Three fics (Plushenko/Lambiel and Lambiel/Amodio, NC-17)
Authors: properly_stored, pourtant and phoenixwish
Pairing: Evgeni Plushenko/Stéphane Lambiel, Stéphane Lambiel/Florent Amodio
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. None of it ever happened, nor do we mean to imply it did.
Warnings: None
Summary: Set on the bus after KOI in Ostrava. Stéphane has a little story to tell Evgeni.
A/N: This was an idea that grew into a challenge. We all worked with the same prompt but the fics turned out to be very different.
Repost from here @ withtheworld
by properly_stored:
He's almost managed to drift off to sleep when Stéphane clambers into the seat next to him, surprisingly quiet for someone who's had as much to drink that night as he has. He groans as the Swiss skater settles against him, one arm slung around him and his head on Evgeni's shoulder.
“Stéphane, it is late, this is no time for hugs. Go to slee-” He's silenced by a finger placed against his lips, Stéphane's arm around his shoulders keeping him in place as the younger man nuzzles at his neck.
“I fucked Florent tonight.” Taking advantage of the slight gasp that he wrenches out of Evgeni with a bite to his earlobe, Stéphane presses two fingers into his mouth before continuing, his voice low in order to avoid waking anyone up. “You remember what is it like, at twenty, no? The adrenaline, when you jump and people cheer. He came twice.”
The fingers in Evgeni's mouth are soon replaced with Stéphane's tongue as he kisses him, the point of which becomes apparent when the heel of Stéphane's palm presses down firmly against his rapidly hardening cock. Swallowing the Russian's strangled moan, Stéphane pulls back, lips already swollen but smirking all the same.
“If you are not quiet, everyone will wake up.” Evgeni's sweats and briefs are easily pulled down and Stéphane sets a leisurely pace, the loose grip he has on the other man's dick a direct contrast to the nails currently digging into his thigh as Evgeni visibly fights for control. “He was so...enthusiastic. He could not stop moving, not even when I was sucking him off.”
“Stéphane, please...” The hand makes its way from his thigh towards his groin, but Stéphane shifts out of the way, his grip tightening enough that all of Evgeni's concentration is needed to keep himself from crying out. “I just wanted to-”
“I do not care.” Twisting his hand, Stéphane takes a moment to check if anyone has woken up, but their section of the bus appears to be oblivious to what's going on. He turns his attention back to the man swearing under his breath next to him. “You do not want to hear my story? He moaned so beautifully, begging. When I was on my knees in front of him and when I was inside him, he was so loud I thought everyone at the party would hear.”
“No one noticed.” Evgeni's eyes are almost completely closed, and the brilliant blue of them muted to grey by the harsh yellow lights of the highway. There's a light sheen of sweat covered his skin and Stéphane knows if he kisses him now he'll at least be able to feel the indents left by Evgeni's teeth on his lips, if not taste blood. “No one even noticed you were gone.”
“No one?” Stéphane's careful when he bites, any mark he leaves has to be easily hidden. Not that Yana minds, but he's pretty sure that's not the kind of media attention Evgeni wants for the tour. That doesn't mean he's not going to make it hurt and there's a thrill in making Evgeni arch in his seat, this close to forgetting where they are, who they are, what they are and letting the whole world see (or at least the tour bus and considering how quickly gossip spreads in their world, it might as well be the same thing). His strokes have grown almost vicious, the ragged tempo of them a counterpoint to Evgeni's breathing. “Not even you Zhenya? You did not watch me leave, you did not think about what I was doing to him, what he was doing to me, how I-”
Evgeni comes with a strangled snarl, one hand braced on the seat in front of him and one curled into a fist, twisted in the material of Stéphane's t-shirt. They stay like that for a moment, their heavy breathing sounding almost unnaturally loud amongst the snores and other night time noise of their fellow travellers.
“I always notice.” Without another word, Evgeni unzips Stéphane's jeans, all it takes is a few strokes and Stéphane is biting down on his fingers to keep himself silent, the taste of Evgeni flooding his mouth as he comes. They clean themselves up quickly, with economy of movement, a well practised routine that requires no thought.
A good thing since Stéphane can't help thinking that they might have taken it too far tonight, that he took it too far. He still doesn't know what this is, or what it can even be with Evgeni married and closeted or Russian or whatever he is. He just doesn't want it to stop and with Evgeni hunched over, his head resting against the seat in front of him, face hidden by darkness and hair, there's a moment of panic that it will.
Until he hears laughter and Evgeni leans back in his seat, a smile on his face.
“This could not wait until tomorrow?”
For now, it continues.
“I couldn't sleep.”
by phoenixwish:
Stéphane seems almost casual as he slides into the seat next to Evgeni, but the grin on his face is very much like the cat that got the cream. Evgeni has an idea of why Stéphane is looking so smug, but there is no way he's going to ask. Stéphane will tell him sooner or later, anyway (and if he knows Stéphane, it'll be sooner).
So Evgeni settles in with his blanket and pretends to doze while he waits for Stéphane to give in and start telling him. It's almost half an hour before he does, after the bus has gone quiet except for the heavy breathing of sleep. Stéphane slides down a bit in his seat to rest his chin on Evgeni's shoulder and whisper into his ear.
"I know you're not sleeping."
Evgeni's only response to this is a raised eyebrow that he hopes Stéphane can see in the dim light from the street. Apparently he can, because Evgeni can feel his chuckle against his body.
"Don't you want to know where I was tonight?"
Okay, Evgeni may have his pride but where Stéphane is involved, it's easier to just give in. So he sighs and whispers, "Yes, I want to know."
If he opened his eyes now, he imagines he'd see Stéphane smiling at him, that smug, lazy smile of his that appears when he's gotten his way. But his eyes remain closed (a last concession he's not willing to give just yet) and so he only feels the breath on his ear as Stéphane whispers, "I fucked Florent tonight."
He does this on purpose, Evgeni is certain. He knows how it makes the blood flow to Evgeni's cock, hearing those words from lips that everyone thinks are sweet and innocent, even those who have felt them.
"Do you want me to tell you how?" Stéphane asks, and now Evgeni almost thinks he can hear the triumph in his voice, but he still nods because really, what else can he do?
Stéphane's hand, the sneaky little creature, finds its way underneath the blanket and comes to rest on Evgeni's thigh, thumb stroking lazily along the inside seam of his jeans.
"I've seen him look at me, you know?"
Evgeni nods, thinking, everyone looks at you, but that is not something you say out loud and definitely not to Stéphane. Stéphane, whose fingers are gently stroking their way closer to Evgeni's cock as he continues.
"I got tired of him always looking at me and doing nothing, so I got him away from the party. I didn't even have to give a good excuse, he just followed me to my room. And then he let me back him up against the door. His eyes were so wide, he was breathing so fast. I don't think he'd been with a man before."
Stéphane's fingers are making little circles around Evgeni's cock through the jeans, never quite touching it and it's really becoming uncomfortable now.
"He gasped when I kissed him, but it was only a second before he was throwing himself at me. Oh Zhenya, he was all tongue and teeth and nails. You would like him. He was so eager, I nearly had him right there against the door. But that wouldn't have been as fun."
Stéphane sighs, as if lost in memory for a moment, then he strokes a finger along Evgeni's hardening cock through the denim almost like an afterthought. It sends tingles of anticipation up Evgeni's spine.
"When I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me, he was already hard. Very hard. He felt so big against me, I almost considered letting him fuck me instead. Almost."
Now, Stéphane is palming Evgeni through his jeans, firm strokes that are agonizing, not nearly enough. Evgeni bites his lip and waits for Stéphane to continue, trying to distract himself by listening for signs that anyone around them is awake.
"I got his clothes off and made him wait naked on the bed, on his hands and knees, while I found what I needed. But I didn't prepare him yet. I got on my knees in front of him and unzipped my pants."
And with these words, Stéphane's fingers find Evgeni's zipper and opens it, reaching in to mercifully adjust Evgeni's straining cock and then stroke it through his briefs.
"You should have seen the look on his face. He wanted it, he did, but he was so impatient too. I was like that once, remember?"
Oh, Evgeni remembers all too well. Remembers the one time Stéphane had dragged him off to his room, before they even became friends. How he'd wanted to make sure Stéphane was ready and wouldn't hurt, and Stéphane had just begged him to fuck him into the mattress at once. In the present, Stéphane's hand finally works its way beneath the waistband of Evgeni's briefs and fuck, that first bit of skin-on-skin contact is always delicious.
"I told him we'd get there, soon. And he just swallowed me whole. Oh my god, Zhenya, you'd really like him. No technique to speak of, of course, but so eager that I nearly came right there. Imagine his mouth, Zhenya, his sweet little mouth on my cock, sucking it like he wanted nothing else. I'm getting hard again just thinking about it."
Stéphane is stroking in a slow, steady rhythm and he's moved closer, whispering directly into his ear. Evgeni can't help it anymore; he opens his eyes and looks at Stéphane in the dim light, and fuck if that doesn't make him harder than he already was. Stéphane is biting his lip, looking at him with an expression that is both utterly blissful and slightly devilish.
"Then I kissed him and started opening him up. He was so tight, Zhenya, even with just one finger. He moaned so loudly when I found his prostate, I was afraid someone might hear. But his voice when he moans - I wish you could have heard it. He was beautiful there, shaking when I had two fingers in him, begging me to fuck him. When I got to the third finger, his arms gave in and he collapsed on the bed, ass up for me. And Zhenya, I know it was bad of me but I just couldn't wait any more then. I'm lucky I even remembered the condom."
Finally, Stéphane starts stroking Evgeni in a proper, fast rhythm, and Evgeni has to bite his hand not to moan out loud at the feeling of Stéphane's hand on his cock and his breath on his ear and the images his words paint in Evgeni's mind.
"God, he was fantastic. He moaned in surprise when I replaced my fingers with my cock, and when I found the right angle, I could tell at once. I never thought he'd be so loud in bed but he is, he's a little screamer. And he was tight, so tight. As tight as you were, the first time I fucked you."
Stéphane is kissing and biting at Evgeni's neck in between words now and oh fuck, he's close. So close.
"I only had to just reach around an stroke him once, twice, and then he came, all over the sheets, saying my name and cursing. I could feel him come, how his muscles worked around me and oh my god, I haven't come so quickly in ages."
The rhythm in which Stéphane is stroking is almost frantic now. Just a bit more, Evgeni thinks. Just a bit more and I'm there. He can feel it already, building up at the base of his spine, stretching the skin tight on his sac.
"And do you know what he did when I pulled out? He rolled the condom right off me and licked the come off my cock."
Stéphane leans down just then and lets his mouth sink down on Evgeni's cock with sweet, delicious suction and Evgeni comes silently, with one hand buried in Stéphane's hair while he bites down on the other in an effort to keep quiet. Stéphane stays there until Evgeni is spent, then comes up again, wipes his mouth on his sleeve and leans in for a rough, long kiss.
"I think," he whispers, "that you should fuck me the next chance we get. And let's invite Florent to join some night, too."
In the front of the bus, the driver coughs.
by pourtant:
Stéphane can’t sleep. He’s tried classical music, counting zebras in his mind - he’s even half-heartedly tried to open a book and read a couple of lines with the help of his cell phone’s screen light before giving up with a sigh. The bus itself sounds like a rumbling, sleepy animal, lulling his passengers to sleep - all of them but one. Stéphane closes his eyes, but he already knows that doesn’t help. When his eyes are shut, memories come to him, the kind of thoughts he would welcome and revel in if he’d been in a proper bed. Right then and there, though, they only lead to frustration. Stéphane curses under his breath, his voice resonating a bit too loudly in the relative quietness of the bus.
He hears the sound of shifting fabric and Evgeni’s blonde fringe appears above a seat, two rows ahead.
“What is it, Stéphane?” he mumbles, his accent thickened by sleep.
Stéphane smiles with delight, jumping out of his seat. It’s an opportunity for distraction he just cannot pass up. He doesn’t ask as he casually pushes Evgeni’s legs away to make room for himself and plops down on the seat next to him. Evgeni doesn’t seem entirely awake yet, stray strands of hair sticking up at odd angles and a slightly confused pout on his mouth that makes Stéphane want to kiss it. He settles for leaning in a bit closer, his expression serious.
“I was thinking.”
Evgeni waits for a beat, then when he realises Stéphane is waiting for a reaction:
“Thinking what?”
“I was thinking about Florent.”
Evgeni instinctively turns his head towards the head of the bus, where Florent had collapsed underneath a huge blanket as soon they’d gotten on the road. Evgeni frowns a little.
“Leave him alone. He’s tired.”
Stéphane nods enthusiastically.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know! “ He smiles, that unmistakable smile, and Evgeni rolls his eyes.
Stéphane lets out a bursting laugh, which earns him Evgeni’s hand pressed against his mouth and an urgent shushing noise. He lets his tongue slip past his lips and licks Evgeni’s palm. The Russian promptly removes his hand and wipes it on his blanket with a slightly disgusted look on his face. Stéphane just laughs, quietly this time, and shifts his body so he can bring his face closer to Evgeni’s.
“These young people, they get tired so fast, no?” He says almost conversationally. Evgeni throws him an amused look, with a hint of wariness. He knows Stéphane well enough to know that he has something in mind.
“Not enough… stamina, like you and me.” Stéphane’s expression is earnest and transparent again, like he’s talking about skating. “So today I told Florent, let’s do a special training. He likes to learn, you know?”
Evgeni can’t suppress a smile at that.
“Like you,” he says simply. In the dimly lit bus it seems like Stéphane’s cheeks darken a little, but Evgeni can’t be sure.
“Yeah. He’s impatient, like me. He wants everything, now…” Stéphane says softly, and when he speaks again his tone has grown more intimate somehow, although he hasn’t moved an inch. “After the show, I made him suck me off. He doesn’t have your long hair,” Stéphane says wistfully, fingers tangling in the blond locks at the nape of Evgeni’s neck, “so I didn’t have anything to pull on. But it was just after the show, and the adrenaline was so strong, and, Evgeni, he looks so good on his knees, if you knew. It didn’t take too long.” He has a sheepish smile that looks out of place after the words he’s just said. Now Evgeni’s body is turned towards Stéphane too, the blanket still drawn up to his shoulders. He looks at Stéphane in the eyes for the first time since the beginning of their exchange.
“And?”
Stéphane straightens up, leans in, motivated by the knowledge that he has his audience hooked.
“Then I put my pants back on. You noticed his mouth, yes? It’s so pretty. I just kissed his pretty mouth, made sure he swallowed. I could see that he was hard, but I didn’t touch him at all.”
Evgeni lets out a small groan.
“Tease.”
Stéphane’s hand slips underneath the blanket, fast and sure.
“I won’t be so cruel with you, Evgeni.” He says without a blink, without lowering his voice, punctuating his reassurance with a firm stroke.
“Stéphane, not here,” comes the strangled response, but Evgeni doesn’t make a move. They’re in a bus with other people, other skaters they’re supposed to act professional with in the morning, and Evgeni can only manage a feeble protest. Stéphane decides it’s not much of a protest at all and straddles him, knees on either side of Evgeni’s thighs, pushing the blanket away. Evgeni doesn’t offer any resistance as Stéphane lowers his sweatpants to wrap a warm hand around his hardening cock. He lays his head against Evgeni’s shoulder, lips almost brushing against his neck.
It’s so oddly comfortable that Stéphane pauses for a moment, still and silent and trying to synchronise their breathing. Then he licks his lips, and picks up where he left off.
“We took the car back to the hotel. I touched him in the car, like I’m touching you now.” They’re so close he barely has to speak above a whisper, and his voice has lost a bit of its characteristic crispness. It’s lower and a bit rough, goes straight to Evgeni’s cock. “He was so wet I thought he was going to come right there. But he didn’t. He kept biting on those pretty lips and saying my name.”
“Stéphane.”
Stéphane looks up, slightly puzzled. “Yeah, a bit like that.”
Evgeni shakes his head. “No, your hand. Please.”
“Oh. Désolé.” Stéphane brings his hand to his mouth to lick his palm, then starts stroking Evgeni’s cock. It’s a slow, unsatisfying motion, but it’s better than nothing. Stéphane presses a kiss to Evgeni’s collarbone, soft like an apology. “He was such a good boy. I thought, I should give him something. An encouragement.”
A questioning ‘mmh?’ escapes Evgeni’s lips - or maybe it’s a moan, Stéphane isn’t sure. “We went to my room. You know I always keep everything I need in my suitcase.“ Evgeni nods without teasing Stéphane about it like he usually does, and Stéphane, pleased, picks up the pace.
“I got myself ready for him. I let him fuck me, Evgeni.” He says, low and rushed, his words slightly muffled as he whispers them against Evgeni’s skin. It’s not shyness, Evgeni knows that much. Stéphane looks up, a defiant look on his face, and Evgeni suddenly gets it. ‘Slut’, he says in Russian. ‘You’re such a slut’, he repeats, staring hard into Stéphane’s darkening eyes. He’s rewarded with a breathless Oui, and Stéphane’s entire body seems to come alive, lips crashing against his, hands moving with precise urgency, hips rolling and pushing Stéphane’s own erection towards his own. Then Stéphane breaks the kiss and they’re both breathing hard, both aware of their surroundings but unable to stop themselves.
“It was so good with him. He lasted longer, longer than I thought. He - he came all over me. ” Stéphane continues, tiny breaks in his voice for each time he rolls his hips down. He closes his eyes, pleasure and pain both painted on his face, and when he opens them again he smiles at Evgeni.
“So selfish. You’re not going to do anything?” He glances down pointedly at his own erection straining against the soft fabric of his pants. Evgeni slides a hand around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. He comes with a sharp gasp and bites down hard on Stéphane’s lip before giving it a few soothing licks. Finally, he looks up at Stéphane (his Stéphane, panting and bruised and nearly vibrating with need), and he smirks.
“I’m teaching you now.”
Pairing: Evgeni Plushenko/Stéphane Lambiel, Stéphane Lambiel/Florent Amodio
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: These are works of fiction. None of it ever happened, nor do we mean to imply it did.
Warnings: None
Summary: Set on the bus after KOI in Ostrava. Stéphane has a little story to tell Evgeni.
A/N: This was an idea that grew into a challenge. We all worked with the same prompt but the fics turned out to be very different.
Repost from here @ withtheworld
by properly_stored:
He's almost managed to drift off to sleep when Stéphane clambers into the seat next to him, surprisingly quiet for someone who's had as much to drink that night as he has. He groans as the Swiss skater settles against him, one arm slung around him and his head on Evgeni's shoulder.
“Stéphane, it is late, this is no time for hugs. Go to slee-” He's silenced by a finger placed against his lips, Stéphane's arm around his shoulders keeping him in place as the younger man nuzzles at his neck.
“I fucked Florent tonight.” Taking advantage of the slight gasp that he wrenches out of Evgeni with a bite to his earlobe, Stéphane presses two fingers into his mouth before continuing, his voice low in order to avoid waking anyone up. “You remember what is it like, at twenty, no? The adrenaline, when you jump and people cheer. He came twice.”
The fingers in Evgeni's mouth are soon replaced with Stéphane's tongue as he kisses him, the point of which becomes apparent when the heel of Stéphane's palm presses down firmly against his rapidly hardening cock. Swallowing the Russian's strangled moan, Stéphane pulls back, lips already swollen but smirking all the same.
“If you are not quiet, everyone will wake up.” Evgeni's sweats and briefs are easily pulled down and Stéphane sets a leisurely pace, the loose grip he has on the other man's dick a direct contrast to the nails currently digging into his thigh as Evgeni visibly fights for control. “He was so...enthusiastic. He could not stop moving, not even when I was sucking him off.”
“Stéphane, please...” The hand makes its way from his thigh towards his groin, but Stéphane shifts out of the way, his grip tightening enough that all of Evgeni's concentration is needed to keep himself from crying out. “I just wanted to-”
“I do not care.” Twisting his hand, Stéphane takes a moment to check if anyone has woken up, but their section of the bus appears to be oblivious to what's going on. He turns his attention back to the man swearing under his breath next to him. “You do not want to hear my story? He moaned so beautifully, begging. When I was on my knees in front of him and when I was inside him, he was so loud I thought everyone at the party would hear.”
“No one noticed.” Evgeni's eyes are almost completely closed, and the brilliant blue of them muted to grey by the harsh yellow lights of the highway. There's a light sheen of sweat covered his skin and Stéphane knows if he kisses him now he'll at least be able to feel the indents left by Evgeni's teeth on his lips, if not taste blood. “No one even noticed you were gone.”
“No one?” Stéphane's careful when he bites, any mark he leaves has to be easily hidden. Not that Yana minds, but he's pretty sure that's not the kind of media attention Evgeni wants for the tour. That doesn't mean he's not going to make it hurt and there's a thrill in making Evgeni arch in his seat, this close to forgetting where they are, who they are, what they are and letting the whole world see (or at least the tour bus and considering how quickly gossip spreads in their world, it might as well be the same thing). His strokes have grown almost vicious, the ragged tempo of them a counterpoint to Evgeni's breathing. “Not even you Zhenya? You did not watch me leave, you did not think about what I was doing to him, what he was doing to me, how I-”
Evgeni comes with a strangled snarl, one hand braced on the seat in front of him and one curled into a fist, twisted in the material of Stéphane's t-shirt. They stay like that for a moment, their heavy breathing sounding almost unnaturally loud amongst the snores and other night time noise of their fellow travellers.
“I always notice.” Without another word, Evgeni unzips Stéphane's jeans, all it takes is a few strokes and Stéphane is biting down on his fingers to keep himself silent, the taste of Evgeni flooding his mouth as he comes. They clean themselves up quickly, with economy of movement, a well practised routine that requires no thought.
A good thing since Stéphane can't help thinking that they might have taken it too far tonight, that he took it too far. He still doesn't know what this is, or what it can even be with Evgeni married and closeted or Russian or whatever he is. He just doesn't want it to stop and with Evgeni hunched over, his head resting against the seat in front of him, face hidden by darkness and hair, there's a moment of panic that it will.
Until he hears laughter and Evgeni leans back in his seat, a smile on his face.
“This could not wait until tomorrow?”
For now, it continues.
“I couldn't sleep.”
by phoenixwish:
Stéphane seems almost casual as he slides into the seat next to Evgeni, but the grin on his face is very much like the cat that got the cream. Evgeni has an idea of why Stéphane is looking so smug, but there is no way he's going to ask. Stéphane will tell him sooner or later, anyway (and if he knows Stéphane, it'll be sooner).
So Evgeni settles in with his blanket and pretends to doze while he waits for Stéphane to give in and start telling him. It's almost half an hour before he does, after the bus has gone quiet except for the heavy breathing of sleep. Stéphane slides down a bit in his seat to rest his chin on Evgeni's shoulder and whisper into his ear.
"I know you're not sleeping."
Evgeni's only response to this is a raised eyebrow that he hopes Stéphane can see in the dim light from the street. Apparently he can, because Evgeni can feel his chuckle against his body.
"Don't you want to know where I was tonight?"
Okay, Evgeni may have his pride but where Stéphane is involved, it's easier to just give in. So he sighs and whispers, "Yes, I want to know."
If he opened his eyes now, he imagines he'd see Stéphane smiling at him, that smug, lazy smile of his that appears when he's gotten his way. But his eyes remain closed (a last concession he's not willing to give just yet) and so he only feels the breath on his ear as Stéphane whispers, "I fucked Florent tonight."
He does this on purpose, Evgeni is certain. He knows how it makes the blood flow to Evgeni's cock, hearing those words from lips that everyone thinks are sweet and innocent, even those who have felt them.
"Do you want me to tell you how?" Stéphane asks, and now Evgeni almost thinks he can hear the triumph in his voice, but he still nods because really, what else can he do?
Stéphane's hand, the sneaky little creature, finds its way underneath the blanket and comes to rest on Evgeni's thigh, thumb stroking lazily along the inside seam of his jeans.
"I've seen him look at me, you know?"
Evgeni nods, thinking, everyone looks at you, but that is not something you say out loud and definitely not to Stéphane. Stéphane, whose fingers are gently stroking their way closer to Evgeni's cock as he continues.
"I got tired of him always looking at me and doing nothing, so I got him away from the party. I didn't even have to give a good excuse, he just followed me to my room. And then he let me back him up against the door. His eyes were so wide, he was breathing so fast. I don't think he'd been with a man before."
Stéphane's fingers are making little circles around Evgeni's cock through the jeans, never quite touching it and it's really becoming uncomfortable now.
"He gasped when I kissed him, but it was only a second before he was throwing himself at me. Oh Zhenya, he was all tongue and teeth and nails. You would like him. He was so eager, I nearly had him right there against the door. But that wouldn't have been as fun."
Stéphane sighs, as if lost in memory for a moment, then he strokes a finger along Evgeni's hardening cock through the denim almost like an afterthought. It sends tingles of anticipation up Evgeni's spine.
"When I grabbed his ass and pulled him against me, he was already hard. Very hard. He felt so big against me, I almost considered letting him fuck me instead. Almost."
Now, Stéphane is palming Evgeni through his jeans, firm strokes that are agonizing, not nearly enough. Evgeni bites his lip and waits for Stéphane to continue, trying to distract himself by listening for signs that anyone around them is awake.
"I got his clothes off and made him wait naked on the bed, on his hands and knees, while I found what I needed. But I didn't prepare him yet. I got on my knees in front of him and unzipped my pants."
And with these words, Stéphane's fingers find Evgeni's zipper and opens it, reaching in to mercifully adjust Evgeni's straining cock and then stroke it through his briefs.
"You should have seen the look on his face. He wanted it, he did, but he was so impatient too. I was like that once, remember?"
Oh, Evgeni remembers all too well. Remembers the one time Stéphane had dragged him off to his room, before they even became friends. How he'd wanted to make sure Stéphane was ready and wouldn't hurt, and Stéphane had just begged him to fuck him into the mattress at once. In the present, Stéphane's hand finally works its way beneath the waistband of Evgeni's briefs and fuck, that first bit of skin-on-skin contact is always delicious.
"I told him we'd get there, soon. And he just swallowed me whole. Oh my god, Zhenya, you'd really like him. No technique to speak of, of course, but so eager that I nearly came right there. Imagine his mouth, Zhenya, his sweet little mouth on my cock, sucking it like he wanted nothing else. I'm getting hard again just thinking about it."
Stéphane is stroking in a slow, steady rhythm and he's moved closer, whispering directly into his ear. Evgeni can't help it anymore; he opens his eyes and looks at Stéphane in the dim light, and fuck if that doesn't make him harder than he already was. Stéphane is biting his lip, looking at him with an expression that is both utterly blissful and slightly devilish.
"Then I kissed him and started opening him up. He was so tight, Zhenya, even with just one finger. He moaned so loudly when I found his prostate, I was afraid someone might hear. But his voice when he moans - I wish you could have heard it. He was beautiful there, shaking when I had two fingers in him, begging me to fuck him. When I got to the third finger, his arms gave in and he collapsed on the bed, ass up for me. And Zhenya, I know it was bad of me but I just couldn't wait any more then. I'm lucky I even remembered the condom."
Finally, Stéphane starts stroking Evgeni in a proper, fast rhythm, and Evgeni has to bite his hand not to moan out loud at the feeling of Stéphane's hand on his cock and his breath on his ear and the images his words paint in Evgeni's mind.
"God, he was fantastic. He moaned in surprise when I replaced my fingers with my cock, and when I found the right angle, I could tell at once. I never thought he'd be so loud in bed but he is, he's a little screamer. And he was tight, so tight. As tight as you were, the first time I fucked you."
Stéphane is kissing and biting at Evgeni's neck in between words now and oh fuck, he's close. So close.
"I only had to just reach around an stroke him once, twice, and then he came, all over the sheets, saying my name and cursing. I could feel him come, how his muscles worked around me and oh my god, I haven't come so quickly in ages."
The rhythm in which Stéphane is stroking is almost frantic now. Just a bit more, Evgeni thinks. Just a bit more and I'm there. He can feel it already, building up at the base of his spine, stretching the skin tight on his sac.
"And do you know what he did when I pulled out? He rolled the condom right off me and licked the come off my cock."
Stéphane leans down just then and lets his mouth sink down on Evgeni's cock with sweet, delicious suction and Evgeni comes silently, with one hand buried in Stéphane's hair while he bites down on the other in an effort to keep quiet. Stéphane stays there until Evgeni is spent, then comes up again, wipes his mouth on his sleeve and leans in for a rough, long kiss.
"I think," he whispers, "that you should fuck me the next chance we get. And let's invite Florent to join some night, too."
In the front of the bus, the driver coughs.
by pourtant:
Stéphane can’t sleep. He’s tried classical music, counting zebras in his mind - he’s even half-heartedly tried to open a book and read a couple of lines with the help of his cell phone’s screen light before giving up with a sigh. The bus itself sounds like a rumbling, sleepy animal, lulling his passengers to sleep - all of them but one. Stéphane closes his eyes, but he already knows that doesn’t help. When his eyes are shut, memories come to him, the kind of thoughts he would welcome and revel in if he’d been in a proper bed. Right then and there, though, they only lead to frustration. Stéphane curses under his breath, his voice resonating a bit too loudly in the relative quietness of the bus.
He hears the sound of shifting fabric and Evgeni’s blonde fringe appears above a seat, two rows ahead.
“What is it, Stéphane?” he mumbles, his accent thickened by sleep.
Stéphane smiles with delight, jumping out of his seat. It’s an opportunity for distraction he just cannot pass up. He doesn’t ask as he casually pushes Evgeni’s legs away to make room for himself and plops down on the seat next to him. Evgeni doesn’t seem entirely awake yet, stray strands of hair sticking up at odd angles and a slightly confused pout on his mouth that makes Stéphane want to kiss it. He settles for leaning in a bit closer, his expression serious.
“I was thinking.”
Evgeni waits for a beat, then when he realises Stéphane is waiting for a reaction:
“Thinking what?”
“I was thinking about Florent.”
Evgeni instinctively turns his head towards the head of the bus, where Florent had collapsed underneath a huge blanket as soon they’d gotten on the road. Evgeni frowns a little.
“Leave him alone. He’s tired.”
Stéphane nods enthusiastically.
“Oh, don’t worry, I know! “ He smiles, that unmistakable smile, and Evgeni rolls his eyes.
Stéphane lets out a bursting laugh, which earns him Evgeni’s hand pressed against his mouth and an urgent shushing noise. He lets his tongue slip past his lips and licks Evgeni’s palm. The Russian promptly removes his hand and wipes it on his blanket with a slightly disgusted look on his face. Stéphane just laughs, quietly this time, and shifts his body so he can bring his face closer to Evgeni’s.
“These young people, they get tired so fast, no?” He says almost conversationally. Evgeni throws him an amused look, with a hint of wariness. He knows Stéphane well enough to know that he has something in mind.
“Not enough… stamina, like you and me.” Stéphane’s expression is earnest and transparent again, like he’s talking about skating. “So today I told Florent, let’s do a special training. He likes to learn, you know?”
Evgeni can’t suppress a smile at that.
“Like you,” he says simply. In the dimly lit bus it seems like Stéphane’s cheeks darken a little, but Evgeni can’t be sure.
“Yeah. He’s impatient, like me. He wants everything, now…” Stéphane says softly, and when he speaks again his tone has grown more intimate somehow, although he hasn’t moved an inch. “After the show, I made him suck me off. He doesn’t have your long hair,” Stéphane says wistfully, fingers tangling in the blond locks at the nape of Evgeni’s neck, “so I didn’t have anything to pull on. But it was just after the show, and the adrenaline was so strong, and, Evgeni, he looks so good on his knees, if you knew. It didn’t take too long.” He has a sheepish smile that looks out of place after the words he’s just said. Now Evgeni’s body is turned towards Stéphane too, the blanket still drawn up to his shoulders. He looks at Stéphane in the eyes for the first time since the beginning of their exchange.
“And?”
Stéphane straightens up, leans in, motivated by the knowledge that he has his audience hooked.
“Then I put my pants back on. You noticed his mouth, yes? It’s so pretty. I just kissed his pretty mouth, made sure he swallowed. I could see that he was hard, but I didn’t touch him at all.”
Evgeni lets out a small groan.
“Tease.”
Stéphane’s hand slips underneath the blanket, fast and sure.
“I won’t be so cruel with you, Evgeni.” He says without a blink, without lowering his voice, punctuating his reassurance with a firm stroke.
“Stéphane, not here,” comes the strangled response, but Evgeni doesn’t make a move. They’re in a bus with other people, other skaters they’re supposed to act professional with in the morning, and Evgeni can only manage a feeble protest. Stéphane decides it’s not much of a protest at all and straddles him, knees on either side of Evgeni’s thighs, pushing the blanket away. Evgeni doesn’t offer any resistance as Stéphane lowers his sweatpants to wrap a warm hand around his hardening cock. He lays his head against Evgeni’s shoulder, lips almost brushing against his neck.
It’s so oddly comfortable that Stéphane pauses for a moment, still and silent and trying to synchronise their breathing. Then he licks his lips, and picks up where he left off.
“We took the car back to the hotel. I touched him in the car, like I’m touching you now.” They’re so close he barely has to speak above a whisper, and his voice has lost a bit of its characteristic crispness. It’s lower and a bit rough, goes straight to Evgeni’s cock. “He was so wet I thought he was going to come right there. But he didn’t. He kept biting on those pretty lips and saying my name.”
“Stéphane.”
Stéphane looks up, slightly puzzled. “Yeah, a bit like that.”
Evgeni shakes his head. “No, your hand. Please.”
“Oh. Désolé.” Stéphane brings his hand to his mouth to lick his palm, then starts stroking Evgeni’s cock. It’s a slow, unsatisfying motion, but it’s better than nothing. Stéphane presses a kiss to Evgeni’s collarbone, soft like an apology. “He was such a good boy. I thought, I should give him something. An encouragement.”
A questioning ‘mmh?’ escapes Evgeni’s lips - or maybe it’s a moan, Stéphane isn’t sure. “We went to my room. You know I always keep everything I need in my suitcase.“ Evgeni nods without teasing Stéphane about it like he usually does, and Stéphane, pleased, picks up the pace.
“I got myself ready for him. I let him fuck me, Evgeni.” He says, low and rushed, his words slightly muffled as he whispers them against Evgeni’s skin. It’s not shyness, Evgeni knows that much. Stéphane looks up, a defiant look on his face, and Evgeni suddenly gets it. ‘Slut’, he says in Russian. ‘You’re such a slut’, he repeats, staring hard into Stéphane’s darkening eyes. He’s rewarded with a breathless Oui, and Stéphane’s entire body seems to come alive, lips crashing against his, hands moving with precise urgency, hips rolling and pushing Stéphane’s own erection towards his own. Then Stéphane breaks the kiss and they’re both breathing hard, both aware of their surroundings but unable to stop themselves.
“It was so good with him. He lasted longer, longer than I thought. He - he came all over me. ” Stéphane continues, tiny breaks in his voice for each time he rolls his hips down. He closes his eyes, pleasure and pain both painted on his face, and when he opens them again he smiles at Evgeni.
“So selfish. You’re not going to do anything?” He glances down pointedly at his own erection straining against the soft fabric of his pants. Evgeni slides a hand around his neck, dragging him down for a kiss. He comes with a sharp gasp and bites down hard on Stéphane’s lip before giving it a few soothing licks. Finally, he looks up at Stéphane (his Stéphane, panting and bruised and nearly vibrating with need), and he smirks.
“I’m teaching you now.”