Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12789222.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      Multi
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy, Yuri_Plisetsky, Isabella_Yang, Otabek_Altin, Alain
      Leroy
  Additional Tags:
      Pliroy, peripheral_jjbella, peripheral_otayuri, Cheating, Marital
      Breakdown, Blow_Jobs, Hand_Jobs, Frottage, Anal_Sex, Fingering, Everyone
      cheats
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-22 Words: 8519
****** permanent option ******
by Blownwish
Summary
     Yuri Plisetsky is his Permanent Option, but only because JJ pretends
     he will always say yes.
Notes
     Live beta’d by Annabeth. She deserves a medal for putting up with me.
     Sorry this is kinda trash.
Jean-Jacques discovered the concept of the Permanent Option a month after he
retired with two Olympic Gold medals, when he broke his ankle walking to his
Uber in Le Robin’s parking lot. Okay, so he might’ve been a little tipsy. He
liked wine just fine, but that night, sitting on that leather barstool watching
Robbie scrub out the shot glasses, JJ realized he could have beer, now. And,
okay, so JJ also thought four pints of Molson wasn’t going to be all that,
well, influential over his nervous system. With the calmest crying possible, he
told the Uber driver there was a change in their itinerary.
“Cover your mouth.” He propped his foot up on the bench seat with his seatbelt
strangling him. “It’s contagious. The pandemic can be stopped if we all do our
part.”
 
And it was then, as the Uber driver pedaled her cute little Honda Civic to
Hospital Hôtel Dieu, as Jean-Jacques lost count of the lights between that last
good stride on his right ankle and months of recovery, as he imagined his
calendar slotted with follow ups and physical therapy, he realized there was no
way he could change his mind and compete next season. Skating wasn’t an option
anymore. “This means something.”
“You’re a little drunk, buddy.”
Jean-Jacques would be pacing but he’s wearing a boot for his ankle. He’s
explaining what this means to his iPhone, where Otabek’s voice wafts through
the air and over a glass of Mondavi cabsab. “I’m not drunk. It’s just one
glass. Besides, I’m European. This is what we do.”
“Canadians are European, now. Good to know.”
“Yes. That is correct. And I appreciate how you keep the patronizing tone when
you’re being sarcastic. You always go the extra mile.” Jean-Jacques finishes
his glass. And it was just a half glass, really. He should have a little more.
“What do you think of my idea?”
“Only you could romanticize indecision.”
“But it’s true! That moment before you decide makes you feel so free. And why?”
He overpours, but it’s not the end of the world. “Because your options are so
open.”
“Why do I pick up your calls?”
Jean-Jacques squints into the glass and it reminds him of blood. “Must be my
charm.”
“I have to hit the rink. Put the bottle away before you get hurt again.”
“Peace.” He nearly spills his glass when he makes the timeout signal.
Otabek isn’t done. “Actually I was going to contact you about something.”
JJ sighs. He doesn’t know what’s more important than ideas. Ideas make art and
rocket ships. Ideas are potent. Ideas about ideas make JJ’s head spin. “But
what do you think of my idea?”
“I’m going to ask Yuri to move to Almaty before the season starts.” He says it
all at once, as if he has to get it over with quickly.
JJ shrugs. “You… want permission? Hey - enjoy this. I remember when I was
thinking about asking Izzy to marry me. Never so in love in my life. It was
amazing.” The wine tastes so good.
“Right. Well, thanks for the support.”
“Why do you want him to move in? You know living with someone is not the same
as dating. Or sleeping over.”
“I said I’m thinking about it.” Otabek says something in Russian. He’s probably
cursing. JJ used to imagine Otabek was saying rude things about his mother. Now
he pictures Otabek muttering a long, low string of it in a chant that floated
into the atmosphere, then rained down over JJ, tripping him over the curb and
breaking his ankle. “Just wanted to let you know.”
“Jeez, you really think I have a problem with that, don’t you?” He touches his
fingers to his temple. He never says that name without some sort of reverence.
“Oh, I get it. You’re warning me off. Let me guess: Yuri wants something
permanent and he’s been dropping hints.”
“Given the circumstances I just wanted to make sure you understood. Yuri isn’t
going to want you anymore.”
“Hey, I’m still married, Beks.” He nearly stands up. He nearly stands up to
walk toward the window. But the boot — JJ smiles. “I wasn’t planning on asking
anyone to move in with me. You want a relationship? Then give’r. All I was
saying was enjoy the moment before you tell him. Enjoy the right now.”
“There is no further point in talking to you.”
“So when are you —?“ JJ stops when the phone call ends. He knows why Otabek
doesn’t want to talk about the future. It’s better not to. “To Yuri Plisetsky.”
He holds up his bottle to the sunset in a window he could get up to watch.
Maybe he will. He puts his glass to his lips.
++
JJ didn’t have a name for the Permanent Option when he met Yuri Plisetsky in
Toronto, just a notion of what it meant when JJ gave in to the temptation of
wrestling him to the ground when all five feet and change of him tried to
tackle him over one little wolf whistle. He had to; the kid was seriously
trying to gouge JJ’s eyes out. And, call it serendipity, credit Yuri for
choosing a deserted corner of the rink to jump JJ, call it a test from God, but
no one was there to witness JJ straddling Yuri’s torso as JJ slammed his hands
over his head.
“One hell of a kerfuffle over a whistle, kitty cat.”
His eyes were the greenest eyes JJ ever saw. His lips weren’t soft. They were
chapped. But they were bright pink, like fruit. Edible fruit. And his body was
so small. “Do it.”
JJ leaned down. He wasn’t going to do anything. Plisetsky was cute but he was a
kid and JJ wasn’t going to cheat on Isabella. But he wasn’t going to tell that
to Plisetsky, no. He was going to give the kid a scare for trying to murder him
with knife shoes.
Knife shoes?
JJ got close. Real close. Close enough to drown out the buzzing halogen lights
until Yuri was staring up at a shadow. “What do you think I’m going to do to
you, kitty?”
He wasn’t expecting Yuri Plisetsky to close the space between them. He wasn’t
expecting him to press those rough, chapped lips against his. Fast.
Of course they pulled away from each other the second they heard footsteps
around the corner. And of course that wasn’t the only time. That was just the
introduction to the Permanent Option that was Yuri Plisetsky. And, of course,
JJ only thought of the situation as Yuri Plisetsky.
Yuri Plisetsky presented himself, again, in Moscow. He hissed and he cursed
whenever he was near JJ, making him near irresistible when he leaned up against
another lonely wall, in another empty corner of JJ’s head, trying to shove JJ
when he passed. “Hey.”
JJ stopped. “Need something?”
Yuri stepped in front of him. Yuri, in that cute little Russian tracksuit,
sized him up. Then Yuri tried to shove him again.
JJ laughed as he backed Yuri up against the wall. “You wanna kiss me again?”
“You going to make me?” Yuri was pink, and JJ would’ve bet his hand would burn
if he touched his cheek. And that moment turned around them as JJ tilted his
head and Yuri glared up at him and an infinite number of possibilities bloomed,
like flowers, ready to be picked. JJ almost touched those lips again, this time
with his fingertip. Almost.
JJ let him go.
Then there was Barcelona, when JJ nearly lost it all over a Permanent Option
named Yuri Plisetsky.
leave him alone
Otabek had a new number but the same attitude when it came to his precious
teenage obsession. And Isabella needed a ring. And, incidentally, all the gold
medals. JJ tried to jump, tried to fly. But he wasn’t a bird. He was a man who
imagined he had wings to break.
JJ got the medal and the girl. Otabek got the Permanent Option named Yuri
Plisetsky. We’re friends. Yuri preened like a cat as he combed his hair away
from his face. As he sat next to JJ at the press table. As he spoke to the
flashing lights and sneered into millions of online hits. I can have friends.
As Yuri’s hand kneaded JJ’s thigh under the table.
Yuri had love bites all over his neck. So did Otabek. JJ could see them as
Otabek stood against the wall, like the man at the end of the line, like the
boogie man, as he lifted his neck and let JJ take a good, long look.
Too bad for Otabek — Yuri never changed his relationship status on Instagram
and waited for JJ in another empty hallway. This time it was in Helsinki, but
these hallways were all in that same little corner of JJ’s mind. “What do you
want, Jeh Jeh?” He heard Yuri’s voice behind him, like a question JJ forgot to
ask.
“I don’t know.” He said it quickly, only knowing he didn’t want to walk away
yet.
Yuri shoved him. “Yes, you do.”
This time Otabek wasn’t there. He wasn’t there to stop JJ from grabbing Yuri’s
hand when he tried to slap his face. He wasn’t there to stop him when he pulled
that naughty kitty up against him. And Otabek couldn't stop JJ when he lowered
his head and whispered, “I’m not telling you,” right before he reached down and
put his hands down Yuri Plisetsky’s tracksuit. “I’m keeping all options open.”
Yuri Plisetsky gasped and it made JJ feel free. Yuri didn’t want JJ to win gold
and he didn’t want to have JJ’s babies and he didn’t have one singular plan for
JJ’s life. In fact Yuri Plisetsky, with his small, tight ass and his kitty cat
sexy, could have blown it all to smithereens.
He was irresistible.
++
The boot is a pain in the ass. He can’t wrestle with little Alain and he can’t
play horsie with Annette. He can’t even drive them anywhere. He’s got an Uber
prescription to match the Percocet one. JJ just sits, slightly stoned, as
Juliette Yang smiles back at him as his children swarm her. “Bad break?”
“Fracture.” He knocks on the blue boot. “Stepped funny on a curb. Darndest
thing, eh?”
She won’t be able to put them down because they are made of invisible Velcro.
They cling with a strength that is not in their chubby arms and legs and she
laughs and her fine grey bob is only a little ruffled. “Go to your Papa.”
They only fall all over his boot. She laughs even harder. It’s okay, they can’t
hurt him any more than he managed to hurt himself. He just screwed himself out
of being able to skate. He might as well be in a wheelchair.
His mother-in-law is a real peach. “Where’s Izzy?”
“Where are you?” She keeps smiling. “You’re not here anymore?” Juliette knows
this because she lives in this, his house, now.
“Maman, please.” Mercifully, Isabella scoops Annette up and Alain follows out
of jealousy. One day he’s going to start performing for her attention. JJ is as
sure of this as he sure of his own name. He’s already jumping up and down. JJ
pats a spot next to the sofa and his son sits next to him, even though he
clearly wants to be with his mama. “Ah, if you could take the kids outside to
the sandbox?"
Juliette leaves. Not a word, not a flaw in her smile, and she went through the
sliding glass door with two little squealing Leroys.
JJ says, “Please don’t smoke.”
“Okay,” Izzy whispers, “that’s where she smokes. Sorry babe.”
That is not good and he will get to that. “You need more money?” This is his
family.
“You’re more than generous. It’s okay.” She’s wearing that pretty pink kimono.
She looks soft scrubbed and fresh. Clean.
She just took a shower. “Let me know if you do.” He searches her eyes as she
smiles. “You doing okay, Iz?”
“Yeah.” She sighs. “Maman says hardship is what marriage is for. That’s her way
of saying she needs a day off. Isn’t she the best?”
“I can come back any time. You say the word. I’ll be back before you finish
saying it.” He has to say this, and he would do these things. “And Juliette is
right.”
“I have two kids, not three, Jay. I can’t ride a nonstop rollercoaster.” She
watches her mother puff at a Marlboro Light. “You seeing Yuri Plisetsky?”
“No.” If he could, he would. Crisse! He keeps thinking about all the sharp jabs
Yuri would have for him if he saw JJ like this. And he would keep pushing him
to move, get up out of his chair and fuck, get out of the apartment to buy Yuri
some damn clothes, drink, argue, then fuck it out until Yuri was exploding like
champagne all over JJ.
Not here - he can’t think about him, here. JJ focuses back on his children.
He wants to get up and tap the window. He would wave at the kids but it would
be for the sole purpose of making that cigarette go away. But he can’t. And she
won’t. “I’m not seeing anyone in particular.” He looks at the sliding glass
door, then back at her. “Otabek mentioned something about asking Yuri to move
to Almaty. Bet Otabek ends up signing a lease in St. Petersburg.”
She gets up and taps the glass. Shakes her finger at her mother.
“Give it a week.”
She doesn’t turn around. “And if some striking Russian blond happens to have a
super-secret photoshoot scheduled with you?” She smiles over her shoulder. “You
know what they say. It’s not just the cheating. It’s the lying.” Her smile
trembles. “I won’t be quite as angry if you’re honest.”
She’s trying so hard not to cry. He tries to take her hand when he gets up. But
she taps the glass with it again. JJ sighs. “I deserve that.”
“I’m not supposed to judge. It’s not my place.” She is looking outside, again.
Little Alain is trying to keep the baby from throwing sand. Juliette is still
smoking on the lawn chair. “Just be honest.”
++
They were shopping in Paris like a couple of chicks, which was fine by JJ. He
liked shopping like a chick, and he really liked having a kitty to dress up,
too. He didn’t like this Parisian French, though. He draws the line on certain
girlie things.
“It’s French. Who cares?” Yuri was about to try on the red wife beater JJ spent
ten minutes begging him to try on. JJ nabbed the shirt Yuri threw over the door
and put it to his nose so he could breathe in that warm Coco Chanel Yuri’d been
wearing all weekend. JJ couldn’t wait to see the top. He had an idea.
He wanted to take a picture of Yuri at the Seines with the wind in his hair and
the sun gleaming on his creamy skin. He already had so many pictures. Not to
post, but to keep because he knew it would be over by Monday morning.
“You wanna see?”
JJ didn’t wait for him to come out. He pushed through the door once Yuri
cracked it open and all he could think was cherry pie when he saw how pink he
was and how red his lips were when he licked them and stepped back and - oh! -
he was in those red briefs JJ got him. “What have we got here, kitty?” JJ
turned him around and he watched Yuri’s cheeks flush and they were warm when he
touched that flush then those lips when they opened. “Shhh.” His hands trailed
down the soft red cotton. “Do you like it?”
“Yeah.”
They didn’t go to the river. The taxi took them back to the Langlois Hotel. JJ
traced a slow line from Yuri’s jaw to his fingertip as Yuri stared at the
scenery. “Red is your color,” said JJ. Yuri snorted.
Their feet took them to a room and an anwar sofa where Yuri backed JJ into
velvet cushions and a cocoon masquerading as an afghan. They hid under this as
they kissed forever, sliding their tongues against each other, pressing their
bodies against each other, touching each other, anywhere they could reach,
kicking off shoes and socks and pulling down pants.
“Jerk me off.” Yuri pulled JJ’s hand down. Pulled it under the elastic. “I
wanted you to do it in the store. Do it, next time.”
Next time.
JJ imagined next time as Yuri nuzzled his jaw. As Yuri kneaded his arm. As JJ
pumped Yuri’s cock. “Chaton.” JJ imagined a time and space like this one, when
he had Yuri all to himself. “I’d pull down your shorts, next time.” He does, a
little. “Not all the way. Just enough.” Was that possible?
Yuri licked his neck. “Enough for what?”
JJ spit in his hand and slicked up his own dick. “What do you think?” He
pressed himself against Yuri’s sweet, tight thighs, he took Yuri’s sweet, pink
cock in hand, and he held Yuri down on top of him. “Enough.”
Yuri let the blanket fall away as JJ thrusted. He let his arms fall back. He
let his neck arch as his head fell back as he sobbed and came for JJ. He was
heavy on top of him, but he was flexible. He twisted around and slipped down.
When he was back up he had swallowed a mouth full.
JJ groaned. “Did you really mean that?”
“Depends.” The smile on Yuri’s face disappeared. He propped himself up on JJ’s
chest. “What’s in it for me, Leroy?”
“A lot of shopping, a lot of wine, a lot of sex.” He usually wanted to close
his eyes and wallow in sweat and come for a minute. But at this time tomorrow
he would want to give anything to be back where he was, so he kept them open,
even though that made him want to close them even more.
Yuri bent his head and his hair feathered over JJ’s chest before he kissed his
skin. “But you’re staying with her. You’re not breaking up or separated or
anything.”
“You’re worried I want something from you? Some kind of commitment?” He combed
Yuri’s hair back and traced circles on Yuri’s temples. “Relax, kitten. The ring
is still on my finger. You’re still freerange.”
And JJ could tell himself he was happy letting Yuri run free. Could tell
himself he didn’t want more. He had to. Anything else was inconvenient.
There was a crystal figurine of an angel on the coffee table. It was too easy
to knock over, but its smile would still be there. “Holy shit! You never stop
with the arrogance,” said Yuri. “You’re reading too much into this. I’m just
trying to figure out how we are going to fuck. And get me new clothes.” He
smiled. “You pay for the room and the food.”
JJ couldn’t smile back. But he could play along. “You paying for the wine?”
Why were these kinds of smiles so beautiful? Was it because they seemed so
fragile? “When you’re getting this fine ass? Hell no, Leroy.”
“Is that what it costs to make you convenient?” He wanted to close his eyes, to
shut this away and wallow in Yuri’s body heat. Yuri was always so warm. So
silky smooth and warm.
“Let’s sleep in the bed. I don’t want to roll off and get attacked by that
coffee table.”
JJ let Yuri pull him up and drag him to the poster bed. Throw him on the wrong
side of the bed and let him plop in, close.
Isabella had started sleeping with the baby on a futon she pulled out every
night in the nursery. JJ hadn’t actually snuggled in bed since Isabella was
pregnant with little Alain. Yuri threw an arm and leg over him. Pressed himself
against him. Pulled up the tangled sheet and kicked, kicked, kicked until the
thing covered their feet. “Don’t snore.”
“I don’t snore.”
“Yeah you snore, okay? I’ll pinch your nose this time if you do. ”
JJ closed his eyes and savored the warmth. “You talk in your sleep.” Yuri
smacked his arm. He didn’t mind.
“You’re such a bad liar.”
He didn’t miss Izzy’s arms around him. The baby needed her. But he knew he
would miss this. It almost felt like Yuri was all his.
Yuri muttered. “Glad this isn’t serious.”
++
JJ is going to reserve a bed and breakfast. His first thought is Connecticut
but he’s not traveling far with this boot.
“No. I’m going to Montreal.” Yuri is looking up, so JJ can see that Yuri is
nestled, naked in a cheetah print sheet. “You’re practically single now, so who
really cares?” JJ wonders what kind of phone Yuri has, now that he has to Skype
instead of using FaceTime, and wonders who Yuri blames for ‘making’ him break
it.
“I’m married. I’m going to stay married. Forget the bed and breakfast. Maybe
rent something over the weekend.” He’s not thrilled about how much this
situation costs, but keeping a low profile is worth it.
“I’m not bothering if I have to keep sneaking around.” Yuri tosses his hair
back and tilts his head. “It’s over with her. Let it go.”
The boot makes his skin itch. The boot makes him drink too much Molson and
brood over other skaters’ rink posts. The boot keeps JJ in his apartment, like
a jailer. Makes him stew in his thoughts and those thoughts are too full of two
things he wants. And he wants to pretend he can let Yuri live with him. It
feels good, it’s the Permanent Option, where he can reel in the possibility
without reality breaking JJ’s heart.
“Let me come over and take care of you.” His voice is so soft and his eyes are
so blue in that green and JJ wants to believe Yuri would actually love a washed
up figure skater, love him enough to take care of him. It feels good to pretend
he can turn that down. But Yuri doesn’t mean it.
“I’m not getting a divorce. You know this.” He knows Yuri isn’t impressed with
the sweatshirt so he pulls it off. He knows what Yuri likes. “I can’t take you
shopping like this, anyway.”
“Yeah, you can. You just need a reason to get off your moody ass.” Yuri bites
his lip and wiggles. Yeah, he’s looking at JJ’s body. Good. Yuri isn’t the only
one who can play this game. “Dress me like trash and fuck me in your bed, Jeh
Jeh.”
“Otabek called me last week.” JJ isn’t budging. “Are you holding out for him to
move to St Petersburg?”
Yuri reaches down under the sheet. “You want to move to St Petersburg? You like
my bed? I might let you see it.”
“Just might?” JJ watches Yuri’s arm flex. He’s avoiding the question, and he’s
only avoiding it because Otabek isn’t moving. Someone will give in and it feels
like another ankle break.
“If you’re nice, maybe.” Yuri lets the sheet slip enough to show JJ the deep
pink head of his dick. “Would you be nice to me, Jeh Jeh?”
JJ pulls down his sweatpants. He grips his cock and holds his camera up, too.
“Nice to you? Kitten, I would stuff your apartment with silky pillows and fuck
you on every one of them. I’d make you come with pearls around your dick, baby
boy. I’d wash you down in champagne and fuck you in diamonds. I wouldn’t be
nice to you, Yuri Plisetsky. I would spoil you.”
Yuri bites his lip. His eyes close and Yuri’s sheet falls away and JJ grins
because he can practically hear Yuri begging him for it and - oh, yes! - he’s
so pink and lush and so beautiful and — “So spoil me in Montreal, and I’ll take
such good care of you.”
JJ has to laugh. It’s at himself— because he’s so pathetic. He wants to say yes
like he wants his next breath. “You know you can’t. We’ll get a nice cabin near
a hospital, in case there’re any curbs.“
“No. I get what I want or forget it.” He spits in his hand and makes his dick
so wet and so edible. “You’ll just say it’s for business. Your lame work out
line or some shit, anyway.”
“Ooo! Wear my clothes in a photo shoot, baby.” JJ would take the pictures and
he wouldn’t publish them in ads. No one else would get see Yuri half dressed in
Canadian-red track suits, pants pulled down, shirt pulled up; JJ’s hand would
be in the frame, on Yuri’s body —
“Dress me up, Jeh Jeh.”
JJ strokes his dick as Yuri rolls his hips. “I want to make red silk jockstraps
with a white maple leaf on the crotch so I can pull back the elastic and snap
it on your ass.”
“Put me in the magazines. Post me on your Instagram.” He sits up and thrusts
into his hand. “Show everyone.”
If JJ is smart, he won’t take the bait. He likes to think he’s smart. He tries.
“You want Daddy to be proud of you?”
Yuri groans. “Yeah.” He is about to come for JJ. “Oh, fuck! Jeh Jeh oh, fuck!”
He screencaps the moment Yuri arches his back like the bow that shot St
Sebastian and JJ almost comes when Yuri splatters all over his hand.
He’s not surprised when Yuri licks it off. JJ asks, “How many times have you
come today?” And who else did he come for? Oh, fuck. He has to stop thinking
about that.
“I was thinking of you when I did it.” Yuri snorts because he knows how absurd
that is. For all JJ knows there’s someone in Yuri’s apartment right now. “Was I
being bad?”
“Very bad.” JJ strokes himself as the light shines on Yuri’s lower lip. He
imagines coating it with semen he could use to make another baby. He might
still make another baby. And he might still come all over that perfect mouth
and smear it into those perfect lips like gloss before he kissed that mouth.
JJ strokes himself and Yuri lies back. “You’re gripping yourself too hard. Do
it the way you do me, just your one finger and thumb, not the whole hand.” JJ
brings his phone down for him. “No. I want to see your face.” JJ keeps it down
there. “Asshole!”
He doesn’t want Yuri to see what JJ is afraid to show him. All those lonely
nights, all the self doubt, all the crazy in his skull and the ache he’s felt
wishing he could actually muster the gumption to call Yuri, to tell Yuri
(what?) instead of pretending it didn’t matter.
"How many people do you fuck, Jeh Jeh?”
No one, since his accident. He’s not sold on the idea of inviting Grindr dates
to his place. “You want me to lie?” He can lie. “No one.” But he doesn’t.
Because Yuri is the only sex he’s been having this week. JJ fills the days and
nights with skate videos and pain meds and evening beer that’s been dripping
into his mid-afternoons, and porn, spliced with visits from Maman and her
grocery sacks and the odd call from Russia.
It’s only been Yuri. It’s only ever, really been Yuri. Ever since that first
day.
Yuri is quiet. Maybe he’s already hung up. Maybe JJ is coming for a black
screen. Or maybe he’s just muffled by the rush of blood and beer and Percocet.
JJ isn’t the one to decide; he looks at the Cross mounted on his tigerlily
wallpaper and he moans don’t be gone as he gets one drop on his iPhone.
“Jeh Jeh?”
Yuri has his chin propped on his hand. “Fuck your clothes and your bullshit,
Leroy. I’m coming down there and taking care of you.” He can’t mean that. JJ is
just fooling himself, pretending it is. He can’t. Because if he does, if Yuri
Plisetsky comes to Montreal, JJ won’t be able to let him go. “Ask me.”
JJ doesn’t know what to say. No is safer. It only hurts in the moment. “Please,
don’t?”
The screen goes black.
++
JJ wasn’t a virgin before Yuri. He never slept with girls, not because he
didn’t want to, but because he was afraid he’d get one pregnant.
“Runs in the family, son.” Alain Leroy patted JJ’s back at his wedding
reception. “Leroys are a potent line.” And it was true. JJ’s reception was a
small moveable village, mostly named Leroy. “You’re gonna have lotsa babies in
that house. Time to think about life. What you’re going to do after
professional skating. How you’re going to provide for your family.”
Papa wasn’t drunk. He had twelve years sobriety. He was probably the only sober
person there. Even some of the kids had a glass of champagne under the silky
white tarp where a spread that cost JJ the moon sat on top of foldout tables
and stained tablecloths.
“Yes, sir.” He smiled. “Thinking about carrying on the family business. Keep
gold in the family, eh?”
Alain glanced over JJ’s shoulder, where Izzy was sitting like a queen in her
veil, wearing a crown of flowers. “She loves you.”
He loved her.
He loved her as they had their first dance, barefooted on soft grass, like the
first time they danced around the campfire at St Mary’s harvest festival. He
loved her as she tossed her bouquet and he bundled her off in the limousine so
he could finally kiss her. He loved her the next morning in Hawaii, when she
stepped out in the sand in a white bikini and he stared at her belly, wondering
if he already put a baby in her. And he loved her when she was sick a month
later.
“It’s not the flu, believe me.” He put his hand there, right there, and he knew
his child was somewhere underneath it. He didn’t need her to pee on that stick.
He knew.
And he was right. He got her pregnant and he was over the moon. JJ lived to
feed her, desperately at first because Izzy could barely manage to keep
anything down. Then, Maman would grace her with ginger ale and crackers and
there was the Sea Band from Pharmaprix around Izzy’s wrist. “Am I supposed to
snap it every time I throw up?” she asked JJ with a wobbly smile. “I need to
keep the prenatal down, at least.”
Second trimester was good because her bump was so sweet and he could feel his
boy kick under his hand when JJ sang to him and Izzy could finally eat all the
almond avocado salads and banana coconut milk shakes and breaded baked seitan
and spinach sautés JJ prepared for the precious mother of his child and their
baby.
Third trimester was JJ’s favorite. She was glowing and ripe with her big belly
and he loved pulling up her shirt just to watch his son move underneath her
skin. He kissed her belly reverently. He held her gently as she cried through
early labor. Drove like a madman to the hospital and stayed with her for twelve
hours as she screamed and cried and then they both cried when little Alain came
into the world, hungry for his mother’s nipple.
He didn’t mind when she came home and refused to let the baby go. His son
needed his mother’s milk and he needed his mother’s voice and he cried so much.
Cried when she held him. Cried louder when she put him down. Maman shook her
head and found a teddy bear that played white noise, like the one she used for
Jean-Claude. Sometimes Izzy would sob as she held him. That was when JJ would
take his boy and drive him around in the brand new Volvo and play Mozart, not
too loudly, as he explained how much Mama and Papa loved their poor, colicky
baby boy.
“Give him some formula,” Maman said. “It’ll settle him down and you two can get
some sleep.”
He didn’t know how to tell her he slept through the night. Or that he had no
idea how many times Izzy got up with little Alain, because she slept in the
nursery now. Or how many days he came home from practice to find the house a
mess, and Izzy sleeping on the nursery futon with the baby. He cooked dinner
every night. He ate alone as she ate on the living room sofa, nursing the baby.
His mother would have offered to clean his house. Would’ve offered to watch the
baby so Izzy could get out of the house. Would’ve given the baby a bottle of
formula, JJ was fairly certain, since Izzy refused to pump.
“It’s fine, Maman.”
He didn’t push her about sex. Sex was hard for her; she was barely interested
and the baby had a knack for waking up minutes after Izzy left the nursery. “I
can’t remember what it was like, before I had to hold a baby all the time.” She
looked down at little Alain in her arms as JJ polished off her wine glass. No,
he couldn’t burden her with sex when getting his son not to scream all day took
everything out of his beautiful bride.
It was fine. JJ never stopped using his Grindr account, and the competitive
season was coming up, filling his imagination with Yuri Plisetsky.
“You’ve gotten kinkier since you got married.” Yuri’s shirt was tied around his
wrists behind his back and he couldn’t move because JJ had him on his knees,
face down on the Helsinki Hilton mattress, where JJ was pumping his fingers in
and out of Yuri.
He already came inside of Yuri. He just wanted to see and feel the soft, sick
slick of his come dripping out of Yuri’s sweet, tight ass. “God, you’re so
dirty, Daddy.”
“Say that again.”
Yuri looked over his shoulder and grinned like a cat who was getting all the
cream. “You’re dirty, Daddy.” JJ’s dick got so hard and it felt so good when he
plunged, balls deep, back into that ass.
“So, having another baby? You like… you like being a father?” Yuri asked him
later, as he laid in the sloppy wet sheets, pretending he wasn’t posing with
his bare legs propped on the wall while JJ took pictures on his phone.
JJ liked the subtle curve of his long, lean body. Yuri’s legs were smooth and
the tone was perfection. JJ took shot after shot. “It’s great.” He didn’t want
to talk about his son right now. He was with his mother and she was all he
needed. JJ was there to pay bills, and make an appearance to cook occasional
noodle dinners and give mommy a break.
“She know about this?” Yuri looked at JJ through the phone screen.
JJ shrugged. “What’s there to know?” That he couldn’t stop thinking about Yuri
Plisetsky? That he imagined making love to him when he came inside his wife?
That he called his Grindr dates kitten and always picked slim blondes to fuck
in cheap hotel rooms? No, he can’t tell her what is going on between him and
Yuri Plisetsky. He can barely admit it to himself.
“Maybe you ought to let her know I’m fucking you.” Yuri sat up and gave a
middle finger to the phone's camera lens. “Put that shit away.”
JJ took one more picture. “Why?”
The sun was coming up, and sherbet orange light was peeking through the blinds
as Yuri flicked one open. “We both know why, stupid.”
++
JJ looks through a dark window. Something, he’s sure, has to happen. He’s got
that grinding, jump-out-of-his-skin energy rolling under the surface as his
last Percocet melts away in his gut.
Yuri was supposed to call him, to show up at his door, dressed in white,
rolling his eyes and grinning about he couldn’t wait to play nurse, slamming
the door behind him. It was the worst thing that could’ve happened. And, God
forgive him, JJ liked the idea. A lot. Too much. He imagined Yuri sponge
bathing him and putting his hands all over JJ’s body. Tell me where it hurts,
Jeh Jeh.
But this hasn’t happened. Yuri is somewhere between JJ’s line of vision and
Almaty. The dark window is more like a picture hung low on his wall, all blacks
and blues and city lights. One day Montreal would belong to another Leroy. One
day all the options would slam shut like so many doors slamming and JJ would be
at the mercy of an unfathomable God with no options left, nothing left.
He has checked his phone so many times. He keeps checking Yuri’s Instagram.
It’s got nothing but Yuri in ballet tights on his bed, from two days ago. They
aren’t selfies. JJ always wonders who the photographer is, when he sees these
kinds of posts. He’s sure Otabek is one of them. Maybe he took these, too. Yuri
smiles through the screen. It seems like he’s about to move. To speak to JJ, to
touch himself for JJ. But he’s not.
Yuri’s not a lot of things. Most of all, not available at the moment. God, JJ
would give anything to touch him.
He wants to make something happen. To scream at the walls, like he did when he
was sixteen and this close to being shipped back to Montreal like a defective
product, until the walls changed into his bedroom walls and he could pretend
he'd never even heard of Detroit. He wants to but he doesn’t want the police or
the press or the shame of being back in his room, rooming with the brother who
had already taken his place, right down to the bed. So he does something less
disastrous.
It’s still disastrous.
JJ closes his eyes and he sees something blacker than the night outside his
window. The kind of darkness where anything can come out. He knows he shouldn’t
want to know what it is. But he has to know. The need to know is an itch under
his skin, in his bones.
“What, Jean?” Otabek picks up after two tries.
The window is big enough to climb out of. For a second JJ imagines sitting on
the ledge, and he would if he didn’t have this damn boot. “You in Russia?”
Something like wind blows on the other line. Otabek’s outside. “Yeah. What’s
going on?”
“A kitten in spandex is all it takes to forget all about Kazakhstan, Beks?”
He’s two stories up. If he fell he’d really jack up his ankle. “You going to
take his name, too? That’s what Nikiforov’s ex did.”
“Sounding bitter, Leroy.” Wind whipped the receiver. “Sounding real bitter.”
“He’s not going to stay with you.” JJ has to believe it. He has to believe he
can call Yuri right now and say, yes, come to Montreal and take care of me and
stay with me. And he has to believe Yuri would appear within hours, no baggage,
no change of clothes, just himself, gasping as if he never stopped running
after that phone call, breathless and falling into JJ’s arms.
“Ask him yourself. I don’t speak for others.”
And JJ will never do that. He will never call Yuri because he never does. Yuri
is a perfect possibility, JJ’s Permanent Option. A fantasy he can visit, then
put away when he walks in the real world.
He’s so tired of the real world. So tired.
“Nah. Let him know I’m happy for you guys. It’s touching, for sure.” He could
make Yuri come, without a word, if he broke his ankle again.
Otabek snorts. “Pretty desperate, right, Jean?” The phone call ends. The black
and blue in JJ’s window goes on forever. He has no idea what will happen next.
But it has to happen.
++
Yuri came scratching on his hotel room last year in Tokyo, wearing the gold he
took from JJ around his neck and a pair of Yuri’s Angels cat ears on his head.
“I’m a bad, bad, kitty.” He held up the medal. He licked it. “Bet you wanna
punish me for it.”
Oh, he did.
Not because Yuri won gold. That gold medal JJ made him bite, while he yanked
Yuri’s tracksuit pants down and bent that sweet, creamy ass over his knee, was
Yuri’s, fair and square. No, it was because Yuri Plisetsky had been driving JJ
crazy throughout the competition, ‘bumping’ into JJ with coy smiles, laughing
and grinding in Mila Babicheva’s lap during practice, and dominating JJ’s focus
with his intense performances. His Exhibition Skate was nearly JJ’s last straw.
Yuri barely hid his near-naked body behind a giant feathered fan. He was no
burlesque queen. No, he was a cat in heat and JJ had to fight everything inside
of himself not to jerk Yuri into a corner and fuck into that glorious ass until
Yuri begged forgiveness for showing himself like that to the world.
“You are a bad kitty!” JJ spanked him so hard and so much his palm was aching.
And he didn’t care. “And you had to show everyone, didn’t you?”
“Was showing you, Daddy!”
It was just part of the sex play. It wasn’t real. Yuri wasn’t his, he was just
available. And that was the point. “Did you like it? Did you like making
everyone want to fuck you?”
He looked so breakable. “Yeah.”
JJ smacked one more time. “Luckily one of those people is me, kitten.”
He tied the medal’s sash around Yuri’s wrists, but it didn’t keep him from
looping his arms around JJs neck when JJ finally pushed himself deep inside of
Yuri. Didn’t keep him from threading his fingers in his hair as JJ slammed into
his slippery tight heat again and again and again. He used that binding to pull
JJ down as he came. To pull him down and devour JJ with his mouth as JJ lost
himself inside of Yuri.
God, he wanted to stay lost.
Yuri said something in Russian. Something JJ didn’t want to know. Maybe he was
talking about the snow outside. Maybe he said I love you. Maybe he was saying
something rude about JJ’s latest tattoo - his daughter’s name, next to his
son’s, over his shoulder. JJ wanted to imagine it could change, as if he could
read different subtitles every time he remembered that moment.
“Congratulations on the gold.” JJ didn’t bother covering their names up with a
shirt. But he did crack open a bottle of sake. He poured out two cups and held
one up. “Félicitation.”
He and Yuri got very drunk that night. And when he finally fell asleep in JJ’s
arms, holding him felt too good to be true. JJ pretended it was, when Yuri
whispered, “I love you.”
++
“You doing okay, Jay?”
He drops his keys on the kitchen table. “My cleaning lady quit, my ankle is
killing me, and I just spent all morning with the accountant. Your call just
made it all better.”
“I’m pregnant.”
Four months along, if it’s his. He closes his eyes. “It isn’t mine, is it?”
“I’m sorry. I just found out.” She probably feels sick, like she did with the
other ones. “We need to talk about annulment.”
He always thought this had to be the worst thing he could hear. JJ waits for
his gut to twist. “Okay.” He keeps waiting. God help him, he feels nothing. His
wife is closing the door on their marriage, on their family, and he’s numb.
“Baby? Is this guy going to take care of you?”
“He’s not in the picture.”
Good. “Don’t worry about a thing.” His phone is buzzing but he can take the
call later. He’s letting her go. It’s what she wanted all along. Ever since
little Alain was born.
What had he been doing to her?
“Jay?” she whispers into the receiver. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to force
your hand.” No, she was right to do it. He sighs as he pulls a Molson out of
the Frigidaire. “It just happened.”
He puts it back and takes a mineral water. “No, it’s okay, baby. It’s my
fault.” It’s all his fault someone else’s seed is in her belly. But he can make
it better. “The baby can have my name, if you want.”
She sobs on the other end of the line. JJ opts for the beer after all. “Oh,
god. What happened to us?”
“I don’t know.”
He checks Yuri’s Instagram and there are more posts from St. Petersburg. More
pictures of Otabek and Yuri. JJ finally feels something. It’s a break as hard
as the one that took skating away from him. No, he never had those choices. He
just pretended that he did. Then he sees it: Otabek and Yuri, holding hands in
a car. There are two hashtags. The first: young love.
JJ looks at the fire in Yuri’s eyes. The challenge in his sneer. Then he
rereads the second: leaving for Almaty.
No, they weren’t his choices. JJ puts down the beer. But choices were still on
the table. He feels that itch under his skin telling him something has to
happen. Something has to happen or he will break all the way through.
++
He doesn’t know which apartment Yuri is staying in but he’s sure it’s on the
fifth floor, and he’s pretty sure he’s going to walk every step if these
elevator doors don’t open. He’s going to break his ankle all over again, break
his neck if he has to, if that’s what it means to find Yuri Plisetsky.
But he doesn’t have to. No, the elevator doors open and it is like God has
delivered it, Himself, because it is blessedly empty and JJ can hobble in.
He knows he might be too late. He knows they could be in Almaty right now. He
knows he might be rushing just to find an empty apartment and he tells himself
he will not pretend Yuri is waiting for him. He will not pretend that post was
a challenge. He knows it is not.
JJ is prepared to knock on every door. The first one produces an old woman with
no English and a sweet smile who doesn’t know the name Yuri Plisetsky. The
second gives him no answer. The third is a man with glasses who points down the
hall and slams the door when he hears the name.
He can hear Yuri rattling in Russian on the other side of the door 716. He
wishes he could let himself in. He hasn’t slept in twenty-six hours and he’s
buzzing off coffee and vodka and pure adrenaline and he needs to do something
with this energy before it caves in on him. He knocks. “Yuri?”
“Get lost!” No. Not yet.
“Yuri!” He isn’t going to leave. He’s going to keep banging on this door until
Yuri comes out and he has a chance to just look him in the eye and beg him not
to go with Otabek. “I know you’re in there!”
“Go away, asshole!”
“Kitten!” JJ slams his hand against the door. He doesn’t care if people are
coming out of their apartments and staring. He doesn’t care when the man with
glasses takes out his phone. “Kitten, please come out!”
“I don’t want to!”
“You know I will knock this damn door down so you can either open it or move
the fuck out of the way.”
He will kick it down with his boot if he has to. He kicks with his good foot.
The dent is satisfying. He shoves with his elbow. The pain is good, like those
vodka shots on the plane. “Yuri! I just need to tell you — you need to know — “
The door flies open and there he is, golden and angry and perfect. “Tell me
what?!”
That he was right. JJ should’ve told Iz, years ago. That JJ was wrong, so
wrong, not to let him come to Montreal. That he needed him in Montreal. That he
needed him, everywhere. Because anywhere was nowhere without Yuri’s arms to
keep him warm. But all he can say is, “I love you.”
Yuri blinks. His cheeks, his neck, his entire being all turn red and he steps
back. “You are so— fuck you!” Yuri hits him.
It’s a slap. And it’s hard. And it’s what he came here for. He came to offer
himself to Yuri. To give Yuri the choice. And he knew, JJ knew, this was the
best he would get. “I’m sorry.”
“Did you leave her?”
“We’re getting an annulment.”
Yuri grabs his wrinkled flannel shirt. “Not what I asked you. Did you leave
her?”
JJ flinches but he keeps eye contact. “She left me. I can’t -“ he knows this is
where he breaks. His smile cracks his face and his heart slams against his
ribs. “I just wanted to let you know before you left. You still have an option.
A little worse for wear, not too shabby looking yet. Lots of money, even after
alimony and child support kick in.”
Yuri looks inside his apartment. It is dark, the shades are drawn and the
flatscreen is flickering.
“Is he in there?”
Yuri frowns. Yuri looks down. “Otabek left this morning.” And he looks back up
at JJ with that fire. “We broke up. I guess that means you think you can just
sweep me off my feet now, right?”
JJ takes his hand. Kisses the knuckles softly. Touches his face gently. “You
know that’s not really going to happen.”
Yuri smacks it away. His eyes are so bright and his cheeks are so wet. “Do you
even know that I love you?”
JJ closes his eyes. “Please don’t.”
“I love you! Otabek was just a thing but it’s always been you!” Yuri grabs his
face and forces his mouth on JJ’s as people stare. And JJ can’t help himself.
He doesn’t care if they stare. This is the last kiss he will ever share with
Yuri Plisetsky and he wants to make it last.
He has to pretend, one last time. Pretend he’s not about to fall apart. Maybe
he can make it as far as the elevator. JJ pulls back, cups Yuri’s cheek. Thumbs
the tears away. “So, would you? Would you come away with me to Canada? Live
with me? Be with me?” He knows the answer. He’s just going to pretend it would
be something else.
Yuri presses his face into JJ’s shirt and breathes in his scent. His hair is so
soft, almost as soft as Yuri, himself. It already feels like a memory. JJ
closes his eyes as Yuri speaks: “Finally.”
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