The Thing That Hinders Her So
Title: The Thing That Hinders Her So
Author: a_minor_third
Pairing: Artemev/Liukin
Rating: R
Summary: Nastia has some thoughts about her relationship with Sasha.
Disclaimer: Fiction, and nothing more.
Author's Note: Beta'd by piratesswoop. Thanks!
Lately, Nastia’s performances on the tour have been somewhat lackluster, but it isn’t as if the audience notices or anyone else even cares anymore. Every single bratty, little child with parents rich enough to afford tickets on the floor has all been the same. They keep trying to grab your foot while you’re doing your Ave Maria piece, and touching your legs with their sweaty, chubby, little hands, so Nastia has since given up faking smiles for the crowd. She wants to do something else, like go back home and sleep in her own bed for once. Monotonous day after monotonous day of this stupid tour is eating the happiness out of her. The pride she feels by having won those numerous medals during Beijing seems nothing but a long lost illusion.
Fucking tour.
And fuck the little kids. Watch when they see the famous Nastia Liukin curse like a sailor in the dressing rooms.
But amidst all of this Disney bullshit, there is one thing that Nastia looks forward to. It isn’t simple at all; complicated sounds like the perfect word to describe it, but it has never been talked about as such.
There really is no talking, period, when you’re making out with Sasha Artemev from the U.S. Men’s Artistic Gymnastics Team. “Making out” isn’t really the correct term. It sounds too naïve and it fails to encompass the various activities that transpire when two illicit lovers meet in the most random places, or you know, wherever’s available at hand. It’s an enjoyable pastime.
Nastia remembers the exact date when things between them went from first base and almost reached third base. Hell, she even remembers the exact time.
But Nastia’s a good girl.
Sasha had been pressuring her in not-so-subtle ways (my God, she could feel the lust emanating from his body) but what happens when he slips his hand beneath the waistband of her lucky polka-dotted panties?
She grabs it instinctively and pulls his hand out. She says no in such a firm tone that it becomes the decisive factor for their future affairs. Nastia hasn’t regretted this decision, truthfully. Sure, there are the days when Sasha kisses her and thrusts his tongue into her mouth, while pushing his groin against hers so she can feel him through his stupid plaid American Eagle shorts. It's as if Nastia is worth nothing more than a whore to him sometimes.
But even after Sasha tells her that he wants her now, right now, goddammit, and why is she being such a fucking prude all the time, Nastia doesn’t say yes. Each and every instance, she places a shaky hand on his chest and says no.
No.
No.
NO.
Never in my life, Alexander Artemev.
This last statement she keeps to herself, even though her subconscious wants to deny every single word of that false statement.
Because the one thing that Nastia cannot stand at all is the thought that she’s playing second fiddle to a woman named Brianna Springer, Sasha’s oh, so perfect, little bride-to-be.
Author: a_minor_third
Pairing: Artemev/Liukin
Rating: R
Summary: Nastia has some thoughts about her relationship with Sasha.
Disclaimer: Fiction, and nothing more.
Author's Note: Beta'd by piratesswoop. Thanks!
Lately, Nastia’s performances on the tour have been somewhat lackluster, but it isn’t as if the audience notices or anyone else even cares anymore. Every single bratty, little child with parents rich enough to afford tickets on the floor has all been the same. They keep trying to grab your foot while you’re doing your Ave Maria piece, and touching your legs with their sweaty, chubby, little hands, so Nastia has since given up faking smiles for the crowd. She wants to do something else, like go back home and sleep in her own bed for once. Monotonous day after monotonous day of this stupid tour is eating the happiness out of her. The pride she feels by having won those numerous medals during Beijing seems nothing but a long lost illusion.
Fucking tour.
And fuck the little kids. Watch when they see the famous Nastia Liukin curse like a sailor in the dressing rooms.
But amidst all of this Disney bullshit, there is one thing that Nastia looks forward to. It isn’t simple at all; complicated sounds like the perfect word to describe it, but it has never been talked about as such.
There really is no talking, period, when you’re making out with Sasha Artemev from the U.S. Men’s Artistic Gymnastics Team. “Making out” isn’t really the correct term. It sounds too naïve and it fails to encompass the various activities that transpire when two illicit lovers meet in the most random places, or you know, wherever’s available at hand. It’s an enjoyable pastime.
Nastia remembers the exact date when things between them went from first base and almost reached third base. Hell, she even remembers the exact time.
But Nastia’s a good girl.
Sasha had been pressuring her in not-so-subtle ways (my God, she could feel the lust emanating from his body) but what happens when he slips his hand beneath the waistband of her lucky polka-dotted panties?
She grabs it instinctively and pulls his hand out. She says no in such a firm tone that it becomes the decisive factor for their future affairs. Nastia hasn’t regretted this decision, truthfully. Sure, there are the days when Sasha kisses her and thrusts his tongue into her mouth, while pushing his groin against hers so she can feel him through his stupid plaid American Eagle shorts. It's as if Nastia is worth nothing more than a whore to him sometimes.
But even after Sasha tells her that he wants her now, right now, goddammit, and why is she being such a fucking prude all the time, Nastia doesn’t say yes. Each and every instance, she places a shaky hand on his chest and says no.
No.
No.
NO.
Never in my life, Alexander Artemev.
This last statement she keeps to herself, even though her subconscious wants to deny every single word of that false statement.
Because the one thing that Nastia cannot stand at all is the thought that she’s playing second fiddle to a woman named Brianna Springer, Sasha’s oh, so perfect, little bride-to-be.