Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11829984.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Isabella_Yang,
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy, Alain_Leroy, Nathalie_Leroy, Yuri_Plisetsky, Isabella
      Yang, Otabek_Altin
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_-_Freeform, Unresolved_Angst, Catholic_Guilt, Pliroy, peripheral
      otayuri, Religious_Imagery, Semi-explicit_sex, Language, Heartbreak
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-08-17 Words: 2562
****** Crucify ******
by annabeth
Summary
     JJ falls for the wrong person, and his life unravels.
     or the lily-needed-to-write-Catholic-guilt-JJ fic.
Notes
     All the song lyrics (and the title) are from "Crucify" by Tori Amos.
     This is totally inspired by Blownwish's fics.
     Beta'd by ShadesofHades.
looking for a saviour beneath these dirty sheets
All I can think about is those green eyes and that blond hair. I'm going to
Hell. Oh, God, please. Please keep me, God. Please.
But those thoughts are just the soundtrack that plays alongside the wet slicked
sound of JJ pulling on his cock, lotion on his palm as he reaches for a heaven
that's more like hell every day.
When he was a prepubescent, his father had sat him down and given him The Talk.
About how a boy's body might react to a pretty girl. About how it was so very
important that if that happened to pray about it.
"You just get down on your knees, Jean, and pray it away. God will help you.
Mary will intercede for you. Those reactions are normal, but you must not—must
not—act unnaturally on those urges. Masturbation is a sin."
"Yes, Dad," JJ had said. He'd been just beginning to understand what his father
meant. He'd had one or two uncomfortable boners, but he'd never touched
himself. At least, not at first.
"Remember, Jean. God is always watching. He sees what we do, and He can
perceive the sins in our hearts. You must keep your heart as pure as your
body."
"Of course, Dad," JJ had repeated. It hadn't seemed so difficult, back then.
"That's my good boy," his father had said, ruffling his hair. "I know you won't
give in to temptation."
When JJ met Izzy in high school, he'd gotten hard thinking about her. He'd done
as his father said, getting down on his knees by his bed and praying,
desperately. It hadn't helped the way his father promised it would, though.
Still, JJ was a good boy. He didn't touch that part of himself that was so
needy and wanting. He trusted his father, and also his Father, and believed
that one day Izzy would walk towards him in a white dress, and he'd be wearing
a powder blue tuxedo, and they'd exchange vows and he'd finally get to kiss
her.
Funny, that when he was an impressionable teenager, he never fantasized beyond
that first kiss. He never thought about putting his penis inside of Izzy, even
after sex ed. classes. He always just assumed he'd love her forever, and he'd
do it when he was allowed to.
But that was all before Yuri. Sometimes JJ thinks of it that way: Before Yuri,
and After Yuri. Before-Yuri-JJ was a good Catholic. He never cursed. He never
touched himself down there. He prayed every night and he honored his father and
mother and never, ever talked back to them when he knew they were just trying
to make him better at figure skating.
After-Yuri-JJ took his first sip of champagne at the banquet after Skate
Canada. That new JJ wasn't someone he recognized. He drank the whole glass,
then had three more. And he stared.
The beauty of Yuri Plisetsky was dangerous; wild but sexy; angry yet somehow
soft beneath. JJ could tell Yuri was just protecting the tenderness of his
heart. And that night, when he went back to the hotel room he shared with his
parents, he laid in bed and kept replaying every second of the banquet that
involved Yuri, and his dick got hard.
Over a boy.
JJ knew that was wrong. He'd never needed to be told that by his father; his
Bible had told him men didn't lie with other men. So JJ understood all at once
that somewhere something had gone sideways. It had to be the champagne that his
parents didn't know he'd drunk. He'd fallen for one of the Devil's tricks, and
now he was paying for it.
At Rostelecom, JJ had insisted on his own hotel room.
"I'm nineteen, I'm not a child anymore," he'd told his mother, who had smiled
at him.
"Of course you're not, my love. We should have realized that sooner." She'd
kissed his cheek and changed their reservations. And JJ had watched Yuri skate
like ethereal, heavenly beauty and his dick had gone half hard in his
tracksuit.
JJ knows that was terrible. He knows that now, as he works himself over, as he
closes his eyes and thinks of hellfire and damnation and tries so hard to let
that help him. God may be watching, and He's definitely disappointed in JJ, but
He's not going to stop him. No, JJ understands that too. God gave man free
will, and that's why Hell is a place where the wicked go.
And now JJ is one of those wicked people. He's jerking off, and remembering
that the first time he dared to touch himself, he was back in Montréal, at
home, after Skate Canada. And he wasn't thinking about Izzy—no, he was thinking
about him.
JJ hasn't been able to stop masturbating since that first night, since that
first time he thought about what Yuri might look like under his costume. He'd
always kept his eyes averted in the locker room, so he didn't know.
He has never once thought about Izzy naked, not even by accident. But somehow
he keeps thinking about Yuri by accident.
One more upstroke and JJ is coming, splattering his chest and the bedspread.
His breathing is fast, and he lets the blanket drop back down on top of him as
he pulls his hand free of the blanket.
Tomorrow, he'll wash his bed things again, and his mother will give him a
worried look. They must think he's still having wet dreams like a young
teenager, not like a man.
And in just a few weeks, he'll be in Barcelona, for the Grand Prix Final, with
Izzy.
And Yuri.
                                      ~&~
I've been raising up my hands, drive another nail in
Life is just a rehearsal for what comes after. You have to live your best life.
"Oh my goodness," Izzy says, hands flying up to cover her mouth. "JJ!"
JJ is on one knee, holding up the jewelry box with the diamond ring nestled
inside. Izzy is wearing a calf length, blue silk dress, and they've just
finished dinner. JJ's been planning this since he qualified for the Grand Prix
Final, and so far everything's going perfectly.
Except that when JJ blinks, the instant his eyes close, another face
superimposes itself on his eyelids. When he opens his eyes again, he's still
gazing up at Izzy, with her pretty red lips and dark hair, her grey blue eyes
focused entirely on him.
But JJ's concentration has been broken—by the obsessively beautiful fifteen-
year-old named Yuri Plisetsky. It's his green eyes he sees now, even as he
looks into hers.
When he says,
"Will you marry me?" JJ realizes that he wishes he was asking someone else a
different question.
"Oh, yes, JJ," Izzy cries, and when he stands up, she throws her arms around
him. "I love you!"
"I love you too, baby," JJ says, but in his mind, he's thinking about the
possibility of saying those words to someone else. He's remembering how he
masturbated that morning thinking about long, coltish limbs and gorgeously
clear skin. How he spent an hour on his knees afterward, praying for
forgiveness. How he got up after and still felt dirty, still felt wrong—how his
heart had beat too fast and his mouth had been dry because no matter what he
did, he couldn't stop getting hard.
Over a boy.
He hugs her tight, closing his eyes and breathing in the soft scent of her
floral perfume.
But what he smells instead is clean sweat and the tang of an ice rink.
                                      ~&~
got enough guilt to start my own religion
JJ knows that he's offending God and all the angels when he pushes Yuri down on
the bed. He knows he's being filled with the Devil and the Devil's urges when
he can't help himself from tasting those lips.
So much filth and profanity flows from that pretty little mouth, but instead of
tasting bitter or somehow unpleasant—like it should, since this is evil burning
up his soul—it's the sweetest thing JJ's ever had in his mouth. Yuri's tongue
is soft and silky as it presses against his, and JJ can't control the gasp that
escapes to be swallowed into Yuri's mouth.
"Kitten…" JJ murmurs, ghosting his tongue along Yuri's lower lip. "I'm getting
hard for you."
Those words make him feel a little sick inside, no matter how true they are.
How many times has he lain in bed, with his hands crossed, trying to say his
prayers before he falls asleep—only to picture green eyes, blond hair, and that
pixie-perfect face that he's been obsessed with since the moment Yuri joined
the Senior division?
Only to get hard, and beg God for intercession even as he falls to human
temptation, to the all-too human failing of lust. JJ knows that Satan is in
every bad thought, that Satan is the reason for sin—and he knows that his
jerking off was a terrible sin, but touching himself late at night was
sometimes the only thing that kept him sane.
"Fuck," Yuri says, "you're being an idiot. Are you gonna fuck me or not?"
JJ doesn't want to stop kissing him. He wants to get drunk on Yuri, to be able
to bottle the essence of his attractiveness and keep it with him always.
Think of Izzy, JJ tells himself, if you can think of your fiancée, it won't be
as bad.
JJ knows that this is a logical fallacy, that even if he could bring her face
to mind, it wouldn't make touching Yuri any less of a sin. He's upholstering
his handbasket with every caress, every kiss.
But JJ can't stop himself; his palms skim over satiny skin, and he shudders
with how soft and irresistible it is. Who knew that someone who was so abrasive
could be so soft and yielding in bed?
When he presses inside of Yuri, when he feels the unbelievable silky texture of
his depths, JJ knows he's lost.
He played the game, he did his best, he tried to live his best life. Because
life is a rehearsal—and JJ failed. He's given into temptation, and even as he
fucks into the tight, willing little body, his mind is filled with images of
damnation, of Satan laughing with delight as JJ steps into the handbasket and
lets himself be pulled downward. As he falls, no better than Lucifer himself.
It isn't until Yuri growls, sharp and angry, "What the fuck are you muttering
about, you asshole?" that JJ realizes he's been praying, that he's been
pleading, yearning for forgiveness he'll never be granted.
"I'm—ah—sorry," JJ blurts, and he's coming, his body taking over. His priest
has told him that the human body will behave in any way it's built to behave,
and that it's up to the mind—and the purity of your heart—to keep it in check.
While JJ prayed and begged and cried, his body had thrust ever onward, shooting
for the stars. JJ has landed among the stars, but he's not in heaven, and he
never will be.
"God, I'm so sorry," JJ cries, pulling out of Yuri. There's no condom to
dispose of, because Jj wasn't supposed to fuck anyone but Izzy, after they got
married. He'd come to her pure as the driven snow, and she would be the same,
and there would be no need for condoms; and if she got pregnant, then that was
God's will.
But what has he done? He yanks his clothes back on, trying not to look at that
debauched, beautiful body lying spent on the bed. He defiled Yuri, and himself,
and he didn't even use protection!
He'll never be right with God now. There's no forgiving this: he got hard, and
he gave into the temptations of the flesh.
Over a boy.
JJ tries to conjure Izzy's face as an antidote for what he's just done, but
there's nothing.
"I—I gotta go." JJ practically runs for the door, guilt blanketing him as
thickly as the sweat still clinging to his skin. Sweat that is partially
his—and partially Yuri's.
He slams the door shut and leans against it, panting. His body is still half
strung out.
Over a boy.
JJ consigned his immortal soul to the depths for one night of sex. With a boy.
A boy.
He slinks back to the room he's got to himself, and he cries.
But he doesn't know whether he's crying for himself, or for what he took from
Yuri, that he had no business taking. Tomorrow is the short program, and JJ's
not ready, not now.
There are no prayers in his heart anymore.
                                      ~&~
where are those angels when you need them
"You fucking asshole," Yuri says, shoving JJ in the chest. "You don't have to
gloat about winning gold. No one likes an insufferable idiot."
JJ just wants to say, I'm not gloating. I just want you to be proud of me, but
of course that's stupid. Yuri would never be proud of JJ, he'd always just hate
him for placing higher than Yuri in the standings. JJ won gold—but in reality,
in winning, he lost.
"See you, princess," JJ says, winking and heading for his parents, who are
waiting for him. His mother is smiling, and his father's eyes are wet.
Yes, JJ has made his parents proud. He's done right by his country, by his
fiancée.
But why does everything feel so wrong?
"I'm gonna fucking win gold at the Grand Prix Final!" Yuri yells after him, and
JJ just smiles. Let him try.
                                      ~&~
Crucify myself
In Barcelona, the short program, JJ chokes, thoughts of proposing to Izzy
swimming in his mind—and long, white legs spread open for his cock—and it costs
him. But not as much as it costs him when, after the banquet, after the
exhibition, he sees Yuri standing entirely too close to Otabek Fucking Altin.
There are two glasses of champagne in his hands, and he's halfway to Yuri when
he sees Otabek put an arm around Yuri. When Otabek leans in close and whispers
in that perfect, shell-like ear.
JJ's not conscious of dropping the champagne flutes; it's the shattering sound
of the glass that wakes him up from this horrible dream—or is that the sound of
his heart shattering?—but in moments his mother is standing next to him.
"Oh, darling," she says. "I know winning bronze isn't what you wanted, but…"
But he doesn't hear the rest. Winning bronze doesn't mean anything. Only
winning one thing—Yuri's heart—means anything to him anymore. But he threw away
his heart and damned his soul.
Over a boy he can never have, who was never his to begin with.
"Come on, JJ," Izzy says, leaning into him; he doesn't even know when she
walked up to him. "We'll get married anyway, okay? As soon as you want."
"I think a summer wedding would be nice," his mother says wistfully, but JJ
surprises them all when he says,
"Maybe in March."
The sooner he marries Izzy, the sooner he can forget about Yuri Plisetsky.
                                      ~&~
my heart is sick of being in chains
The problem is, he can never forget about Yuri Plisetsky.
                                     end.
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