every me and every you

by Ladyofthefl0wers, PeppyBismilk

Summary:

Chris and Seung-gil have needs, and they don't care how many hearts they have to cut down to get them. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets hurt.

A tale of seduction and betrayal...on ice.

Chapter 1: pucker up for heaven's sake

Summary:

Chris tries to turn his night around after a disappointing showing at the 1998 World Figure Skating Championships.

Notes:

Welcome to the Cruel Intentions AU!

The only thing worse than fucking up was fucking up and having no one else to blame it on. 

Chris would have been on that podium if he hadn’t flubbed his triple axel. Instead, he found himself in seventh place and feeling too dejected with to schmooze any potential sponsors.

“Chin up, Christophe.” Josef patted his arm at the dinner table. “You made me proud today, and I hope you can be proud of yourself, too.”

“I’d be prouder if I had hit all my jumps,” Chris muttered.

“But your Lutz was the best it’s been all season. We’ll work on putting it in combination this summer.” Josef took a sip of his beer and smiled. “Try to focus on something else tonight.”

As Chris scanned the crowd for hookup prospects, he realized that probably wasn’t what his coach had in mind. Chris didn’t care.

If he couldn’t be on the podium, at least he could fuck someone off of it. 

There was no seducing Viktor Nikiforov, not for a few years now. He’d flirt a little, but ever since he started collecting international titles like postage stamps, he’d been harder and harder to get close to—physically and mentally.

Been there, done that anyhow, Chris thought. 

Cao Bin had made his position (or lack thereof) abundantly clear. A silver at Worlds was a fitting end to an illustrious career; Chris could respect that. Let the man have his retirement, and his wife and newborn baby. 

Michele Crispino wasn’t unattractive (especially if violet was his natural eye color) and he deserved his bronze medal, but his obsession with his twin sister was unsettling to say the least. 

Going off podium wouldn’t be the end of the world, but there was no sign of the man who had bested Chris by two tenths of a point to come in sixth. Chris would have loved to get to know Yuuri Katsuki by more than just his step sequences and gorgeous silhouette, but alas, tonight was not their night.

But one new face caught his eye. Seung-gil Lee seemed very serious, very shy, or both, but if anyone could put a smile on that blank-but-cute face, it was Chris.

He downed the rest of his wine. “I’m going to go mingle.” Josef waved him off.

Chris said the right things to the right people along the way, but he kept his eyes on his apparently oblivious quarry in the corner. He might have been a killer on the ice, but Seung-gil Lee was a dead ringer for the wall he was leaning on. Still, the thought of that laser focus devoted entirely on Chris sent a thrill through him, more than anything else had tonight.

He stopped a server for two more glasses of Chardonnay before settling against the wall next to Seung-gil.

No response. Chris counted out a full two minutes. 

“I think the wall might blink before you do,” Chris remarked. 

Seung-gil blinked, slowly, like he was only doing it to prove Chris wrong. 

Chris shrugged. “Guess that means you lost.”

“Don’t remind me,” Seung-gil muttered. But he finally turned to look at Chris. That brow was even more impressive up close, stern against soft cheekbones and a gentle jawline. 

Oh, yes, he would do. 

Chris swirled the wine in both glasses. “Ninth in the world is no small accomplishment, especially considering this is your debut season.”

“Was.”

“Was?” Chris echoed. He raised an eyebrow. “Retiring so soon?”

“No.” Seung-gil wrinkled his nose. “The season is over.”

There was his opening. Chris offered one wine glass to Seung-gil. “So it is. Let’s toast to the end of a successful season, shall we?” 

After a much shorter staring contest with the wine glass, Seung-gil took it. He gave it a sniff but didn’t react.

“We’re in America, so I’ll say cheers,” Chris went on, holding out his own glass.

“Cheers.” Seung-gil knocked his wine against Chris’s without fanfare. They drank, and if Chris hadn’t been watching so closely, he would have missed Seung-gil’s tiny shiver. 

“Not your drink?” Chris guessed. 

Seung-gil’s mouth twitched. “Not a drinker.”

“Is that so?” Chris bit one of his fingernails, delight coursing through him. “Did I pop your cherry?”

Seung-gil narrowed his eyes—finally, a taste of that heat he radiated while skating—and drank half of his glass at once. That got Chris’s heart pumping a bit harder. 

“No.” And it wasn’t clear if Seung-gil was disagreeing with Chris or just shutting him down. Finally, Seung-gil added, “Wine is too sweet.”

“Let me get you something more to your liking, then. Whiskey? Vodka? I doubt they have soju, but I’d be happy to ask.” 

“Whatever,” Seung-gil muttered before draining the rest of his wine. 

“You should be proud of your performance today,” said Chris. The irony of giving advice he couldn’t take wasn’t lost on him, but beneath Seung-gil’s frosty exterior, the boy had potential. 

Those steel gray eyes glinted again. “What makes you think I’m not proud?”

“You just seem awfully eager to drink away your sorrows.” Chris took another drink of his own wine and tested the waters with a few steps toward the bar. “I’d be happy to keep you company.”

Seung-gil didn’t follow. “What’s in it for me?”

Ruthless on and off the ice, Chris observed. But at least now he had an in. All Seung-gil seemed to care about was skating, and Chris had experience to share. He thought back to Seung-gil’s long program. Not a bad showing by any means, but skating selections from West Side Story required a certain charm that Seung-gil, well, lacked. 

Chris crossed his arms. “Advice. For starters, your free skate didn’t work. You should be choosing programs that showcase your power until you have a broader emotional range to draw from.”

No response.

Just when Chris was going to switch tactics, Seung-gil blinked and held up his empty glass. “I’ll take another glass of this.”

“I thought it was too sweet?” Chris mused, unable to hide his smile.

“It’s growing on me.”

After another glass of wine, Chardonnay wasn’t the only thing growing on Seung-gil. He hung not only on Chris’s every word but on Chris’s arm as they discussed the other skaters.

“Mark my word, Leroy is one to watch,” Chris said, soaking up every drop of Seung-gil’s attention. His eyes were fixed on Chris’s lips, so Chris kept talking. “But the real shame today is Yuuri. Oh, sixth is fantastic, but if he can put the pieces together, he’ll be the one to top Viktor.” With a wink, he added, “After I’ve had my turn on top, of course.”

“I’d like to see that,” Seung-gil said, almost fluttering his eyelashes. “You and Katsuki...topping Viktor…”

With a little wine in him, Seung-gil was a completely different person from the monolith he’d been in the corner of the banquet room. Chris couldn’t take advantage of him like this, but there was no harm in playing with him.

“Oh, Seung-gil, you are a treasure.” Chris squeezed Seung-gil’s thigh as all sorts of phenomenally naughty ideas popped into his head. “It's such a shame Yuuri isn’t here tonight. Just think. Yuuri—sixth place—and you in ninth. Six, nine…” He trailed his fingers up Seung-gil’s leg while his implication sank in, stopping just shy of improper. “Who needs Viktor?”

Seung-gil leaned in, practically on top of Chris now, and wrapped a hand around his bicep. “And where do you fit into this picture?” 

Why, oh why did I get him drunk? Chris thought in dismay. Maybe Seung-gil had a late flight in the morning. Usually breakfast came after sex, but for Seung-gil, Chris would make an exception. 

But first things first.

“Me?” Chris pretended to give it some thought. He licked his lips and caught his tongue piercing between his teeth. Seung-gil’s pupils went wide, stirring Chris’s desire and pushing it lower. Their lips were almost touching now. Surely Chris wouldn’t go to hell for one little kiss. He flashed his tongue ring again and said, “Well, that would make me lucky number sev—”

“Lee Seung-gil!” 

A woman’s voice, stern enough to erase a boner, cracked the moment. Chris turned to find Seung-gil’s coach glaring daggers at them, and the mood was well and truly dead.

Min-so Park launched into a lecture in Korean and Seung-gil dropped Chris’s arm. That blank stare was back like it had never left and Seung-gil slumped in his chair.

“Giacometti,” she snarled. Switching to English, she launched into another lecture. “Last time I checked, the drinking age in the United States is twenty-one. How dare you pollute my skater’s body with this poison?”

“I asked him to,” Seung-gil deadpanned. 

“You’re eighteen and don’t know any better!” she shot back. She snapped her head toward Chris again. “I will be speaking to your coach.”

Chris examined his nails. This conversation was much less interesting now that Seung-gil wasn’t in his lap. “Nothing he hasn’t heard before, I assure you.”

“Don’t think I won’t involve the ISU.” With a huff, she tugged at Seung-gil’s collar. “Bed. Now. Your flight leaves at five.”

Seung-gil shrugged her off, but he stalked off to the door without another word. He didn’t even look back at Chris. 

Even if it wasn’t meant to be tonight, Chris was sure their paths would cross again.

It was time to make himself scarce before Seung-gil’s coach tattled on him, preferably with someone to keep him company. Min-so might have murdered the mood, but Chris had libido like a phoenix. He looked around the room—a few of his prospects had left, and Viktor was still surrounded. He looked miserable, but there was no snatching him out from under Yakov’s watchful eye. 

Over by the bar, however, Celestino Cialdini looked like he had a few sorrows of his own to drown. He wasn’t a bad looking man by any standard, and he had been quite the skater in his day. Chris has heard rumors that he was interested in men, though he’d never heard of Celestino sleeping with skaters.

That had never stopped Chris before.

Yes, the longer he considered it, the more he liked it. If Min-so reported him for facilitating underage drinking, it’d be a slap on the wrist at most. If the ISU wanted a scandal, he’d give them a scandal. 

Chris might have come in seventh, he might have missed out on making out with Seung-gil, and he wasn’t going to find himself caught in a delicious Yuuri and Seung-gil sandwich any time soon, but he’d be damned if he wasn’t going to end the night with a bang. 

Notes:

happy birthday to chris, and apologies in advance for what he will have to endure in this fic. we’ve been working on this au for quite some time, so we hope you enjoy it! if you haven't seen cruel intentions, we highly recommend it. if you have seen it, don't worry! there's no incest in this fic, just backstabbing, sabotage, and lots of 90s clothes and makeup.

next chapter: seung-gil and chris meet again and make a little wager...

this au has a million playlists, which will be linked as we go, but let’s start with this one.

fic title and chapter title come from every you every me by placebo, an all-around fantastic song that happens to be on the (also fantastic) cruel intentions soundtrack.

Chapter 2: there's never been so much at stake

Summary:

Seung-gil and Chris meet again one year later and make a little wager.

Don’t shit where you eat.

In Seung-gil’s mind, that one rule came above every single regulation in the ISU handbook (and he had the whole thing memorized). Seung-gil didn’t drink with other figure skaters, he didn’t party with them, and under no circumstances did he fuck them.

As such, he hadn’t set foot in a banquet since his first World Championships. Not even at the events he won. 

“So, why on earth did you come here tonight?” 

The truth was, Korean Air had threatened to drop him if he didn’t make an appearance at this banquet, but Seung-gil just sneered in Christophe Giacometti’s direction. “Free booze.”

“And yet your hands are tragically empty,” Christophe said. “Can I interest you in a stiff one?”

“No.” Seung-gil stood up and turned away. He wasn’t interested in breaking his number one rule, not tonight and not ever. 

No matter how good that dick was rumored to be.

“I was only talking about a drink,” said Christophe, as if Seung-gil would fall for a line like that. Christophe clicked his tongue. “But how could I forget? You don’t drink anymore.”

“My body is a temple.” Seung-gil’s lip curled up in a smirk in spite of himself. Oh, he still drank all right, but that didn’t make his body any less of a temple.

Christophe looked him up and down and licked his lips. “Don’t I know it.”

“Disgusting,” Seung-gil muttered. This was a complete waste of time. If he left now, he could hit up a hotel bar, or maybe a bellhop. 

“Ah, I forgot about that, too.” Christophe caught up to him, his hand grazing Seung-gil’s lower back and drifting lower. “You can’t land a skater.”

“Won’t.” The word slipped out before Seung-gil could stop himself.

Christophe chuckled. “Just like you won’t land your triple flip this season?”

Seung-gil narrowed his eyes. Sure, the bastard might have scraped his way onto the podium this time, but Christophe had never even attempted that jump. “If your dick’s as quick as your tongue, I’m not missing anything.”

“Now, now, Seung-gil, you’ll never know unless you try,” Christophe replied. He put his arm around Seung-gil’s shoulder and leaned in close, licking his earlobe before adding, “Tongue or dick, take your pick.”

“I’m not interested in skaters.” Not even the ones with tongue rings. 

“Not interested,” Christophe scoffed, releasing him. “That just means you tried and got shot down.”

What it meant was that hooking up with skaters was too messy. The best part of skating was the thrill of competition, but being in a different city every few weeks made it easy to get off and make a clean break. Just the way Seung-gil liked it.

He would have to see other skaters again, and he couldn’t have that. “It means I’m not interested.”

“Come on,” Christophe pried, turning Seung-gil around to look at the banquet. “You mean to tell me you’re not curious about anyone in this room?”

“Certainly not you,” Seung-gil said. But he couldn’t help scanning the banquet. 

Christophe pointed to where a cluster of people were fawning over Viktor Nikiforov. “You could do worse than a living legend.”

The man was a skating god, but it was no secret that he was hardly untouchable off the ice. Seung-gil curled his lip. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds.” 

“Suit yourself.” Christophe shrugged and nodded toward the men’s silver medalist. “What about Leroy? He made quite a splash this weekend.”

They both turned to look at the men’s silver medalist. JJ Leroy was loud, boastful, and perhaps a little too keen to remind everyone that he was engaged to a woman, but Seung-gil had no interest in closet cases. 

“No.”

Undeterred in his little game, Christophe swept a hand in the direction of the ladies’ gold medalist, Sara Crispino. “Perhaps you prefer a feminine touch?”

Seung-gil cursed his body for shuddering at the very suggestion. He didn’t like giving away so much information, least of all to Christophe.

“Noted.” Christophe wore a smile like the devil’s. He rubbed at his chin as if deep in thought, and Seung-gil turned away.

The truth was, there was one person Seung-gil might consider bending his rule for. One person so talented, so elusive, that even Seung-gil had let his mind wander once or twice…

One person who wasn't even assigned this event. Yuuri Katsuki was the most promising figure skater to come out of East Asia in a decade (and that included Seung-gil). Seung-gil couldn’t decide whether to hate him, idolize him, or openly lust after him, so he did all three. 

“Maybe you’re interested in someone who isn’t here tonight, like Sara’s twin brother? He’s dreamy enough.” Christophe took in his lack of reaction and clicked his tongue. “No? You are picky. Almost as picky as…”

He fixed his eyes on Seung-gil, searching past his face, deep into his mind. Was this how Seung-gil looked when he watched skating?

The bastard smirked.  “What about Yuuri Katsuki?”

Seung-gil turned away too late. He’d shown his hand. He didn’t have to look at Christophe to know he was delighted by this discovery. 

“Now, now, it’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Christophe sounded like a parent potty training a child. “That just means you’re a man of excellent taste. They don’t call him Japan’s Ace for nothing, after all.”

Seung-gil only scoffed in response. 

“Though if you ask me,” Christophe went on, “they ought to call him Japan’s Ass.”

Yuuri did, in fact, have a great ass, but Seung-gil wasn’t going to give Christophe the satisfaction of agreeing with him.

“Speaking from experience?” Seung-gil tried to sound as bored as possible.

“Sadly, I’ve looked but never touched,” Christophe said. “He’s an even rarer sight off the ice than you are.”

That was probably all there was to Seung-gil’s interest. One look at Christophe and Seung-gil knew what he would get, but Yuuri was an unknown quantity. A challenge. 

Seung-gil loved a challenge.

Christophe chuckled to himself. “What do you say we make this year’s Grand Prix series a little more interesting?”

Seung-gil looked up but said nothing. The only thing that would make the series more interesting would be to win. He wasn’t going to fall for Christophe’s petty games. 

“Never mind,” Christophe said, folding his arms. “I don’t think you couldn’t handle it.” 

Damn him, but that prickled Seung-gil’s curiosity. “Couldn’t handle what?”

“Oh, just a little wager.” That evil smile was back, and he leaned in too close again. “I bet you I can fuck Yuuri Katsuki before you can.”

“What makes you think I want to fuck him?” Seung-gil kept his voice flat.

“I saw how you looked when I mentioned him,” Christophe murmured. “You pretend like you’re above all this, but deep down, you’re just an animal, aren’t you?”

He punctuated his insinuation with a brazen ass grab. “I’ve heard things about you, Seung-gil Lee. I’ve heard you’re insatiable. And as for Yuuri? Well, you’ve seen his stamina on the ice.” Christophe slid his hand between Seung-gil’s legs and let his fingers wander up. “Imagine what he could do once you get him off it.”

It took every ounce of Seung-gil’s restraint to stop Christophe from getting a rise out of him. “What’s in it for me if I win? I can get good sex whenever I want.”

“Good sex?” Christophe tutted. “Don’t kid yourself, he’d wreck you. But,” he moved his hand to Seung-gil’s waist and smiled, “if that’s not enough for your appetite, what if I offered you something you’ve never had?”

There was nothing Christophe could offer that Seung-gil hadn’t already done with someone else, but he didn’t walk away. 

Christophe licked his lips and said one little word, the only word that set Seung-gil’s heart aflame: “Quads.” 

Only Viktor Nikiforov could do quadruple jumps consistently. His quad toe loop and Salchow kept him leagues ahead of everyone else, and people said he was working on a quad flip. JJ had landed a quad toe loop for the first time in his free skate yesterday. Yuuri had never landed one in competition but everyone said he could do it in practice, and there were mumblings that Chris could land it, too. 

Seung-gil would do anything for a quad. Anything.

“I’m listening.”

Christophe smiled. “If you win, I’ll tell you all my secrets.”

“And what do you get if you win?” As badly as he needed a quad, he didn’t trust Christophe.

“If I win, I get to have my way with you,” said Christophe, undressing him with his eyes once more. “So really, you win either way.”

“That’s really all you want?” Seung-gil raised an eyebrow. 

Christophe stroked his goatee. “And you have to buy me something nice.”

That was easy. Even if Korean Air dropped him, Seung-gil would be set for life without ever winning another competition. 

He didn’t need the money, but he needed to win. 

Seung-gil held out his hand. “Deal.”

Christophe shook it, hard and firm, but instead of letting him go, he jerked Seung-gil forward into his chest. “You should know I have very expensive tastes.”

Their height difference was even more apparent when they were this close, but Seung-gil held his head high. “And you should know I always get what I want.”

He glared up and Christophe’s pupils flared in excitement. “We’ll see about that.”

Notes:

more on chris’s expensive tastes later. also, it's the 90s, when quads were a lot rarer than they are now.

here’s the chrisseung playlist because the world desperately needs more chrisseung content. is that why this au exists? perhaps.

next time, chris gets in over his head.

Chapter 3: my heart's a tart, your body's rent

Summary:

Fantasy and reality collide when Chris and Seung-gil have a night on the town.

Even though he had gone back to his room alone, Chris couldn’t wipe the smile off of his face. He had outdone himself this time—the perfect win-win bet. 

If by some miracle Seung-gil the living statue managed to seduce Yuuri, oh well, Chris would just have to spend hours staring at his tight ass in training gear. 

And if he won, he’d not only bed Yuuri but Seung-gil, too. Finally. Both of them had been on his to-do list for far too long.  

He turned on the shower, cranked the water just shy of hot enough to burn, and stepped inside. Thank god for kind sponsors who put him up in proper suites. The showers alone were worth the cost. When Chris won the bet, he was definitely going to have Seung-gil buy him a shower like this for his house. Multiple shower heads, spraying him from all angles—it gave a man ideas.  

Could he kill two birds with one stone? The only thing that could possibly be better than sex with Yuuri and Seung-gil would be sex with Yuuri and Seung-gil at the same time. 

And what better place than Chris’s new shower? Seung-gil would spare no expense—marble tile, platinum hardware, a little sex ledge for Seung-gil to stand on, crystal clear walls for Yuuri to press his ass against...

Yuuri, hot, wet, and slippery Yuuri, presenting those fantastic thighs for Chris’s perusal. And Seung-gil , intense as ever behind Chris, inside him, self-control slipping—

Shrill ringing disturbed his fantasy. Was that the phone? Josef knew better than to call him at this hour; he’d walked in on enough trysts in his time, the poor man. Surely the hotel would just leave a message. Unless it was the fire alarm, Chris didn’t want to be disturbed.

Even an emergency wouldn’t be enough to tear him from his rightful place between Yuuri and Seung-gil. How had Yuuri gotten into a full Y-spiral position? It didn't matter, it was perfect for—

THUD THUD THUD

The door. Chris groaned and shut the water off. To be continued , he thought as he grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around his waist, he headed off to investigate. He was pitching a massive tent but surely the hotel staff had seen that before. Hell, if the guy was cute…

Chris peered through the peephole.

Oh, yes. The guy was definitely cute.

Like a fantasy come to life, Seung-gil stood on the other side of the door. Chris tempered his gratified grin and opened the door.

Seung-gil didn’t even blink. “Let’s go out.”

“Good evening to you, too, Seung-gil.” Chris swept his arm out to usher Seung-gil inside. “Make yourself at home.”

“No.” Seung-gil had loosened his tie and shaken out his hair—a good start, but he looked about the same as he had downstairs. “I want to go out.”

Chris shook his head and let his towel fall a bit lower. “Why go out when we could stay in?” 

“I want to go dancing,” Seung-gil pressed on. Slamming the door behind him, he stalked to the bed, sat down, and started tapping one foot. “Get dressed.”

“What’s the hurry?” Chris stretched his back and shoulders, his towel slipping just a little more. 

“I’ve got a taxi waiting.” 

A taxi?! Chris thought. Seung-gil was serious about this, but then again, he was always serious. Chris shook his head and laughed. “What’s gotten into you?”

“Minibar.”

“Ah, now it all makes sense.” He should have known Seung-gil wasn’t as buttoned up as he claimed to be these days. Chris could recall the banquet after Seung-gil’s first Worlds like it was yesterday: Seung-gil practically writhing in his lap, desperate for a kiss. If Seung-gil was still calm, the alcohol must not have hit him yet. Chris wanted—no, needed to be there when it did. 

Chris’s clothes were laid out on the bed. Perfect. He propped one leg up on the mattress next to Seung-gil, towel shifting to put him on full display, and reached for his shirt. Even at half-mast, Chris considered himself an impressive specimen, and finally, finally , Seung-gil snuck a glance.

His eyes didn’t linger. Definitely not buzzed yet, Chris thought with a sigh. He let the towel drop to the floor.

Seung-gil did watch him button his shirt, though, and an idea struck Chris. Maybe he just had other turn ons. It called for a test.

“Almost forgot,” Chris said, and he strode over to his suitcase and pulled out a thong with crystal embellishments (packed for just such an occasion). Watching Seung-gil watch him sent a little thrill through Chris, and he slipped it on, letting the straps go with a snap once it was in place.

That got a reaction out of both of them—Seung-gil’s via his eyebrows and Chris’s via his dick. But Seung-gil’s expression blanked again, leaving Chris even more confused than before. No matter. He put on his tightest pair of pants, vowing to seduce Seung-gil at the club. 

Last but not least, he pulled a strip of condoms from his suitcase and offered them to Seung-gil.

“I have plenty,” Seung-gil replied, standing up to pat his pocket. 

Delight pulsed through Chris. “You’re just as naughty as they say, aren’t you?”

Seung-gil headed for the door and swung it open without answering. “After you.”

As the taxi meter went up, Seung-gil's inhibitions went down, and watching him was better than getting drunk. He lost his tie completely, undid two more buttons to reveal more of his alabaster skin—did he wax or was he just naturally hairless?—and swept a hand through his hair. 

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’ve already gotten lucky tonight,” Chris mused. 

A sloppy little smile lit up Seung-gil’s face and he flopped onto Chris’s shoulder. “Not yet.”

This angle gave Chris the perfect view right down Seung-gil’s shirt. If Seung-gil wanted handsy, Chris would show him handsy.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Seung-gil swatted his wandering hand out of the way. “No touching!” 

Chris was far too sober for this, but Seung-gil took no pity on him during the ride. When they finally got to the club—Seung-gil had good taste; the place looked posh—they bypassed the line for the club straight to a VIP table. The tequila couldn’t come quickly enough. Chris pounded two in a row before Seung-gil had even finished one. 

Throbbing bass, free-flowing top-shelf booze, and all the hard, glistening bodies a guy could ask for; this was exactly what Chris needed, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the hard body sipping a tequila shot to his right. 

“So, tell me, Seung-gil.” Chris crossed his legs toward him and leaned in, close but not touching. “Aside from Yuuri, what is your type?” 

Seung-gil finished his shot with a shudder and tapped the glass to Chris’s nose. “I like nice guys. That’s why I don’t like you.”

Chris put a hand to his heart. “Twist the knife, why don’t you? I’m a perfect gentleman!”

“Are you?” Something predatory flashed in Seung-gil’s eyes and he pounced Chris. Lips, teeth right on his ear, Seung-gil growled, “Tell me you wouldn’t bend me over the table and fuck me right here in the club.”

Heat and alcohol shot through Chris’s veins and he arched into Seung-gil’s lithe form. “I’ll do anything you want if you say please .” 

Seung-gil shoved him away and stood up. “Dance with me,” he demanded. “ Please. ”

Chris took another shot of tequila, this one straight from the bottle. Seung-gil stalked out to the floor and Chris followed, head rushing even though he’d barely drank.

More potent than a shot, Seung-gil thrust his ass into Chris’s hips and grinded back on him. Chris steadied himself on Seung-gil's waist to keep from losing his head. Why did he feel so drunk? It shouldn’t have shocked him that Seung-gil could dance (he was an ice skater, after all) but the sight of him with his head thrown back and brow already damp dropped Chris right back into his shower fantasy.

“I’ll do anything.” Chris curled his body around Seung-gil's and murmured the words in his ear, rubbing his hands up and down Seung-gil's tight stomach. “Anything you want.” There was no way Seung-gil heard him over the music, but he whirled in Chris’s arm, straddling his leg.

“I want quads.” Chris read the words from Seung-gil’s lips rather than heard them. Then, Seung-gil licked those lips of his and the beat dropped out. “Do you still have your…” Seung-gil trailed off and stuck out his tongue, and Chris knew exactly what he was asking for. 

One flash of his tongue ring was all it took. Seung-gil dove in mouth first and bass or blood pulsed through Chris’s ears. The kiss was intense from the start, no foreplay, no build, just Seung-gil exploring his tongue stud from all angles, pushing and sucking at it with scientific precision. Then, without warning, he was gone and Chris was sweaty and cold. Chris caught a glimpse of him across the room with someone inferior and narrowed his eyes.

There was no point in hanging around if Seung-gil was leaving with someone else. No one else in this club could afford Chris.

No one else could kiss him like that.

He took a cab back to the hotel and drank until Seung-gil came crawling back to bed. 

“I couldn’t get it up for the other guy,” Seung-gil said. “Only you.”

Chris smiled up at him. “You sure? It’s going to cost you.”

“Anything.” Seung-gil murmured the word into Chris’s neck, sucked a bruise into his shoulder to seal the promise. “I’ll take good care of you.” 

“You get off easy,” Chris told him. “All you have to do is share me with Yuuri.”

Yuuri’s soft voice rose up from the corner of the room. “I like to watch.” His hands drifted lower as they tongued each other down. Gentle hands—too gentle, too soft—wove into Chris’s hair and over his body. Harder , he moved his mouth to say. Nothing came out, no matter how many times he tried, but then Seung-gil hooked his teeth through the strap of Chris’s thong and yanked, as if he understood.

Dim moans from Yuuri echoed through Chris’s head but all he cared about was Seung-gil’s mouth: silent, warm, and fading away…

The morning stole Chris’s dream from him— Just when it was getting good, too. He changed out of last night’s clothes and packed up, then slipped on some sunglasses (a gift from a wealthy donor) even though he was still inside.

He didn’t see Seung-gil in the hotel or at the airport, not that he was expecting to. He can take care of himself.  

Now wasn’t the time to let Seung-gil distract him, not from the Grand Prix, nor from Yuuri. But it wasn’t gold medals or Yuuri’s ass that he daydreamed about from his first class seat (thanks to another wealthy donor). He flicked his tongue piercing over his teeth, but it didn’t feel half as good as when Seung-gil had done it.

That kiss was going to bite him in the ass if he wasn’t careful. And if he lost the bet, that kiss was going to haunt him forever.

Notes:

forgot how raunchy this chapter was :x
hope everyone is staying safe and healthy out there!
thanks for reading!

Notes:

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