Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11268144.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques_Leroy/
      Isabella_Yang, Jean-Jacques_Leroy/multiple_male_skaters, Otabek_Atlin/
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy, Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin/Yuri
      Plisetsky
  Character:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy, Isabella_Yang, Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin
  Additional Tags:
      Jean_is_in_denial, Catholic_Jean, Catholic_Guilt, Otapliroy, past_jjbek,
      some_otayuri
  Series:
      Part 3 of please_please_please_let_me_get_what_I_want_this_time
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-22 Words: 1467
****** Heaven Help Him ******
by Blownwish
Summary
     Jean is a heterosexual guy, who loves and respects his fiancé, and is
     tormented by the Mortal Sin of Lust when he's around the other
     skaters. God in heaven, please show him mercy?
Notes
     Prompt given by Farasha
     at the Madness Discord chat. Hope it fits the bill?
      
     Thank you blackmountainbones
     for listening to my moaning and groaning over this. I'm such a doof
     and you're the best.
See the end of the work for more notes
Jean was raised to respect women, because women were wives and mothers and
sisters and they were absolutely, positively not sex objects to be used for
selfish purposes. Not that sex was bad. No! Sex was absolutely beautiful when a
man and a woman came together in holy matrimony, joined together with God’s
blessing. He believed it, too - and not just because his mom and dad had
drummed it into his head since his first wet dream. (Don't feel bad about all
those dirty dreams, Jean. Just remember to bring it up during Confession and
Father Dubois will give you absolution.) No, he really, truly believed women
were to be cherished and respected and that he would only have sex with one
woman, after he was married. If it was good enough for his dad then it was
plenty good for the Jay Man.
“But don't you love me?”
Jean kissed Isabella’s knuckles and backed away before she could push him under
the awning and let temptation have its way with her. They already kissed twice.
Once, real quick on the lips was okay, but twice, a little slower, was pushing
it. Lust was one of the Seven Deadly Sins and he was not about to look for it
at - what was this basilica called? The Sagrada Famillia? Good grief! That
meant Sacred Family! As in Jesus, Mary and Joseph! He was not going to commit
sacrilege here, with her. He couldn't do that to Isabella, or the Virgin Mary.
“It's because I do love you. You're precious, Bella. I want to treat you
right.”
She sighed. “We better get married, fast. You're killing me, baby.”
Oh, they would. And it was going to be perfect, to boot. He wanted to make it
special for her, lay her down on silk sheets and play the ballads he'd recorded
just for their wedding night as they became one flesh. And then he wanted to
hold her in his arms and give her his wedding night present: a three story
house down in Westmount. He’d already put a down payment on it with the
Canadian Tire sponsorship money. They'd raise a passel of Quebecois rugrats and
live happily ever after. Yeah, his Isabella deserved the very best and he was
going to give it to her, JJ Style.
Only… only he had this bad habit. Father Dubois said these things happened,
especially among young male athletes, and he always absolved him of his sins
during Confession, promising Jean it would pass as soon as he was married and
able to express his urges in a healthy manner. “But listen to me carefully, my
son. You are still compelled, as a confirmed Roman Catholic, to follow Canon
Law.” Jean could see Father through the confessional screen, turning his wire
glasses around and around. “Homosexuality is not an appropriate sexual
expression.”
“Does it count if it's just, well, hands?” He couldn't say handjobs in church.
He could barely say it at all. “Not even kissing. Just hands.”
“And you put your hands on them as well?”
Jean hung his head. It was always the same. He tried to deny it was homosexual
and Father always caught his self deception. But what was he supposed to do
when he was in a room full of ripped, half naked guys, and Christophe asked him
if he wanted to share a shower? And where was he supposed to go, that one time
after Skate Canada, when everyone somehow decided to have a big circle jerk in
the locker room? When Plisetsky looked at him like a cat in heat and ordered
him: Get me off, asshole. Or last year, when Katsuki got ripped at the Sochi
Grand Prix banquet and invited the entire men’s roster back to his hotel room
for an orgy? Okay, so maybe Jean let Katsuki use his mouth on him - but it was
just for a minute! And, okay, he did more than watch for the rest of it. But he
was only human, and it didn't mean he was homosexual. He would have preferred
to be married and having sex with Isabella, which meant he was a hundred
percent heterosexual. Only, it was still bad and wrong and very, very shameful.
“Uh, more than hands, Father.”
“Oh, dear. Pray one Rosary for sodomy, and another for the lie. Deinde, ego te
absolvo a peccatis tuis in nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.”
Father made the Sign of the Cross and Jean quickly did the same. “Think about
your life, my son. Reflect on what God wants for you and embrace His Greater
Plan.”
++
“You sure you're not going to get all weird, and talk about Jesus again?”
Plisetsky does not look convinced. Jean shakes his head anyway, as Otabek
unzips his pants. “I don't believe him.”
“He did the same thing back when we trained together.” Otabek spits in his hand
and - finally! - starts jerking Jean off, working his foreskin up and down over
his dick with that cool little twist Jean remembers him using, back in
Montreal, when they were sixteen and Otabek was staying at his house. Jean
doesn't get sentimental about the summer they spent ‘practicing’ on each other,
because love is not for guys. But he does remember lots of things about Otabek:
the way his arm bunches up when Jean grabs it, how his breath hitches when he
looks Jean in the eye as he touches him back, and how he closes his eyes and
groans, right before he comes. “He's very religious.”
“He's very stupid.” Plisetsky is still wearing that wild getup from his
exhibition skate. Jean wonders what Father Dubois would say about eye makeup
and lipgloss on a boy, or the shredded shirt and tight leather pants. He's
pretty sure his dad walked out of the rink as soon as he got a load of what
Plisetsky was offering up. “You gonna cream for me, Jeh-Jeh? Maybe get on your
knees and suck me off this time?” He doesn't even realize Otabek is pushing him
to his knees, but he does see him out the gold medal around Plisetsky’s neck.
“He looks like he's about to pray.” Otabek’s fingers run through his hair as
Plisetsky peels the leather down and shows Jean the pinkest, ripest dick, just
made for sucking.
“Go on, Jean.” Otabek pushes his head forward and Jean opens his mouth, like
he's receiving Communion.
He's going to go to the Sagrada Famillia basilica tomorrow morning for
confession this time. It will be a week until he's back in Montreal and that's
too long for something this bad. But, God forgive him, he's getting so hard.
And when he hears Otabek’s fly come down? He's even harder. So hard he's
probably going to come without jerking off, all over his track suit. So hard
he's probably not going to care if someone opens the locker room door and sees
him like this. “Come here.” Otabek pulls him off and shoves his dick in Jean’s
mouth. “Touch him while you suck me.”
Jean is not gay. He's completely straight. He just happens to do this from time
to time. As long as God forgives him, and Isabella marries him, everything will
be okay and he can forget all about indulging in lust.
“I almost like him this way,” Plisetsky’s voice is husky, his dick is sloppy
wet, and his hands tug Jean’s head back so he can spit in his mouth. “You like
this, Catholic boy? You like lots of dick? Gonna cry to Jesus about it?" He
nearly comes when Plisetsky shoves it back in his mouth and starts fucking his
face. “It's like you were made to suck my dick.”
No he was not. God made Jean and Yuri Plisetsky and Otabek Altin for better
things. There is someone out there for them, just like Isabella is there for
Jean. And they'd all be able to love those girls like they were meant to be
loved and feel love, right back. It was too bad they are so caught up in this
lustful, sinful cycle.
“Yeah, Jeh-Jeh. Maybe we should make this a tradition. I win and you blow us.”
When Jean looks up, when he sees that beautiful, angry face, when he chokes as
Plisetsky shoots down his throat, when Otabek tells him to swallow it all, Jean
comes.
Lust is a terrible sin. He needs to ask the Virgin Mary for intervention
because he is powerless in the face of temptation. And She will do it, because
his love for Isabella was pure and real and right.
“Now me, Jean.”
He turns toward Otabek, opens his mouth and looks up. This is the last time, he
promises the Virgin Mary. The very last time.
End Notes
     Come on down and say hey to me on tumblr @ blownwish-blog :D
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