Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

PRAGUE, CZECH REPUBLIC

the triple loop is a stupid fucking jump.

and because of getting hurt after a fall on it, you being passed over for the olympics didn’t come as a surprise for your team.

and coming off of an injury riddled season where you had to battle your way to a fourth place finish at u.s. nationals, the federation reps told you they were ‘worried about you staying healthy’ in milan.

alright. that’s fine. its what you expected.

you had the world’s worst case of the fear of missing out, though.

isabeau facetimed you at least once a week to give you updates on what was going on.

you’d gotten several “wish you were here!” texts from amber and alysa with photos of team usa.

ilia snapped and texted you daily and once sent you a photo of him with a random plushie of a frog in an italian toy store that he said reminded him of you. that one made you tear up.

you’d been rinkmates with isabeau since you were a kid. you were a few years older than her and moved to seniors before her.

once you got to juniors and seniors, it felt like the small community got even tinier. but, most of the team usa seniors, you’d know for years

you’d spend many-a team usa champs camps with other skaters your age, namely alysa, isabeau, and ilia.

you did shows with them, competed against alysa and isabeau, hung out with them at team usa events.

you got sent to japan last year as an alternate for the world team trophy because amber had been sick and there was a small chance she couldn’t compete. she ended up being fine but just hanging out with everyone felt like it was enough for your little heart.

so, when alysa pulled out of the world championships in prague, the us skating federation slid you right into her spot.

you just needed to not skate terribly and make sure that the united states kept three ladies worlds spots. you knew that isabeau and amber were podium hopefuls so, as long as you didn’t embarrass or reinjure yourself, you’d consider that a win.

after an okay short program where you’d underrotated your triple flip, you went into the free skate on the verge of a top ten finish. and, one clean free skate later, you’d ended up in eighth. nothing to be too upset about for coming off of injury and thanks to the finish of isabeau and amber, the us kept three spots!

you stayed to watched the gala and attended the isu awards before traveling from prague to tokyo for the stars on ice japan leg.

you were kind of surprised you’d been requested on the tour.

but, hey. skaters needed money in the off season and you had a nationals silver medal and grand prix gold to your name, so. tour it is.

the large group of us skaters gathered in the prague airport. you kept your carry on suitcase and backpack next to you as you mindlessly scrolled on your phone.

“wait, isabeau, what seat are you?” amber suddenly speaks up, plain black hat covering the blonde of her hair

“7B, why?” your rinkmate answers, turning to look her.

a slightly evil slightly mischievous smirk sat upon amber’s lips. “i’m 7A.”

the rest of the skaters went about figuring out whose seats had been booked next to who. evan was next to danny, madison in a row by herself behind amber and isabeau.

that only left your seat next to ilia.

you’d seen ilia in passing at worlds and the isu awards, taking a quick team usa photo. but, you hadn’t really had time to hang out in a while.

the season was brutal and way too fucking long. and after his traumatic olympics performance, there wasn’t really much you could say that someone else hadn’t already told him.

so, you just treated him like the same old ilia you’ve always known.

you move yourself next to him, you knee touching ilia’s

“are you ready to be next to each other for the longest eighteen hours of our lives?” you ask, trying to joke.

ilia looks tired. his cream-rimmed glasses sit atop his nose, arms wrapping around green frog plushie. eye bags drag his cheeks down a bit. but, he looks better than the stressful videos you watched from the olympics.

“oh, can’t wait.” he bantered, blue eyes glancing over to you. “i’m about to watch so much fucking bleach.”

“what is that?” you ask, eyebrow quirking upward. “is it some anime or nerdy shit you like?” you tease, causing ilia to sheepishly nod his head.

“yeah, it’s an anime. it’s really really good.” ilia replies smoothly.

“wait, i think i have a dual headphone adapter if you want me to watch it with you or something.” you offer, “you know, on the plane.”

at your words, ilia smiles softly, “i’d love that. maybe we can also watch an episode of that, uh show you like… fuck, what is it called?”

“the summer i turned pretty?” you answer, “yeah, maybe if i decide to get ragebaited we can watch it.”

“wait why?” he asks, leaning forward towards you.

“oh my god, this one guy in the show is so fucking anno—” you begin before isabeau cuts you off.

“do not get her started on her hatred for jeremiah fisher, ilia. she will tell you about it the entire flight.” the levito girl speaks up, playfully elbowing you.

you and ilia usually keep things pretty light and teasing when you speak to each other. there was some sort or report you both had just developed that included some light bullying with a side of physical touch.

but, you hadn’t really spoken in person since before february 13th.

whilst at the gate, you softly, quietly talk to ilia about worlds. about his olympics gala. about how he had been left off the olympic team in 2022 like you were this year. how maybe you both would go to the french alps in 2030. about how excited you were for japan. how liza’s double axel was coming along. and what your plans were after the us leg of the tour. you talk about how unexcited you were to be stuck on a bus for three weeks for the us tour, until ilia says he will be on the same bus at you.

that makes you a little happy.

eventually, your boarding group is called. and you follow behind ilia. without being asked, he puts your carry on bag in the overhead compartment next to his.

you slide into your seat and prepare for another boring safety instruction.

as the plane reaches cruising altitude, you pull out your joint headphone adapter.

ilia clicks around on the plane’s entertainment tv before settling on bleach.

he’s way too into the show and is excitedly explaining different things about it. you listen closely, teasing him softly when he nerds out over a few different scenes.

but, unfortunately, the tiredness from this travel day, worlds, and the season is catching up to you. and you mutter an “i’m so sleepy.” to ilia.

he’s moving his frog plushie, halfway leaning it on his shoulder as he readjusts his sitting posture to have you lean your head against his shoulder.

“sleep.” he states. “it’s a long flight. we can watch bleach later.”

your head goes slump against ilia’s shoulder, dozing off. he isn’t far behind you because in the next few minutes he is falling asleep too, anime on the seat screen becoming forgotten about.

you both sleep soundly on the flight for hours, ilia allowing you to use his beloved frog plushie as a pillow.

amber is still wide awake, playing a phone game that is mostly only used by her and middle-aged american soccer moms.

isabeau is half-asleep next to her. she elbows the girl from new jersey lightly, motioning towards you and ilia.

amber swipes out of her game and snaps a photo of the two of you.

“i can’t lie, isa, i’ve been waiting for their forced proximity for soooo long. like, one year at champs camp, i watched ilia talking to his dad and watched her hand ilia her water bottle and he just stopped talking to roman in the middle of their conversation and went to fill up her water bottle. and she didn’t even ask like, she just handed it to him.” amber whispers, talking with her hands as she speaks.

“ugh, please do not, this is like watching your sibling get into a relationship.” isabeau noted

“i think they’d be so cute.” amber nods, eyes glancing back other to you and ilia.

OSAKA, JAPAN

stars on ice japan was almost too much fun. rehearsals were in the morning and it gave you free time in the afternoon.

but, to begin preparation for the us leg, the rink offered ice time to the us skaters.

you were supposed to be learning some new choreography. the skaters were separated by girls and boys, except ilia who’d joined the girls. everyone was about to take a break, including you before you heard ilia’s blades skating over to you.

“heyyyyy, can i practice the death spiral i have to do with mone?” he asks you, words almost sheepish.

he’d been paired up with mone chiba to do a part in a group skate. amber was given an ice dancing lead part with another skater and you were given side-by-side spins with yuma kagiyama.

you and ambers parts were easy. but, giving two singles skaters a pairs element was brutal. ilia was so nervous about doing it with mone in the show, they’d practiced it so many times and he still gripped onto her arm way too tight to try not drop her.

you give ilia a face at his question.

“i’m scared of hurting mone.” he adds, reading the expression on your face.

your browns knit together into a furrow. “oh, so you’d let me get hurt?”

ilia deadpans. “fuck, no, that’s not what i meant.” he takes a deep breath. “i just trust you and trust myself to not drop you.”

you eye the blonde boy carefully before agreeing slowly, “okay, fine.”

you hand intertwines with ilia’s as you skate closely to each other, blades loudly carving into the ice. ilia’s hands move to have a death grip on your arm as he spins you around him, your body parallel to the ice.

your blade gets caught in a notch in the ice made by another skater and you nearly fall. a slight look of fear flashes in his eyes, careful not to drop you.

ilia’s grasp on you helps your balance as he pulls you upright.

“my blade caught the ice. i think we should do it again.” you inform him, breathing in deeply. “but, i think you did a good job.”

it was probably fine to just practice once. but, your mind secretly wanted ilia’s hands on you again. even if you’d rather die than admit that to yourself.

you and ilia go at it again, and the death spiral is much better this time.

“hey, as long as you don’t drop mone on her head, i think you’ll be just fine.” you nod at him.

the malinin boy looks slightly relived, pulling you in a for a quick side-hug that is akin to two awkward middle schoolers. “thank you soooooo much.”

“yeah, yeah, yeah. whatever. just don’t injure the worlds silver medalist.” your eyes roll
playfully, lightly patting the small of his back.

“and bitch, give me a real hug.” you declare, pulling ilia in for a real embrace as he his arms squeeze you.

you begin to skate away and ilia follows you like he’s a lost kitten. slowly, the rest of the cast is filing back into the rink.

“wanna do side-by-side rippon triple lutzes?” he suddenly asks you.

his excitement is like that one kid in elementary school who learned a new trick on his trampoline at home and wanted to show everyone in person.

you half-way side-eye him. “bro, you know my lutz edge is not good. and my legs are tired.”

“so? i don’t wanna do a flip. and my legs are tired too.” ilia argues.

“oh my god, fine. c’mon, lutz boy.” you relent, pushing off backwards, skating away to gather speed.

ilia’s quick to match your speed, you both do a lap around the rink before making eye contact and beginning your take off.

your lutz edge is flat but the toe pick of your skate hits the ice the same time as ilia’s. you throw your arms up as you rotate quickly. just as fast as you entered the air, you’re landing on one foot, extending your free leg.

ilia lands at the same time as you, though his landing is soft, as if his blade whispered to the ice when it touched down. yours is the opposite, loud and like a knife slicing down on something hard.

you have to take a deep breath afterwards, the other skaters give a small round of applause for your jump with ilia.

you throw a hand up, as if to say thank you. ilia comes over to give you a high five, gummy grin upon his lips.

TOKYO, JAPAN

you were so bored. a few days of a break between shows in osaka and tokyo had you twiddling your thumbs in your solo hotel room.

you opened the door, already ready to go. “i’m thinking cat cafe? i found one on google ma—” you begin to say before ilia’s grabbing your arm and tugging you out of your hotel room.

he’s got his glasses on and a black quadgod beanie sits atop his head.

“you had me at cat cafe.”

the two of you head out into the streets of tokyo, guiding each other by the small amount of japanese you both could read. ilia knew a little more than you but not much.

you guys finally got to the cat cafe, bell on the door jingling as you both walked in. ilia is immediately drawn to a fluffy ragdoll cat that looks like he could be miu miu’s twin. he pulls his hand out of his pocket to scratch the cat’s head, eliciting a purr.

“mysti and miu miu are gonna think you’re cheating on them.” you tease, ilia’s head snapping back.

“nuh, uh. it’s not their father’s fault he’s busy.” he replies, scoffing.

“do they know you talk about yourself in the third person?” you ask, going to pet a tabby who is stretched out on a cat tree.

“they probably don’t. they actually ignore me half of the time.” ilia admits.

you open your mouth to ask a follow up question, but suddenly the owner, a small, old japanese woman approaches you both.

she’s got her phone out, google translate pulled up. you are half expecting her to kick out the two loud americans but, she flashes her phone to you.

“what a cute couple” the translation reads. you make awkward eye contact with ilia.

“oh no, we aren—” you begin to say before ilia cuts you off. “tomodachi!” he says, earning a frown from the woman.

*(FRIEND)

she types on her phone, flipping it around again, “should be a couple.” before she’s turning on her heel and returning to the back of the cat cafe.

you make a what the fuck face. “we do not look like a couple.” you say, unsure if you are trying to convince ilia or yourself.

“i dunno, man.” is all the blonde offers, shrugging. “i think we are obviously just friends.”

you both continue to greet the cats, you snap a photo of ilia petting the ragdoll. he looks like he’s in his element, surrounded by a bunch of friendly cats.

you and ilia leave the cafe with a friendly amount of distance between you. but, that doesn’t last for long when ilia wraps his hand around your arm as you walk.

PHILADELPHIA, PA/FORT MYERS, FL

ilia had gone home for a day and to philly for a press engagement before joining the rest of the cast.

you’d flown from japan straight to florida.

somehow, the hotel room assignments had gotten mixed up because of ilia arriving to florida late.

so, you were asked to share a hotel room with him for just this stop.

FORT MYERS, FL

ilia gets to the hotel room just after dinner. you are in your pink and black polka dot pajama set just scrolling mindlessly on your phone.

“what’s up.” he greets, rolling into the hotel room with his suitcase, prada crossbody bag, and toothless plushie hanging off of his backpack.

“how was philly?” you ask, not looking up from your phone.

“actually, really fun. met a bunch of people. tried on a paralympic medal. not much different from an olympic one, surprisingly.” he answers, beginning to unpack his things. ilia keeps his stuff on the opposite side from all of yours.

“aw, wait thats so fun.” you say, shooting ilia a soft small.

“how have rehearsals been?” he then asks.

your conversation feels like one of a married couple. how was work today, tammy? great! how was work today, steve? great! your words are too casual for you both but the jetlag is still affecting you both.

“fine. i’m lowkey worried about the golden number that alysa, amber, and isabeau have to do. the choreography looks rough, i can’t lie … but i think the other group numbers will be fine.” you say, shrugging.

“how’s your solos?” he’s genuinely curious, “are you doing the same stuff you did in japan?”

“yeah, probably. didn’t really have a ton of time to get a new gala program with my injury this season.” you shrug, “you aren’t doing gimme chocolate again, are you?”

“nah, i have an eminem program i choreographed myself. it ends with jump around and has like a shit ton of back-to-back backflips at the end.” he grins slightly. “but, i won’t give you any more details other than that.”

“ugh, but gimme chocolate was soooo cute, ilia. i should’ve tried harder on putting the whiskers on your cheeks.” you say, staring at him.

“maybe i’ll bring it back for something after stars. just for you.” ilia announces before he’s pulling out a old t-shirt and pajama pants. and slips into the bathroom to change.

he’s making himself as home, organizing all of bags and clothes and whatever else he has with him for the two more days you both will be staying in the hotel room.

“real question, how’d they mess up the hotel this much. like not even two queen beds.” he suddenly speaks.

“what? quad god doesn’t wanna share a bed with me? i’ve already made a pillow wall between us, bro.” you reply, teasing.

“w—what? no. i don’t care, it’s just they are usually so strict about the same-sex rooms thing.” he says.

“you know what? man, i’m just pissed i can’t get laid tonight ‘cause you’re here. i had this whole room and bed for myself and the beautiful men of fort myers, florida.” you joke, putting your phone on the nightstand and jokingly spread out on the bed.

“wait, what?”

“like i can’t bring anyone in here ‘cause you’re here.”

“i’ll do it.”

“what?”

“if it’s that bad, i’ll do it.”

“oh my god, shut up, ilia. you don’t wanna fuck me.”

“what? i miss eating pussy anyway. just let me do it.”

“excuse me?”

“lemme help you out, if it’s that bad.”

you’d never thought of ilia in a sexual light. but, him basically asking to fuck you did something crazy to your brain. you thought for a moment before slowly nodding.

“okay, fine.” you say. “but, if you suck, i’m bullying you forever.”

“okay deal.” he nods.

climbing into your side of the bed. his hands pull the white duvet off of you, hands going to the waistband of your pants.

“fuck, are we really doing this?” you ask, words suddenly tender.

“i’m just helping my friend.” ilia states, “right?”

“right.” you murmur, his finger tapping your hip.

you lift instantly, giving ilia access to pull down your pajama pants.

he’s met with a pair of floral victoria’s secret panties that he leaves on.

ilia’s hot mouth goes to kiss the inside of your thigh. he opens his mouth to lick the skin of your plush thighs.

your hand automatically goes to rest in his hair.

ilia gently lifts your leg, kissing up your thigh and to your knee before doing that to your other leg as well.

his thumb goes to gently rub then spot just above your clothed clit. you squirm as he works you up, soft sigh escaping your lips.

his mouth goes back to the inside of your thigh, teeth gently biting down to mark you. he sucks another spot into your thigh as your fingers get tangled into his blonde locks.

blue eyes look up at you then glance down to the wet spot on your panties.

he licks the bruises he left on your thigh before sucking another new mark.

“oh my god, ilia. please just do something.” you say, slightly frustrated at his foreplay.

“just wanna do it right.” he frowns slightly, finally pulling your panties down your thighs.

his hands go to grip your thighs, fingers pressing into them hard as he leans forward. his mouth connects with your clit, sucking softly.

you let out a moan. you weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it definitely wasn’t this. ilia was good. way too good.

his mouth works on your core, tongue slipping between folds as he practically devoured you. the slurping sounds had you squirming more beneath him, small gasps coming out of you.

ilia was loud. he was moaning into your pussy as his tongue curled. his hips grinded down on the bed, your hands tugging softly as the hair on his scalp.

“you taste so good.” he murmurs against you, pulling a long moan from your throat as he spoke.

he sucks harder on your clit, the pressure causing you to almost see stars.

“oh my god, ilia.” you moan. “holy fuck.” your breath quickens as his hands keep your thighs pried open.

his head raises up slightly, only to spit directly on your core. he licks a stripe over you, nose nudging your clit as his mouth is covered in your arousal.

the sight of your friend nose-deep in your cunt does something else to your brain. you need more of this. more of ilia. your fingers tug at the strands of his blonde hair in your grasp, pulling a loud groan out of ilia.

his tongue fucks into you, lewd noises filling the hotel room. you prayed that andrew and anthony couldn’t hear anything happening next door.

“shit. i’m c—close.” you murmur, barely able to get the words out as ilia’s work on your pussy doesn’t stop.

at your comment, he’s working harder. his tongue seems to thrust further into you, his deathgrip somehow tights on your thighs.

ilia’s full-on grinding down against the bed, his cock throbbing under his pajama pants.

“fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” you blabber out before you come on ilia’s face, coating his lips with your warm juices.

you pant as you let go of his tufts of blonde hair. he sits up, tongue going out to lick his lips, swallowing the taste of you.

you swear you see stars, needing a moment to come back down. you glance at the boy before you, slight smile on his lips, his hair messy.

“was that okay?” he asks.

“oh my god, shut up.” you reply before your lips are on his. you are fisting his t-shirt. hands go to touch it’s hemline.

you taste yourself against his mouth, disconnecting your lips to pull his shirt off.

you’re pushing ilia’s back onto the bed after you tugged his pants down his thighs, letting them pool at his knees.

you can see the bludge of his cock pressing out of his boxers.

he’s needy, hands going to grasp at your hips. “please, touch me.” he begs, whining.

you pull his leaking cock out of his boxers. he moans loud as your hand wrapped around it.

“ебать.” he says, russian slipping from his mouth. *(fuck.)

“can i ride you?” you ask.

“fuck, yes.” he nods, watching your hips rise.

“wait, i don’t have a condom.” he says while your line your entrance up with the head of his cock. your thighs are already sticky, which ilia doesn’t like the feeling of but he will just have to deal with it.

“i’m on the pill, it’s fine.” you reply. “don’t worry, baby.”

the second his dick enters you, ilia’s eyes roll back to the back of his skull.

he’s huffing out swear words in russian that you don’t understand.

your hips meet his once and he’s groaning loud.

you feel his cock twitch in you. and by the second time you’re bouncing on him, ilia is filling you up.

ilia is so loud when he orgasms, and he’s embarrassed for having came so fast. his cheeks go bright pink.

you both sit there in each other’s quick breaths.

“oh my god, i’m so sorry.” ilia apologizes. “i usually last longer than that. i just worked myself up eating you out.” he admits.

ilia has to take a moment before pulling you off of him.

he’s slowly standing up, pulling his boxers and pants back up, and going to get towels from the bathroom.

he returns, carefully wiping your thighs clean, attempting to get any cum off of them.

“it’s fine, by the way.” you speak up. “it’s cute that you got all ‘worked up’ like that. maybe next time you can go first.”

ilia nearly drooled at the idea of a ‘next time.’ but he simply nodded, and finished cleaning you up.

he’s moved to the dresser, in search of something.

“my underwear is the second drawer to the left.” you inform him.

ilia gets a pair and hands it to you before crawling into bed.

the pillow wall has been destroyed. but, despite that, your bodies are hanging on the edge of the bed, not dare touching each other as you both fall asleep.

FORT LAUDERDALE, FL

you sit next to ilia on the way to fort lauderdale.

“can we talk about what happened in the hotel.” you say, voice quiet.

everyone else is either doomscrolling in their bunk or has earbuds in nearby.

ilia gulps. “yeah, listen, if you didn’t like what happened or—“

“i liked it. i liked it too much. but, i don’t want it to change our friendship, ilia. i like lightly bullying you. i like when you talk about whatever nerdy shit you’re into. i like being your friend.” you begin. “but, i also wouldn’t mind a next time.”

“okay, same.” ilia nods. his eyes glance down to your lips and then back to you. “so, i guess. friends who help each other out?”

“friends who fuck, ilia. we are friends who fuck.” you correct.

“okay, friend who i fuck. can i kiss you?” he asks.

your eyes glance around to the anthony who is engrossed in a book. as well as ellie whose scrolling on reels.

you slyly give ilia’s lips a peck.

a bright, wide smile spreads across his cheeks.

you return the smile and ilia’s watching anthony and ellie carefully before he’s kissing you again.

it’s not short either. and it’s risky. if anthony or ellie glanced up, they’d see ilia’s mouth on yours, your hand cupping his jaw.

but, thank god they didn’t.

ORLANDO, FL

in the past few days you were eaten out by ilia malinin. established a friends with benefits relationship with ilia malinin. have kissed ilia malinin multiple times. watched him perform in a white tank top multiple times and it only made you wet once.

everyone except for alysa decided to go to universal on your off day in orlando.

“so, how’s your bus going?” amber asks as you two bring up the rear of the group.

“it’s fine.” you say simply.

“how’s ilia?” she asks, pressing you. “i know you guys are just friends or whatever but … ” her words trail, voice getting softer, “you are wearing a washington figure skating club shirt when both know damn well you aren’t from dc.”

your cheeks flush hard. suddenly, ilia’s navy shirt feels like its burning your skin.

“yup. we are just friends, ambs!” you beam anxiously, trying to quickly catch up to the group who have gotten distracted by a line for a harry potter themed ride.

you stand patiently in line next to isabeau, suddenly getting into conversation with her.

“universal is not better than disney, what’s wrong with you.” you are mid-argument with isabeau. “you can’t sit here and say you wanna go on a jurassic park ride over space mountain.”

“but, c’mon. the rides at universal are so much better!” isabeau retorts.

you go to open your mouth and immediately close it when you feel ilia snake his arms around your waist, hugging you from behind. you lean into it.

“hi, ilia.” you greet, completely forgetting about isabeau in front of you.

he leans his head on your shoulder, pulling you tight. “hi. are you having fun?” he asks.

“soooo much fun. can’t wait for you to meet toothless.” you respond.

at that, ilia smiles shyly and squeezes you.

you stand like that in line, clingy and all over each other.

you’ve always been touchy with ilia but never this touchy.

isabeau moved up in the group to where jason and amber stand. “you guys see ilia broke boyfriend hugging back there?” she asks, joking.

“it’s so cute.” amber says. “i’m a fan.”

“absolutely not. they are so clingy. and i don’t even think they realize it, either. they’ve been pda-demons before but never like this. i’m waiting for them to kiss.” isabeau speaks. “and i’ve seen her with her ex boyfriends, this is like worse. it’s lovesick puppies who don’t know they are in love.”

“are you guys sure?” jason asks, “amber has been trying to get me on board … ”

they all look back at you and ilia. you both seem to be in your own little world. his chin still rests on your shoulder but now his face is closer to yours, sunglasses resting on his head.

he’s holding a big snoopy bag on his arm. it’s got all of his things and yours stuffed inside of it.

“i think they are hooking up.” christina speaks up.

amber gasps dramatically. isabeau makes a face.

“i fucking knew it.” isabeau says.

“why do you think that?” amber asks, intrigued.

“well, number one all over each other. number two, they act way worse on our bus. also, i saw her getting out of ilia’s bunk super early this morning and i think ilia has a hickey on his collarbone.” christina explains.

andrew is listening in and nearly spits out the water he’s sipping from a souvenir cup. “what? are you for real? i think ilia would’ve told me.”

“i bet they wanna keep it lowkey.” isabeau says. “because i would’ve also been told.”

“maybe we just ignore it.” amber suggests. “like, don’t say anything until they tell us. besides, they have to know they are being obvious. besides, did y’all peep she’s wearing ilia’s shirt today?”

“ugh, young love.” jason muses.

“Как бы я хотел поцеловать тебя прямо сейчас.” ilia murmurs into your hair.
*(i wish i could kiss you right now.)

“what?” you ask, brows furrowing at the whispered words in russian.

“wanna kiss you.” he repeats, though this time in english.

“laterrrrrrr.” you drag out the word, trying to ignore how his fingers have slipped under your shirt and are just resting there on your stomach.

you are seen deep in the background of one of danny’s videos holding hands with ilia and swinging your arms as you walked around the theme park.

some fans caught it.

“awh them holding hands … these team usa siblings”
— “bitch they are not siblings”

“we’re just friends” baby there is no plane. y’all are holding hands at universal.”

“tell me thats fake. #they are just friends. that’s not real”
— “they could easily be friends? holding hands for .2 seconds doesn’t mean anything. you parasocial fans need to calm down.”

“bro ilia and his 500 dating rumors. we gotta free that girl. they have been friends for YEARS and have always been kinda of teasing each other. if they were together, it would be more than hand holding. this is a normal tuesday for them, people!”

the next day, whilst on the bus, ilia flips his phone around to show you several tweets.

you roll your eyes at them. “we literally aren’t even dating.” you say. “we’ve always acted like that.”

the frustration is evident in your voice. “so fucking annoying.”

GREENVILLE, SC

ilia’s bunk was much more comfortable to slip into than yours. yours was on the bottom floor and you practically had to army-crawl to get to sleep.

the small bunk had just enough room for two
people, nevertheless one.

but, somehow your body was pressed against ilia in his bunk.

you have had to shush him multiple times just in case someone from the cast comes back from their sweet treat run.

ilia and you had skipped out on the ice cream trip that was before heading to the hotel, citing being so tired from the show.

he’s whining softly into your mouth as your lips are opened against his.

his tongue slips into your mouth with ease, hands going to grip your hips tightly. your legs are intertwined with his as your body is basically directly on top of ilia’s.

you pull your swollen lips away from him. you guys had been going at making out for nearly twenty straight minutes.

your hand moves to cup his jaw line, tilting his head upward as your mouth attaches itself to ilia’s neck. you press open-mouthed kisses to his throat.

he’s needy, whimpering loudly as you push his blonde locks back, sucking a mark into the skin just behind his ear. it’s hidden enough that someone wouldn’t see it unless they were looking for it.

and you’d be looking for it always.

you feel the imprint of his hard cock through his grey sweatpants pressing against your thigh.

“i wish we weren’t on this stupid fucking bus.” you say, hands sliding down to touch the waistband of his sweats.

“me either.” he agrees. “i’m so hard.” ilia adds, words coming out as a whine.

you press your lips back his, noses bumping as you kiss him hungrily and messily.

his tongue pushes past your lips again, moving as if he was trying to memorize every part of the inside of your mouth.

if you both weren’t waiting for your fellow skaters to come back or on this stupid fucking bus, you’d try to fuck ilia again.

the other night he’d texted you, “there’s not enough room for you to sit on my face in these bunks.”

you wished you smoked cigarettes because jesus fuck sometimes you needed one after hearing ilia’s dirty fucking mouth.

your hands feel him up as he kisses you, tongue shoved down your throat. you touch ilia’s stomach. his chest, hand squeezing his bicep so hard he thinks his muscle might pop.

suddenly, the door to the bus is forcefully opened.

you and ilia are in the back, tucked away in his bunk. but, you left the curtain open.

the sound of the door opening has you quickly shutting the curtain to his bunk.

“i don’t wanna stop making out.” ilia whines, “i can get off in the bathroom later by myself, i just don’t wanna stop kissing you.”

his words nearly cause your heart to soar. but, you remember. just friends. helping each other out. so what if that included a long make out session? you pushed your lips back against ilia’s for the rest of the ride to the hotel.

GREENSBORO, NC

the bus drove three hours overnight from greenville, south carolina to greensboro, north carolina. most people on the bus had gone to their bunks for a nap. but, you were sat in the couch area with ellie and christina.

“i can’t believe that lady screamed when jason gave her his rose.” christina recounts, laughing to herself

“oh my god, right.” you say. “the jason effect.”

“the screams for the pitbull number were so loud today, ellie.” christina begins, pulling ellie into the conversation.

you glance at your phone, seeing two notifications from ilia. one snapchat and another text message,

you open the app. the first thing is a snap that is a selfie of half of his face. nothing out of the ordinary for what he sends you. you casually send back a photo of your forehead before sliding over to your imessages.

you excuse yourself from christina and ellie, holding onto the wall of the bus as it moves. you carefully, sneakily, climb into ilia’s bunk yet again.

“oh, poor baby.” you say, eyes going down to his sweatpants.

“help me.” he begs. “please.”

you slip your hand beneath his pants, which already has ilia whimpering softly.

your free hand goes to cover his mouth almost immediately.

“ilia.” you say, words hushed. “be quiet.”

he nods and expects your palm to leave his mouth but it doesn’t.

you pull ilia’s hard cock out of his boxers. it’s leaking like it’s angry as you wrap your hand around it.

ilia’s head feels fuzzy as he watches you, the feeling of your fingers wrapping around his dick causes him to spiral.

he’s needy and trying his hardest not to buck his hips up into your hand.

this was just his friend helping him out. nothing more.

your hand pumps his cock twice and ilia moans against your palm.

“shut the fuck up or i’ll stop.” you threatened. his head nods, blue eyes looking at you with desperation.

the pad of your thumb wipes at the slit of his cock, getting rid of any precum dripping out.

your hand gets back to his shaft, hand moving up and down, up and down.

ilia’s trying to hard not to moan, his jaw clenched tight. he damn near bites down on your hand after one particular stroke.

you keep going, pushing his boxers and sweatpants further down his thigh, smooth thighs as you get him off.

you press a kiss to the side of his head, your bottom lip jutting out as you watch him squirm beneath your hands. “are you good?” you ask, getting a dramatic and fast head nod.

“please keep going.” he rasps.

ilia’s body betrays him and his hips snap upwards, thrusting his dick into your hand.

he lets out a high pitched whine, breathing quickly as your hand presses against his mouth harder.

“i’m fucking serious, shut the fuck up. do you want someone to hear you?” you ask. ilia leans up, hiding his face in your shoulder.

even with your hand muffling his sweet sounds, he can’t help but be loud.

“fuck, Я сейчас кончу.” he says against your hand, words muffled, “i’m so close.”
*(i’m gonna cum.)

you think about the small bunk and how horrible it would be to try to clean up ilia’s mess with everyone around.

“cum in my mouth.”

his eyebrows shoot up at your words. “what?”

“easier to clean up.”

you give ilia’s dick a few more strokes before you watch his eyes flutter shut.

you immediately take his tip into your mouth and allow his hot cum to hit your tongue.

you swallow slowly, letting the salty taste of his cum sit in your mouth.

you were a little too slow to get him past your lips. his cum is on the corner of your mouth. you wipe it with your index finger and suck it clean.

ilia watches, still coming down from his climax, and he swears he sees god.

the feeling of your lips wrapped around the head of his cock makes him think he actually died and met jesus.

hi, i’m ilia malinin and i just came really hard into my friend’s mouth.

hi, ilia. welcome to heaven. i’m gonna send you back down to earth now.

he takes several deep breaths.

“you taste really good.” you say.

ilia takes several more deep breaths.

WILKES-BARRE, PA.

the tan tour bus jostles as it hits a pot hole, sending your hip crashing against ilia’s. he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder loosely. you are both lazily snuggled up on the bus couch.

“bro, amber just called our bus lame.” says the voice belonging to vadym as amber’s tiktok live plays on your phone.

“oh my god, she said that the other day.” the blonde to your right complains.

“you could always do a rival tiktok live.” you speak up, only half-joking.

“wait, that would be so funny.” emi adds.

and, before you know it, emi and vadym are going live from their joint account.

the live only shows their faces, keeping you and ilia off-screen. the rest of the bus’ inhabitants are in their bunks doomscrolling or have had their social batteries drained for the day.

you remain far too close to ilia for people that are just friends. it’s a common reoccurrence in your friendship since going on tour together. you could’ve leaned over and placed your lips on ilia’s if you wanted to. or move to sit a few inches and just sip on his lap but you didn’t wanna force anything that didn’t feel completely natural.

“vadym, when are you and ilia switching to pairs?” vadym reads a fan’s question outloud. “i dunno. i think we have some stuff to work on before we compete.” he answers.

at the mention of his name, ilia’s ears perk up akin to a dog. “we should try a death spiral tomorrow.” ilia suggests, only halfway joking.

“maybe let’s not do stuff on concrete floors.” emi laughs, eyes going back to the comment section.

several comments read ‘show ilia!’ or ‘where is alysa!’

“alysa and amber are in the cool bus, apparently we are the lame bus.” she answers, slight smug look rising on her features.

“which is wrong!” you call out from the back. “we are not lame at all!”

“we do soooo much fun stuff over here.” vadym adds, eyes slightly rolling.

you inhale and get your senses flooded by the scent of ilia’s perfume. your hand moves to touch his chest, just sitting there. you almost feel lightheaded off the smell of coconut and cedarwood hitting you.

“we played poker the other night.” emi states, eyes twitching over to you and ilia.

“ilia got smoked by danny.” vadym comments.

“no, i didn’t!” ilia shoots back, “i have never played poker before, that isn’t fair.”

you are holding your phone closer to your ear, trying to hear amber’s live.

emilea and vadym continue answering comments but suddenly, ilia snatches your phone and holds it close to him.

“ilia, what the fuck?” you mutter.

“you are a traitor for watching the other live! thats our rival bus!” he argues, grasping your phone.

“well, i wanted to watch amber’s live?”

“if you hate this bus, you can just say it. you probably wish you were over there!”

“bro, give me my fucking phone.”

you practically lunge at him, leaning over his body. he reacts quickly, going to hold your phone up high and away as he extends his arm outward.

“ilia!” you say loudly, practically climbing him to retrieve your phone. “give it back!”

you end up in ilia’s lap, playfully gripping his shoulder.

“nah, it’s mine now. i’m watching amber’s live.” a smug smirk sits upon his lips, still not allowing you to get back your phone.

“vadym, can you still do triples? oh my godddd, no. i had a triple sal at one point.” he explains, reading more comments.

“what is the yelling in the background?” emi reads. “let me show the audience.” she pans the camera so that half of the screen is her face and the other is you and ilia.

“you hate, you hate me. you wanna be on the other bus because you hate me.” ilia’s words are teasing yet delivered dramatically. “not giving it back until you say you love me.” he adds.

you pull ilia’s shoulders downward, pressing him into the couch. your hand roughly pins his hand to the couch. “oh my god, shut up!” you yell, and he allows your phone to clatter to the floor of the bus at the noise, ilia yelps.

you put your hand overtop of his mouth, which then ilia responds by licking your palm. “ewwwwww!!” you let out a yell, pushing yourself off of the couch and wiping your now wet palm on the leg of ilia’s sweatpants.

vadym stares blankly as all the comments roll in about you and ilia.

“what are they doing???”

“LMAO WHAT DID ILIA SAY???”

“why is ilia fighting with her like they are an old married couple??”

“are they hurting each other??”

“are they dating?”

he clears his throat and takes the phone from emilea. the blonde woman turns back around to you and ilia, mouthing a small. ‘i am so sorry.’

“oh, they are fine. ilia and her just act like that.” he speaks, before reading more comments.

“wait, guys this one comment is asking if a hotdog is a sandwich. can we talk about this …” he says, looking at emi.

you make an embarrassed face at ilia. you both have moved, sitting back on the couch somewhat normally.

“that was all just on tiktok live.” you say, frown growing upon your lips, “we are never beating the allegations, dude.”

your phone is currently being blown up by isabeau.

ever since the mixup in japan, due to numbers, you had been getting your own hotel room and so had ilia.

but since emilea and vadym joined, stars on ice management easily put you with emilea and vadym with ilia.

ilia had somehow convinced vadym to have him and emilea switch in the middle of the night so that you and ilia could room together again.

that is how you ended with ilia on top of yoj and his dick inside of you.

your neck was littered with hickeys, none of them really concealable without make up. ilia had gotten a little carried away while fingering you earlier.

he’d already made you cum once, but realistically, ilia would do whatever you wanted him to.

he was putty beneath you. want to get him off? he’s down. want him to eat you out? he’s down. want to ride him or have him fuck you face first into the mattress? he’s down.

he liked when you were strict with him and he liked when you told him what to do. he was like your little figure skater ken doll that would do whatever you wanted to do. even if you fully didn’t know that

your hotel room was at the end of the hall. your only neighbors were emi and vadym who said they were gonna be at the pool all night.

so, ilia took that as being as loud as he wanted to.

you were at the point where your hands were gripping his bare shoulders, his tired hips becoming sloppy as he thrusted inside of you.

“i’m so close.” you , unable to contain the soft moans leaving your mouth.

ilia’s hands gripped your waist so tightly you thought his hands might leave bruises.

“fuck, me too.” he hisses, slamming his hips down onto you.

“s—so big.” you stuttered, “you’re so big.”

your back arches upwards, chest nearly meeting ilia’s.

“my perfect boy is so bi—” you are cut off by ilia’s mouth, he’s kissing you hard. you moan loudly into his lips as the tip of him hits your cervix.

your cunt clenches tightly around ilia, his dick twitching in you.

“Пожалуйста.” ilia rasps, “cum with me.”

upon his words, the band within your stomach snaps, “fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck, ilia. holy fuck.” you swear, your body releasing around his cock.

his seed spills out inside of you, filling you up as he finished.

your chest heaves, catching your breath. your head hits the hotel room pillow, hands going to grab at ilia’s biceps.

ilia had worked up a sweat, he’s running a hand through his hair before leaning down to press a kiss into your hairline.

he gently pulls himself out of you, letting you come down from your orgasm before he speaks.

“c’mon, pretty girl let’s get you cleaned up.”

BOSTON, MA

the night after the boston show, the boys of the bus were bored and wanted booze.

your bus had been dubbed lame but realistically with more men than women and no under 21-year-olds it had become a glorified fraternity house.

emilea and vadym had gotten moved to the other bus. them hopping on tour for a small
segment had all of their travel plans out of wack.

danny and andrew were sharing a case of coors. anthony had somehow gotten liquor and made himself mixed drinks he called, “his secret brew.”

ilia wasn’t a big drinker or experienced drinker. but he was on his fourth smiroff ice of the night.

you, on the other hand had gone to countless college parties. half of your classes were online because of training, but going to a large university in philly meant they didn’t really care how or when you graduated, as long as they got their tuition check.

you had brought some spiked lemonades onto the bus. just for this very occasion.

you’d cracked had one open and sipped on it. someone brought out a card game and andrew started dealing. nights like these were maybe your favorite on tour. just hanging out, not really doing much of anything.

you were sat next to ilia. he was in a black stars on ice hoodie, a pair of cream sweatpants, and navy blue socks.

he moved how he was sitting, stretching his leg out and somehow his foot ended up on your thigh.

“ilia, move your foot.” you tell him, inching away from him.

“oh, fuck, Моя вина.” he murmurs, moving to sit with his knees practically together, sliding his hip away from you.

“i didn’t mean don’t touch me.” you whisper, taking another sip of from your can.

ilia downs the rest of his smirnoff ice, having practically chugged the first four he’d consumed. he rises, grabs his fifth, before opening it and sitting next to you.

ilia’s got a wide tooth smile, putting his drink down so that he can wrap his arms around your waist, cheek leaning against your shoulder.

“you smell good.” he whispers, you squirm beneath him.

“ilia, i have to go pee.”

“don’t leave meeeeee.”

“i just need to go to the bathroom.”

“no.” his voice is firm, wraps tightening around you as be refuses to let you up.

andrew whistles. “someone’s clingy right now.”

“shut up, man.” you roll your eyes at him, a hand raking through ilia’s hair.

“are you drunk?” you ask, voice soft.

“ugh, nooooooo.” ilia looks up at you, cheeks red. “a little. i don’t like drink like this that often.”

“it’s okay.” you say, just letting ilia do whatever he wants.

“wanna kiss you so bad.” he pouts. your eyes glance around to the other skaters. everyone is busy with the card game except for you and ilia.

“everyone will see.” you whisper.

“don’t fucking care anymore.” he bites back, lifting his head to press a kiss to your lips.

ilia’s greedy, his hands slide down to your thighs, gripping them.

your hand goes to cup his jaw.

ilia tastes like sugar and whatever sweet chemicals made his tropical tiki smirnoff ice taste like mango.

he’s kissing you hard, pulling away only to breathe.

“fuckin’ finally.” christina murmurs beneath her breath.

you side-eye christina. “oh, is kissing your friends not allowed?”

ilia’s still so clingy. he doesn’t want to leave your side and is now sitting in your lap as your arms are wrapped ‘round him, hands slipped beneath his shirt to touch his bare abdomen.

“yeah,” ilia hiccups. “i’m kissing my friend.” he huffs, squirming in your lap as you don’t allow him to turn around. “lemme kiss you, pretty girl.”

you blush hard, shaking your head. “at the hotel. we have like an hour and a half .”

“don’t wanna wait that long.” his words are whiny. he’s taking a longer sip of his drink, swallowing dramatically.

“come nap with me.” he says loudly, pushing himself out of your grasp.

everyone else is watching you two like a soap opera.

ilia grabs your hand and tugs hard, pulling you to the back of the bus. your cheeks are bright red, a mix of tipsy, embarrassed, and endeared by ilia’s actions.

“we gotta calm down.” your whisper. “everyone just saw us basically making out on the couch, ilia.” you say as he’s ushering you to get into his bunk.

“ilyusha.” he corrects.

“what?”

“call me ilyusha, please.”

“okay.”

you aren’t sure what calling him ilyusha means. surely its just some russian nickname he wants to be called.

“take your nap and when you wake up, we will be at the hotel.” you are babying him, but you’ve never seen ilia this drunk or this clingy.

“i want you to nap with meeeeee.”

“i’m not tired, ilyusha.”

at the nickname, ilia beams.

“Кажется, я люблю тебя.” he slurs, russian words coming out of his mouth.
*(I THINK I LOVE YOU.)

“what?”

“я тебя люблю.”
*(I LOVE YOU.)

“ilia, i don’t understa—“

“я тебя люблюz. я тебя люблюz. я тебя люблю.”
*(I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU. I LOVE YOU.)

he’s laying in his bunk now, whispering. he leans on his side, pulling your face close to his.

“can i get a goodnap kiss? like a goodnight kiss but, you know, for a nap.” he says.

“only if you tell me what you said.”

ilia refuses, only pouting in response.

you kiss the drunk idiot, his lips soft against yours. ilia’s messy, hands holding onto the side of his bunk as he tried not to fall out as he kisses you deeply.

ilia giggles to himself and rolls over, allowing you to close the curtain of his bunk for him.

you return back to the group. “he’s fuckin’ hammered.”

a group consensus of ‘no shit’ is met.

you make a brief apology for sucking ilia’s face in public and go back your place on the

on the other bus, vadym is panicking. “emi, what do i say???” he asks.

“he told me he really likes her. and he just drunkenly told her in russian that he loves her but she doesn’t know what he said.” he explains, showing his girlfriend the text.

“wait. so who knows?” she asks.

“just me, maybe torgs. thats it. they hooked up the first night of the us leg.” he answers, looking anxious.

“so, they don’t know that i know?” she asks.

“no, and don’t tell anyone or ilia will kill me.” vadym’s face grows serious.

“does she like him back?” emi asks another question.

“we don’t know. and i obviously can’t tell her what he said.” vadym answers, turning his phone over, unable to even look at it.

“no, duh. maybe i can talk to her about her feelings or whatever.” she suggests.

“oh my god, no. you are horrible at being sneaky and also they don’t know that you know!” he replies.

emi snatches his phone, typing up a quick reply.

you bit the inside of your cheek as the bus bumpily drove to its next hotel.

something sinister settled in your stomach.

what did ilia say?

was it something bad?

you surely didn’t wanna ask torgs of all people. andrew would give you your answer and then frat boy shrug and take a puff of his hypothetical mint geek bar.

you tried to doomscroll on your phone but your heart pulled you to your drunken friend in his bunk, fast asleep.

you had half of mind to march over to ilia and demand for him to tell you what he said.

but, you don’t.

and an hour and a half later the bus is pulling into the parking lot of the hotel in albany, the next stop on the tour.

it lurches to a stop. you are gathering your backpack and toiletry bag, stocked with everything you need for the night.

you hop off the bus and ilia takes ten more minutes. he’d woken up when the bus stopped. he was still half-drunk and had to quickly gather his things.

you were assuming he and vadym had made the same agreement that they’d made last night.

you were correct. you stayed in emi’s room for thirty minutes before you and vadym switched.

“ilia, what did you say on the bus?” you ask, worry having settled in your heart.

“wait, what?” he asked, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“you said something in russian and didn’t tell me what it meant. i asked vadym and he wouldn’t tell me.” you explain, sighing softly.

“i don’t remember.” ilia says. he’s lying. he does remember. he’s terrified you won’t say it back and mean and he’s mad he even said it drunk.

“it’s not important.” ilia said. i’ll tell you later.”

you slept in the same bed with ilia that night. but, for the first time, you made him put a pillow wall between you.