Gift for polaris_86!
polaris_86, Santa brought you 3 short fics and some wallpapers!
Recipient: polaris_86
Titles: Jealousy, Meetings, Letting Go
Pairings: Stéphane/Tomáš, Brian/Stéphane, Evgeni/Alexei
Rating: up to hard R
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All events described in the stories are completely fictional and never happened. They are not intended as libel. Photos used belong to stephanelambiel.ch, Keystone, Yury Kadobnov/AFP.
Jealousy
Tomáš has never been a jealous person.
Truth is, you can’t really afford that, having a girlfriend that you see once a month and representing a country where money goes everywhere but figure skating.
It all changes, though, on the day Stéphane arrives to Oberstdorf, beaming smile and freshly tanned, ready for his summer training. As Tomáš watches him hug Carolina, lifting her up and planting kisses on her cheeks, an unfamiliar sting of a feeling runs through his chest and he starts to wonder exactly what kind of over their relationship really is.
He knows he is pathetic, more than that, and he would rather die than ask Carolina directly. It’s not even that he has a crush on her or anything. Well, not a big one, anyway. In the end, he shrugs it off, blaming himself for being such a possessive attention whore when it comes to his friends and, to be honest, just about everything else.
They fool around on the ice, the three of them, chasing each other, pushing, and a few times, Tomáš bumps into him, completely accidentally and never too hard, because, well, it’s Lambiel, two world titles and all. It’s not until they crash into the boards, bodies pressed tightly against each other, a bit more longer than necessary, laughing like maniacs and panting heavily, that Tomáš can’t help but think that maybe it’s not that accidental at all. Not really. He jumps up when Carolina hugs him from behind, amused by his startled reaction, her tickling giggles sending shivers down his neck.
It should probably feel awkward afterwards, only it doesn’t, with Stéphane casting him one of that trademark smiles, ruffled hair and flushed skin, sparkly gleam in his chocolate eyes. Tomáš tries to hide the blush spreading visibly across his cheeks, leaning down to unlace his skates, anxious not to look up as he feels the other boy sit down beside him.
It takes him three more days to realize it’s not Carolina he is jealous of.
Meetings
The carpet feels rough under Stéphane's back and so do Brian's teeth on his lips, the copper taste of blood mingling with saliva in their mouths.
There is laughter echoing from the hallway, muffled by the sound of their panted breaths and whimpering moans. Stéphane closes his eyes in pain as Brian pushes into him, not really bothering with lube. He covers Stéphane's mouth with his hand to stop him from screaming out and Stéphane bites into it, hard, wrapping his legs around Brian's moving body.
“You’re beautiful,” Brian whispers, caressing the side of Stéphane's flushed face with his fingertips, up to his sweaty forehead, brushing away a strand of soaked hair.
Stéphane smiles, almost gratefully, hands stroking Brian's back, leaving fingernail traces on his golden skin, the soft gleam of Calgary lights reflecting in his eyes.
Their bodies glisten in the dark, both of them shaking uncontrollably as Brian's trembling palm slides down Stéphane's chest, reaching for his throbbing erection.
When it’s over, Brian puts his jeans back on, hastily buttoning his crumpled shirt, and leans down to plant a quick messy kiss on Stéphane's swollen lips, ignoring the pained look in his eyes.
“Good night, Steph.” And with that he’s gone, leaving the dark-haired boy lying on the floor, naked, like a rag doll he no longer has a use for.
The moment the door closes, Stéphane curls up in a ball and lets the tears roll down his heated cheeks.
He knows it shouldn’t hurt, not that much, not anymore.
Yet somehow, it does.
Letting Go
Evgeni enters the locker room, an air of unpredictability about him. Alexei backs of, a little, but still he does, not looking Evgeni in the face. Somehow, he knows what he would see there, the unreadable expression, the fucking mask, putting it off more rarely these days.
They are the only ones left in the room, the two medalists, silver and gold. Evgeni stays silent, changing quickly, and Alexei follows the pattern, because what there is to say anyway.
Surprisingly, Evgeni is the first one to be packed, pacing hastily towards the door. It is there that he finally turns around and locks his gaze with Alexei, his voice ice cold and sharp, like a knife piercing straight through Alexei's heart.
“Congratulations.”
Alexei feels a dull pain spreading inside his chest, a clenching feeling that makes him call after Evgeni, voice trembling with anxiety: “Wait.”
Evgeni's body jerks a little and he slows down, but doesn’t stop, not until Alexei adds a hoarse Please, just loudly enough for Evgeni to hear.
They face each other once again and Alexei knows that right here and now, this might be the last chance to finally give in, to say the words neither of them dared before.
“Zhenya, I-” He trails off, startled by the wave of panic flashing across Evgeni's face. It’s only a split of second, but something clicks during that time, and Alexei has to lean against the nearest wall, feeling as if a part of him just got lost forever, leaving him empty and sick.
Suddenly, it all comes back, the memories and images, some blurry and some crystal clear, like a silent movie full of victories and falls. But it’s the less grandiose scenes that have mattered the most - the ones that took place during Russia’s coldest nights, with two teenagers sharing a bed for one, scared of being found but even more so of what they meant for each other, what they mean for each other now.
As the film continues to play in Alexei's head, the setting changes into an endless row of anonymous hotel rooms and shabby tour buses, too identical to hold a special meaning and yet they do, the smell of Evgeni's freshly showered skin permanently imprinted in Alexei's mind.
When he thinks about it now, he realises that deep down they always knew things would change after Salt Lake. Except never before has he imagined how easy it would be to do it, to say goodbye.
He looks back at Evgeni, still standing in the doorway, motionless, almost like a fucking statue if it wasn’t for the desperate plead so strikingly visible in his eyes.
Don’t. Don’t say it.
And Alexei doesn’t.
*
[Mod Note: Since these are big images and I don't have thumbnails, I'm linking to the mediafire gallery.]
Little Prince (Stephane)
Stephane/Brian 1
Stephane/Brian 2
Stephane/Brian 3
Author’s Note: I’m sorry for being such a poor Santa today, sweetie. I do have a fic for you, but it turned out longer than expected and it’s not finished yet. I’ll post it for you on ice_slash once the Santas’ identities are revealed. I hope you aren’t too disappointed and wish you all the best in 2008 ♥
Recipient: polaris_86
Titles: Jealousy, Meetings, Letting Go
Pairings: Stéphane/Tomáš, Brian/Stéphane, Evgeni/Alexei
Rating: up to hard R
Disclaimer: Disclaimer: All events described in the stories are completely fictional and never happened. They are not intended as libel. Photos used belong to stephanelambiel.ch, Keystone, Yury Kadobnov/AFP.
Jealousy
Tomáš has never been a jealous person.
Truth is, you can’t really afford that, having a girlfriend that you see once a month and representing a country where money goes everywhere but figure skating.
It all changes, though, on the day Stéphane arrives to Oberstdorf, beaming smile and freshly tanned, ready for his summer training. As Tomáš watches him hug Carolina, lifting her up and planting kisses on her cheeks, an unfamiliar sting of a feeling runs through his chest and he starts to wonder exactly what kind of over their relationship really is.
He knows he is pathetic, more than that, and he would rather die than ask Carolina directly. It’s not even that he has a crush on her or anything. Well, not a big one, anyway. In the end, he shrugs it off, blaming himself for being such a possessive attention whore when it comes to his friends and, to be honest, just about everything else.
They fool around on the ice, the three of them, chasing each other, pushing, and a few times, Tomáš bumps into him, completely accidentally and never too hard, because, well, it’s Lambiel, two world titles and all. It’s not until they crash into the boards, bodies pressed tightly against each other, a bit more longer than necessary, laughing like maniacs and panting heavily, that Tomáš can’t help but think that maybe it’s not that accidental at all. Not really. He jumps up when Carolina hugs him from behind, amused by his startled reaction, her tickling giggles sending shivers down his neck.
It should probably feel awkward afterwards, only it doesn’t, with Stéphane casting him one of that trademark smiles, ruffled hair and flushed skin, sparkly gleam in his chocolate eyes. Tomáš tries to hide the blush spreading visibly across his cheeks, leaning down to unlace his skates, anxious not to look up as he feels the other boy sit down beside him.
It takes him three more days to realize it’s not Carolina he is jealous of.
Meetings
The carpet feels rough under Stéphane's back and so do Brian's teeth on his lips, the copper taste of blood mingling with saliva in their mouths.
There is laughter echoing from the hallway, muffled by the sound of their panted breaths and whimpering moans. Stéphane closes his eyes in pain as Brian pushes into him, not really bothering with lube. He covers Stéphane's mouth with his hand to stop him from screaming out and Stéphane bites into it, hard, wrapping his legs around Brian's moving body.
“You’re beautiful,” Brian whispers, caressing the side of Stéphane's flushed face with his fingertips, up to his sweaty forehead, brushing away a strand of soaked hair.
Stéphane smiles, almost gratefully, hands stroking Brian's back, leaving fingernail traces on his golden skin, the soft gleam of Calgary lights reflecting in his eyes.
Their bodies glisten in the dark, both of them shaking uncontrollably as Brian's trembling palm slides down Stéphane's chest, reaching for his throbbing erection.
When it’s over, Brian puts his jeans back on, hastily buttoning his crumpled shirt, and leans down to plant a quick messy kiss on Stéphane's swollen lips, ignoring the pained look in his eyes.
“Good night, Steph.” And with that he’s gone, leaving the dark-haired boy lying on the floor, naked, like a rag doll he no longer has a use for.
The moment the door closes, Stéphane curls up in a ball and lets the tears roll down his heated cheeks.
He knows it shouldn’t hurt, not that much, not anymore.
Yet somehow, it does.
Letting Go
Evgeni enters the locker room, an air of unpredictability about him. Alexei backs of, a little, but still he does, not looking Evgeni in the face. Somehow, he knows what he would see there, the unreadable expression, the fucking mask, putting it off more rarely these days.
They are the only ones left in the room, the two medalists, silver and gold. Evgeni stays silent, changing quickly, and Alexei follows the pattern, because what there is to say anyway.
Surprisingly, Evgeni is the first one to be packed, pacing hastily towards the door. It is there that he finally turns around and locks his gaze with Alexei, his voice ice cold and sharp, like a knife piercing straight through Alexei's heart.
“Congratulations.”
Alexei feels a dull pain spreading inside his chest, a clenching feeling that makes him call after Evgeni, voice trembling with anxiety: “Wait.”
Evgeni's body jerks a little and he slows down, but doesn’t stop, not until Alexei adds a hoarse Please, just loudly enough for Evgeni to hear.
They face each other once again and Alexei knows that right here and now, this might be the last chance to finally give in, to say the words neither of them dared before.
“Zhenya, I-” He trails off, startled by the wave of panic flashing across Evgeni's face. It’s only a split of second, but something clicks during that time, and Alexei has to lean against the nearest wall, feeling as if a part of him just got lost forever, leaving him empty and sick.
Suddenly, it all comes back, the memories and images, some blurry and some crystal clear, like a silent movie full of victories and falls. But it’s the less grandiose scenes that have mattered the most - the ones that took place during Russia’s coldest nights, with two teenagers sharing a bed for one, scared of being found but even more so of what they meant for each other, what they mean for each other now.
As the film continues to play in Alexei's head, the setting changes into an endless row of anonymous hotel rooms and shabby tour buses, too identical to hold a special meaning and yet they do, the smell of Evgeni's freshly showered skin permanently imprinted in Alexei's mind.
When he thinks about it now, he realises that deep down they always knew things would change after Salt Lake. Except never before has he imagined how easy it would be to do it, to say goodbye.
He looks back at Evgeni, still standing in the doorway, motionless, almost like a fucking statue if it wasn’t for the desperate plead so strikingly visible in his eyes.
Don’t. Don’t say it.
And Alexei doesn’t.
*
[Mod Note: Since these are big images and I don't have thumbnails, I'm linking to the mediafire gallery.]
Little Prince (Stephane)
Stephane/Brian 1
Stephane/Brian 2
Stephane/Brian 3
Author’s Note: I’m sorry for being such a poor Santa today, sweetie. I do have a fic for you, but it turned out longer than expected and it’s not finished yet. I’ll post it for you on ice_slash once the Santas’ identities are revealed. I hope you aren’t too disappointed and wish you all the best in 2008 ♥