by Teagan Kade
“How did you surmise that?” I query.
Dimitri laughs. “My darling. I’m gay, not blind. I agree he’s pleasant to look at, but a distraction he is nonetheless.”
Dimitri takes out two blue pills from his pocket, popping them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He had a bad fall during practice a year ago and has been on strong painkillers ever since. He’s clearly addicted, but you’d have better luck getting a brick to do ballet than convince him of that. He’s the best skater I know, but that doesn’t mean he’s an angel out of the rink.
Who is?
If there’s one thing the skating community is not, it’s boring. Just look at Tonya Harding.
Of course, the risk with Dimitri is always greater. Homosexually is still frowned upon in our country. You’d think it was the middle ages.
Helena arrives with one of the Russian team officials. Together they look like a Russian version of American Gothic.
“Viktoriya,” says Helena, voice firm, “we need you.”
“Someone’s in trouble,” Dimitri trills behind me.
I throw him the bird, one of my favorite Americanisms.
Helena and the official lead me into a quiet corner of the stadium. Helena stands back and lets the official do the talking.
He reads from a clipboard. “You were seen in the dining hall with one of the American hockey players.” He glances up to me for a response.
“Yes,” I answer. “Is that a problem?”
Helena and the man exchange a look before he continues. “Did you divulge any information to the player in question that might to be America’s advantage in the Games?”
I laugh. “Are you serious? I cannot sit down for a simple meal with another competitor without being interrogated? Isn’t that what the Games are all about, different countries coming together?”
Sure. Just not Russia and America.
The official looks down at his clipboard before smiling up at me. “Who our athletes engage with, both privately and professionally, is of the upmost importance if we are to succeed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” I reply, irritated. “Do you understand this is ridiculous?”
The official looks to Helena before walking away. “Good day.”
Helena waits for him to go before speaking. “You cannot be seen with the Americans, Viktoriya. Think about how it looks.”
“I will do what I want.”
“As long as it does not involve pretty boy American hockey players.”
“So you’re on my case too?”
“Yes,” she says matter-of-factly, “for your own good.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask.
“It means get back on the ice, Viktoriya. You’ve got training to do.”
CHAPTER FIVE
LIAM
It’s a minute after midnight when Viktoriya approaches. The Russian jacket has been replaced in favor of a black, casual item with a faux fur hoodie. She’s wearing jeans that are vacuum-sealed to her legs, and yet all I want to do is take them off.
“You came,” I begin, as she stands smiling.
“I did.”
“Your coach doesn’t know you’re gone?”
Viktoriya laughs, eyes alive. “There could be nuclear war outside and she’d be none the wiser she sleeps so soundly.”
I brush past her on my way down the hall, my cock already tightening against my pants. “Follow me. Stay quiet.”
The dormitories and athletes quarters are whisper quiet at this hour. We make our way up the emergency stairs until we come to a door leading to the roof of the first apartment building.
Viktoriya tries the doorknob. “It’s locked.”
I take out my wallet, selecting a card of appropriate thickness and holding it up to her. “Do you remember that naughty boy in your neighborhood, the one always making trouble? The one your neighbors would shake their head at as they strolled by? I was that boy.”
I slide the card down the doorjamb, the door unlatching and whining inwards. “Ladies first.”
We come up to the roof of the apartment building. It’s a clear sky, a swath of stars watching overhead. Light snow falls like sifted flour from the moonlight above.
Below, someone is playing Photography by Ed Sheeran.
Viktoriya smiles up at the sky while I close the door. “It’s beautiful up here.”
I lead her over to the side. “How are you with heights?”
She smacks her lips. “I’d take a roller coaster over a rocking chair any day of the week.”
“Is that another Russian proverb?”
She smiles. “Just a way of saying I prefer excitement over languor.”
We stand shoulder to shoulder looking down at the Olympic village below, the various venues lit up even at this late hour. “I take it you’ve never been to Korea before?”
“No, and you?”
I shake my head. “What about the States?”
“Definitely not. It would look like defection.”
I turn to her and cannot get over how beautiful she looks lit porcelain under the moonlight. “But would you like to go, one day?”
“With you?”
I stand up straight, soft clouds forming against the cold as I speak. “Who else is going to show you where to get the best burgers in LA?”
“We do have burgers in Russia, you know.”
I wave it off. “With specially brined pickles, tomato sauce that simmers for days, and a patty so god damn delicious you’d sell your soul for it? Do you have those burgers?”
She turns her head to me, her eyes the same lit amber as the lights below. “You’d sell your soul for a burger?”
I let my eyes drop. “Amongst other things.”
She laughs. “You American boys with your one-track minds.”
“Let’s change the subject then,” I shrug. “Tell me about Russia, what you like about it.”
Viktoriya pauses for a moment. “We have an excellent training program, facilities…”
“I wasn’t asking about skating.”
Her reflection becomes deeper, a sadness shifting into her eyes almost imperceptible. “To be honest, there’s not a lot to like when it comes to the country itself. It’s steeped in corruption, ruled by misogynists… It can be pretty, sure, but there’s ugliness under the surface.”
“There’s nothing you’re looking forward to going back to?”
“I have a niece—my only family.”
“You do?”
“Anna,” she nods. “She’s three, has the most adorable, pinchable cheeks. She’s an angel.”
“As are you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Flattery will get you nowhere, Captain America.”
I bring my hand up to her face and stare into her eyes, notice the way snowflakes have caught in her hair. “It’s gotten me far enough.”
I kiss her, without effort, simply allowing myself to fall forward against her lips.
Her mouth is warm and her lips smooth, all sense of time and place lost.
I pull away, looking into her eyes before kissing her again—different now, deeper and full of need.
I bring my other hand up to her face, pulling her into it, languishing in the warmth and softness of her lips, a perfect counterpoint to the cold.
I let my tongue shift forward into her mouth. She grinds against my erection, the heat of our bodies creating a fire between us that threatens to rage out of control.
And I want it. I want this recklessness.
We pull apart and I sense the hesitation, but it’s fleeting, Viktoriya leaning forward for more.
I let my left hand fall down her side, coming under her thigh and lifting her leg against me, the denim of her jeans hot.
There’s a sort of concrete shelf to our right. I lift her under the ass, never breaking the kiss, and lay her down upon it, the snow continuing to fall soundlessly around us, clouds billowing out from our mouths thanks to our frantic breathing, the desperation to have on
e another now, at all costs.
I lay Viktoriya back on the shelf and draw the zipper of her jacket down, sliding my hands under her shirt to lift it high on her chest, her bra popping upwards. Exposed, her nipples are diamonds in the cold, hard to the touch.
I take hold of her jeans and panties together, drawing them down her legs and taking in the heady scent of her arousal.
She moans as I come over her, pulling a nipple into the warm enclosure of my mouth.
Her fingers run through my hair. She says my name, whispers it in silent prayer as I work my way down her stomach.
I kneel in the snow, pressing apart her thighs with my hands and taking in the beauty of her most private place, the delicate lines of her vulva so wet and inviting caught in the moonlight.
I apply pressure on her clit with the flat of my tongue, the insides of her thighs flushed and heavy against the sides of my face. She rocks back and forth, fingers pulling and weaving in my hair, drawing me towards her slick center.
Her pussy twitches against my chin as I suck on her clit, pulsing against it. My cock’s painfully hard. It wants in.
I lower my head and drive my tongue like an arrowhead deep into the tight vise of her sex. Her legs snap against my head, her entire body lifting from the table.
Her breathing is rapid as I return to her clit, the clouds puffing out from her mouth coming in quicker and quicker succession, a human steam chain climbing and climbing towards completion.
She’s close, but I don’t want her to come yet. I want her to come around my cock, to feel her pussy convulse and tighten against it.
I want to feel her fucking explode.
CHAPTER SIX
VIKTORIYA
This is reckless. I know it, but I don’t care because there is a burning thirst inside me only Liam can quench.
I open my eyes and see the moon above beaming down on us, at Liam’s smiling face lifting from the space between my thighs.
His hands slide forward and I give in, arching my back for his hands to find better purchase on the pale globes of my breasts. He lightly pulls my nipples from my body, lets them fall back into shape against me, sharp pangs of desire travelling from the sensitive towers right to my wetness below.
I don’t do this. I don’t give into anyone so easily, but now, in this moment, I’m powerless.
I moan as his hands shift away. The snow crunches under my back, the cold under my ass in stark juxtaposition to the heat coming from my core.
Icy hands move from my breasts up the side of my neck, a finger hooking into the side of my mouth and pulling it open. I mew against it as Liam’s free hand pushes my legs wider apart.
My pussy yawns open between them, wet and steamy with desire, ready to be fucked and filled until I can barely breathe.
I’m shaking with need, goosebumps lifting around my areolae, my nipples puckering against the chilly air. I claw at the table with my hands, the snow burning against my exposed skin.
Suddenly, Liam’s hands are gone.
I lift myself up onto my elbows to find him pressing his pants down, sheathing himself with one hand while the other plays with my clit, strumming and padding it until I’m moaning freely again, icy clouds puffing out from my mouth.
“Please,” I tell him. “I need you inside me.”
He wastes no time, driving deep into my pussy—a single, fluid thrust filling me completely.
I gasp, mewing as a pained flush of pleasure washes over me. He’s bigger than I thought.
I can’t believe this is happening, here, now. It’s completely surreal.
Liam’s hands span out of the smooth skin of my chest. He rocks forward hard, his giant cock shifting deep into the slickness of my tender pussy.
I reach up to hold my breasts in place as they lift and fall, my nipples too sensitive to touch.
Liam takes hold of my thighs, breathing hard himself, groaning as he drives forward, deeper.
I’m being overloaded. Too much is happening—the very real cock that’s sliding in and out of my body, the cold and heat and dry and wet, the constant pressure against my clit dragging me further and further to abandon.
“Harder,” I gasp, and Liam complies, sinking over me and locking his lips against mine, his hips swiveling all the while.
With each thrust I slide back and forth on the icy puddle that’s formed between my jacket and the concrete, water and snow falling from the edge with barely a sound.
The kiss deepens and I reach for his buttocks, using my hips to lever myself against his driving erection.
My climax is approaching, welling up inside me. Liam shifts upwards, the head of his cock rubbing against the roof of my pussy, his pelvis hard against my clit. I can smell us, the act, the arousal, feel and taste him against my mouth. And I want more, my fingers digging into his ass, beckoning to somehow take his huge member further and deeper, right to the end of me.
I’m panting in quick succession, Liam breaking the kiss to slide out and flip me over onto my stomach.
My cheek against the cold bite of the concrete, he grips my ass and drives himself to the hilt, hammering into my wetness with new intensity, each thrust harder than the last until I don’t know if I’m crying or screaming or lost somewhere in-between.
“Yes,” I cry, snow against the corner of my mouth, “yes.”
He grunts, struggling against my tightness. I squeeze and his cock jerks in response inside me. A breeze picks up around us, a steady rush of air whipping my hair around my head.
I can’t hold out, my orgasm moments away against this onslaught. I’ve never come from straight sex like this. I’ve always needed a man to go down on me, toys, but there’s something about Liam’s length and angle, the way he’s moving against me that’s bringing it on. It’s inevitable.
The familiar pull starts at my core, feathering up my spine. I’m bucking on the table having lost all control, throwing my hips back against Liam’s frantic thrusting, a cold sweat on my skin. A river of sensation opens up inside me. I can’t stop it. I can’t hold out.
“Come,” he commands, voice raspy and deep, “come now.”
I tense and release, let my orgasm roll and fall through my body. I know I’m screaming aloud, but I can’t do anything to stop it. My clit pulses, each sending fresh pangs of pleasure throughout my body, my mouth slack and open.
Liam runs to the end of me and stiffens, his cock convulsing against the tight walls of my pussy in turn, grunting in desperation as he comes.
I’m caught, a prisoner to my orgasm and the elements, jerking against the table and snow, unable to find the control and poise I have on the ice.
This is the antithesis of who I am as an athlete, my training and measured calm.
This is the best kind of chaos.
Liam draws away and I turn over, still panting.
A flashlight flickers from the rooftop of the next building across, someone I can only assume to be security shouting in Korean.
I push myself off the shelf and scour the ground for my jeans and panties, my legs still shaking underneath me.
I pull my jeans up just as the light disappears.
Liam kisses me full on the mouth, his smile intoxicating. “That was incredible, but if we want to keep this going, we need to leave—now.”
He takes my hand and we run to the open door, laughing as we bound down the stairs, a final kiss before we separate.
I manage to make it around the corner to my building, zipping up my jacket just as a group of security guards goes rushing by, oblivious to the carnal act that just unfolded above.
CHAPTER SEVEN
LIAM
Bogdan’s eyes don’t move from me as I make my way over to Viktoriya, to the dining room table we’ve deemed as no man’s land between the Austrians and Australians. I place my tray down, smiling like I’m seventeen again. “So, Miss. Kuznetsov, what did you get up to last night?”
She shrugs, pushing scrambled egg across her plate. “Oh, nothing much.”
Her honey-filled eyes flick up to me. My cock hardens against the underside of the table. I can feel the phantom grip of her pussy even now, the way it squeezed and contracted as she came. “I did meet a strange man on the rooftop.”
I play along, cutting a hash brown in half. “You did, did you? And what did this ‘strange man’ have to say?”
She smirks, leaning back and running a hand through her hair. “He was more about action than words, I’m afraid.”
“Was he now?”
Viktoriya takes her cell out, bringing up a news website and pointing to the headline picture that’s filling the screen. “See for yourself.”
The picture is grainy, blurry, and looks to be taken with an extremely long telephoto lens. It shows two figures engaged in what certainly seems like hanky panky on the roof of a certain athlete’s village tower.
I scroll down through the story.
Viktoriya snatches her cell back, still smiling. “Don’t worry. It was too far away. No one knows who it was up there… half-naked… under the moonlight.”
My cock jerks in response, hungry for a re-run.
“You’re not worried about this at all, are you?” I say.
She jerks her head to the side, to the countless athletes looking into their own cell phones, hushed whispers of ‘Who is it?’, ‘Who could it be?’, and ‘Is that so-and-so’s ass?’.
“News spreads fast in the village,” she tells me.
She pops the last of the scrambled egg into her mouth. “I need all the energy I can get after last night.”
You should marry this girl, I think. Get down on your knee right now and beg for her hand.
She takes a slip of paper out of her pocket, sliding it across the table. “My number.”
I take it, glancing around the room to see if I’m being watched, but Bogdan’s left and everyone else is too swept up in the rooftop sex scandal to care otherwise. I place the slip into my trouser pocket. “How very analog of you.”
“Says the man who provided the paper invitation only yesterday.” She shrugs, raven hair bouncing on her shoulders precisely the same way it did last night when she came. “Besides, best not to leave a digital trail.”
“You mean like a photo of us fucking on the rooftop.”
