Fan Fiction - Krasobruslení - Drabbles
They say that figure skating is a sport for girls. Soft, gentle, beautiful. If only they knew… If they dug a little deeper, if they looked under the sequins, velvet and fluff, they might be surprised by what they'd find. Purple bruises and nasty scratches, spite and hate and heartless rivalry, fuck team USA. Johnny didn't know how dirty and rough the world of figure skating was when, at the tender age of twelve, he watched all the pretty on TV with wide eyes and proclaimed: I want to do this!
He learned soon enough. By now, he's seen it all, felt it all, had it all – the sex, the drugs, the rock'n'roll. But he'd do it again anytime - it's worth it. Anything for the gold.
Evan throws him against the wall ruthlessly and sinks his teeth into his shoulder, hard enough to bruise. In return, Johnny rakes his fingers down his naked back, leaving stinging red lines behind. The hiss of pain that escapes Evan's lips is music in Johnny's ears.
"I hate you, Weir!" Evan gasps, then presses his lips against Johnny's, forcing his tongue into Johnny's mouth.
"I'm going to fuck your brains out," he mumbles when he pulls away to breathe and shoves a hand between their bodies, fumbling at the zipper of Johnny's jeans.
"Whatever you say, Lysacek, whatever," Johnny laughs. "Fuck me all you want – aah!" He throws his head back against the tile behind him, closing his eyes for a second when cool fingers wrap around his cock.
"I'm going to make you scream and cry, you little princess," Evan whispers into his ear and Johnny hears the angry hitch in his voice.
"Do it, go ahead," Johnny mocks. "Do whatever you want. But Evan, honey – " he draws out the last word, his tone tinged with fake sweetness. "I still have the title."