Title: Telephone
Title: Telephone
Author: louie x
Rating: R/NC-17
Series: Olympic Skating RPS
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Word Count: 1411
Disclaimer: Ahhh... it's RPS. Tin hats all around?
Summary: For the wintergameskink prompt of: Evan/Johnny - Evan's freakish work ethic applied to figuring out gay sex. Exhausted Johnny is torn between being extremely pleased, beamused, and sore as all get-out.
Notes: Woot, I feel so pleased to get something done on the meme again. Different title posted here, I was a bit gun-eager posting it there and have tweeked a few things here and there. Mostly silly mistakes I missed after reading it over again a few times. Was originally called 'Internal Application' on the meme.
The only proof that he hasn't died and gone to Heaven is the lack of Louis Vuitton all over, and that there is only one -tragically- insane, tall man going down on him like Johnny comes gold medals or something.
It's almost too much, too good, and Johnny wonders if it's possible to die from fucking fantastic sex.
Evan's mouth is hot and wet, tight against the head of his cock as his tongue sweeps around and around again along he shaft. His eyes are barely open; unseeing in that way athletes get when their mind is focused, as he bobs his head with enough varying speeds that Johnny's heels dig into the bedding as he squirms. He's panting, whimpering -damn him- behind the fingers of his left hand, while the right flexes in it's grip against the back of Evan's head. Cupping the base of his skull to draw him in closer, shivering and shuddering as Evan takes him in deep -nose to pubes deep- and fucking hums.
No way any totally straight guy is that good at giving head. No way.
Johnny really ought to protest more, to kick and scream and claw at Evan for turning him into a boneless mess of a man. The force of his orgasm though makes him see a flash of light and oh, there's that little peek of heaven his petite morte provides.
Let alone the mindfuck that there is Olympic gold-medalist Evan Lysacek still sucking him off, swallowing his cum, before slowly pulling away with an arrogant grin. Johnny doesn't even have to look to know it's there; that same champion smile he shoots after a judge gives him a high score. That smirk of success that Johnny thinks he's hated for a while although now it just makes his dick twitch even as it lays half-hard against his stomach.
He's still trying to breathe, eyes shut and he mumbles a soft complaint as Evan's hands slide along his thighs. Long, too-orange fingers trace invisible shapes upon Johnny's inner thighs as his legs are spread. A soft, nasal laughter answers his feeble swats to get a moment to compose himself. The hands only pull away long enough to return, fingers slick with a gel that tingles and warms as Evan slides one then two fingers into Johnny's ass.
"F-fuck you.. fuck you…" Johnny breathes as his body aches in a way that's blissful and terrible. His skin oversensitive and his prostate making his brain short out every time that tingling lube is pressed against it. Evan didn't even have to look for it, those two fingers were just in and working it like a pro. Johnny thinks that Evan either is able to keep some extremely good secrets or he's somehow managed to become the Dr. Ruth of gay sex in between skating and dancing. Impossible, he has no life in between those so what... What the hell happened to Mr. Pure American Hetero Skater?
"I think it seems like I might be doing the fucking here, Johnny," Evan replies. His voice is lower than Johnny's used to, the tone making him open his eyes. The way the brown has gone nearly black, pupils blown even with the crappy hotel lighting, as if he's hypnotized by the pattern of his long fingers sliding in and out of Johnny' body. Not that the other man is really minding, it's been a while since he's been pampered like this, let alone making his nerves sing with agonizing pleasure.
He turns Johnny onto his stomach and presses hot kisses down his back. Tongue dipping in and out of the muscles by his shoulder blades while fingers trace down, down the bumps of his vertebrae. Those big hands are still slick and hot; working shivers into Johnny's back as he presses against the stiff bones until Johnny gasps at the wonderful pop his back gives. He might sob, he might cry in joy; he'd been stretching and trying to get that kink out of his back for what's felt like weeks and fuck, Evan took less than a minute.
Evan's turning him into a pillow-biter. If it didn't feel so damn good, Johnny thinks his ego would actually be bruised.
"Where… ah…" breathing is good, he reminds his brain, "Where did you learn all of this?" Evan's mouth is against his shoulder again, dragging his own hard, slick latex covered cock along the crack of Johnny's ass, but Johnny can feel the smile nonetheless.
Then his back is like ice, the natural current of the air in the room touching his sweat-dampened skin and making him shiver. Johnny loathes the thought that Evan's absence is felt so keenly, keeping his eyes shut firmly to help with the denial. He only opens them when there's a soft tapping against his clenched fist. Johnny has to concentrate on releasing his hold on the pillowcase to close them loosely about the iphone put into his hand.
He swallows a cool, non-linen blocked breath down and feels Evan brush some of his hair off his brow. Trailing the dark locks between the V of his fingers until it was swept back from the pale skin as Johnny thumbed through the open application on the screen.
"You downloaded an app that's the how-to for gay sex?"
Evan laughs at Johnny's incredulous sounding voice. "The 'Gay Kama Sutra' actually," he replies with a nip at Johnny's earlobe. "If you want… pick one. I'll still be able to make you cum screaming my name, Swan." Just when he thought that exhaustion would kill him, some last clinging by it's fingernails nerve opted to hear the mocking challenge in that tone. His eyes flashed a bit as a grin spread over his face.
The heat that rushes through him only makes that damn tingly lube make him squirm. It makes his muscles in his ass flex and fuck, now if he's not getting fucked or something up his ass he'll never be able to 'scratch' the proverbial 'itch' it caused. Not to give Evan any more fluffing by letting him fuck his ass, Johnny chews on his lower lip as he lets the complicated twisting bodies on the screen attempt to distract himself. The sensations were making him hard again, his dick pulsing with his steadily increasing heartbeat.
He turns onto his back, sitting up and Evan humors Johnny moving them around per the instructions on the little screen. Leaning back onto his elbows with a none too subtle push from a pleased looking Johnny -happy to be back in the driver's seat, it seems- just before the phone is tossed, carelessly, over his shoulder to land on a pile of discarded clothes. Johnny hooks his legs around Evan's waist, settling into his lap easily. He holds onto Evan's shoulder while the other hand reaches behind him as he lowers himself down.
Evan hisses low as Johnny slips down over his dick, the initial resistance making him bite his lip as the other skater's nails dig into his shoulder. Once fully settled, Johnny opens his eyes and smiles gently, a bare curl of his mouth that he's even more pleased makes Evan seem to lose control slightly. That he moaned from just a look, just the first moments of being in Johnny, reminds him of the supposed homosexual-cherry-popping that was happening.
Supposed because shit, Evan was already rolling his hips and that damned lightning bolt peeking out from between Johnny's thigh and his own dick, and for a 'virgin' that just wasn't fair. Johnny steps up the game by letting go of Evan's shoulder with his right hand and grabbing for the other man's right as well; he uses the grip -Evan still upon his elbow- as leverage while he leans back upon his hand. This way they can both roll, but it's Johnny's core strength that finally sets the pace.
He'll have to thank his foot massager when he gets home, his brain blearily thinks. Especially since it seems all that mounting was apparently good for something.
It takes three more rounds, both switching up who's riding who, and working their bodies until the next day will have to be spent in bed for an entirely different reason. Johnny preens regardless that it took up until that last almost spine-melting round that Evan managed to wring those panting, breathless moans of his name from Johnny's lips.
Small victories are victories still.
Author: louie x
Rating: R/NC-17
Series: Olympic Skating RPS
Pairing: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Word Count: 1411
Disclaimer: Ahhh... it's RPS. Tin hats all around?
Summary: For the wintergameskink prompt of: Evan/Johnny - Evan's freakish work ethic applied to figuring out gay sex. Exhausted Johnny is torn between being extremely pleased, beamused, and sore as all get-out.
Notes: Woot, I feel so pleased to get something done on the meme again. Different title posted here, I was a bit gun-eager posting it there and have tweeked a few things here and there. Mostly silly mistakes I missed after reading it over again a few times. Was originally called 'Internal Application' on the meme.
The only proof that he hasn't died and gone to Heaven is the lack of Louis Vuitton all over, and that there is only one -tragically- insane, tall man going down on him like Johnny comes gold medals or something.
It's almost too much, too good, and Johnny wonders if it's possible to die from fucking fantastic sex.
Evan's mouth is hot and wet, tight against the head of his cock as his tongue sweeps around and around again along he shaft. His eyes are barely open; unseeing in that way athletes get when their mind is focused, as he bobs his head with enough varying speeds that Johnny's heels dig into the bedding as he squirms. He's panting, whimpering -damn him- behind the fingers of his left hand, while the right flexes in it's grip against the back of Evan's head. Cupping the base of his skull to draw him in closer, shivering and shuddering as Evan takes him in deep -nose to pubes deep- and fucking hums.
No way any totally straight guy is that good at giving head. No way.
Johnny really ought to protest more, to kick and scream and claw at Evan for turning him into a boneless mess of a man. The force of his orgasm though makes him see a flash of light and oh, there's that little peek of heaven his petite morte provides.
Let alone the mindfuck that there is Olympic gold-medalist Evan Lysacek still sucking him off, swallowing his cum, before slowly pulling away with an arrogant grin. Johnny doesn't even have to look to know it's there; that same champion smile he shoots after a judge gives him a high score. That smirk of success that Johnny thinks he's hated for a while although now it just makes his dick twitch even as it lays half-hard against his stomach.
He's still trying to breathe, eyes shut and he mumbles a soft complaint as Evan's hands slide along his thighs. Long, too-orange fingers trace invisible shapes upon Johnny's inner thighs as his legs are spread. A soft, nasal laughter answers his feeble swats to get a moment to compose himself. The hands only pull away long enough to return, fingers slick with a gel that tingles and warms as Evan slides one then two fingers into Johnny's ass.
"F-fuck you.. fuck you…" Johnny breathes as his body aches in a way that's blissful and terrible. His skin oversensitive and his prostate making his brain short out every time that tingling lube is pressed against it. Evan didn't even have to look for it, those two fingers were just in and working it like a pro. Johnny thinks that Evan either is able to keep some extremely good secrets or he's somehow managed to become the Dr. Ruth of gay sex in between skating and dancing. Impossible, he has no life in between those so what... What the hell happened to Mr. Pure American Hetero Skater?
"I think it seems like I might be doing the fucking here, Johnny," Evan replies. His voice is lower than Johnny's used to, the tone making him open his eyes. The way the brown has gone nearly black, pupils blown even with the crappy hotel lighting, as if he's hypnotized by the pattern of his long fingers sliding in and out of Johnny' body. Not that the other man is really minding, it's been a while since he's been pampered like this, let alone making his nerves sing with agonizing pleasure.
He turns Johnny onto his stomach and presses hot kisses down his back. Tongue dipping in and out of the muscles by his shoulder blades while fingers trace down, down the bumps of his vertebrae. Those big hands are still slick and hot; working shivers into Johnny's back as he presses against the stiff bones until Johnny gasps at the wonderful pop his back gives. He might sob, he might cry in joy; he'd been stretching and trying to get that kink out of his back for what's felt like weeks and fuck, Evan took less than a minute.
Evan's turning him into a pillow-biter. If it didn't feel so damn good, Johnny thinks his ego would actually be bruised.
"Where… ah…" breathing is good, he reminds his brain, "Where did you learn all of this?" Evan's mouth is against his shoulder again, dragging his own hard, slick latex covered cock along the crack of Johnny's ass, but Johnny can feel the smile nonetheless.
Then his back is like ice, the natural current of the air in the room touching his sweat-dampened skin and making him shiver. Johnny loathes the thought that Evan's absence is felt so keenly, keeping his eyes shut firmly to help with the denial. He only opens them when there's a soft tapping against his clenched fist. Johnny has to concentrate on releasing his hold on the pillowcase to close them loosely about the iphone put into his hand.
He swallows a cool, non-linen blocked breath down and feels Evan brush some of his hair off his brow. Trailing the dark locks between the V of his fingers until it was swept back from the pale skin as Johnny thumbed through the open application on the screen.
"You downloaded an app that's the how-to for gay sex?"
Evan laughs at Johnny's incredulous sounding voice. "The 'Gay Kama Sutra' actually," he replies with a nip at Johnny's earlobe. "If you want… pick one. I'll still be able to make you cum screaming my name, Swan." Just when he thought that exhaustion would kill him, some last clinging by it's fingernails nerve opted to hear the mocking challenge in that tone. His eyes flashed a bit as a grin spread over his face.
The heat that rushes through him only makes that damn tingly lube make him squirm. It makes his muscles in his ass flex and fuck, now if he's not getting fucked or something up his ass he'll never be able to 'scratch' the proverbial 'itch' it caused. Not to give Evan any more fluffing by letting him fuck his ass, Johnny chews on his lower lip as he lets the complicated twisting bodies on the screen attempt to distract himself. The sensations were making him hard again, his dick pulsing with his steadily increasing heartbeat.
He turns onto his back, sitting up and Evan humors Johnny moving them around per the instructions on the little screen. Leaning back onto his elbows with a none too subtle push from a pleased looking Johnny -happy to be back in the driver's seat, it seems- just before the phone is tossed, carelessly, over his shoulder to land on a pile of discarded clothes. Johnny hooks his legs around Evan's waist, settling into his lap easily. He holds onto Evan's shoulder while the other hand reaches behind him as he lowers himself down.
Evan hisses low as Johnny slips down over his dick, the initial resistance making him bite his lip as the other skater's nails dig into his shoulder. Once fully settled, Johnny opens his eyes and smiles gently, a bare curl of his mouth that he's even more pleased makes Evan seem to lose control slightly. That he moaned from just a look, just the first moments of being in Johnny, reminds him of the supposed homosexual-cherry-popping that was happening.
Supposed because shit, Evan was already rolling his hips and that damned lightning bolt peeking out from between Johnny's thigh and his own dick, and for a 'virgin' that just wasn't fair. Johnny steps up the game by letting go of Evan's shoulder with his right hand and grabbing for the other man's right as well; he uses the grip -Evan still upon his elbow- as leverage while he leans back upon his hand. This way they can both roll, but it's Johnny's core strength that finally sets the pace.
He'll have to thank his foot massager when he gets home, his brain blearily thinks. Especially since it seems all that mounting was apparently good for something.
It takes three more rounds, both switching up who's riding who, and working their bodies until the next day will have to be spent in bed for an entirely different reason. Johnny preens regardless that it took up until that last almost spine-melting round that Evan managed to wring those panting, breathless moans of his name from Johnny's lips.
Small victories are victories still.