“That’s it. Muscle it out,” Louise shouted as they skated by. “Stay strong.”
Their last element was the lift. Each season there was a different style of lift required in the short program, and this year it was a hand-to-hand lift. He skated backward with Bailey facing him and took her hands.
“You got this,” she said as she gripped him. Sometimes they talked to each other during programs. It really depended on the day, and there was no rhyme or reason.
Bending his knees deeply, Dev pressed her up above his head with his arms straight as he began rotating down the length of the ice. They changed positions as Dev grabbed her hip with one hand and Bailey extended her legs out into a star position, her upper body parallel to the ice. She still grasped his other hand but then let go and lifted her arm to complete the star. Dev extended his own arm, balancing her just on one arm while she held on to his shoulder with her free hand. To bring her down, he lowered her over his shoulder and she spun out of the lift.
With speed and vigor, they skated into their final position standing back to back. Louise clapped and nodded, and Dev raised his hand for a high five.
Bailey slapped his palm with a grin. “Let’s do it again.”
“The next bus isn’t for an hour. I’m going to go take a run around the arena before I hit the showers. See you in a bit,” Bailey said before disappearing into the locker room.
It had been a long day, and Dev was more than ready to relax and let the steam soak up some of his aches and pains. He nodded to one of the Russian ice dancers as he walked into the locker room. Most of the skaters had caught the earlier bus, it seemed. Andrew glanced up as he finished lacing his sneakers.
“Hey, man. I was thinking about going for a run. You up for it?”
“No, but if you hurry, you can catch up with Bailey.”
Andrew’s face lit up. “Seriously? Later!” He disappeared so quickly he practically left a vapor trail.
The ice dancer chuckled. “So much energy,” he said in a thick accent. “To be so young again.”
“What are you, twenty-five?”
“Da. Feels like forty-five right now.” He rubbed his lower back.
“I hear ya.”
Dev unlaced his skates and stripped out of his simple black practice clothing. He pulled his flip-flops from his bag and grabbed a towel. The showers were down a short hallway. As he passed the door to the sauna, he saw a few skaters baking inside. The long shower room was divided into ten curtained stalls, with five on each side.
He headed toward the back and hung his towel on the hook beside the stall. There was one other shower running, but it stopped as Dev stood outside his stall, waiting for the water to reach the right temperature. He turned automatically when he heard the curtain sliding back.
Hand frozen in midair as he reached for his towel, Mikhail stood several feet away in the doorway of a stall on the other side of the room. Water dripped down his taut, lean body, and Dev couldn’t stop from staring at Mikhail’s long, uncut cock, hanging with his meaty balls. A trail of dark hair led down from his belly button to a neatly trimmed thatch. A small tattoo of a flying bird drawn with black lines—an eagle, perhaps?—adorned Mikhail’s left hip.
What am I doing? Danger, Will Robinson! Danger!
Dev’s throat was suddenly dry, and he forced his gaze back up. Mikhail’s blue eyes were dark, and he licked his lips. The silence stretched taut between them. Then Mikhail moved, but instead of leaving, he shoved Dev back into the shower stall and under the warm water. Dev hit the wall and before he could even blink, Mikhail was on his knees, his hands like brands on Dev’s hips.
Gone was the cool and collected competitor as Mikhail looked him up and down, eyes wild. It felt as if all the blood in Dev’s body rushed to his dick, and he couldn’t move—could barely breathe—as he waited to find out what happened next. What were they doing? They hated each other. They shouldn’t want this. Yet Mikhail stared up at him hungrily as if waiting for permission.
Dev gripped Mikhail’s hair, gasping as Mikhail swallowed his cock almost down to the root, one hand wrapped around the base as he hollowed his cheeks.
“Oh fuck,” Dev whimpered. It was so hot and wet and amazing. Mikhail’s lips stretched over him, and he stared up, completely open in a way Dev had never seen, not even during their madness in Kyoto. Everything Dev hated about Mikhail—his arrogance and cold perfection—was flung away in the messy, desperate sucking as he swallowed Dev fiercely.
All of Dev’s defenses shattered, and he gave in. Fingers tangling in Mikhail’s hair, he pumped his hips, unable to control himself. He was about to apologize, but Mikhail moaned softly and urged him on, opening his mouth wide, his hands loosening on Dev’s hips. Eyes falling shut, he took Dev’s thick cock eagerly as Dev rocked his hips and fucked Mikhail’s mouth.
They should stop this. Someone could walk in at any moment. Good God, they were at the Olympics! Chest heaving, Dev pulled out, his dick smacking Mikhail’s cheek. Dev opened his mouth to say something—anything!—that would bring them to their senses, but he could only stare at Mikhail’s wet lips and raw, lust-darkened eyes.
Someone will find us!
But then, his eyes locked with Dev’s, Mikhail teased the foreskin and traced the throbbing vein on the underside of Dev’s shaft with his tongue. Groaning, Dev reached blindly for the curtain and whipped it shut, unable to tear his eyes away from the man at his feet.
He finally had Mikhail Reznikov on his knees, and he’d never imagined it would be like this.
Okay, maybe he had, but it was so much better than his deepest fantasies—the ones he hadn’t wanted to acknowledge even to himself. Mikhail’s cheeks were flushed, water dripping over his pale skin in the steamy shower, and he was all beautiful abandon, free and hot-blooded the way he’d never seemed on the ice.
Mikhail took over sucking Dev greedily again, his fingers teasing along Dev’s crack. It was so hot, and Dev wanted to cry out, but pressed his lips together with a whimper. “Don’t stop,” he whispered.
As he took in every inch, Mikhail jerked his own cock, and Dev imagined what it would be like to touch Mikhail himself, to taste him and swallow him to the root, to bury his face in Mikhail’s ass and fuck him with his tongue and get him ready for more. He wondered how Mikhail liked it and how tight his ass would be and whether he’d let Dev inside.
At the thought, Dev stifled a cry, and Mikhail sucked even harder. When he fondled Dev’s balls, it was all over. Dev tried to warn him and push his head away, but Mikhail wouldn’t move. The pleasure was a tidal wave, and Dev banged his head on the slick wall as he shook with the power of his release.
Mikhail swallowed repeatedly as Dev shot his load, milking him until it dribbled down his chin and he pulled off with a dirty pop. Before Dev could put a thought together, Mikhail was jacking himself off furiously. He came with a breathy moan, shuddering.
Dev’s knees were weak. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them, he realized that, yes, he was in fact in a public shower with his sworn enemy panting at his feet. Mikhail sat back on his heels and rested his head against Dev’s hip. He looked up, his face soft and vulnerable. He seemed so much younger suddenly.
Before Dev knew what he was doing, he caressed Mikhail’s hair. He was struck with the urge to take Mikhail to bed and hold him close, to curl around him and kiss him until they slept. Sighing, Mikhail leaned into Dev’s touch and murmured something in Russian before pressing a kiss to Dev’s inner thigh.
Oh my God, I’ve lost my mind. It’s official. I’m insane.
Dev swallowed hard. “Um. I don’t…we…” He cleared his throat. “Mikhail…”
“Misha.”
“What?”
He got to his feet and stared at Dev intently. “Misha. This is what friends call me.”
“I’m not your friend.” Dev was simply stating a fact.
Mikhail—Misha—smiled softly. “No. You are my…little rebellion.” He press
ed their lips together gently. “Thank you for that.”
“I…you’re welcome? We shouldn’t…we can’t.” But I don’t ever want to stop.
Mikhail’s expression clouded. “No. We can’t.” He leaned their foreheads together. “But it felt good, yes?” he whispered.
Then he was gone, the plastic curtain waving in his wake.
Dev stood under the water and closed his eyes.
Yes.
Chapter Four
“Explain to me why you didn’t take a shower at the rink? Again? Because this is an hour-long bus ride, and you stink.” Bailey curled her lip.
“I didn’t feel like it.” Dev knew it was a lame answer, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. On the ice, he could shut off his mind and stay focused. But as soon as he stepped off the rink, he was anxious and on edge, desperate to see Misha again. Even though he knew how dangerous it was. If people found out, it would affect Bailey’s career as well. The Feds would lose their collective shit, for starters. Dev had been so reckless twice now, and he didn’t trust himself even a little.
“Why are you such a grump? We had a good practice.”
He sighed. “I’m just tired. I’m sorry. It’s not you.” His stomach churned. He hated not telling Bailey what was really going on. She was always the person he’d go to with a problem. But he couldn’t tell her about Misha. Not now, right before the biggest competition of their lives. It was his job to protect her, and he had to protect her from the truth until after the event.
“Duh. Of course not. I’m practically perfect in every way. It couldn’t be me.”
Dev chuckled and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “It’s true. I have the perfect partner.”
“Yeah you do.” She kissed him back. “And she’s going to leave you to your broody man-thoughts and go gossip with Shelby. I hear there is drama in the Canadian camp. It’s always the quiet ones.”
Dev watched the dark countryside go by, the imposing Alps gleaming in the moonlight and dominating the landscape. He needed to get it together and forget about what happened. On the ice, he was able to shut off his brain and throw himself into practice. At this point, they were so well trained and he could do the programs with his eyes closed. He breathed through every movement, letting them take over his mind and body completely.
But once he left the rink, his brain flew into overdrive with a whirl of conflicting thoughts and feelings. Confusion. Curiosity. Lust. Dev had been with his fair share of men over the years and had a few relationships, but he’d never experienced anything like this before. He knew it was pathetic to hustle from the locker room as if he was afraid of Misha, but he was terrified of his own weakness.
Misha. He’d tried to fight it, but Dev found now that he couldn’t think of him as Mikhail. It was such a forbidding, formal-sounding name—which had fit perfectly when he’d been Dev’s hated rival. But the needy, passionate man on his knees in the shower, with his pupils blown and lips swollen? That was Misha.
It was as if Dev saw him for the first time. It wasn’t only the mind-blowing sex. Dev found himself wondering what Misha was really like. He’d seemed so vulnerable afterward, resting his head against Dev’s thigh, laid utterly bare in more ways than simply being undressed. He was commanding and austere on the ice, but he’d willingly fallen to his knees and taken everything Dev could give him as if he needed it like oxygen.
For the past few years, Mikhail had been more of an idea than a man—the perfect machine that Dev and Bailey had to conquer to win. Dev could admit that technically, Kostina/Reznikov were exquisite. The height of their throws and twists, their speed and unison—they made it all look so effortless. Yet Dev had always found their skating cold and impersonal. Soulless.
But now he’d glimpsed Misha’s soul in his guileless eyes as he’d submitted so eagerly to Dev. Where Dev had once thought him impossibly shallow, now it felt as if there were oceans there beneath the surface. Dev was consumed with the need to discover more. Discover everything.
He sighed and leaned his forehead against the cool window. The memory of Misha kissing him so sweetly filled his head—the softness of his lips and scrape of his five-o’clock shadow against Dev’s thigh. His final whisper echoed in Dev’s mind. It had felt so good, and he longed to feel it again. To explore further and lose himself.
But more than that, he wanted to see Misha smile again. He couldn’t recall if he’d ever heard him laugh, although he must have at some point, surely. What kind of movies did Misha like? What kind of food? What did he like to do off the ice?
Dev groaned softly. It was official. He didn’t just want to have sex with Misha again. He wanted to go on a date.
After dinner in the buzzing dining hall, Dev left Bailey—still gossiping, and he had to admit he’d really enjoyed the story about the dressing room diva throwdown after one of the Canadian women cut the other off just before a jump in practice. He returned to the apartment block, and as he walked into the lobby, his heart skipped a beat.
Looking long and lean and utterly fuckable in jeans and a Henley, Misha leaned against the wall near a seating area, tapping at his phone. He glanced up as the door closed behind Dev with a soft thud. When he met Misha’s hungry gaze, Dev’s pulse rocketed. He stopped in his tracks. Should he go over? Should he run to the elevators? Should I slap myself because I’m acting like a teenage girl?
Without a word, Misha turned and headed for the two elevators on the far side of the lobby. He pressed the button.
Dev’s feet moved, and a moment later he stood next to Misha, watching the numbers tick down as one of the elevators neared. There was a foot between them, but Dev could feel an electric heat skittering over his skin. A few other people fell in behind them as they boarded the elevator. When Dev moved to press the button for his floor, Misha caught his wrist before Dev could raise it. His touch burned, and Dev glanced at him, but his face was impassive. Keeping his gaze forward, Misha raised his other hand and slowly, with purpose, pressed the button for his floor.
Dev’s breath stuttered.
Get off on my floor. Press the button now before it’s too late. Press it. Press it!
Dev watched his floor go by without any regret. Anticipation roared through his body and his heart pounded as he followed Misha off the elevator and down the hall. He held his breath, hoping they wouldn’t run into anyone who knew them. Misha’s teammates were all likely housed nearby, and if they saw them—
But they didn’t, and a moment later they were inside Misha’s room with the door closed. It was identical to Dev’s, but on the opposite side of the building. Dev leaned back against the door. It was dark in the room, but the blind was up, and moonlight cast them in a silvery glow. Misha stood by the far bed near the window, watching Dev silently.
“Your roommate…”
“Gone to dinner with his girlfriend. Spending the night at her hotel.”
“Oh.” Dev was breathing shallowly. “Okay.”
Misha peeled off the Henley and popped the button on his jeans. “Okay,” he repeated.
Dev wanted to lick Misha’s dark nipples and run his hands across his broad chest, down to his cut abs and lower. There was nothing left to say. Pulse thundering, he closed the distance between them and took Misha’s head in his hands. He traced Misha’s lips with his thumb, and Misha opened his mouth and sucked it in slowly.
They kissed deliberately, exploring each other’s mouths, hands roaming until the need was too much and Dev had to be naked. Evidently Misha felt the same, and he tore at Dev’s shirt and ripped it over his head before rubbing their chests together.
Both moaning, they stripped off the rest of their clothes in a fevered rush, kissing and touching and grinding against each other like dogs in heat. Dev was going to get off soon just like that, standing there by the bed, but then Misha broke free and snatched a small bottle of lube off the bedside table. A box of condoms sat there as well, and Dev realized Misha had prepared for this—had waited in the lobby and enticed Dev back
to his room.
Dev’s stomach clenched. He wasn’t sure how to feel. Angry? Flattered? Was this all a game? Was he being played? He searched Misha’s gaze and found only heat and longing there, open desire in his parted lips as Misha slicked his long fingers and climbed on the bed.
As Misha moved onto his hands and knees, Dev stared, mesmerized. The lean muscles in Misha’s back and arms gleamed in the moonlight, his thighs flexing as he reached back with his right hand to spread his round ass. His hole exposed, he started fucking himself, a breathy moan escaping his lips. He looked over his shoulder to where Dev stood, frozen.
If this was a game, Dev couldn’t do anything but play.
Dick throbbing, he knelt behind Misha on the narrow bed and slicked his own fingers before knocking Misha’s away. Misha cried out as Dev pushed two fingers inside. Misha’s hole was shockingly tight, and Dev removed one of his fingers.
“Nyet. I want it. Fuck me hard. I have no patience.”
He didn’t want to hurt Misha—he truly didn’t, he was surprised to realize—but Dev was rock hard, and his own patience was in short supply. “You sure?”
Misha pushed back with his ass. “Da, da. I want your cock.”
Desire thrumming through him, Dev shoved his second finger back into the grasping heat before adding a third. “Fuck, you’re tight,” he muttered. For the first time Dev understood the appeal of fisting. He wanted to reach all the way inside and possess Misha.
On his elbows now, Misha moaned and rocked his hips back. His usually perfect hair was a mess, and he panted with his mouth open as he turned his cheek to the mattress. He was always so controlled on the ice, but here he was unrestrained and radiant, and Dev was transfixed.
Misha reached for the side table and nearly knocked the box of condoms over before he pulled out a string of foil packets and tossed them at Dev, whapping him in the face. Dev didn’t want to take his fingers out of Misha, but the reminder that his cock would go in next was enough incentive. Hands shaking, it took three tries for Dev to get one open. He rolled on the condom and squirted it with extra lube. His throat was dry as he gripped Misha’s hips and inched inside.
Cold War: Figure Skating Gay Romance Page 4
