Cold War: Figure Skating Gay Romance

by Keira Andrews

  Bailey took his hand. “Hey, you okay? He didn’t mean to…” She lowered her voice. “You want to keep it a secret too, right?”

  He nodded, although he wasn’t sure he believed it.

  “Because I know he worries that we won’t get as many shows if he comes out and we’ll lose the few endorsements we have, but I’ve told him that if it’s a choice between our pro career and his happiness, I will always pick door number two. Besides, maybe people will surprise us. If more skaters would just come out already, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. I don’t think the audience cares. I really don’t.”

  “But there is much money at stake. I need to think of Kisa, just as Dev thinks of you.”

  Bailey shook her head. “If they don’t want us to do Stars on Ice next year because you guys are gay, then screw them. Kisa agrees with me. We talked about it in great detail over many adult beverages.” She sighed. “Look, you know we just want you and Dev to be happy, and we support whatever you guys want to do. But don’t make yourselves miserable trying to protect us or some shit like that. Okay?”

  What else could he say? “Okay. But it is for the best right now, I think. It will keep everything simple. Come, let us lift again.”

  As they stroked down the rink, gathering speed, Misha wasn’t so sure simple was the right word at all.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When Misha and Kisa arrived for the interview the next night, Dev and Bailey were already waiting side by side on a plush gray love seat in the hotel lobby. A Christmas tree towered nearby, and carols filled the air. Sparkling garlands and decorations festooned the reception desk.

  Two of NBC’s publicists sat nearby to monitor the questions. The interviewer, a middle-aged woman, stood from her armchair and extended her hand.

  “Barbara Fettle from the Boston Globe. A pleasure to meet you both.” She indicated another love seat next to Dev and Bailey’s. “Please make yourselves comfortable. I suppose no introductions are needed here.”

  They all chuckled amiably, and Misha wished he could be anywhere else. But he still had to play his part. He tried to get comfortable. Kisa had insisted he wear trousers and leather shoes along with his blue sweater as opposed to his usual jeans and sneakers. Oh how he missed his flip-flops. He glanced at Dev, who kept his gaze firmly on the interviewer.

  Barbara sat in the armchair facing both teams and turned on her recorder. “You’ve all finished your competitive skating careers. What’s retirement been like for you?”

  As Dev spoke of his new foray into part-time coaching, Misha examined the floral arrangement on the table beside Barbara. It had been another long day of practice for the show—another long day of pretending. He and Dev had initially agreed not to risk being together at night since they were only in Boston for a week. They thought surely they could go without being intimate.

  But Misha felt adrift and unsettled, as though he was starving for Dev’s touch. It had only been days, but he longed to hold Dev and be held by him. To see him smile and hear him moan. To simply be near him. Dev had whispered earlier that he couldn’t wait until they were home again in LA, and Misha had wholeheartedly agreed. They would meet in Misha’s room as soon as they could escape the interview.

  When he watched Dev, Bailey said he had hearts in his eyes, and Kisa agreed. They said the same of Dev, which had made Misha’s stomach flutter foolishly. Even now, he smiled to himself.

  As much as he loved seeing Kisa again, he longed to be home with Dev. Bickering in the kitchen over borscht or in the bathroom over the toothpaste. Or on the beach, racing each other across the sand with Zoloto at their heels. In the bedroom, bodies sweaty and tangled, fucking raw, tasting and touching and—

  “Mikhail?”

  As Kisa elbowed him, Misha glanced up to find all eyes on him. He smiled. “Apologies. Please repeat the question?”

  Barbara smiled. “Of course. I was just noting that you’re living in the Los Angeles area as well now, aren’t you?” She tilted her head with a smile. “Do you and Dev ever run into each other?”

  Misha kept his expression even. “Not yet.” His tongue grew heavy with the lies.

  “And how do you all feel performing together? You were quite the rivals for a few years. Is it a challenge to just turn off that competitiveness?”

  Bailey spoke up. “Well, we’re all athletes, so I don’t think we can ever turn it off completely. But this show is all about family and the holidays, and we’re part of the skating family.”

  “There are no hard feelings? Dev and Bailey, you were gunning for that gold in Annecy, and it must have been difficult to come so close.”

  The strain that filled the air was sudden but powerful. Misha had been so glad to let all this go, and he cursed this woman for mentioning it, even though he knew she was simply doing her job.

  “Of course it was disappointing for us,” Dev said. “But that’s sports, and we certainly don’t begrudge Kisa and Mikhail their hard-fought victory.”

  “And they won the World title here after the Olympics,” Misha added. “We did not compete, and the gold was theirs. We were glad to give them the chance to win.”

  Barbara’s eyebrows shot up. “Dev and Bailey? Any response? Did you feel your World title was earned? Or was it a gift from your absent Russian competitors?”

  Wait, wait. Misha’s heart plummeted. “I did not mean—”

  “Of course we feel we earned it,” Bailey said, her tone clipped. “While we performed very well in Annecy, at Worlds we had the two very best skates of our lives. We didn’t put a foot wrong, and becoming world champions here in Dev’s hometown was the highlight of our careers.” Her hand was tight on Dev’s arm, and Dev was smiling in a way that appeared painful. “And it’s a thrill for us to be skating again in Boston on Christmas Eve for this incredible live event.”

  Kisa was frozen beside Misha. When he opened his mouth again, she gave him a withering look, and he sat back. The two publicists glared but relaxed when Barbara moved on to questions about the show. They gave the answers NBC wanted them to give, and Misha willed the interview to end as he rolled the damning words he had mistakenly said over in his mind again and again, wishing he could take them back.

  When the interview finally did end, Kisa’s phone buzzed, and she disappeared toward the elevators after giving him a squeeze. Bailey, arms crossed over her chest, gave Misha a tight smile. “Later.” Then she shared a glance with Dev and rolled her eyes.

  Yes, clearly she was unhappy. As she left, Misha turned to Dev, who raised his hand.

  “Just don’t say anything else right now, okay? I need to…” His nostrils flared, and he glanced at Barbara and the publicists, who were now strolling toward the exit. “I don’t know. I need to not talk to you right now.”

  “But—”

  In a swirl of giggles, Caroline and Hanako entered the lobby. Misha instinctively stepped back from Dev, who turned on his heel and stalked toward the bank of elevators. Misha followed, smiling absently to the girls as they passed by on their way to the street. One of the elevators was closing, but he stuck his hand inside and the doors obediently bounced open.

  Jaw tight, Dev kept his eyes straight forward. The older couple sharing the elevator with them were having a loud conversation about a duck and a boat, and Misha wished they would shut up.

  Two buttons were illuminated—the eighth and the fifteenth floors. Misha’s own anger began to simmer. Had they not decided Dev would stay with him tonight, despite the risk? Should they not even discuss it? Misha jabbed the button for his floor, the seventeenth.

  The seconds stretched out as they traveled up. When the doors closed behind the couple, Misha turned to Dev. “Why have I upset you?”

  “Why?” Dev asked incredulously. “If you don’t know, then I don’t know where to begin. No, wait, I do. How about you were being a pompous dick?”

  Misha gritted his teeth. “I did not intend any offense. You know that.”

  “You acted like you did
us a favor by not going to Worlds! Like we only won because you gave it to us! We skated our career best there! We could have beaten you fair and square! We worked so hard after Annecy to be the best we’d ever been, and we were. We did it. Not you giving us charity.”

  With a ding, the doors slid open. Shaking his head, Dev stepped off, but Misha tugged him back onto the elevator.

  “Let me speak before you turn your back on me!”

  Dev’s eyes blazed. “Fine! What do you have to say?”

  “First I would say that you’re being like a child!”

  “And you’re being an arrogant asshole. Just like old times!”

  They stared at each other for a long moment, breathing shallowly, and then Misha was stumbling back against the wall with Dev’s weight against him. Dev gripped his sweater as they kissed ferociously, Misha tangling his fingers in Dev’s hair roughly. They hadn’t truly argued in so long, and his mind spun as frustration and desire clashed.

  He was vaguely aware of the elevator doors opening and closing but couldn’t tear himself away from Dev, who jammed his thigh between Misha’s as they fought with their tongues. He couldn’t get enough—the taste of Dev’s mouth and his commanding touch, the feel of his powerful body. His anger evaporated. He’d get on his knees and beg forgiveness if it meant making things right between them.

  But before he could, Dev tore himself away. “Jesus, we can’t…” He shook his head and wiped his mouth. The elevator was now on the top floor, and Dev blindly stepped off.

  Misha followed. The hallway was empty, and Dev pushed open a door that read ROOF GARDEN ACCESS. Of course the garden was long dead, with only empty trellises wobbling in the icy wind. Multi-colored Christmas lights ringed the roof, looped around the railing, and cast a soft glow. Neither of them wore coats, and Misha shoved his hands in his pockets. They stared at each other.

  Dev’s breath clouded the frigid air as he exhaled a long breath. “What you said made me and Bailey feel like crap. Like our gold isn’t real because you and Kisa let us have it by not competing. Look, you guys were the best. You still are. We know it. But having it thrown in our faces in front of a reporter sucked.”

  Remorse flooded Misha as he thought back to what he’d told the interviewer. Yes, he could see how his words sounded. “I did not intend for that, Vassenka. Please believe me.” He took Dev’s hand. “That was not my meaning. I am glad for your gold. It would sadden me greatly if you had never become world champion. It was deserved. If I could share Olympic gold with you, I would.”

  Dev’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I know you would.” He laced their fingers together. “Maybe we can dig up a judging scandal so they have to make it a tie. Those French judges are always shifty.”

  Misha smiled. “This is true.” His smile faded. “I am very sorry for what I said. I think you and Bailey are beautiful skaters. You could be Russian, you are so graceful. You don’t seem American on the ice at all.”

  Dev burst out laughing. “Okay, maybe you should just stop talking tonight. Your foot is apparently stuck in your mouth.”

  “My…what?” Misha frowned. “Ah yes. The foot in the mouth. But I only mean to compliment you!”

  “Quit while you’re ahead.” Dev wrapped his arms around Misha’s waist and kissed him softly. After a moment, he glanced around guiltily. “We should go inside. That was really stupid of us in the elevator. Anyone could have seen us.”

  Somehow Misha found he didn’t care. He was supposed to care, but would it truly be so terrible? For how long could they go on hiding this way? “Maybe it would be all right.”

  “What about your family in Russia?”

  “They are fine. I am not competing any longer. The officials have no say anymore. Perhaps I have been too cautious. Too scared.”

  “What about our careers? You know we won’t be asked to do as many shows.”

  “I do not need their shows.”

  Dev tensed. “You may not, but I do. I love skating. I’m not ready to give it up.” He stepped back, shaking his head. “Not yet. I can’t.”

  “I know, I know.” Misha drew him near again and kissed him lightly. “I know. It’s all right. It’s our secret.”

  “Okay,” Dev whispered, still stiff.

  Misha tried to lighten the mood. “Who knows? Perhaps it will make us more popular. They will want us to skate together.”

  Dev laughed softly. “Like Blades of Glory? Yeah, that’ll go down really well. You’re taller, so I guess you’ll have to lift me.”

  “Not a problem.” Misha bent his knees and wrapped his arms around Dev’s hips before hoisting him off the ground with a grunt. “You will need to go on diet after all. Kisa will give you tips.” He spun around.

  Head back, Dev threw his arms out. “We’ll revolutionize the sport!”

  He was beautiful in the night, and Misha wanted to kiss his long throat. Laughing, they stumbled around until Misha had to put Dev down or risk straining his back. He knew they should talk further, but they smiled so easily as they went back inside.

  There would be another day for talking.

  In Misha’s room with the door locked and a low lamp lit, he kissed Dev again. “You forgive me, yes?”

  “Yes. I’m sorry I got angry.”

  “I was very bad with what I said. I’m sorry.”

  “I know.” Dev leaned their foreheads together. “It’s okay. We’re all bad sometimes.”

  The current of desire that was ever present when Dev was around flared. He took Dev’s earlobe between his teeth. “Perhaps I should be punished,” he whispered.

  Dev inhaled sharply and pulled back to take Misha’s face in his hands. “You want that?”

  “Da. What shall you do to me?” Misha’s whole body tingled.

  Dev hesitated, his eyes searching. “What do you want me to do to you?”

  Excitement raced in Misha’s veins as Dev ran his calloused thumb over Misha’s bottom lip. He blurted out the words before he lost his nerve. “Take me over your knee.”

  Eyes going darker, Dev took a shuddering breath and stepped back. “Take off your clothes.”

  Misha did as he was told, and Dev slowly sat on the edge of the bed. He was still fully dressed in his jeans and green sweater, and he spread his legs, watching avidly as Misha stripped down. After the cold of the roof, Misha felt aflame, his skin flushed and his cock growing without being touched. When he was naked, he stood waiting.

  “You’re so beautiful,” Dev murmured. He cleared his throat. “Now come here,” he commanded.

  Misha took the few steps to the bed. Again he waited while Dev drank him in with his eyes. He wanted to reach out and touch, to kiss and run his hands through Dev’s thick hair and tell him he was the most beautiful man Misha had ever known. But he stayed silent and played his role, anticipation making his head light.

  With the barest touch of his fingertips, Dev traced Misha’s dick from base to tip. Misha swallowed thickly. He wanted to beg Dev to take him in his mouth, but of course Dev didn’t. He concentrated on breathing as Dev lightly explored his cock and balls as though there was nothing but time. Being on display made Misha’s breath stutter in his throat, need building deep in his belly. The featherlight touches had him trembling.

  Without warning, Dev yanked him over his lap. Misha flailed for a moment, heart racing as he fought for balance, bracing himself with his hands on the floor. He was too tall to be anything resembling graceful in this position, but he settled onto Dev’s thighs with his ass in the air and his head hanging down.

  He bent his legs and tried to relax. The denim of Dev’s jeans was rough against Misha’s groin, and he rubbed against it for a moment of delicious friction.

  He waited.

  The only sound in the room was their harsh breathing. Misha yearned for the smack of Dev’s hand, while fearing it a little too. But there was nothing. He stared at the carpet—gray squares repeated in geometric patterns. Finally, when he thought he might scream for something
—anything—to happen, Dev’s fingers dipped into the crease of Misha’s ass, and Misha held his breath.

  As he had with Misha’s cock and balls, Dev explored with only feathery touches, barely skimming Misha’s sensitive flesh until Misha was squirming and arching his ass up, desperate. Dev’s thickening cock nudged Misha’s hip, and Misha was hard against Dev’s thighs. He wanted to squeeze his hand between them and jerk himself, but he resisted.

  When Dev parted Misha’s ass cheeks and pressed around the rim of his hole, Misha moaned. “Spasibo. Spasibo. Please, Vassenka.”

  He felt wetness and looked over his shoulder to find Dev spitting onto him. Dev’s gaze was riveted as he rubbed his saliva around Misha’s hole. When he inched his finger inside, Misha wanted to cry with relief. He grasped at it, wanting more. He closed his eyes and hung his head again.

  “So greedy. So perfect,” Dev muttered.

  Then his hand swatted down on Misha’s ass cheek. Misha cried out, even though it was too soft. “Da. More.”

  The first few strikes were tentative, but as Misha gasped and ground his hardness against Dev, the smacks became more certain. Alternating one cheek and then the other, Dev spanked him hard, the sounds echoing in the room. Misha’s ass began to sting, and it was wonderful. He’d never played with a lover like this—he’d had so few and had been young—but he was completely confident Dev would never truly hurt him. His flesh felt hot, and he panted with his mouth open, wanting more and less at the same time.

  The sweet torment continued, with Dev stopping at times to caress Misha’s burning skin and tease his hole. Then it would start again, and Misha was caught between pleasure and pain, and his heart raced at the thrill of it.

  Cock leaking now, he was on fire, the smacks in the air spurring him on as he neared the edge. Draped over Dev, he felt totally exposed and bare. Free. He squirmed as the pain become searing, and Dev held him in place with his other hand heavy on Misha’s back. Misha opened his eyes and twisted his neck to catch sight of Dev’s intense expression. Dev’s lips were parted, his eyes piercing.