Vancouver 2010 (Week Two) -- JR Celski/Apolo Ohno
Title: Vancouver 2010 (Week Two)
Pairing: J.R. Celski/Apolo Ohno
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not real, all fiction, some actual events used for inspiration. I know nothing about these athletes.
Notes: 1235 words. Sequel to, unsurprisingly, Vancouver 2010 (Week One).
No one ever says that the relay is Apolo's last race, but then, no one really has to. In 2014, he'll be 31, which isn't old anywhere but the Olympics, and he barely came back for this one, so no one has to tell you that Friday night is his last chance. (Though at least you know enough not to tweet about it, and you love Simon and all, but jesus, kid.) If you're honest with yourself, it's basically all you've thought about since the 1000. Which isn't really like you, but then you've been doing a lot of unexpected things recently.
Like going over to Apolo's after the 1000 and making out until your lips are swollen and there are bite marks on Apolo's chest and it's so late that it's just easier to spend the night with him than try to get back into the Village. (It's surprisingly easy to get away with -- Jordan thinks you're with your parents and they think you're in the Village, and really, you would've had a much more interesting high school experience if you'd known it was this simple.) You shower over there, in the hotel bathroom that's way nicer than anything in the Village, and it's almost like you're dating, except that you know it's not at all like that.
And then, sooner than you want, it's Friday morning and two more races and then that's it. You're here for two more days and then ... to be honest, you have no idea. Vacation, maybe, college definitely, but that's not till the fall and you have six months with nothing to do. This is what you've worked for since you were eleven and now it's almost over and you're starting to understand why Apolo went on Dancing With the Stars, just to have something else to do. (Not that you'll ever stop making fun of him for it, because seriously.) You wait around during the 500, too nervous to even watch the final, and Jordan keeps up a running stream of profanity that only gets louder after the DQ, and you can't help feeling like this is some kind of bad sign for the relay.
And then you get on the ice and you're barely warmed up and you can't get off to a good start and you're just holding on and hoping that someone else will crash and maybe it'll be okay. You push Travis off and skate around the middle, praying that somehow it'll work out and that you haven't fucked up Apolo's last-ever race. You skate flat-out for the rest of your laps, fast as you can and it wouldn't be enough if Apolo wasn't the last racer. But he is, and as the final-lap bell rings, you know he's got this (though, really, you wish you'd been able to beat the Canadians, just because of the 1000). And then the medal ceremony and everything else, and it's just like after the 1500, but more so, because there are five of you and this is it, your first Olympics is over, and so is Apolo's last, and all you want to do is kiss him but there are too many people around.
It's the middle of the night, again, by the time you get done with drug testing and all this round of interviews -- you don't even know why the rest of you have to be there, since all anyone wants to ask about is the Canadian judges, but there you are and Simon's practically asleep in Travis's lap before it's all done. All you want to do is go to bed until the closing ceremonies, but somehow Apolo manages to pull you back for a second, just barely squeezing your hand and you know you're going home with him.
You let Jordan and Simon and Travis get ahead a little, following Apolo's lead and ducking down some hallway you never noticed. He presses you against the wall for a second, kissing you hard before pulling away. It's just a taste, just enough to leave you a little breathless, and you think you'll never get tired of this. You let him pull you along, out a side door and into a cab, let him press you against the backseat and bite your mouth and jaw, and you think you'd go wherever he asked you to.
It's late enough that no one is around when you get to the hotel, so you grab Apolo's hand and twist your fingers with his, and this has been happening for a week but you still can't believe it's really real. You probably shouldn't, just think of it as another bizarre thing that's happened to you this year, but it's hard to keep your thoughts straight with Apolo kissing you in the elevator.
You let Apolo pull you into the bedroom, lying back on his bed and kissing him hard, hand reaching up to twist in his hair, tugging on it just a little and pulling him closer until he's straddling you. You press your hips up into his slowly, just until you hear him gasp a little, and you don't really know what you're doing, but you know that's a good sign. His hand slides up, under your shirt, fingers running along your side and you are really wearing too many clothes right now.
You grab at Apolo's waist, hands against his back and nails digging in just a little, pushing at his shirt until he pulls it off, throwing it to the side and bending down to kiss you hard. You hook your foot around his and all you want is for him to be close to you. He pushes your shirt up, leaning down just enough to bite at the star on your shoulder and you shudder before you can help yourself. He pulls back, stroking your face gently and you nod even though you don't really know what the question is.
Apolo undresses you the rest of the way, brushing his hand against your scar, briefly at first and then a little longer, more intensely, and it shouldn't feel good, but it really does, and you press against him and push the rest of his clothes off. You kiss him again, slower this time, dragging your fingers over his neck and you love the noises he makes. You love all of this, really, maybe even love him a little. You've always loved him a little and now it's almost over and you bite his mouth hard, desperately, wishing there was some way you could make this last.
But there isn't, no matter what you do, how much you touch him or anything else. You grind against him and he bites your neck, your chest, dragging his teeth slowly over your tattoo. It's all you've ever wanted and now it's ending. You close your eyes, feeling his weight on top of you, his hands on your body, his mouth on yours, and you promise yourself that even if you forget the rest of it, you'll remember this.
All you do is make out; you're both too tired for anything more, really, and you know you're not ready for anything else. You fall asleep in Apolo's arms, head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your hip, and this is probably the last time, but you're sure it's the best.
Pairing: J.R. Celski/Apolo Ohno
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not real, all fiction, some actual events used for inspiration. I know nothing about these athletes.
Notes: 1235 words. Sequel to, unsurprisingly, Vancouver 2010 (Week One).
No one ever says that the relay is Apolo's last race, but then, no one really has to. In 2014, he'll be 31, which isn't old anywhere but the Olympics, and he barely came back for this one, so no one has to tell you that Friday night is his last chance. (Though at least you know enough not to tweet about it, and you love Simon and all, but jesus, kid.) If you're honest with yourself, it's basically all you've thought about since the 1000. Which isn't really like you, but then you've been doing a lot of unexpected things recently.
Like going over to Apolo's after the 1000 and making out until your lips are swollen and there are bite marks on Apolo's chest and it's so late that it's just easier to spend the night with him than try to get back into the Village. (It's surprisingly easy to get away with -- Jordan thinks you're with your parents and they think you're in the Village, and really, you would've had a much more interesting high school experience if you'd known it was this simple.) You shower over there, in the hotel bathroom that's way nicer than anything in the Village, and it's almost like you're dating, except that you know it's not at all like that.
And then, sooner than you want, it's Friday morning and two more races and then that's it. You're here for two more days and then ... to be honest, you have no idea. Vacation, maybe, college definitely, but that's not till the fall and you have six months with nothing to do. This is what you've worked for since you were eleven and now it's almost over and you're starting to understand why Apolo went on Dancing With the Stars, just to have something else to do. (Not that you'll ever stop making fun of him for it, because seriously.) You wait around during the 500, too nervous to even watch the final, and Jordan keeps up a running stream of profanity that only gets louder after the DQ, and you can't help feeling like this is some kind of bad sign for the relay.
And then you get on the ice and you're barely warmed up and you can't get off to a good start and you're just holding on and hoping that someone else will crash and maybe it'll be okay. You push Travis off and skate around the middle, praying that somehow it'll work out and that you haven't fucked up Apolo's last-ever race. You skate flat-out for the rest of your laps, fast as you can and it wouldn't be enough if Apolo wasn't the last racer. But he is, and as the final-lap bell rings, you know he's got this (though, really, you wish you'd been able to beat the Canadians, just because of the 1000). And then the medal ceremony and everything else, and it's just like after the 1500, but more so, because there are five of you and this is it, your first Olympics is over, and so is Apolo's last, and all you want to do is kiss him but there are too many people around.
It's the middle of the night, again, by the time you get done with drug testing and all this round of interviews -- you don't even know why the rest of you have to be there, since all anyone wants to ask about is the Canadian judges, but there you are and Simon's practically asleep in Travis's lap before it's all done. All you want to do is go to bed until the closing ceremonies, but somehow Apolo manages to pull you back for a second, just barely squeezing your hand and you know you're going home with him.
You let Jordan and Simon and Travis get ahead a little, following Apolo's lead and ducking down some hallway you never noticed. He presses you against the wall for a second, kissing you hard before pulling away. It's just a taste, just enough to leave you a little breathless, and you think you'll never get tired of this. You let him pull you along, out a side door and into a cab, let him press you against the backseat and bite your mouth and jaw, and you think you'd go wherever he asked you to.
It's late enough that no one is around when you get to the hotel, so you grab Apolo's hand and twist your fingers with his, and this has been happening for a week but you still can't believe it's really real. You probably shouldn't, just think of it as another bizarre thing that's happened to you this year, but it's hard to keep your thoughts straight with Apolo kissing you in the elevator.
You let Apolo pull you into the bedroom, lying back on his bed and kissing him hard, hand reaching up to twist in his hair, tugging on it just a little and pulling him closer until he's straddling you. You press your hips up into his slowly, just until you hear him gasp a little, and you don't really know what you're doing, but you know that's a good sign. His hand slides up, under your shirt, fingers running along your side and you are really wearing too many clothes right now.
You grab at Apolo's waist, hands against his back and nails digging in just a little, pushing at his shirt until he pulls it off, throwing it to the side and bending down to kiss you hard. You hook your foot around his and all you want is for him to be close to you. He pushes your shirt up, leaning down just enough to bite at the star on your shoulder and you shudder before you can help yourself. He pulls back, stroking your face gently and you nod even though you don't really know what the question is.
Apolo undresses you the rest of the way, brushing his hand against your scar, briefly at first and then a little longer, more intensely, and it shouldn't feel good, but it really does, and you press against him and push the rest of his clothes off. You kiss him again, slower this time, dragging your fingers over his neck and you love the noises he makes. You love all of this, really, maybe even love him a little. You've always loved him a little and now it's almost over and you bite his mouth hard, desperately, wishing there was some way you could make this last.
But there isn't, no matter what you do, how much you touch him or anything else. You grind against him and he bites your neck, your chest, dragging his teeth slowly over your tattoo. It's all you've ever wanted and now it's ending. You close your eyes, feeling his weight on top of you, his hands on your body, his mouth on yours, and you promise yourself that even if you forget the rest of it, you'll remember this.
All you do is make out; you're both too tired for anything more, really, and you know you're not ready for anything else. You fall asleep in Apolo's arms, head on his shoulder and his hand resting on your hip, and this is probably the last time, but you're sure it's the best.