Maybe it's because all Evan can think of is being very improper and very naughty with the National Champ.
When – a while before midnight – Johnny locks eyes with him from across the table and gets up to leave some five minutes later, it takes Evan a lot of self-restriction not to outright jog after him.
He waits a little before making his exit, saying his goodnights like the good boy he's pretending to be. He can fool most people, as he's had many years of practice in displaying his fake face, but he can't fool Frank. His coach gives him a queer look and squeezes his bicep.
"You are not going to bed," Frank says gruffly. It's not a question, but a statement, and Frank is not happy, Evan can tell.
"I'm just – " Evan lowers his eyes, then glances towards the door, not daring to meet Frank's look.
"Spare your lies for the media," Frank sighs, then shakes Evan's arm and whispers: "I can't force you to keep to what you promised. But it's for your own good. Think before you act, Evan. Think about your career."
"It's just this one night," Evan blurts out, blushing furiously. He feels like he needs to explain, to persuade Frank that this is not going to influence his career in any way.
"You don't believe it yourself," his coach mutters, shaking his head and letting go of Evan's arm. "And even if… I still don't approve." With that, Frank sighs and waves his hand as if to dismiss Evan.
"Good… night, sir," Evan mumbles uncertainly, then nearly trips over a carpet as he hurries out of the room.
He makes it from the hotel restaurant to the lobby in record time and in his rush he nearly doesn't notice Johnny lingering in front of the elevators. He's a bit out of breath when he finally makes it to him, and feeling guilty for letting Johnny wait this long, but Johnny doesn't seem to care.
"Hey, Ev," he greets casually, eyes never leaving the display above the elevator door.
7… 6… 5… Evan watches the changing numbers as the elevator descends to the ground floor.
"Hi, Swan." 4… 3…
"Going to bed, too?" Johnny asks, glancing to the two officials standing within earshot.
"Yeah," he says, adding a small yawn for good measure. "It's been a long day." 2… 1…
The door opens in front of them and they walk in. Evan is suddenly aware of just how sweaty his palms have become, just how hot he suddenly is in his shirt and tie and jacket. Johnny pushes the button with a big blue 9 on it and the automatic doors slide shut, slowly. The moment the two panels click shut, Johnny turns to Evan, looking at him from under those sinfully long eyelashes.
"So… Um… You haven't changed your mind?" he asks, almost bashful.
"Hell no," Evan replies, mentally rolling his eyes, because god, how could anyone ever change their mind where somebody like Johnny is concerned? The thought of what Frank had said nags at his brain, but he vehemently pushes it away. It's my life, he reasons. And this won't change anything. I just want to try it…
"Good." The grin that spreads across Johnny's face is wicked, far from the shyness he was displaying just a second ago, and it makes Evan forget all about Frank's warnings.
Johnny lifts up one hand, doing the come-hither gesture with his index-finger, a personification of tease as he stands leaning against the mirror-covered elevator wall.
Evan is about to comply and he steps forward, quite willing to snog Johnny right there in the elevator, but the chink indicating that they've reached their floor and the sound of the doors opening makes them spring apart as if they'd been burnt.
"Damn," Evan swears under his breath. He realizes, somewhere in the corner of his brain, that he probably shouldn't be this frustrated – he's just curious, after all.
"Relax," Johnny smiles and brushes past him, entering the 9th floor corridor. He turns his head back at Evan and lowers his voice to add: "We've got all night."
Evan follows him down the hall and wonders how it is that Johnny can be so calm, while he's all trembling in anticipation and with nerves. Maybe he's done this before with somebody else? Evan doesn't like the sudden thought, so he pushes it aside, focusing on other things, like the way Johnny sways his hips as he walks just a step ahead of him.
Johnny stops in front of his room and flicks the electronic key card through the lock mechanism. The door opens and he strolls inside, leaving it ajar behind himself as if to give Evan one more opportunity to change his mind. Evan quickly glances down the corridor, checking for unwanted witnesses – the air is clear and so he takes a step inside Johnny's room, softly closing the door behind him.
He stands there for a moment, not quite sure what to do next… In the end, he leans against the door and waits, using the moment to try to calm down. It's just a fuck. It's not like you've never had sex before, he tells himself. This is no different. He's almost succeeded at persuading himself that he's all cool and above it all, when Johnny emerges from the adjacent bathroom, padding across the soft carpet – naked.
Evan blinks, for he hadn't expected this. Johnny stops in the middle of the room and turns to Evan, offering a perfect view of all his body – every muscle, every curve, every purplish bruise from falling down in practice. Evan doesn't dare breathe, he just looks, and the silence that falls upon the room is almost palpable.
"Are you… coming in?" Johnny asks quietly after a few more moments pass, shifting his weight from one foot to another.
Somehow, Evan manages to nod – he doesn't trust his voice enough to actually give a verbal reply – and he's about to will his feet to move when, in a few quick steps, Johnny's in front of him, standing up on toes to capture his lips.
Hesitant at first, Evan puts his arms around that lithe body, running his fingers down Johnny's soft sides, feeling the hot skin and the ribs under his touch. Johnny's hands come to cradle his face, gently pulling him down and deeper into the kiss. He lets his hands slide lower and cups Johnny's ass, giving it a squeeze and an upwards tug.
Johnny understands and when Evan lifts him off the ground, he wraps his legs around Evan's waist obligingly. He lets Evan carry him as if he weighed nothing, not willing to break the kiss.
Somehow, they make it to the bed and tumble down onto it with Johnny in his lap. By then, he's pushed Evan's jacket down his shoulders; he's loosening his tie with nimble fingers and moving on to fiddle with the buttons of Evan's shirt. Evan slides his own hand between them, intent to help, but Johnny just slaps it away impatiently, undoing the buttons himself, one by one. When he's done, he pushes the fabric open and runs his palms over Evan's chest. He bows his head to suck at each nipple, flicking his tongue over them and teasing lightly with an occasional scratch of teeth.
Evan lets his head fall back, he closes his eyes and focuses on the sensation, hot and wet and perfect. Johnny trails his tongue up Evan's throat, making a side trip to place a kiss on Evan's left ear.
"You have no idea," he whispers, his breath warm and moist. "You've no idea how long I've been thinking about this." He darts the tip of his tongue into Evan's ear, making Evan jump a little in surprise.
Johnny laughs at his reaction, burying his face in Evan's neck. His laughter feels almost like a tickle against Evan's skin. Smiling, Evan lifts up one hand and threads it into Johnny's unruly black curls – he marvels at the softness, playing with the silky strands. Then, gently, he pulls at that hair and Johnny tips his head back, offering up his throat.
Evan leans down and sucks at the pulse fluttering just under Johnny's jaw, feeling the blood rushing through the veins beneath the skin. He kisses his way down, then finishes with a light bite at the juncture of neck and shoulder, drawing a hiss of pleasure from Johnny's mouth. He licks at one of Johnny's collarbones, kisses the shallow spot between them. He rubs his nose against Johnny's neck, enjoying his scent, then pulls him closer, grinding his hips up against Johnny's bare bottom.
As if he'd only just realized Evan's insufficient state of undress, Johnny snaps his eyes open and moves his hands from Evan's neck to his crotch. He flicks open the button of Evan's pants, unzips them, then slithers off Evan's lap to remove them completely.
Evan watches Johnny smile when he peels off his underwear, inching his boxers down bit by bit. Johnny looks up and meets his eyes, then lowers his gaze again and gingerly trails the tip of one finger along the length of Evan's cock, scratching the sensitive skin lightly with his nail. Evan stifles his moan, biting down hard on his lip as he does so.
"Don't," Johnny says, leaning forward to run his tongue along Evan's jaw. "– keep it in," he finishes, wrapping his hand around Evan's shaft and giving it a firm stroke.
He pushes at Evan's shoulders and makes him lay down onto the mattress. He straddles him, settling on his thighs with his erection teasingly close to Evan's own cock.
He leans down, presses a kiss onto Evan's lips, then kisses his way down his chest. He dips his tongue into Evan's navel, draws a circle around it – Evan would swear that all of his nerves have to be somehow connected to that tiny spot because Johnny's ministrations send a quiver through his whole body. Johnny blows at the moist skin, his breath a cool prickle. Then he looks up, his face a mere few inches from the tip of Evan's cock.
Evan meets his eyes, the green glittering with mischief, and lets out a barely audible Don't stop, reaching out with one hand to touch Johnny's cheek. Johnny leans down, smiling, and engulfs Evan's cock in the wet heat of his mouth. Evan forces himself to keep his eyes open, relishing in the sight of Johnny's lips wrapped tight around his shaft, his jaw working as he skillfully twirls his tongue, making Evan's toes curl.
It feels good, so good, and Evan is sure he could just lie there forever with Johnny sucking and licking his cock and be perfectly happy. But there are other things he wants to try with Johnny, so he interrupts this after a few moments, giving Johnny's hair another light tug. Johnny lifts his head and licks his lips.
"What is it?" he asks, looking at Evan with deer eyes. "You don't like –"
"No! I mean – yes! Of course I like it!" Evan blurts, rubbing his palm at Johnny's nape and pulling him closer. "I like it a lot." He sits up and takes Johnny's lower lip between his teeth, then sucks it into his mouth, tasting it. "But..." he leans over to nuzzle Johnny's ear, "I wouldn't last much longer if you kept going," he admits. "And I want you. For real." He runs one of his hands down Johnny's ass, cupping one round cheek, ghosting a finger over his opening. "I want to fuck you." He punctuates the last words by grinding his hips against Johnny's, gasping in sync with the smaller man as their erections rub against each other.
Johnny smiles then, a naughty, lustful smile, and climbs off Evan's lap to lie down on his stomach on the bed. He bends his knees a little, grabs a pillow and eases it under his hips, offering himself up.
Evan takes in the sight – Johnny's back arched in a delicate curve, his ass up in the air, perfect and waiting, his hair spread around his head like a dark halo, his flushed cheek rubbing against the sheets… If sin had a look, it would have to look like this, Evan muses. He could just dive down and fuck Johnny's brains out, make him squirm and scream, just like he'd thought he would… But this is not quite what he wants, he realizes.
"No," he says and sneaks an arm under Johnny's torso, rolling Johnny over onto his back. Johnny blinks at him and opens his mouth to say something, but Evan puts a finger over his lips and silences him with a quiet shhhh.
"Not like this," he smiles at Johnny. "I want to see you." He runs a palm over Johnny's burning forehead, brushing his hair back. "Do you have lube?" he asks then, kneading at Johnny's hip.
"Bedside table," Johnny whispers, glancing to his right.
Evan stretches out and opens the drawer, pulling out a small tube and a package of condoms a second later. He sits up between Johnny's thighs and squeezes some of the clear gel onto his palm, coating his fingers with it.
Johnny bends his knees, resting his feet on either side of Evan to allow him better access. Evan watches his eyes flutter closed, his skin cover in goose-bumps, his fingers twist in the linen as he prepares and teases him. When Evan pulls his fingers out, Johnny wrenches his eyes open, slightly disoriented – as if he'd wandered off into a world of his own and now had to come back.
Evan rolls the condom onto his cock, slicks it with lube, then turns his attention back to Johnny and gives him a smile. He places his palms onto Johnny's shins, bending his legs a little more. He guides himself inside Johnny's tight body, going slowly, giving Johnny time to adjust.
Johnny doesn't seem to agree with him on how things need to be done, for he wraps his legs around Evan's waist and digs his heels into his ass, pulling him down and deeper in. He cries out when Evan thrusts his cock all the way in, his nails scraping at Evan's shoulders. Evan stays still for a while, restraining himself until Johnny grabs his chin with one hand and makes Evan look right at him. There's desire – wild and raw – shining in his eyes.
"Fuck me," he commands, pulling Evan into a rough kiss. He pries Evan's lips open with his tongue, slipping it in and tangling it with his own, fisting what he can reach of Evan's hair.
Evan feels the heat rise inside himself, encouraged by Johnny's obvious eagerness. He pulls out almost completely, then buries his full length back in, drawing a rewarding deep-throated moan out of Johnny. He sets a rhythm, starting out slow, but quickly his thrusts become faster and more urgent; he wants more, deeper, closer.
"Oh yeah," Johnny groans into his ear, his voice hoarse and much lower than his usual sing-songy one. Evan feels every tremble that runs through Johnny's body, feels his ragged breathing on his neck, and god… it's all so good.
He reaches between their sweaty bodies and clasps his hand over Johnny's cock, watching Johnny's face. Johnny's white teeth sink into the red flesh of his bottom lip, he lets out a loud gasp when Evan rubs at the sensitive tip. Evan continues to fuck him, fisting his cock at the same time, watching and feeling Johnny squirm under him, his brow furrowed and covered in beads of sweat.
"Look at me," he manages to say, and Johnny does as he's told, locking gazes with Evan through sweat-damp eyelashes.
It's wildly intimate to be looking into Johnny's eyes just now, when he's inside him, to see every sensation reflected in the green pools. Evan likes it, he likes it a lot, it's new and hot and exciting and he's sure that the expression on Johnny's face is something he won't be able to get out of his head for quite a while.
Johnny arches off the bed, a half-coherent whisper of oh god and so long on his lips, and comes in several hot spurts, trembling in Evan's arms, muscles spasming around Evan's cock. Evan closes his eyes as his own climax ripples through his body, sucking all remaining strength out of him. He pulls out and rests on top of Johnny, not caring about how messy and sweaty they both are.
They lie in silence for a few moments, the only sound their erratic breathing. Then – as Evan's brain starts working again – he realizes that he's probably a little heavy and shifts to the side. Johnny immediately moves into a more comfortable position, lying at Evan's side, one leg draped over Evan's thighs, an arm flung over his chest. Evan likes how cozy and snug it is to have Johnny curled up beside him like this, he could definitely get used to this, he could just fall asleep right now, and he's about to do just that …
When Johnny's husky voice sounds to him through his drowsiness. "So… Did you get what you wanted?" he asks, lifting his head and pressing his lips onto Evan's shoulder for a second.
"No," Evan hears himself answer automatically, instinctively, without thinking.
"No?" Johnny echoes, surprised.
"I want more," Evan says, running his fingers through Johnny's damp hair, then resting his palm on his neck possessively. "More of this. More of… you," he adds hesitantly, wondering what answer he might get.
When Johnny drops his forehead onto Evan's chest with a relieved sigh and utters a barely audible Yes, Evan realizes that he's probably going to break the promise he gave to Frank more than once, after all. He realizes that Frank was right when he doubted this would be a one-time thing. Evan can't help but blush at the thought that Frank saw the truth in his secret habit before he even admitted it to himself.
What Frank Caroll hopes to see the next morning is a calm, well-tempered, satisfied and confident Evan. When Evan sits down in front of him at breakfast, he looks calm, well-tempered, satisfied and confident. Frank is about to let out a sigh of relief, clap Evan on the shoulder and say thank goodness it's over. But then Evan glances towards the door, his eyes suddenly alight with something Frank certainly did not want to see. Frank doesn't need to turn around to know who just entered the hotel restaurant. He curses Weir to seven hells as he realizes that this wasn't about temptation, after all. Temptation disappears after you give in to it. This, he fears, will be some real trouble.
Thanks a ton for beta-reading, Reet!