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2010 WINTER OLYMPIC GAMES KINK MEME
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
Welcome to all winter athletes! This Winter Games is screaming for fic. Lots and lots of fic. So let's give them what they want! The set up is easy! Just (anonymously) post your favorite pairing, threesome, groupsome, etc., and a kink. All prompts are welcome, not just the kinky ones. If someone is interested, ( Read more... )
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J.R. didn’t know when the idea came over him, but it must have been sometime during the medal ceremony for the men’s 1500m race. He didn’t remember much about the actual event, his mind a blur of screams from the crowd, Lee Jung-su’s scowl getting even deeper as the night worn on, the weird itchy feeling he got in his nose whenever he waved his bouquet too close to his face, and Apolo’s soul patch.
It had to do with the fact that when Apolo had pulled him into a hug just before the start of the ceremony, that damn soul patch had brushed against his ear, sending a weird tingling sensation through his body that he didn’t particular like. It was either that or he was just incredibly stupid.
And that’s how he found himself leaning over Apolo’s bed one night after a particularly grueling training session (he now had a large purple bruise on his side from when the two of them had crashed together while participating in a practice 1000m race), contemplating how he was going to get rid of the hair on this man’s face without waking him up.
He’d picked this night because he knew that Apolo would be completely exhausted from the training and wouldn’t be as likely to wake up while J.R. was doing the dirty deed (even though J.R. secretly wished he was referring to another dirty deed which he had been dropping hints about to the older man for days, but alas, they didn’t all get what they want all the time.) He was also thankful that Apolo almost always slept on his back, making his job that much easier.
The weight of the razor felt comfortable in his hand, only a little bit bigger than a pen, and thankfully, battery operated. The description said the razor could be used to get rid of stray hairs, such as in one’s nose, or those random misplaced hairs on a woman’s top lip (this little bit of information made J.R. think of his mother, leading him to get rid of the packaging very quickly) but he was sure it was perfect for this job.
He stood there for another minute or so, contemplating all the ways this could go horribly wrong before making up his mind and plucking the cap off the razor. Flicking the machine onto its lowest, least noise-making setting, J.R. leaned forward and slowly, painstakingly, began to shave away the thing that made Apolo Ohno, well…Apolo Ohno.
When he was finished, he carefully scooped up the shorn hair and stuffed them into his pants pocket because he didn’t know what else to do with them. Creeping backwards away from the bed, he snuck out of the room noiselessly and back to him own to wait until tomorrow morning when Apolo would surely explode like an atom bomb.
But honestly, J.R. thought as he climbed into his own bed, listening to Simon’s soft snores, he had done Apolo a favor.
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“John Robert Celski! Get your ass out here right the fuck now before I kick the damn door in!”
Simon stared over at J.R. from his position on his bed, a tourist guide of Vancouver spread over his lap, wondering what the nineteen year old could have done that had caused Apolo to be so mad at him.
“What did you do?” Simon hissed, eyes wide as the door continued to rattle in its frame from Apolo’s consistent battering.
J.R. covered his mouth as he tried to stop laughing, eyes full of mischief as he wondered if it was worth telling Simon what he had done. Just as he opened his mouth to speak though, the door flew open to reveal Apolo, and a bewildered looking Jordan and Travis, the oldest of the three looking all the world like a baby bull stuck in a china shop.
“Sorry guys! He came to my door first and told me to give you your key so he could find J.R. He gave me that look!” Travis blurted out hurriedly, sprinting around Apolo to climb onto Simon’s bed with Jordan, all three leaning backwards a bit to get even farther away from the incensed man in the doorway.
“J.R.! What the fuck did you do? Where is my soul patch?” Apolo pleaded, glaring over at Simon as he suddenly burst into a fit of giggles when he realized what exactly J.R. had done.
“It’s…” J.R. paused in thought before standing up, arms spread out in invitation, “…in my right pocket. You want it?”
Apolo’s scowl couldn’t have gotten much deeper as he marched forward, grabbing J.R’s wrist and shoving his hand down into the younger man’s pocket, feeling his beloved facial hair filling the small space.
Looking up at J.R., Apolo’s face suddenly became void of emotion, which kind of scared J.R. more than he would care to admit. Pulling his hand out of J.R.’s pocket, Apolo grasped his hand, tugging him out the door, J.R. throwing a hand before him to Simon and the boys before pulling the door shut.
In the hallway, J.R. stopped moving, digging his heels into the carpet. Apolo looked back at him, anger once more written onto his face, but J.R. was equally defiant.
“Where are we going?” He stared down at their clasped hands.
“Back to my room, so I can yell at you some more without an audience.” Apolo began tugging J.R.’s hand again once he finished, leading him down and across the hall to his room.
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“Okay, seriously, J.R. What the fuck? Why’d you save off my soul patch? While I was looking of all times?” As he said this, Apolo ran a hand over his face as if to reaffirm that, yet, the soul patch really was gone - the first time in at least ten years, and he felt incredibly naked without it.
J.R. felt, for only a second, a tinge of regret as he watched Apolo looking so forlorn all of a sudden without his soul patch for reassurance before moving to stand in front of the twenty-seven year old. Reaching his hands out, he took the man’s face in his grasp, leveling their gazes.
“Because, honestly, Apolo, you look so much more handsome without it.” He paused to run a single thumb over where the hair had been. “Now it doesn’t look like you have a small caterpillar living on your face and that’s kind of sexy.” He realized too late that that probably wasn’t the right thing to say.
Apolo pulled away from the hold, walking around J.R. to flop on his back onto the bed. “Fuck you. It’d didn’t look like a damn caterpillar! I’d like to see you grow one. Oh wait, you can’t grow any kind of facial or body hair at all, because you’re a kid!”
“Yeah, old man? I’ve got plenty of hair on my body!” J.R. huffed, slightly offended by the jab at his manly ability to grow hair on his body. He jutted out his hips for emphasis to the point.
Suddenly Apolo started laughing, laughing so hard that he almost couldn’t breathe after a few seconds. That made J.R. even madder, so he marched over to where Apolo was laying on his back and bodily climbed on top of the older man, settling himself on his narrow hips.
“If you still had your soul patch, I wouldn’t do this.” J.R. leaned forward, pressing his lips roughly to Apolo’s like he already owned them, and in a way, he felt that he did. The action caught Apolo off guard, but he recovered quickly, hands reaching up to thread through J.R.’s hair, holding on tight just incase he got the crazy idea of, you know, pulling away or something.
The kiss grew sloppy and wet, full of lips, teeth, and J.R.’s tongue was soon pressed against the roof of Apolo’s mouth, not to worry about finesse at that moment. As the seconds passed, he pushed his face in closer, their chins sliding together and J.R. reveled in the fact that Apolo’s was smooth.
J.R. pulled back then, a thin line of spit trailing between their panting mouths as the nineteen year old buried his face into Apolo’s neck, mouthing along the warm skin he found there, breathing in the clean, spicy scent he’d come to associate with the man over the years.
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