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Chapter Text

If there is one thing Ilia is good at - despite skating of course - it‘s being sneaky.

He likes sneaking up on people and feeling like a spy. 

This is why, a few days after the most devastating free skate ever at the Olympics, he sneakily crosses a random room and stops directly behind Alysa. He knows, he really knows he shouldn‘t, but he can‘t help himself and glances at her phone.

He sees some kind of text, an article or something, and just as he wants to poke her, or make himself otherwise known, the words „Alysa“, „Amber“ and „kissing“ capture his attention.

What?!

Kissing?

He doesn‘t remember anything like that ever happening. There‘s also something about touching hair and softly smiling there. Definitely didn‘t happen. As far es he knows. But perhaps, he knows nothing.

„What the fuck?!“ he blurts out, making Alysa squeal and jump.

“Ilia!“ she swats at his shoulder. „Are you trying to kill me?! Don‘t sneak up on me like that!“

“What are you reading there? About…kissing? Amber? Is that some really weird kind of article?!“ he asks, his hands flailing around and the curiosity is nearly killing him. He knows he‘s kind of rude and curiosity killed the cat and everything, but…What‘s this about kissing?!

Alysa sighs, looks him up and down, sighs again and says: „Let‘s sit down and I‘ll tell you.“

They find a little sofa in the corner of the room. Alysa watches him from the corner of her eyes and sighs again.

“Are you sure you want to know? This is probably going to be really weird for you and…just don‘t say I didn‘t warn you.“

He nods eagerly.

“OK, so it‘s some kind of online thing. It‘s called fanfiction and people write stories about characters from books, or movies or Anime…I was really into Yuri!!! On Ice some years ago…and you know, with the olympics and the attention and since there are also stories about real people…I wanted to check out if there was something about me…which sounds really, really weird, when I say it loud.“

“Ugh“, he clears his throat. That was…unexpected. Why did he not know about things like that?!

He looks at Alysa, she looks at him, the silence is deafening.

“Are people writing about me as well?“ he finally says into the awkward silence and he‘s never uttered anything this cringe. Ever. 

Alysa snorts. „I haven‘t looked for you, but I‘m sure there are. Give me your phone and I‘ll show you. But once again: Don‘t tell me I didn‘t warn you.“

He hands over his phone and she types something into the browser. 

There‘s something called ‚figure skating rpf‘ on the website and she shows him how to sort the stories, so only those featuring him show up.

He scrolls through titles and summaries, sees lists of names…and it‘s really weird and not at all what he expected, and he thinks…but surely it can‘t be…

“What‘s those slash symbols mean? Between the names?“ he asks Alysa weakly.

“It‘s the people in a relationship in the story.“ she replies quietly. Which must be wrong, absolutely wrong, because - 

„But most things about me, are about Misha and me…“

Alysa just grins.

“We’re both straight.“ he squeaks. He doesn‘t really know what he expected. People writing about his athletic struggles and achievements perhaps. Or people writing about Isabeau, or Alysa, or any other female skater. Anything really, except Misha and him.

Alysa, the traitor, just laughs.

“Ilia, my sweet little summer child. Like I said, it‘s fiction. The people writing this know, that it‘s not about the real you. And don‘t tell me, you can‘t see the appeal.“ Ilia shakes his head. Alysa raises her eyebrows.

„You‘re both cute, you‘re both good. It‘s some kind of ‚Heated Rivalry‘-Situation.“

Ilia blushes. He knows about ‚Heated Rivalry‘ and Misha and him definitely don‘t have anything like that going on. They‘re both straight after all.

„I need to process this.“ he says to Alysa, who‘s still smiling at him. Far too sweetly.

And because he‘s a glutton for punishment and it would be awfully unfair, if he was the only one who needs to process a discovery like this, he copies the link and sends it to Misha.

Did you know things like this exist? Alysa showed me.

And here I thought you googled yourself again. 

Misha answers only moments later, making Ilia snort.

“Have you finished processing already?“ he hears next to him and remembers that Alysa‘s still there.

He shakes his head.

“No, but Misha will be processing with me.“

Suddenly, Alysa grabs his arm, her eyebrows rising into her hairline.

“What do you mean?“ she sounds alarmed.

Ilia shrugs: “I sent him that link.“

Alysas eyes widen.

„You just send panda-loving, sweet, innocent Misha that link?!“

Ilia shrugs uncomfortably. Why‘s she making such a fuss? He mumbles:

„He’s not that innocent…“ 

Because even if no one else remembers. Ilia still has the most vivid memories of walking in on Misha and Niina making out in an estonian locker room in 2020. At Juniors. Aged 15. He still remembers the burning jealousy, that shy, awkward Misha had accomplished something Ilia wasn‘t even thinking about yet. He…

„Ilia,“ Alysas frantic voice stops his memories.

„Did you read any of those stories? Look at anything at all?“

Her voice is becoming louder with each word. They are attracting attention now and Ilia tries to calm her down with his hands on her shoulder.

He shakes his head.

“Ilia,“ she hisses, thankfully quieter.

“Those stories. Lots of them, probably most of them. These Stories…they‘re really…explicit…“ she trails of in a whisper. Ilia shakes his head. What? 

„You just send your sweet, innocent, straight friend story upon story of other people imagining the two of you having sex.“

Again…WHAT?!

„Why didn‘t you tell me?“ he stammers weakly.

“I didn‘t think I needed to. What did you think people were writing about, featuring Misha and you? The two of you holding hands and skating off into the sunset?“ She starts to giggle. Perhaps just a little bit hysterical. At least one of them is having fun. Ilia feels like throwing up. Or becoming one with the floor. Or vanishing.

He was wrong, when he thought Friday 13th was the worst day of his live. This is somehow even worse. It‘s Misha. One of his best friends…who‘s hardworking, awkward, earnest, shy and straight. And pretty, but that‘s beside the point. Anyway. Ilia wants to die. He just sent Misha stories about the two of them having sex. This is the absolute worst!

“We need to apologize. You need to let him know, that it was an accident. We need a strategy. You know him better…will he think you‘re mocking him? Or propositioning him? And his cultural background…it‘s all different…What do we do, Ilia?!“

Ilia is insanely glad, that Alysa‘s such a good friend. She won‘t leave him alone with this mess and he wants to weep in gratitude. He doesn‘t have the singlest clue what to do though.

They stare at each other.

“Perhaps he didn‘t…his english isn‘t that good…?“ Ilia suggests feebly.

“Don‘t be stupid. His English is absolutely fine and I‘m sure he knows how to translate stuff.“

At that moment, the phone that Ilia‘s still holding, vibrates in his hand. It‘s a text. From Misha. His phone feels like a grenade. And Ilia‘s never been this scared to open a text. He takes a deep breath and reads.

WTF are Alysa and you talking about? Ilia?! 

And a new message:

Just read one. 

Ilia wants to die.

Lots of sex, but very little lube.

Ilia dies, almost, as he chokes on his own spit.

Also…I know we’re flexible…but…huh?!

That‘s it. Ilia‘s dead.

Chapter Text

Once Ilia can breathe again, he decides to message Misha.

OMG. MISHA! I‘M SO SORRY!!! 

I didn‘t look. I didn‘t know it‘s explicit!

Hope we‘re still OK.

See you soon?

He waits with baited breath for Mishas answer. 

When it comes, it‘s short. Ilia feels weirdly disappointed.

We‘re good. Got to go - press thing.

See you at exhibition tomorrow!

That night, alone in his room (alone! Thank god for quadgod priviliges!) Ilia starts reading. Anything is better than the thoughts of loss, devastation and failure that come back every night.

He reads for five minutes and he‘s sure he‘s never done anything this weird.

He skims through the stories, some of them are incomprehensible to him (what the hell‘s an omega? Why are there werewolfs? Do people really think he cries that much?), some are cute. And some are…hot.

It takes a very uncomfortable half an hour, before he can admit it to himself. It‘s hot.

He‘s 21. He‘s a hotblooded man. It‘s normal to be turned on by reading about kissing, touching, sucking, fucking, he reasons.

He should probably feel something like disgust while reading about himself having sex with another man. With Misha. But he doesn’t. Fact is: It‘s hot.

He‘s seen Misha naked of course. They‘re athletes, they share locker rooms and showers, so he‘s seen them all naked. It’s perfectly normal to compare as well. And he‘s man enough to admit, from an entirely objective, strictly aesthetically point of view, of course: Misha‘s pretty. His body’s beautiful. And he has the best ass Ilia has ever seen.

There‘s nothing unusual about jerking off too, when you‘re a 21 year old single male. Even when you‘re thinking about having sex with your friend. Even if you‘re both male. And straight. As arrows. Afterwards Ilia falls asleep faster than he ever has, since setting foot into Milan.

But then it’s morning, he wakes up and he panics. All his reasoning that sounded right just hours before, suddenly seems flimsy and wrong.

He can never look Misha in the eyes again. He‘ll spontaneously combust from shame.

But it‘s stupid exhibition day and as soon as he arrives there,  Alysa grabs his hand, because they still have to apologize in person. 

Off they go, looking for Misha. The last person Ilia wants to see tonight. Somehow, these Olympics have turned into an event from the seventh circle of hell.

He wants to cry.

When they find him, Misha is alone. He smiles at them, like he usually does and it eases something in Ilia. But he seems different somehow, or perhaps it‘s the way Ilia sees him. As if those stories have put thoughts and adjectives into his head.

„Misha, fuck, I‘m so sorry! I should‘ve told Ilia what kind of stories there are. But I thought it would be funny to shock him. And then he dragged you into this mess. Anyway, I‘m really sorry!“

„It‘s OK, I thought it was funny.“ Misha answers, his (doe - Ilias mind helpfully supplies) eyes lingering on Ilia.

„I‘m sorry too. We OK?“ he mumbles.

„We‘re OK.“ Misha claps him on the shoulder with his (slender and elegant) hand and adds: „Ilia, Niina was looking for you earlier, she really wants to kill you tonight.“

Hearing Niinas name from Mishas mouth makes something snap in Ilia. Why hasn‘t she…maybe…

„Why doesn‘t she ever want to kill you? Are the two of you still…?“ he grinds out through clenched teeth.

Misha and Alysa share a baffled look.

„Are Niina and me still what?“ 

„You know I saw you kissing! Don‘t deny it!“

„Wasn‘t that like 6 years ago?“ interrupts Alysa. 

Misha nods. Ilia wonders how she knows about that. Does everybody know? Perhaps they are really still… Ilia shakes his head. Stupid gossips. Stupid day. Stupid everything.

„Niina and me are friends.“, Misha shrugs.

Ilia snorts and turns to stomp off to find Niina, but Misha catches his hand.

„Ilia.“, He says, changing to Russian, still smiling sweetly (braces glittering, stupid, stupid brain). „You know, I actually wanted to thank you, for sending me that link. The last days, since you know…“ He gestures vaguely, with his stupid, beautiful hands, „It‘s been great, but also incredibly stressfull. Everybody wants to talk to me or something, I couldn‘t sleep…but you know reading about how the two of us lost our virginities to each other…it was the best distraction!“

Everybody is all wrong. Misha has never been sweet. He has always been wicked. 

Ilia stares at Misha. His mouth opens and closes. No sound comes out. He must look ridiculous, because Alysa snorts and Misha tries to suppress a giggle.

„Oh my god, Misha, what did you say?! I think you broke him!“, he hears Alysa squeal, as he turns around and finds Niina. If he‘s lucky, she‘ll kill him for real.

In the end, Ilia does, what he does best. He goes out there and skates. He pours all of his disappointment, his fears, his frustrations and the more recent confusion onto the ice and skates his heart out.

When it’s done he can breathe easy again, he can finally think again and feels more like himself. Perhaps everything will be fine after all.

Misha finds him, as soon as they‘re done.

„Ilia,“ He calls out and grabs Ilias hand, lacing their fingers together. He must have just taken off the pandasuit, because he‘s still sweaty and his hair sticks up all over the place.

„Ilia. I‘m sorry for making fun of you. I just wanted a bit of revenge. When you sent me that message yesterday I was with some other members of the khazakh team and I opened it and I opened the first story and it was one of those really explicit ones. And then everybody wanted to know what you sent me. And you know I can‘t lie for shit, so I just started mumbling to myself and went away. And I‘m sure they all think I‘m absolutely mental, except they can‘t because I‘m a national hero. Perhaps they‘ll name an asylum…“

„Misha,“ Ilia interrupts him by putting his free hand on his shoulder.

„No, no. You don‘t need to apologize. I do. For so many things. For being cocky and arrogant and thinking I had this in the bag before it even started. I was, I am so stupid. And then I sent you that link. What kind of person just forwards stuff on the internet they got from their most wacky friend. Without checking anything out? I feel as if I‘ve sent you my dickpics. And now we both know that people write stories about us having gay sex, even though we‘re straight…“

Misha is the one interrupting the rambling now. He cocks his head and lifts their still clasped hands between them.

„I‘m not.“ he says quietly.

„You‘re not what?“

„Straight. I‘m bi.“

Ilia gapes. What. The. Fuck?! Whatever he thought, Misha was going to say, it‘s definitely not that.

He stares some more. And stares.

Mishas brows furrow, just the tiniest bit. His whole being seems to crumble. He takes a step backwards.

„Is that a problem for you?“ he asks quietly. And no, just no. Ilia can‘t have that. He can‘t have Misha think that he‘s a homophobic asshole on top of everything else.

He surges forward and hugs him tight.

„No. No! Don‘t be stupid Mish. I‘m just surprised. And… honoured? Thanks for telling me. I always thought, you know, with the Niina-Situation…“

„There is no Niina-situation. There hasn‘t been one in six years. And do you even know what bi means? It‘s…“

Ilia knows that they probably look like idiots. They are standing on the edge of the room, hugging tightly, whispering furiously into each others ears.

But he doesn‘t care, because Ilia knows that he‘s done one thing right during these cursed olympic games, when Misha has to go (apparently he’ll meet Jackie Chan), he looks at Ilia, just before he leaves, and it‘s with the brightest, most beautiful smile Ilia has ever seen.

And Ilia knows that he‘ll do anything to get Misha to look at him like that again.

He sighs. He‘s so fucked.

Chapter Text

What follows is hell. Purgatory.

It is as if a dam has broken. The cat is out of the bag. His eyes have been opened. The veil has been lifted.

He can‘t stop thinking about Misha. He can‘t stop thinking about how he feels when they hug. The way his voice sounds. His stupid jokes. The way his eyes light up when he smiles. Misha consumes every waking thought.

Ilia hasn‘t read those stories again, after that first night. It‘s too weird. Maybe he isn‘t egocentric enough. But his brain manages just fine on its own. He often finds himself staring at nothing, thinking about seeing Misha again. And it‘s the absolute worst, because he hasn‘t seen him in ages. Misha wasn‘t at the World Championship, so the last time they saw each other was at the Olympics. It‘s April now. 

They text and talk of course, just like they always did. But it‘s not the same. Ilia pines. He suffers. He feels sick with longing.

At the same time, he panics. He always assumed he was straight. He didn‘t even think about it, he just assumed. Because everybody was straight. How stupid was that? Just as stupid as having his first girlfriend, his first time, when he was 18, because everybody did it. He just went along with what everybody did, because he didn‘t want to stand out. 

What others think about him has always been important to him. It still is. He can easily admit that about himself. He didn’t want to be the weird kid, he wanted to be cool, so he did what all the cool kids did. And now he‘s 21 and having a crisis. A sexuality crisis. And apparently he‘s absolutely clueless about himself. 

At night, he lies awake and he thinks about those times, when he was younger, still a teenager, and the boys at school would point out the hottest girls, or talk about the hottest porn and it wouldn‘t do anything for him. He’d often thought he could be asexual then, but quickly buried those thoughts, when the next competition came.

Because competition always went hand in hand with being horny for him. The thrill, the adrenaline, that really, really did it for him. So he just went back to assuming he was straight. He‘s never been so wrong in his entire life. Any lingering thoughts about perhaps being asexual  are dead by now as well. Because he‘s thinking about sex. All the damn time. He thinks about Misha and the things he‘d do to him, the things Misha would do, if they ever see each other again…and then he remembers, that there won‘t be anybody doing anything, because he hasn‘t got the singlest clue if Misha even wants to do things.

It‘s hell. 

He wanders around like a zombie, the only time he can even remotely focus is when he trains.

He knows that his parents are upset and worried. He hopes that they think it‘s because of the lost gold medal. And then he feels guilty for thinking like that. For misleading them, even accidently.

They got Alysa here, to train with him, perhaps they hope that she‘ll get him out of this…this thing. He giggles almost hysterically, when he thinks of himself telling his parents they got it all wrong. They got the wrong skater, the wrong gender. He‘s going absolutely mad.

Of course he‘s stalking Misha through social media. Name it, he watches it. Waiting for any news, any picture. Just anything.

And then it‘s late April. Misha told him he would be going on a little trip to the sea, so Ilia expects a message, a post, or a picture. He isn’t expecting Nika fucking Egadze to post it. And to be in it, with Misha. They are on a beach, both are laughing  and Ilia is seized by the sudden desperate wish to be Nika. Because he gets to see Misha.

“I can‘t believe I just thought I want to be Nika fucking Egadze. I‘m going absolutely crazy.“ he mutters to himself.

“Why do you want to be Nika Egadze?!“ 

He squeals, when he hears his mothers voice and realizes he has said that out loud. In the middle of the kitchen. Where both of his parents are having coffee. He‘s astonished that things actually can always get worse.

He fumbles for words. He can‘t possibly tell them about Misha. 

“I think I‘m gay.“ he blurts out instead. He can‘t decide if that‘s better or worse than telling his parents that he‘s been pining for Misha for months.

His mom gets up, hugs him and tells him that they always love him, no matter what. 

It lifts a huge weight off his shoulder, a tension he didn‘t even know was there drains away.

“See, I told you so.“ mutters his mom to his dad, who‘s also gotten up to hug Ilia.

“Yes,“ his dad says „But that doesn‘t answer the question: Why do you want to be Nika Egadze?!“

It‘s not just himself, he lives in a madhouse, Ilia thinks, as he desperately searches for an answer. One that doesn‘t involve Misha. 

„He‘s…he‘s tall…?“ he offers, when the silence becomes too long. He retreats to his room, pretending not to notice the knowing look his parents share, or how his mom has her phone in her hand and Instagram opened before he‘s out of the room.

„I told my parents I‘m gay yesterday.“ he tells Alysa the next day, during a break from training. „I didn‘t expect it to be so anticlimatic, which was kind of great. I was scared, before, but it was either that or telling them why I want to be Nika Egadze.“

„That‘s great Ilia. I‘m happy it went so well,“ she smiles at him „But why do you want to be Nika? I mean, he‘s nice, tall, good smile, but…“ she cocks her head.

„I just told you a life changing discovery I had about myself. And you focus on the Nika-thing? Why‘s nobody even surprised when I tell them I‘m gay?“

She raises her eyebrows and looks at him.

„Because the Nika-thing is new. You being gay isn‘t that surprising. I can‘t imagine you‘re that desperate to train with Eteri. So, why would you want to be Nika?!“

Ilia sighs. He pulls out his phone, opens insta, searches for Nika and shows her the picture. 

„Oh.“ she says. „Oh, Ilia.“ 

She hugs him tight.

„I‘m going absolutely mad. Alysa…ever since you showed me those stories, in Milan, about Misha and me…they‘ve put thoughts into my head. I‘m…I can‘t think of anything but him. He‘s in my head. I want…I want to see him, talk to him, be with him…I want everything with him.“ He finishes slightly desperate.

Alysa hugs him again. She looks at him, suddenly serious.

„Ilia, I don‘t know how to say this. But you should really think about this:

You know I read that fanfic too, right? The one with Amber and me. It was great, good plot, engaging feelings, steamy sex. Really good and I liked it.

But…but it never changed how I saw Amber, how I feel for her.

It didn‘t make me want to have sex with her, I didn‘t suddenly think she was the prettiest woman I‘d ever seen. It didn‘t make me think about my sexuality. I certainly didn‘t fall in love with her.

What I‘m trying to say is: Are you sure that this only started after you read those fanfics, or have you been in love with him all along?“

Ilia’s so surprised, to hear the word love in this conversation, that everything else fades into the background. The question if he is in love with Misha stays with him all day. Is he in love with him? Isn‘t he? He doesn‘t know, he‘s never been in love before.

Two days later during dinner his parents are awfully chipper. It makes Ilia suspicious.

„Ilia, I‘ve got great news! I just talked to Alexei…Urmanov…you know?“ Ilia nods slowly. Urmanov is Mishas coach and as far as he knows, the only time they ever talk is when they meet at competitions. Where is this going?

„Mikhail will join you here in a week. We thought you could both benefit from the opportunity to train together.“

Ilia gapes at his father. What?

„OK,“ is all he says, while his parents pretend not to notice his sudden giddiness. In return he refrains from asking any more questions about this sudden cooperation.

Misha calls him in the middle of the night. He‘s always been bad at remembering timezones.

„Misha?“ he slurs sleepy. 

„Ilia, were you sleeping?“

“It‘s like 2 in the morning.“

“Shit, sorry. The time…it‘s just…I‘m so excited! Alexei, my Coach, he just handed me a plane ticket and my visa‘s taken care of. The explanation is the weidest, most implausible shit I‘ve ever heard…but…I‘ll arrive next thursday!“ 

He sounds breathless, excited and happy and it makes Ilia feel all tingly inside.

“You should sleep, I‘ll call tomorrow?“ Misha goes on without waiting for an answer.

“No! It’s fine. My dad told me you‘re coming. I‘m really, really happy. Tell me about your trip?“

Ilia yawns as Misha launches into the description of going fishing. His voice is deep and warm and soothing and Ilia falls asleep.

Time crawls at a snails pace, but somehow it‘s finally thursday morning and Ilia feels as if he‘s vibrating out of his skin with excitement.

Misha promised to call him as soon as he arrives at the apartment he‘ll live in for the duration of his stay. Both deciding against an airport-reunion by unspoken agreement. But it‘s Alysa who texts.

ILIA! HE‘S HERE! Just met him in the lobby. He‘s…ugh. Just come over here, now! And I swear to you, if you don‘t shoot your shot, I absolutely will!

Ilia‘s never left the house so fast, by the time he arrives at the apartment complex he‘s probably broken several speed limits.

Now he‘s standing in front of the door - Mishas door - he‘s breathless, his heart is beating way to fast and his hand trembles, when he lifts it to knock.

The door opens and Ilias heart stops, just for a second. It’s Misha, he‘s here and real and Ilia knows without a doubt, that yes, he‘s definitely head over heels in love with him.

“Hey,“ he says, still a little breathless, as he takes the other in. He looks good, really, really good. His hair is a little bit shorter, he‘s not as pale and tired, as he was in february and when his lips open in a surprised smile, he can see that the braces are gone. 

„Hey. How…? I was just going to call you!“ Misha answers and Ilia is glad to notice that his voice isn‘t the steadiest as well.

Misha takes a step back and gestures for Ilia to come in. The door clicks shut behind him. Ilia finally has got what he wanted for the last two months and his brain is empty. He can‘t think of anything to say or anything to do. He just stands, staring stupidly at Misha. The only consolation is that he doesn‘t seem to fare any better. He stares back just as stupefied.

„I‘m gay.“ Ilia blurts out. He feels his whole face erupting in red hot shame. Wow. These have to be the most godawful, terrible words ever uttered to the person you‘re hopelessly in love with when you first see them after more than two neverending months.

Mishas smile widens, he takes a tiny step forward. 

“I know.“ he says, and Ilia…What?

“What?!“

“You’ve been staring at my ass since 2022. You‘re not that subtle.“

Once again: „What?!“

“But don‘t worry. I‘ve been trying to flirt with you for the last three years as well.“

Misha takes another step forward.

Ilia frowns. What flirting? He never noticed anything.

“Maybe you‘re too subtle.“ he says, moving a little bit closer as well.

“Maybe you‘re too dense.“ Misha answers and smiles that pretty, pretty sweet smile that makes Ilia want to do very dirty things.

And then Misha takes another step forward, grabs Ilias hand and laces their fingers together. A comforting gesture, a gesture they‘ve repeated at least a million times, since they‘ve known each other, because it‘s their kind of thing, along with a myriad of other little touches, comforting hugs, smiles and…fuck.

It hits Ilia over the head like a sledgehammer, this isn’t something that‘s been building for months. This has been building for years. It’s in all those touches, the comfort in the others presence, it‘s in everything, and suddenly it‘s so clear, so obvious, that Ilia is stunned to discover that he somehow missed it all.

“Misha,“ he whispers, stunned. „Why didn‘t you tell me?“

Misha laughs. 

“Ilia, there‘s no human being alive that has told me they’re straight as often as you. What should I‘ve said?“ His tone turns conversational: „Hey Ilia, I think you‘re gay and you‘ve been staring at my ass so often lately, that I think you really got it bad for me. Wanna fuck?“

Ilia gapes. A giggle threatens to escape.

“Fuck off, Misha, I‘ve been having the most devastating sexuality-crisis and you‘re mocking me. You‘re such a shit! I‘ve been blind and…“

„Not blind, your eyes seem to be working just fine.“ Misha interrupts. And they‘re so close now, Ilia‘s always loved how they‘re the same height. Their bodies almost touching and he raises his hand and tangles his fingers in Mishas hair.

“Oblivious then.“ he continues „Oblivious and I don‘t know…stupid? And…“

“Ilia,“ Misha whispers, interrupting him again, fuck, they‘re so close, he can feel Mishas breath on his lips and it‘s making him shiver.

“Ilia, stop talking.“

And then Misha‘s kissing him.

Chapter Text

It‘s tentative at first, Mishas hands going up to Ilias jaw, cradling his face, just their lips brushing softly. Ilia sighs and his hand tightens in Mishas hair. Misha gasps against his mouth and the kiss gets more heated as their tongues touch.

It’s so, so good, Ilia feels the heat of it spreading through his whole body, coiling around his spine. He needs to get closer, closer, closer and he puts the hand that‘s not tangled in Mishas hair low on his back to press them closer together. Misha responds by crowding Ilia into the wall and suddenly there‘s friction and Ilia remembers that he is 21 and he really can go from half hard to really hard this fast.

„Fuck“ Misha moans against his lips and their foreheads touch, just as his hand slips beneath Ilias shirt. Ilia can‘t suppress a breathless groan at the sudden contact.

“Ilia,“ he whispers, right next to Ilias ear „I‘ve never…I mean, with a man….“

“Me neither“ Ilia whispers back and the thought that Misha and him are exploring this  together, makes the coiling heat in his body spread out even hotter.

„Good,“ he thinks he hears Misha mutter against his ear, and then „Off“ while Misha pushes Ilias shirt up and throws it somewhere to the side, followed by his own.

Finally, skin on skin and Ilia swallows Mishas moan with another kiss. He wants, he needs, more friction and Mishas ass is still the best, so he puts his hands down his sweatpants and grabs, it‘s still not close enough but Misha is a genius and pushes both their pants down.

Their cocks touch, being the same height has never been this good and Ilia can‘t remember ever being this hard. Until Misha grabs his hand, tangles their fingers, like they always do, and it’s the best idea, because they can jerk off both of their cocks together. And fuck, he can still get harder.  The heat is melting Ilia inside out and it‘s the hottest thing he‘s ever seen, has ever done, and he knows he‘s not going to last long. „Fuck Ilia, I‘m so close.“ Misha moans and that‘s it, the heat snaps and Ilia comes so hard his vision whites out for a moment.

He‘s kind of mortified, because that was a minute, at most. But Misha was right there with him and is just as breathless.

He looks up and his eyes meet Mishas warm brown ones. 

„Ugh, that was so...“ Iia sighs, Misha nods fervently: „I thought about this so much. But, to be honest: I envisioned a carefully planned seduction, in a bed. This is ridiculous, but so much better.“ 

He gestures around them and Ilia can‘t help it, he starts laughing.

They are still standing next to the frontdoor, their pants are somewhere between knees and ankles and he didn‘t even take his shoes off. Misha is laughing as well, all graceful slender limbs and lithe muscle, their mixed cum is splattered everywhere, coating their still linked hands and Ilia thinks Misha’s never been this beautiful.

It makes his dick twitch weakly and perhaps he‘ll die of sexual overload before tomorrow comes. 

Before Ilia can think about what he‘s doing, he lifts their hands and licks their cum off of Mishas palm.

“You‘re going to kill me.“ swears Misha hotly, before he pushes Ilia into the wall again, their lips meeting in a filthy kiss.

They manage to detangle themselves from their pants and each other eventually, making their way to the shower.

Misha is falling asleep standing up, because jetlag is a bitch and Ilia finds some clothes for the both of them in Mishas bag, helps him dress and cuddles up to him in bed. It’s so domestic and comfortable and warm, Ilia knows he has the most sappy smile on his face. He‘s glad that Misha can‘t see it, because he‘s already sleeping.

He wakes up after a short nap, finds Misha still fast asleep and tightens his hold around the other.

A few minutes later Ilia rips himself away and finds his phone. He has four messages from his mom.

Ilia, where are you?

Why didn‘t you tell us you‘re going out?

I know you‘re with Mikhail, Alysa told me. Please call me.

Ilia? 

Ilia feels slightly guilty, he left the house as if it was on fire that morning. Not even telling his parents he was going out. He knows his parents probably want him to come to train that afternoon, but one glance at Misha and he knows, that he won‘t be able to leave anytime soon, because he‘ll surely die. 

Alysa’s right. I‘m with Misha. We‘re catching up. I‘ll see you tomorrow! 

He texts back. He is an adult and he can skip training, if he wants to. His parents are the ones who got Misha here, they can deal with the consequences.

And because he is a responsible adult and starving, he orders some food, groceries and other stuff. Misha is still sleeping, but Ilia knows he has to wake him up, otherwise the jetlag will kill him later.

“Misha“ he cards his hand gently through the others hair „Mish you gotta wake up.“

“I‘m sorry, I fell asleep.“ Misha yawns as he wakes up. „Stupid jetlag.“

He sits up, smiles at Ilia and yanks him down, so they‘re sitting next to each other on the bed.

“Why am I here?“ Misha asks suddenly.

“I didn‘t know anything about you coming, before my parents told me, but I think they are really worried about me. And with the Nika-thing…I think they guessed that you…and I…I…since the olympics I think I…I haven‘t been myself. The pressure and that free skate…I haven‘t had any fun skating, since then, I‘ve been going through the motions, even at worlds. And on top of that, since that thing with the stories, I can‘t stop…I‘m always thinking about you…and I had all these revelations about myself. It scares me and I‘ve been feeling like the most incompetent, oblivious and stupid person alive. And I’ve been so arrogant before and any moment now you‘ll tell me to leave, because I‘m such a loser.“

Ilia rambles, he‘s revealed far more than he wanted and to his horror, he‘s started to cry. The tears don‘t stop coming and he feels useless and stupid and crying…

And then Mishas arms are there, around him. He maneuvers them, so they are lying on the bed and holds Ilia. 

„I‘d never tell you to leave. Never. You‘re not stupid. I am. I‘ve been pining for you for years and I‘ve never…I was scared too. Of being wrong and making a move, because it would‘ve ruined everything, if I did and you weren‘t…and you know, ever since winning gold, there are times when I lie awake at night and I feel like I‘m the worlds biggest fraud, an impostor, because I shouldn‘t really have won gold.“

“Nobody deserved that medal as much as you. You‘re not a fraud, Misha.“

“And you‘re not a loser. Maybe we can agree that we are both stupid.“

Ilia feels better after unburdening himself.

“Have you told your parents? That you’re gay?“

Ilia nods. 

„Alysa too. They weren‘t really surprised, I think they suspected it. It went really well, I think. Do your parents know?“

„Yes. I first noticed that I was different when I was 14. I was really scared, because you know, my country isn‘t really the best country to be gay in or bi. And my parents, they were always so supportive and sacrificed so much for me and my wish to be a figure skater. I told them the next day and said that they could stop supporting me, because I couldn‘t imagine them loving me any longer. They were furious that I thought they’d stop loving me or supporting me. They‘re still scared though, that I‘ll meet someone who‘ll blackmail me, or is only with me for money.“

Ilia is horrified, but Misha just shrugs before he grins.

“But they‘ll be absolutely thrilled to meet you!“

Mishas certainty that he‘ll meet his parents eventually, leaves Ilia feeling warm, fuzzy and hopeful that it will all be good, in the end. 

He‘s glad when the food finally arrives and he can focus on something else.

They eat in comfortable silence, until Misha suddenly asks:

“Ilia, what you said earlier…What the hell is the „Nika-thing“?!“

Ilia just groans, before he starts laughing.

Chapter Text

OK. The Nika-thing. How to explain that without losing all dignity? Ilia‘s a bad liar, he doesn‘t want to lie to Misha, so he decides to just tell it all.

„The Nika-thing is the reason you‘re here, I think.  And something that will haunt me forever.“ he explains.

„You told me you were going on that trip. And because I‘m so in…into you, I, naturally, stalked you all over social media, to see if you‘d post something.“

„Naturally.“ Misha agrees grinning.

„And then, there was something, but it was from Nika. And he was with you and I wasn‘t. So I kind of thought, how I wanted to be him, and accidently said that out loud. In the kitchen, with my parents there.

And then they asked me why, of course, but I couldn‘t tell them about you, so I just said that I‘m gay and told them I wanted to be Nika because he‘s tall. And then I ran. And the next  thing I know is that you‘re coming here.

And that‘s the Nika-thing and now you know why I can never be in the same room as him again.“

Ilia closes his eyes as Misha starts to laugh. He‘s sure his face is bright red, but hey, at least he made Misha laugh, which is one of the best sounds ever.

„Ilia, I‘m so sorry. But this is so…cute?! And you‘re so, you‘re just so…“

His eyes are still closed when Misha stops laughing, he idly wonders when he stopped being cool and confident and became this mess. He’s startled out of his thoughts and his eyes snap open, when he feels Mishas weight across his lap, his knees bracketing Ilias hips on the armchair and his arms settling on Ilias shoulders. His brown eyes are warm and soft and being cool is overrated anyway.

Their lips meet in a soft kiss.

„You‘re so…you. And I‘m so…I‘m really really into you too. You know that right?!“

Ilia manages a nod, the warm fuzzy feelings from before return with a vengeance and he puts his hands on Mishas hips.

„You know, by the time we took that picture Nika was ready to throttle me. He told me he’d commit a crime if he had to hear your name one more time. Because he had to listen to me talk about nothing but you for two days by then.“ 

The warmth is spreading all through Ilias body, reaching every little molecule and the lingering hope that everything will be good in the end, spreads along with it.

And then Misha kisses him again and Ilia can think of nothing but him. Of the things they can do, all the ways to touch and kiss and…a thought of something Misha said earlier snags in his thoughts and it‘s so delicious, he has to know…

„Misha, what you said earlier.“ he manages to gasp between kisses. „Something about a carefully planned seduction? What was the plan?“

„The plan.“ Misha groans and he‘s just as breathless as Ilia, and the thought that Ilia caused this sends another thrill through his body.

„It‘s a great plan. Many steps. And the first step is to get your clothes off.“ 

With that Misha slides off of Ilias lap, grabs his hand and pulls him up. Ilia wants to protest, anything to get them back into the same space. But Misha is back on him in seconds, slipping his hands under Ilias shirt, moving them up his back, and taking the soft fabric with them. Ilia tries to suppress a shudder at the sensation. They‘ve barely done anything and he‘s already…ugh, and his mind just latches onto the next sensation, and it‘s been too long since they kissed.

„Kissing.“ He breathes. „Is there also kissing in the plan?“ 

“Yes,“ Misha hisses and surges forward to kiss Ilia again, trying to push his pants down at the same time „Lots of kissing.“ Misha whispers against Ilias lips and Ilia finally manages to free his feet from pants and underwear.

Misha takes a step back and Ilia realizes two things at the same time:

1.:  It‘s still midday, the sun is glaring through thin curtains and he‘s completely naked.

 2.: Misha is no longer touching him, but staring at him.

He‘s normally not self-conscious and he knows his body is great, but what if Misha has found something he doesn‘t like? Something he didn‘t notice earlier?

Ilia has to force himself not to try to cover up. He can feel the blush spreading on his face. But then Misha says his name and he sounds kind of desperate and he‘s back in Ilias space, one hand carding through his hair, the other roaming down his back. And there‘s no room for doubting or self consciousness or anything else but Misha and getting closer.

„The second step is to get my clothes off. Of course.“ Misha says, before kissing Ilias neck. Yeah, the plan, Ilia has to concede: It‘s a great plan, the best. He yanks Mishas shirt over his head, Misha pushes his pants down, kicks them off. And then Ilia‘s the one staring.

It should be illegal for a human being to be this pretty. During their earlier, frenzied handjob and the following shower Ilia‘d been too occupied by touching, kissing, by being allowed to touch and kiss, that he hadn‘t taken the time to just look.

But now, both of them standing in the glaring sunlight, Ilia looks. He must be the most graceful person alive. He‘s perfect.  The idea of ever wanting, loving anybody else seems like madness. Inconceivable madness. Ilia wants to touch every inch of him. The urge to touch streaming through his body is so strong, Ilia thinks he could physically touch it, if he wanted to. He‘s so desperately hard, it‘s almost embarrassing, but he knows that Misha isn‘t doing any better, just by looking at him, so Ilia thinks it‘s OK to be a little desperate.

“What‘s the next step?“ He manages to say and he feels a little coil of gratification, when Misha shakes his head, as if to clear it.

“The bed“, Misha clears his throat. „The next step is getting there.“ 

He looks flushed, his brown eyes wide, strands of messy hair framing his face and Ilia has no choice but to kiss him again.

Ilia cradles Mishas face in his hands, brushes his thumbs along his cheekbones and lets his tongue brush against Mishas. Mishas hands go everywhere, on his back, his sides, in his hair, down his back and they both gasp, when their bodies press closely together. 

„Bed.“ Misha moans against Ilias mouth and starts to steer them in the vague direction of the bedroom. Ilia nods, but he won‘t, no, he can‘t stop kissing Misha, just as Misha can’t stop touching him.

They stumble along and Ilia manages to show off his extraordinary reflexes, when he saves Misha from falling over the coffee table. He‘s not as lucky when his foot gets entangled in a shirt on the floor. Misha just manages to soften their impact into the doorframe with his hand. A framed picture crashes to the floor. He can feel Misha start to laugh against his lips, their eyes meet and Ilia starts giggling as well.

When they finally reach the bed, Ilia‘s just as breathless from laughing, as he is from arousal. He can‘t remember the last time he‘s been this happy. Some time around christmas, perhaps? Or maybe not even then. 

„That was a lot smoother in my head.“ Misha mutters through giggles, and it‘s then the position they‘re in fully registers for Ilia. He‘s lying on his back with Misha fully on top of him. He can feel his weight and where he‘d only ever encountered soft curves before, there‘s muscles and hard angles. It should probably feel weird, but instead it feels right.

Ilias laughter dies, his whole being becomes want and he bucks his hips up.

“Oh.“ Misha says „Oh, yes. The plan.“ And he kisses Ilia once, short and sweet.

“The next step is kissing you. Everywhere.“ And he does just that, starting with Ilias neck, working his way down his chest, his stomach, touching his lips to Ilias knees, his inner thighs and discovering a multitude of sensitive areas Ilia has never thought about before. Ilia‘s going mad with it, with wanting and arousal and his cock‘s so hard he‘s ready to burst.

“And then,“ Misha declares, sitting up between Ilias knees, smiling sweetly, glowing golden in the sunlight and so beautiful.

„Then I‘m sucking you off.“

And Ilia can feel the air leave his lungs in a whoosh. 

„Fuck.“ he says out loud, when Mishas tongue touches his cock, licking a broad stripe from base to tip and it‘s the hottest thing he‘s ever seen, the fucking view alone could probably get him off and then Mishas lips close around the head of his dick and his tongue is doing something incredible, while his hand starts to pump up and down. It‘s so good, warm and wet and it’s Misha. Ilia‘s dimly aware that he‘s moaning, drawn out and loud, his hand finds Mishas hair, and he‘s desperately trying not to buck his hips and then Misha starts sucking, their eyes meet. God. He lets his upper body drop back on the bed, because Misha is doing this thing with his tongue again and Ilia just manages to bark out a warning and then he‘s coming, and Misha just sucks and swallows, while Ilia falls apart, shaking and moaning.

“Oh my god. Misha.“ Ilia says, when he‘s remotely able to think again. Misha is holding him, his hand going up and down his back, carding through Ilias hair every so often.

„Was it good? I‘ve never done that before.“ Misha asks modestly, though Ilia can see the satisfaction in the way he smiles. 

„Couldn‘t you tell?“ Ilia counters and Mishas grin grows wider. Ilia kisses him again, tastes himself on Mishas tongue, and curls his hand around his hard cock.

“Ilia.“ Misha hisses against his lips and Ilia pushes him over so he‘s lying on his back.

“I think it‘s time to implement my plan now.“ Ilia says, he takes a deep breath and then he just goes for it and puts his mouth on Mishas dick. He‘s thought about it before, of course, about the taste and if it would be weird, but in the end, it‘s just skin and when he looks up to check Mishas reaction, he stops thinking about that at all. Mishas back arches so prettily, he should get all the points for presentation, always,  and in a stroke of genius Ilia slips his hands under his arched spine and grabs his ass. Which is still the absolute best. He sucks on the head of his cock experimentallly and is rewarded with a low groan and a hand in his hair. 

„Fuck Ilia. So good. Your mouth…your hands.“ He sounds desperate and Ilia looks up again and he‘s never seen anything this hot.

“Ilia.“ Misha gasps and Ilia doubles his efforts, he tries to imitate that thing Misha did with his tongue and tightens his fingers and is rewarded with a gasp and a moan.

„Ilia.“ Misha groans again. „Ilia, I‘m…I‘m so in love with you.“ He lights up Ilias world, only with words and just like that. And then he‘s coming, with a breathless little yelp that will be living rent free in Ilias head until the day he dies. Ilia wipes his mouth with his hand, crawls up the bed and kisses Misha again. 

They manage to get the duvet over the both of them and cuddle up to each other. Ilia ends up being the little spoon and he‘s almost asleep, when Misha starts talking behind him.

“Ilia, was that…was I…too intense? Too much? I don‘t want to scare you off. I mean, we first kissed, perhaps six hours ago and I‘m talking about love and…you have to tell me if it‘s too much.“ he mumbles into Ilias shoulder blade. Ilia turns around in Mishas arms, they‘re so close, their noses are almost touching. 

“I can‘t think of anything you could do that‘d scare me away.“ Ilia says, just as quietly.

“I‘ve been such a mess. I can‘t even remember the last time I really felt happy. I was just going through the motions I guess. But now you‘re here and I‘m so happy and when I think I couldn‘t be any more happy, you say or do something that makes me even happier. And I‘m very much in love with you too.“

He knows he‘s found the right words, when Misha smiles blindingly and tucks him even closer.

They fall asleep like that.

Early in the evening Ilia goes looking for his phone, he distractedly thinks that this day must set a new record for how little he‘s used it. 

But now he needs it, because the thought of leaving here tomorrow is unimaginable.

He texts his parents, that yes, he‘s fine, but he won‘t be back home tomorrow, he‘ll meet them at training the day after. With Misha.

They’ll think what they want anyway, so he doesn‘t elaborate. 

They use his phone to order some more takeout and Ilia chucks it in the vicinity of the sofa. Who needs socials and content when they have Misha?

In the evening Ilia starts to wait for that weird feeling he always gets in the evening, when he stays somewhere new for the first time. He also expects things to turn awkward, when it occurs to him that he‘s just assumed he‘ll be spending the night and never even asked Misha. Also: What kind of person doesn‘t bring anything when assuming they‘ll stay overnight?!

Misha generously shares his clothes with Ilia and it turns out that he really, really hoped Ilia would stay. And hey, at least Ilia took care of the essentials, when he ordered those groceries earlier: a toothbrush, cleaning solution for his contacts and lube.

It‘s comfortable, domestic and glorious, when they get ready to sleep and Ilia listens to Misha bitch about „the unsexiest device known to mankind“, the evil aligner he needs to wear while he sleeps now, because otherwise „The braces, it would have all been for nothing. Nothing, Ilia!“

They get each other off with their hands again in bed. Lazy, slow and warm. And Ilia thinks that it should always be like this, just one moment, one hour, one day after the other, before he falls asleep.

Chapter Text

The first time Ilia wakes up, it‘s still dark outside. He sleepily confirms that, yes, Misha is there, it wasn‘t just a dream, slings his arm around him and promptly falls asleep again.

The next time he wakes up it‘s already late morning. Ilia can‘t remember the last time he slept that well, it was…a very long time ago. 

Misha is still asleep and Ilia takes the time to look. He looks relaxed, even younger than awake, his hair is spread out on the pillow, his hand is clutching Ilias shirt. 

It’s unfathomable that this is real.

Ilia tries to ground himself in the moment, using the method the sport psychologist showed him, in case of anxiety or panic. Surely it also works in cases of being so happy that everything feels like an elaborate fantasy.

He counts five things he sees: Mishas nose, his hair, his lips, the little birthmark on his face and a small hickey on his neck.

Four things he can feel: Mishas hand through the fabric of his shirt, their legs touching under the sheets, the warmth of the moment everywhere and - 

„Ilia, stop thinking so loud.“ Misha whispers quietly.

“I can‘t believe this is real.“ Ilia whispers back, just as quietly. He lifts his hand and lets his index finger touch Mishas face, trailing down his forehead, down his nose, over his lips and stopping on his chin.

Mishas eyes blink open slowly.

“I‘m definitely real.“ Misha says. 

He takes Ilias hand and links their fingers, the familiar gesture grounding Ilia in a way nothing else can. 

Ilia leans in to kiss him, morning breath and all, but his stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud and then Misha remembers that he still has the dreaded aligners on his teeth. And because Ilias stomach won‘t stop making noise and Misha is up anyway they decide to eat first.

They eat the cereal Ilia‘s had delivered the day before, still in their (or better Mishas) sleepwear. Ilia feels the heady accomplished rush he always gets, when he‘s done something a responsible, reasonable adult would do. Like ordering food. But then Misha raises his arms over his head in a big stretch and his shirt rises with it and there‘s a thin strip of skin showing and all Ilia can think of is how he wants to lick that strip until Misha gasps above him and… how the hell is he ever supposed to compete with Misha again?! With all these see-through fabrics and tight pants and sweat…

Ilias thoughts are all over the place, just because of a small sliver of skin and the general Misha-ness and because he‘ll never, ever learn he just blurts out the first thought that doesn‘t sound completely insane in his head.

“Did you actually read any of those stories from that link during the Olympics?“

And as soon as he‘s said it, it occurs to Ilia that this is probably the most random and inane question he‘s ever asked.

Mishas eyebrows rise in surprise, at least Ilia isn‘t the only one surprised by his question.

“I…yes. Yes I did.“ Misha nods. And Ilia will be eternally grateful the he isn‘t making this any weirder than it already is.

“I told you, it was a good distraction. But also weird. And kinky. And I‘m not. I think. And I‘m not sure I understood everything. I think I read something where I was a werewolf and I got you pregnant? And there was also one with us crying all the time and I didn’t really get why…and then I stopped reading it, because I‘d rather think of you and us the way I wanted, not the way others do.“

Ilia nods, because that mirrors his own experiences with the stories. Misha grins:

„But, you know, when you send me the link to those stories. I really thought you‘d finally gotten one of my countless hints and were trying to flirt with me. In a really weird and underhanded way.“

Ilia almost chokes on his cereal. „More like propositioning.“ He mutters, thinking of some of the more racy stories he‘d read.

“But then you apologized like 30 seconds later and the next time we saw each other at the exhibition you told me for approximately the 600th time since we first met how you were so straight. And I kind of lost all hope for a moment, but then I caught you staring at my ass, again, and decided that perhaps you still needed a little bit more time, because clearly four years weren‘t enough. 

But you know, there‘s one thing that the people writing those stories really, really got right.“

“What?“

„How absolutely beautiful you are. With your big blue eyes and your hair and how your skin is so soft and I can‘t stop thinking of touching you and kissing you.“

He looks at Ilia, from under his lashes a sly little smile on his lips and Ilia - Ilia stares back, all thoughts of food forgotten. Misha thinks he‘s beautiful and what the actual fuck? And he knows he‘s blushing and he thinks he‘s never ever heard Misha talk that much at once. And then it dawns on him…

„Are you…Are you flirting with me?“ he asks.

“Is it working?“ 

Ilia nods and Mishas smile has turned a little smug and Ilia decides that two can play this game. He gets up and walks over to Mishas suitcase, that‘s still there on the floor. Because nobody bothered to unpack anything, except the clothes they‘re wearing right now, because Ilias got a bit…dirty, but Ilia‘s seen something else in this suitcase, something that‘s piqued his interest. Something which he grabs now.

“So you told me: You didn‘t know why you were coming here and you packed lube?“

“I always do, when I‘m going somewhere and you‘re going to be there. In case you finally get a clue.“ 

With that he gets up and stalks over to Ilia, Ilia can feel the anticipation building, feels the all encompassing warmth spreading again, but he can‘t let Misha have the last word.

“You tell the world how you‘re so awkward and act all shy, but oh my god, Mish! You‘re absolutely not. At all!“

Misha has the grace to blush, a little bit, at least.

“That‘s just because it’s you,“ He mumbles, suddenly just as awkward and shy as he claims to be.

„I know you‘re my person, you get me, and I know you won‘t judge me, even when I‘m being cringe as fuck.“

It’s Ilias turn to grab Mishas hand and link their fingers. They smile at each other for a moment. Ilia gets it, so so much.

“What were you planning to do then, with your lube?“ Ilia cringes inwardly, his conversational skills have always been subpar. But he knows that Misha won‘t mind, and it‘s OK.

Mishas smile widens.

“Since you also bought lube I guess you researched. I researched the fuck out of it and maybe we should try out the theoretical knowledge on a more practical level?“

Ilia all but drags Misha back to bed. His delighted laughter only fueling Ilia on. 

They‘re kissing again and it‘s been far too long and Ilia is so glad that they‘re only wearing T-Shirts and boxers, because they‘re naked in no time and he‘s pressing Misha into the mattress, kissing, kissing, kissing.

“Your fingers. I want your fingers in me. If that‘s…if that’s something you want too.“ Misha says in a rush.

“Yes. Lube.“ is the only thing Ilia can think and say and the relief he feels when he remembers that it‘s still in his hand is almost embarrassing.

Ilia‘s nervous, when he spreads the lube on his fingers, he wants to make this so good for Misha, and of course he‘d researched the hell out of the how-to‘s and why‘s as well, but he feels absolutely clueless now.

He starts sucking at Mishas cock slowly, to ease him into it, and when he thinks Misha‘s distracted enough, he slowly presses his finger in.

“Is it OK?“ he asks when he feels Misha stiffen up a bit.

It feels a bit anticlimatic when Misha says „It‘s weird.“ but Ilia knows that he‘s supposed to find that one spot (Mishas prostrate, his informed mind eagerly supplies), and he doubles the effort with his mouth until Misha starts moaning softly.

Ilia continues slowly moving his finger, trying different angles, sucking slowly and…

“Oh,“ breathes Misha. „Oh, there.“ And he has the most wonderful arch in his back again.

Ilia makes it his mission to find this spot again and again. Slowly using a second finger and more lube, always more lube. He’s taking Misha apart with his fingers and he feels like the worlds biggest sex genius and best multitasker, because he‘s sucking him off at the same time. And Misha is so hot and pretty, arching his back and groaning, their eyes meet and Ilia has to do something, anything to relieve the aching pressure in his own cock. And he‘s groaning as well now, long and loud and desperate when he realizes that his hands are moving in sync.

“Fuck, Ilia.“ Misha groans and Ilia knows he‘s close. 

„That‘s so good. You‘re so good. So beautiful.“

And the pressure is building, building, building.

Ilia doesn‘t even know who comes first, just that he‘s desperate and close and then it snaps.

He‘s already crawling up the bed, when he can think again. And then they‘re kissing again.

„Mish,“ whispers Ilia against Mishas lips. „Mish, Misha, Misha“, because that‘s all he can think of.

Chapter Text

It‘s the most wonderful and lazy day and Ilia wants it to last forever. 

He knows that they’ll have to return to real life, eventually. Tomorrow. Which is far too soon. It occurs to Ilia that he doesn‘t even know how long Misha will be here. 

A few days? A week? Two? What is he even doing here? How did his parents convince Mishas team to let him come here? He can‘t imagine that they‘ve let him travel around half the world just because Ilia was moping.

So many question and once more Ilia knows: He knows nothing.

Misha is occupied with finally unpacking his suitcase and bags, or he‘s supposed to, right now he‘s looking at something on his phone, and they‘ve actually put their clothes in the wash and Ilia wants to have this everyday. Them just existing in the same space together. The normal day to day life. But what about Misha? Ilia can‘t be sure. He thinks they‘re on the same page. But what if he read this all wrong?

Since he seems to be trying adulting and tackling adult responsibilities, Ilia knows:  There‘s only one thing he can do, to ease his worries. They have to talk. 

He just hopes that talk won‘t ruin everything.

„How long will you be staying here?“ Ilia starts off easy, at least he hopes it’s easy, because Misha seems to be as clueless as him.

Misha looks up from his phone and smiles brightly. Ilias heart skips about five beats.

“I just got the plan, the why I‘m here, actually. Just now. I‘ll be here…at least four weeks.“ he shrugs, a little helpless, a little excited and his smile turns blinding.

“I‘ll be training here, with you or at least next to you, I guess. And I‘ll work with your choreographer, because she‘ll be my choreographer as well, if it works out. There were plans in that direction set in motion to expand my artristry while I was still at home, because I have a lot more funding now. And I think they just sped it along. Which is kind of weird, but I won‘t question anything. I‘ll work with my team remotely, we‘ve done that before. So yeah, four weeks.“

It hits Ilia like a punch in the gut. A punch of happiness. He‘s dazzled and feels tingly and excited and he‘s sure he‘s grinning like a loon.

“Misha, that’s, that’s awesome. Four weeks! And I know, that this, I mean you and me, us, it’s only been a day, but I’d really, I’d really like…and I‘d have to get my stuff of course and probably check in with my cats every few days and my parents of course, but…fuck. And I‘m not making any sense, but I‘m so excited. 

What I mean is:

Can I stay here with you? As long as you‘re here? Only if that‘s something you want too…of course. And if you don‘t that‘s fine too. No pressure. I just…“

Ilia knows he‘s rambling. And he‘s so bad with words. And during this whole speech, they‘ve gravitated towards each other, like they always do. And Misha is there, right in front of Ilia, and they‘re hugging.

“I‘d love that.“ Misha mutters in Ilias hair and there seem to be tears in his eyes, which Ilia can absolutely relate to, because he‘s all teared up from happiness as well.

„What about people? What are we telling them? I want to tell my parents.“ Misha says quietly, still talking into Ilias hair.

Ilia shrugs.

“My parents somehow brought you here. And they know that we‘ve been holed up in here for the last two days and they‘re not stupid. So, I guess, parents, close friends. Maybe coaches. I want them to know about you. What you are to me. And us. Not the public, obviously, just our…our people, you know? And I don‘t want this to feel like something we have to hide or something to be ashamed of.“ 

Misha smiles blindingly again.

“I‘ve always sworn to myself that I wouldn‘t ever be anybodies dirty little secret. Not even yours. So yeah, yes. I guess I‘m all in.“

“I‘ve been all in, before I even knew I was in the game“ Ilia says, and then they are kissing again. 

Ilia is crying, again, because he‘s so happy, but it‘s OK, because Misha is sniffling suspiciously as well. And the kiss is all salty and maybe that‘s why people write about them crying so much - because they are.

Ilia can feel the want rising again and he‘s sure it‘ll never stop. He‘ll never stop wanting Misha. Somehow they make it back to bed, shedding their clothes along the way, and they‘ve already gotten better at navigating while kissing, because no accidents happen on the way. In no time Misha is pressing Ilia into the mattress and a thought emerges in Ilias head, so bright and loud he knows there‘s no chance to mute it.

“Misha,“ he gasps against Mishas lips. „Misha, I really want…do you want to have sex?“

And Misha pulls back and looks at Ilia, a little bit puzzled and says:

“We‘ve done nothing else since I came here.“

Ilia can feel himself blushing everywhere, god, why is he such a prude, he had his fingers up in Mishas butt, just hours earlier, but he can‘t say it, he can‘t…and it‘s absolutely Mishas fault as well, does he have to spell it out for him…?

“No, I mean like really…“ Ilia says and gestures weakly and he can see the dawning comprehension on Mishas face in real time, rising with a blush.

“Oh,“ Misha says. „Yes, yes I…uh…so, who…?“ he stutters, and Ilia feels immediatly  validated in his prudishness, because Misha is not any better, not even the tiniest bit. 

So Ilia says „I want you. In me.“ because he really, really wants to feel what Misha felt earlier, except, well - more. And Misha groans in the hottest and most lost way and their teeth clash because they‘re kissing again.

Misha gets up to fetch the lube and a condom at some point and he looks at Ilia so heated, Ilia thinks he swoons (if he did things like swooning, which - of course - he does not). And then he‘s back and settling himself between Ilias thighs and he sure did his research, because he‘s pressing kisses all over Ilias stomach, his legs, his cock and suddenly there‘s a finger inside of him and yes, it‘s weird, but Misha manages to distract him, because he‘s so fucking talented with his mouth, and he really does have the most beautiful hands. And it‘s like a spark shooting all the way up along Ilias spine, when Mishas finger brushes against that spot. Just once and then again and again. 

„Come on, another one.“ Ilia hears himself moan, through all the sensations. And there‘s a stretch but it‘s still so good, and the things Misha does with his mouth leave Ilia shaking. A third finger barely registers, because Misha‘s sucking at his cock again and…

“Mish, you gotta, you gotta stop. I‘m gonna come.“ and Ilia hears Misha fumbling with the condom and the lube and he‘s muttering the hottest little words in Russian and English all mixed up with breathless groans and then Misha‘s on him, pushing Ilias leg up, around his waist. And he‘s kissing Ilia, tenderly and almost shy.

“Tell me, if I hurt you.“ he says and he‘s pushing in and Ilia feels the stretch and it burns a bit, but the way Misha looks at him, and the way he‘s never felt closer to another person, and the fact that it’s Misha, it‘s all so worth it. Misha starts kissing Ilias neck, his face everywhere he can reach and Ilia knows there‘ll be a mark or two on his neck. Ilia feels himself groaning and he doesn‘t even know if it‘s from wanting or burning or both. Then he can feel Misha moving, inside of him, just the tiniest movements and he‘s looking right into Ilias eyes so wrecked and loving and Ilia is so so sure of everything…

“Mish.“ Ilia gasps. „You gotta know. I‘m yours. I‘ve only ever been yours.“

There‘s that bright blinding smile again and Mishas voice is all hoarse and maybe he‘s crying again, when he says: „Ilia, yes. Yes. I‘m yours. Always.“

Ilia slings his second leg around Mishas hip.

“Fuck Misha. Come on, you can…you can move.“ 

Misha starts moving, he‘s changing the angle of his movements minutely and yes, yes, there it is. Ilia‘s burning in the best possible way. He‘s burning from the inside out, he‘s never felt anything better, anything more intense, he‘s never felt more loved. 

“Fuck. Ilia.“ Misha pants into Ilias ear, his thrusts getting more confident and harder, Ilia feels his own body responding, they‘re moving together and then Misha‘s reaching between them, he wraps his hand around Ilias cock and he‘s stroking him. Ilia knows he‘s so close, the feeling‘s bleeding out all through his body warm and sharp and building, building, building.

He thinks he cries out when he comes, but he can‘t be sure. All he knows is the warmth of Mishas body, how he‘s shaking and moaning through his own orgasm. His teeth on Ilias shoulder and there‘ll definitely be a mark tomorrow, which sends another thrill cursing through Ilia.

It feels kind of weird, when Misha slips out, but Ilia hardly notices, because the aftershocks are still trailing all through his body. Misha disposes of the condom and fetches a towel, he collapses next to Ilia after he‘s cleaned them up, slings his arms around him and starts laughing. Loud and bright and happy. 

Ilia joins in, he‘s so so happy.

“Ilia, that was…you Are. So incredible. I love you so much.“ Misha says at last, still breathless form laughter, the prettiest thing Ilia has ever seen.

“I love you too.“ Ilia answers and he knows it‘s true with all his heart.

That night in bed, just before falling asleep, they start talking about the future, how they‘re going to sync their schedules, how they‘ll be together as much as they can.

Misha suggests choreographing a pairs skate for exhibitions and Ilia decides it will be for the exhibition, the last one before they‘re going to retire. In 5 years or so. It will be the best fucking hard launch of all time.

He declares he‘s going to teach Misha the raspberry twist first thing in the morning. Just to prepare.

Ilia knows, as he falls asleep: The future is going to be so fucking great!