The Secret for messengerhatta
Author: unlurkster
Title: The Secret
Recipient: messengerhatta
Skaters/Pairings: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,900
Warnings: Brief mention of cheating, unhappy ending - I’m sorry! There’s hatesex, though.
Prompt: Johnny as Evan's dirty little secret from his bros the world.
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: Thanks to my beta, and my recipient for the prompt. I hope you like it, even if I suspect it isn’t quite what you wanted.
Summary: A hallway, a hotel room, and a hook-up. Johnny never mentions Evan on his Twitter.
“I saw your Twitter,” Evan said, as soon as they entered the hotel room. They’d been silent before. Johnny refused to answer at first, his eyes falling shut as Evan pulled the scarf off Johnny’s neck. His fingers had been settled on the crook between Johnny’s neck and shoulder the whole time, as Evan dragged him down the corridor, faceless hotel rooms blurring into each other. It was possible that neither of them were thinking clearly now. Evan could feel Johnny’s pulse beating, fast but not erratic.
Johnny laughed. “I never mention you on my Twitter,” he said. “I take precautions.”
“I don’t care,” Evan said, although that was patently false. It was a palpable lie, the kind that was truthful because it was so obvious. It was how he and Johnny had come to communicate over the years. Sometimes Evan couldn’t tell the difference, couldn’t tell if what Johnny was saying was true or false until he turned around and winked at the whole world while doing it. They’d told a lot of lies about each other over the years. This wasn’t Evan, usually. He tried to be truthful, except about the things that really mattered. But he didn’t think he would ever stop lying about Johnny either.
Johnny turned to him and looked, really just looked. His eyes were very green. “Then what are you talking about?” he snapped, pissed off maybe that Evan hadn’t kissed him or done anything even though they’d been in the room a while, and Evan blinked.
Evan surged against Johnny, pushing him against the closet. He thought he could hear the hangers inside jangling. “‘Lover,’” he muttered, as he held Johnny’s jaw and bent down for a kiss, harder than he’d expected. Then they didn’t talk, because they were too busy kissing. At first Johnny rolled his eyes at Evan’s theatrics, but Evan persisted, biting at Johnny’s mouth, which was very red, and finally Johnny began to take him seriously and kissed back like he was drowning. Evan liked it when Johnny took him seriously.
When they ran out of air, they both pulled back as if by mutual consent. It was a pity, Evan thought, that the height difference was so large. If Johnny had been taller Evan could have rested his forehead against Johnny’s, and maybe they could have remained like that until they were ready to start kissing again. As it was, though, Johnny’s face was still uplifted, looking at him with something approaching scorn. It was a familiar expression to Evan.
“What do you mean?” Johnny said.
“You know what I mean. On Twitter. ‘Olympic Figure Skater, Movie Star -’” here Evan snorted, and Johnny looked outraged, “‘... Lover.’ There was other stuff, too, but I don’t remember it.”
Johnny’s smile was vicious, and Evan knew that was what it was meant to be. That didn’t stop it from hurting. “There are a lot of things I don’t tell you,” he said. Their bodies were still aligned imperfectly against each other. Evan was hard, against the part of Johnny’s torso some inches above his hip.
“But you can’t stop talking about me,” Evan got out, proud of himself for saying even those words. He was proud of what he’d managed to say, since Johnny knew he was hard - how could he not? - and had started shimmying his hips in a way that would have been ridiculous on anyone else, but Evan couldn’t concentrate on what-ifs, scenarios that could have been, because the friction from that was killing him. He bit his lip and ground down against Johnny again.
“I get asked,” Johnny snapped. “It’s not like I have any choice.”
“Slore,“ Evan hissed, and laughed. It was such a ridiculous word. Johnny narrowed his eyes, because he didn’t like being amusing unless he wanted to be. When he did, he turned his charm on to devastating effect - Evan had followed the post-Olympics press, had seen him hanging off Kelly Osbourne’s arm. He was never charming around Evan.
“Enough talking,” Johnny said, “Or are our cocks going to suck ourselves?” It was an unsexy thing to say, but he nipped at Evan’s collarbone as he said it, and that was a sensitive spot for him - there, there - Evan gasped aloud, and Johnny smirked.
“I’ve never done that,” Evan said, “Shut up.”
Johnny rolled his eyes and pulled back, too impatient to tease Evan any further over embarrassing things he’d said four years ago. Finally, finally, he dropped to his knees on the carpeted floor, taking his wallet out his pocket and unwrapping the condom he found there as he did so. He’d been prepared.
“If you move your hips, it’s all over,” Johnny said. Evan couldn’t help snorting at that. That was Johnny through and through. He loved sucking cock but he always had to pretend he was the one in control. Evan bet he could jerk his hips up, and choke Johnny, or grab Johnny’s hair and fuck his mouth thoroughly, Johnny needed someone to shut him up anyway, why not, and Johnny wouldn’t be able to pull back, because he loved it so.
“You’re wasting the condom,” Evan said, for lack of a better retort. “We’re both athletes, we’re clean. It was always going to be a given.” He sounded more insulted than he really was.
“Don’t want the taste of you in my mouth,” Johnny said, like he always did, and then he was opening Evan’s trousers, fingers sure and determined, and pushing his jeans and boxers down around his knees. Evan held still.
Johnny’s mouth was just as good as he’d remembered it, hot and wet like most mouths were. But Johnny had this habit of twisting his tongue around Evan, flicking the tip of it against the head of Evan’s cock, like no one else who had ever done this to him had done. Evan groaned and bucked up wildly. He couldn’t be bothered to restrain himself, clutching blindly at Johnny’s hair. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to come, right now. He just didn’t want to hold back any longer.
But Johnny had objections, it seemed. He choked a little as Evan thrust up, not ready to take it. He reached out blindly without looking up or meeting Evan’s eyes, and held Evan’s hips back against the closet door. Evan felt his hip pressing against the handle of the door. He shifted to get further away from it, and evidently Johnny took that as a signal of his defiance, because then he let his lip fall out from where it was, tucked above his teeth, and scraped the underside of Evan’s cock with his incisors. Johnny must have forgotten, Evan thought, that he liked pain, and gasped aloud to remind him. It had been far too long. Months, nearly a year.
Still, Evan let go of Johnny’s hair and slid his hands down to Johnny’s neck, tugging at the long silver chain around it before resting his hand on Johnny’s shoulders. That was new - he hadn’t remembered it the last time they did this. Johnny shuddered, and Evan recalled with some triumph that that was what Johnny liked about him: his hands. Johnny had let go now - he had been gripping Evan’s hips hard enough to bruise, and now he just had his right arm braced across Evan’s lower torso. When Evan looked down Johnny had eased his own zipper down, pumping own cock furiously.
Evan laughed. Johnny looked up, not ceasing to suck or touch himself, and Evan said, “You like this, don’t you, you like sucking my - ah! - cock,” and Johnny’s eyes flushed with outrage. He sucked harder, like he was trying to prove a point, and Evan brought a hand up to touch Johnny’s cheek. He could feel himself against Johnny’s cheek, in his mouth.
When Evan came, he threw his head back, and was completely silent. Johnny didn’t pull off, and licked him through it. He always swallowed, but he didn’t like it when come got on his face.
Evan slid down the closet slowly, but by the time he’d gotten there, Johnny was beginning to shudder through his own orgasm, already. Evan reached out. Johnny batted his hand away and came all over his fingers.
This was the part Evan always hated; the aftermath. Johnny always looked angry, like he hated himself for relinquishing control, like he hated himself for doing it in front of Evan, and he never spoke.
“Who is he?” Evan asked.
Johnny blinked. His eyelashes were so long, Evan thought, and wished for half a second that he was attractive in the way Johnny was - he could almost have been a girl. “Who?” he said.
“Your -” It was kind of a lame word, Evan thought, “- lover.”
Johnny smiled. “I’m not telling you,” he said. “Don’t want to be outed.”
“I wouldn’t,” Evan protested. He’d done lots of things he was ashamed of, but outing someone wasn’t one of them. Johnny was as closeted as he chose to be. He knew it definitely wasn’t him, but the thought made something thrill through his stomach anyway.
“No,” Johnny mused, “You’re too afraid of payback. Grown any beards lately, Evan?”
Evan shrugged. He’d had this fight with Johnny way too many times before. He used to yell and fight, but these days - not that he ever did, but if he wanted to - he could just hold up his gold medal, or pretend to anyway, he didn’t actually carry it around with him all the time, as if to say, Look what you missed out on.
Johnny was standing up, zipping up his fly and running his hands through his hair. “I’ll see you around,” he said, and Evan blurted, “Aren’t you going to shower?”
“Not this time,” Johnny said absently. He was gazing out the window, as if he was very far away. Then he came back to himself, and laughed. Evan thought that it was an unhappy laugh. “Actually, this better be the last time. I’ve got my - person,” and Evan allowed himself a moment of spiteful pleasure over the way Johnny stumbled over that word, “This shouldn’t even have happened, and I’ve got my room to shower in. Ta.”
They hadn’t even made it to the bed. Evan followed him to the door anyway, and Johnny seemed to realise the weight of his words as he picked his scarf up from the floor and wound it around his neck again with a careless hand. “So long,” he said, and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Evan’s cheek. “Have yourself a nice life. We won’t be each other’s dirty little secret any longer, so that’s something. It’s been successfully kept, I think. Mostly.”
Then he was gone. Evan wanted to tell himself that Johnny’s last look, as he entered the hallway, had been slightly sad, but that was probably just him. He’d been careful to the last, Evan thought. They hadn’t had their last conversation out in the hallway where anyone could see them. After he closed the door behind Johnny Evan entered the bathroom and climbed in the shower, careful to avoid his reflection in the mirror as he passed it by.
-END-
Title: The Secret
Recipient: messengerhatta
Skaters/Pairings: Johnny Weir/Evan Lysacek
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 1,900
Warnings: Brief mention of cheating, unhappy ending - I’m sorry! There’s hatesex, though.
Prompt: Johnny as Evan's dirty little secret from his bros the world.
Disclaimer: The events portrayed in this story are fictional and do not reflect on the actual people written about.
A/N: Thanks to my beta, and my recipient for the prompt. I hope you like it, even if I suspect it isn’t quite what you wanted.
Summary: A hallway, a hotel room, and a hook-up. Johnny never mentions Evan on his Twitter.
“I saw your Twitter,” Evan said, as soon as they entered the hotel room. They’d been silent before. Johnny refused to answer at first, his eyes falling shut as Evan pulled the scarf off Johnny’s neck. His fingers had been settled on the crook between Johnny’s neck and shoulder the whole time, as Evan dragged him down the corridor, faceless hotel rooms blurring into each other. It was possible that neither of them were thinking clearly now. Evan could feel Johnny’s pulse beating, fast but not erratic.
Johnny laughed. “I never mention you on my Twitter,” he said. “I take precautions.”
“I don’t care,” Evan said, although that was patently false. It was a palpable lie, the kind that was truthful because it was so obvious. It was how he and Johnny had come to communicate over the years. Sometimes Evan couldn’t tell the difference, couldn’t tell if what Johnny was saying was true or false until he turned around and winked at the whole world while doing it. They’d told a lot of lies about each other over the years. This wasn’t Evan, usually. He tried to be truthful, except about the things that really mattered. But he didn’t think he would ever stop lying about Johnny either.
Johnny turned to him and looked, really just looked. His eyes were very green. “Then what are you talking about?” he snapped, pissed off maybe that Evan hadn’t kissed him or done anything even though they’d been in the room a while, and Evan blinked.
Evan surged against Johnny, pushing him against the closet. He thought he could hear the hangers inside jangling. “‘Lover,’” he muttered, as he held Johnny’s jaw and bent down for a kiss, harder than he’d expected. Then they didn’t talk, because they were too busy kissing. At first Johnny rolled his eyes at Evan’s theatrics, but Evan persisted, biting at Johnny’s mouth, which was very red, and finally Johnny began to take him seriously and kissed back like he was drowning. Evan liked it when Johnny took him seriously.
When they ran out of air, they both pulled back as if by mutual consent. It was a pity, Evan thought, that the height difference was so large. If Johnny had been taller Evan could have rested his forehead against Johnny’s, and maybe they could have remained like that until they were ready to start kissing again. As it was, though, Johnny’s face was still uplifted, looking at him with something approaching scorn. It was a familiar expression to Evan.
“What do you mean?” Johnny said.
“You know what I mean. On Twitter. ‘Olympic Figure Skater, Movie Star -’” here Evan snorted, and Johnny looked outraged, “‘... Lover.’ There was other stuff, too, but I don’t remember it.”
Johnny’s smile was vicious, and Evan knew that was what it was meant to be. That didn’t stop it from hurting. “There are a lot of things I don’t tell you,” he said. Their bodies were still aligned imperfectly against each other. Evan was hard, against the part of Johnny’s torso some inches above his hip.
“But you can’t stop talking about me,” Evan got out, proud of himself for saying even those words. He was proud of what he’d managed to say, since Johnny knew he was hard - how could he not? - and had started shimmying his hips in a way that would have been ridiculous on anyone else, but Evan couldn’t concentrate on what-ifs, scenarios that could have been, because the friction from that was killing him. He bit his lip and ground down against Johnny again.
“I get asked,” Johnny snapped. “It’s not like I have any choice.”
“Slore,“ Evan hissed, and laughed. It was such a ridiculous word. Johnny narrowed his eyes, because he didn’t like being amusing unless he wanted to be. When he did, he turned his charm on to devastating effect - Evan had followed the post-Olympics press, had seen him hanging off Kelly Osbourne’s arm. He was never charming around Evan.
“Enough talking,” Johnny said, “Or are our cocks going to suck ourselves?” It was an unsexy thing to say, but he nipped at Evan’s collarbone as he said it, and that was a sensitive spot for him - there, there - Evan gasped aloud, and Johnny smirked.
“I’ve never done that,” Evan said, “Shut up.”
Johnny rolled his eyes and pulled back, too impatient to tease Evan any further over embarrassing things he’d said four years ago. Finally, finally, he dropped to his knees on the carpeted floor, taking his wallet out his pocket and unwrapping the condom he found there as he did so. He’d been prepared.
“If you move your hips, it’s all over,” Johnny said. Evan couldn’t help snorting at that. That was Johnny through and through. He loved sucking cock but he always had to pretend he was the one in control. Evan bet he could jerk his hips up, and choke Johnny, or grab Johnny’s hair and fuck his mouth thoroughly, Johnny needed someone to shut him up anyway, why not, and Johnny wouldn’t be able to pull back, because he loved it so.
“You’re wasting the condom,” Evan said, for lack of a better retort. “We’re both athletes, we’re clean. It was always going to be a given.” He sounded more insulted than he really was.
“Don’t want the taste of you in my mouth,” Johnny said, like he always did, and then he was opening Evan’s trousers, fingers sure and determined, and pushing his jeans and boxers down around his knees. Evan held still.
Johnny’s mouth was just as good as he’d remembered it, hot and wet like most mouths were. But Johnny had this habit of twisting his tongue around Evan, flicking the tip of it against the head of Evan’s cock, like no one else who had ever done this to him had done. Evan groaned and bucked up wildly. He couldn’t be bothered to restrain himself, clutching blindly at Johnny’s hair. It wasn’t as if he really wanted to come, right now. He just didn’t want to hold back any longer.
But Johnny had objections, it seemed. He choked a little as Evan thrust up, not ready to take it. He reached out blindly without looking up or meeting Evan’s eyes, and held Evan’s hips back against the closet door. Evan felt his hip pressing against the handle of the door. He shifted to get further away from it, and evidently Johnny took that as a signal of his defiance, because then he let his lip fall out from where it was, tucked above his teeth, and scraped the underside of Evan’s cock with his incisors. Johnny must have forgotten, Evan thought, that he liked pain, and gasped aloud to remind him. It had been far too long. Months, nearly a year.
Still, Evan let go of Johnny’s hair and slid his hands down to Johnny’s neck, tugging at the long silver chain around it before resting his hand on Johnny’s shoulders. That was new - he hadn’t remembered it the last time they did this. Johnny shuddered, and Evan recalled with some triumph that that was what Johnny liked about him: his hands. Johnny had let go now - he had been gripping Evan’s hips hard enough to bruise, and now he just had his right arm braced across Evan’s lower torso. When Evan looked down Johnny had eased his own zipper down, pumping own cock furiously.
Evan laughed. Johnny looked up, not ceasing to suck or touch himself, and Evan said, “You like this, don’t you, you like sucking my - ah! - cock,” and Johnny’s eyes flushed with outrage. He sucked harder, like he was trying to prove a point, and Evan brought a hand up to touch Johnny’s cheek. He could feel himself against Johnny’s cheek, in his mouth.
When Evan came, he threw his head back, and was completely silent. Johnny didn’t pull off, and licked him through it. He always swallowed, but he didn’t like it when come got on his face.
Evan slid down the closet slowly, but by the time he’d gotten there, Johnny was beginning to shudder through his own orgasm, already. Evan reached out. Johnny batted his hand away and came all over his fingers.
This was the part Evan always hated; the aftermath. Johnny always looked angry, like he hated himself for relinquishing control, like he hated himself for doing it in front of Evan, and he never spoke.
“Who is he?” Evan asked.
Johnny blinked. His eyelashes were so long, Evan thought, and wished for half a second that he was attractive in the way Johnny was - he could almost have been a girl. “Who?” he said.
“Your -” It was kind of a lame word, Evan thought, “- lover.”
Johnny smiled. “I’m not telling you,” he said. “Don’t want to be outed.”
“I wouldn’t,” Evan protested. He’d done lots of things he was ashamed of, but outing someone wasn’t one of them. Johnny was as closeted as he chose to be. He knew it definitely wasn’t him, but the thought made something thrill through his stomach anyway.
“No,” Johnny mused, “You’re too afraid of payback. Grown any beards lately, Evan?”
Evan shrugged. He’d had this fight with Johnny way too many times before. He used to yell and fight, but these days - not that he ever did, but if he wanted to - he could just hold up his gold medal, or pretend to anyway, he didn’t actually carry it around with him all the time, as if to say, Look what you missed out on.
Johnny was standing up, zipping up his fly and running his hands through his hair. “I’ll see you around,” he said, and Evan blurted, “Aren’t you going to shower?”
“Not this time,” Johnny said absently. He was gazing out the window, as if he was very far away. Then he came back to himself, and laughed. Evan thought that it was an unhappy laugh. “Actually, this better be the last time. I’ve got my - person,” and Evan allowed himself a moment of spiteful pleasure over the way Johnny stumbled over that word, “This shouldn’t even have happened, and I’ve got my room to shower in. Ta.”
They hadn’t even made it to the bed. Evan followed him to the door anyway, and Johnny seemed to realise the weight of his words as he picked his scarf up from the floor and wound it around his neck again with a careless hand. “So long,” he said, and stood on his tiptoes to kiss Evan’s cheek. “Have yourself a nice life. We won’t be each other’s dirty little secret any longer, so that’s something. It’s been successfully kept, I think. Mostly.”
Then he was gone. Evan wanted to tell himself that Johnny’s last look, as he entered the hallway, had been slightly sad, but that was probably just him. He’d been careful to the last, Evan thought. They hadn’t had their last conversation out in the hallway where anyone could see them. After he closed the door behind Johnny Evan entered the bathroom and climbed in the shower, careful to avoid his reflection in the mirror as he passed it by.
-END-