W.D.Y.W.F.M?

by eternallyktyun

Summary:

Neither of them have any illusions about why they’re here, and yet for a moment they stand staring at each other, silently deciding who will acknowledge it. How’s it going to go?

“Here to get advice on winning?” Yeonjun asks, and Taehyun presses her hand to her chest and shoves her back into the room, kicking the door shut behind her.

Notes:

A fair warning: if you are someone who knows anything about figure skating, specifically how the competition cycle/olympic qualification works, you will recognize that there are aspects of this premise that are simply unrealistic. I want to assure you I am also aware of this. I decided not to care <3

playlist

Taehyun might be too competitive for her own good.

An occupational hazard, she supposes. Competitive figure skating isn’t exactly a friend-rich environment, especially when you’re well on your way to being one of the best. Add to that, basically starting over at a whole new rink while next year's Olympics loom over her shoulders. It feels egoistic to assume there’s a target on her back, and yet…

She’d like to say that at least the target isn’t as big as the one on Yeonjun Choi, but that just isn’t true. Yeonjun is the darling of the rink. Not making the podium at the last Olympics didn’t seem to have any bearing on how loved she is - if there’s anyone in this whole place that doesn’t like her, Taehyun would be hard pressed to get them to admit it.

Taehyun has never understood how to get that kind of love. She gets respect, jealousy, maybe a tepid admiration. But she doesn’t know how to garner affection. She’s off-puttingly serious and not all that interested in making nice. Self-aware enough to realize she could do something about it, if she wanted, but she’s not all that interested in friends if she’s honest. At least not here, on the ice, where she was practically born and raised. She’s watched the rise and fall of enough friend groups decimated by bitter jealousy to know better.

In all fairness, she understands where the love for Yeonjun comes from. She’s seen enough of her this past week alone to know - the way she happily encourages the babies, gently mentors the junior skaters, even hypes up the other seniors whose very ambitions depend on the hope that they will knock her off her pedestal. In all that kindness, though, she’s yet to even speak to Taehyun. That’s fine. It’s not like she’d expect it. There’s no reason for her to be anything to Yeonjun.

Until it happens. She’s on what she thought was an early enough session to get in some private ice without paying for it, her playlist just shifting from her warm-up songs to practice songs, when a voice rings out.

“Taehyun Kang!” The voice calls, and Taehyun digs in her toe picks to a sudden stop. When she turns to the sound, there she finds none other than Yeonjun herself, long legs made infinite by black leggings. Her hair is in dark brown waves around her shoulders, only pulled half-up for now, and a long-sleeved gray wrap shirt is tied around her torso.

She comes to a stop in front of Taehyun, cocking her head at the lack of response. “That is your name, right? I’m so sorry if it’s not, I really have no excuses.”

“No, it is,” Taehyun answers, her eyes taking in all the features she’s noticed two-dozen times before, except this time they’re up-close. “Sorry. I just… didn’t think you’d know me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Yeonjun laughs, shaking her head. Her eyes roam down Taehyun’s body rather obviously, then track back up to her face. “I hear you’re my main competition for the Olympics.”

“Do you?” She hums, glancing around the empty ice just to get a break from her sharp eyes. Her shoulders straighten of their own accord, knowing Yeonjun must have noted her terrible habit of slouching. “Must be a dry year.”

“C’mon, don’t be humble,” Yeonjun teases, tilting forward on her toe picks until the ice audibly crunches and then settling back. “I hear that doesn’t suit you.”

Normally, Taehyun would like to say she knows how to play herself. But somehow each and every word Yeonjun says throws her off. None of them are particularly noteworthy, and yet they get to her, just as much as her reputation and the aura she exudes. She doesn’t talk to Taehyun like she talks to the rest of the rink; digging at her instead of playing nice. It leaves Taehyun fumbling for who to be.

“And who’s in your ear about me, exactly?” She asks, looking back at Yeonjun. It must be cold in that outfit, given that she hasn’t warmed up yet, but she doesn’t act like it.

“Lots of people, if I listen.”

There it is again, that thing Taehyun’s almost pinpointed. Yeonjun talks like there’s more to everything she says, three words for every one. She has Taehyun hanging on her every word. Everyone does, she bets.

“Oh,” Taehyun mutters, giving a small push with her blade that sets her gliding slowly further back from Yeonjun. She’s losing practice time with these mind games. “Thanks, I guess?”

“Sure,” Yeonjun shrugs, looking a little put out as her eyes look down to where Taehyun’s blades carve new lines in the ice, still drifting away from her. “You don’t mind sharing the ice, do you?”

“Doesn’t matter,” kicking off for good, Taehyun calls over her shoulder. “It’s not private.”

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

Just like that, suddenly Yeonjun is in her space. It seems she can’t turn anywhere without seeing her. Which would make sense enough, given who Yeonjun is. Undoubtedly she would have noticed her either way, any way, given that Yeonjun has been the fixation of her athletic career ever since she attended the last Olympics.

It doesn’t entirely make sense. Someone else from their team podiumed ahead of Yeonjun that year. She’d retired about two years after that Olympics, so it’s not like Taehyun could fixate on her now, but she’d be lying if she said that the retirement was the impetus of a switch in focus. It’s always been Yeonjun she watched.

Yeonjun is a very different skater from Taehyun. Over the years, especially after the Olympics, she’s proved herself as a performer capable of a lot of different styles. She’s a beautiful spinner, her footwork impeccable. Taehyun has always favored the technical half of this two-headed sport - she jumps with the best of them, her style powerful and precise, but she’d always struggled with artistry. That is, admittedly, until she started to study Yeonjun.

There’s really only one style to suit her strengths, though. Dark, dramatic, melancholy. Russian composers hate to see her looking for new program music. Sometimes it irks her to not be capable of flitting from genre to genre the way Yeonjun does, mixing artistic styles, experimenting and being successful at the same time. It certainly gives Yeonjun an appealing reputation - all-rounder, master of performance. Taehyun’s reputation is as it’s always been - high jumper, great technical performance. It doesn’t exactly hold the same appeal.

The rest of the time, though, she’s quite content with herself. Knowing one’s strengths and playing to them is never a failure.

Anyway, all that to say, she was bound to notice Yeonjun. That’s not what irks her. What irks her is the way Yeonjun gets to her. She’ll swing by her on the ice after a jump, dropping a nice one just to let Taehyun know she’s watching. Or she’ll stop for water at the same time as Taehyun, glancing out of the corner of her eye when Taehyun checks her laces or tightens her ponytail. And since she always has to say something, she’ll make a little comment like you’re working hard, waiting for her to flush before smirking and pushing back off the wall.

It’s not like Taehyun’s never been psyched out before. It’s practically a given during competitions. She’s just never had to face it in her home rink. Just another reminder that this rink will only ever be her home after Yeonjun.

It all comes to a head after their rink’s invitationals. They’re not even there to compete. The invitational only goes up to a certain level, the seniors there for showcases between events, but most of them stay the full day to support.

As one of the last to perform, closing out the day, Taehyun is also the last in the locker room. Well, next to last. The room gets emptier and emptier as she wipes down her skates, takes off her makeup, unpins her hair. One after the other leave. Yeonjun stays.

Taehyun sighs as the last group of three clears out at once, leaving just the two of them. She tries to ignore Yeonjun entirely, though she can’t pretend she’s alone enough to stop herself from turning to the wall to strip out of her dress.

“There’s a changing stall,” Yeonjun offers helpfully.

“Never had one before,” Taehyun answers, which to be fair is true. Maybe it’s a strange decision she’s made, that stepping behind a curtain would be somehow conceding to the impact of Yeonjun’s presence. In her defense, it’s no less strange than the decision to stay in here, fully clothed. “If it bothers you, you’re dressed.”

“Trying to kick me out, princess?”

Taehyun yanks her sweater the rest of the way down, head whipping to glare at Yeonjun. “Don’t call me that.”

“No?” Yeonjun grins, standing up. The smug look on her face makes Taehyun as irritated with herself for giving in as she is with Yeonjun. She faces the wall again, tugging her dress the rest of the way down until she can step out of it. The hem of her sweater is long enough to cover her in the dress’ place, so at least she has that going for her by the time Yeonjun speaks again. “I get the impression I bother you.”

Then she has the audacity to prop herself on the wall next to Taehyun, like someone who doesn’t give a fuck how much they bother her.

“Not used to that, are you?” Taehyun shoots back, yanking her tights down. To Yeonjun’s credit, from what she can tell without looking directly at her, she keeps her eyes up. That being said, the bar is in hell if elementary locker room etiquette suffices.

“Well, I’d hoped we could be friends,” Yeonjun answers, tilting her head. “We’ll see plenty of each other.”

“You psych out all your friends?” She asks, finally buttoning her pants and gathering her skating clothes. A lot of her peers growing up would get lazy by the end of a performance, in a rush to get home. They’d leave their hair pinned and complain about the migraine the next day, shove their skates in their bag damp and their dress in a heap at the bottom of a garment bag. Taehyun is particular about taking care of it all immediately. Usually it comes with the benefit of giving her decompression time once the locker room has cleared out.

“Psych out?” Yeonjun repeats, like the concept is foreign to her.

“Right,” Taehyun scoffs, shaking her head. “Forget it. I know Miss Perfect would never.”

“Oh,” she hums, pushing off the wall so she can step closer. “I get it. I’m really under your skin, aren’t I?”

“No,” Taehyun denies, shoving her clothes into her bag and turning to Yeonjun. Their faces are way too close, but backing up an inch would be giving that inch to her. “You’re on my fucking nerves.”

“Your nerves are under your skin,” Yeonjun points out, lips curling into a catlike grin.

It’s such a stupid fucking rebuttal Taehyun doesn’t want to dignify it, and yet it pisses her off more than if Yeonjun had said something smart. Her face feels hot with pent up irritation that has nowhere to go.

Yeonjun leans closer, her eyes focused somewhere just below Taehyun’s. “Are you really mad at me, princess? Looks like you’re blushing.”

Then her attention flicks back up to Taehyun’s eyes and she breaks into a full-on smile when she finds them narrowed.

“What is this?” She scoffs, averting her gaze to the wall. It’s easier to look at than the warm brown of Yeonjun’s still-too-close eyes. “Eighth grade? You piss me off because you have a crush on me and I’m supposed to blush about it?”

“I’m not above it,” Yeonjun answers, her voice dropping into a low hum. “I’ve got your attention, don’t I?”

Then she leans, putting herself back in Taehyun’s line of sight and once again closer. Moving anywhere but back would run her straight into Yeonjun, who’s very carefully poised with just a centimeter of distance between them, either just barely touching or so close Taehyun can imagine the feel of her skin anyway. She’s looking Yeonjun in the eyes again, her breaths coming in shallow and quick, and for a moment she feels pinned in place.

There are things she wants to say, but none of them are complete thoughts. Seconds of silence stretch way too long, and Yeonjun whiles the time by letting her eyes drift down. It’s her lips. Taehyun knows she’s looking at her lips. And before she can think better of it, she wraps her hand around the back of Yeonjun’s neck and crashes them together.

Yeonjun makes a pleased-sounding hum that scorches every single nerve ending in her body, winding her fingers into Taehyun’s hair and holding her in place as their bodies press together. Taehyun’s own hands reach for Yeonjun’s waist, gripping tight and pushing against her, walking her back towards the wall, but Yeonjun turns so that it’s Taehyun’s back colliding with it. Shoving a leg between Taehyun’s thighs, she takes her by the chin and breaks off their kiss.

She doesn’t say anything, though. Just looks over Taehyun’s face with a far too pleased expression. I thought so, the expression says.

“You have an odd way of making friends,” Taehyun says breathlessly, just to fill the silence. And maybe to distract her from the fact that she’s grinding on her thigh. But it feels way too good for how little has actually happened, and Yeonjun watches her mouth drop open with dark eyes before leaning back in and muffling Taehyun with her tongue.

She’s not paying enough attention, admittedly, to notice Yeonjun guiding them to the changing stall until she frees a hand to pull the curtain aside. Even with her eyes closed she can tell when it gets darker - no lights in the little cubby - and she opens them to find Yeonjun’s already watching her.

“Just going to stare at me like usual, then?” Taehyun challenges, arching an eyebrow. Then her back hits the wall again.

“We’re not alone,” Yeonjun points out. It’s true - there are still some staff in the rink, maybe a coach or two, maybe even some spectators.

This isn’t the kind of thing Taehyun does. If anything, she’s a bit of a goody-two-shoes. The rulebook gets clutched tight to her chest.

“And?” She whispers.

Yeonjun’s fingers unbutton her pants, and then she’s kissing her again, as if to distract them both from the hand working down between her legs, fingers slipping over the satin material of her thong until they press against the growing wet spot.

Taehyun’s knees buckle, her hands gripping Yeonjun’s shoulders to keep her upright while Yeonjun’s fingers work against her.

“Does that feel good, princess?” Yeonjun whispers in her ear, pulling her underwear to the side so she can rub Taehyun’s clit directly. Taehyun drops her head back against the wall, sucking in a deep breath to calm herself.

“You need me to tell you if you’re doing well?”

“I’d prefer it,” Yeonjun mumbles against her neck, trailing kisses down the length of it.

“No marks,” she warns rather than concede to Yeonjun’s request, back arching off the wall when a single finger teases at her entrance.

“Of course not, do you think I’m stupid?”

“Ye-” Taehyun cuts herself off with a gasp when two fingers thrust inside her, immediately settling into a quick, pumping rhythm. “Yes.”

And Yeonjun has the audacity to laugh, propping herself against the wall with her free hand so that she can watch Taehyun’s face. “Yeah? Tell me more about what you think of me.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself,” Taehyun breathes, grinding her hips down against the hand inside her.

“Do you-”

They both hear it at the same time, based on the way Yeonjun cuts herself off - footsteps coming in the direction of the locker room. Before Taehyun can even think of what to do about it, Yeonjun is shoving three fingers in her mouth while the one in her pants freezes.

Taehyun drops her head against the wall again, pulling in a deep breath through her nose. Being forced to stop gives her the wherewithal to feel Yeonjun’s fingers inside her, how long they are and how tight she clenches around them as the footsteps grow closer. There’s a gap between the bottom of the curtain and the floor, and without thinking of the consequences, Taehyun braces herself on Yeonjun and lifts her legs to wrap around her waist so that she can’t be seen. The movement forces her to suck Yeonjun’s fingers deeper, muffling herself on them, and Yeonjun’s wide eyes lock on hers.

The door opens and Taehyun stops breathing.

“Taehyun?” Her coach’s voice calls. Her blood is pumping so loudly in her ears that she can’t tell if she’s walking any further into the locker room.

“She stepped out,” Yeonjun answers. The shakiness in her voice makes her cringe while Taehyun raises her eyebrows at her. In reprimand, or maybe because Yeonjun hates her, the fingers inside her start to slowly move again and Taehyun’s eyes roll back. “I was waiting to walk her out since it’s dark.”

“Oh, good, that’s nice of you,” Coach Natalia responds, tapping against the door. When Taehyun sucks harder on her fingers, swallowing a moan, Yeonjun’s attention comes back to her with narrowed eyes, as if Taehyun has decided to be a problem here. “Well, I’m heading out. Will you tell her I said goodbye?”

“Of course, goodnight! Yeonjun calls, still looking at Taehyun.

The door shuts, footsteps receding, and Yeonjun waits just long enough for Taehyun to clench up on her in anticipation before speeding her pace again, harder.

“Were you trying to get us caught?” Yeonjun murmurs, pressing harder on Taehyun’s tongue like a warning to keep quiet before pulling her fingers out of her mouth.

“Were you?” Taehyun retorts, setting her feet back on the floor and pressing against the wall to keep herself upright. The angle of Yeonjun’s fingers changes again and she swallows down a whimper. “Why didn’t you st- stop?”

“I think you liked it,” her now free hand moves to grab one of Taehyun’s thighs, pulling it back up so she has room to slip a third finger inside her. “I could feel it. You’re so fucking wet right now, I bet you’d have cum if she got any closer.”

Taehyun shakes her head, trying to thrust back onto Yeonjun’s fingers but far too lost in the feeling to do it with any amount of grace.

“I bet it’s the risk you like,” Yeonjun continues, yanking her closer. “You like getting away with it, isn’t that right? I bet you love knowing you’re too good to get caught.”

Her body winds tighter and tighter, breath held and muscles tense. Yeonjun’s words serve to work her up easily, but responding any more than another shake of her head is impossible.

“No?” Yeonjun asks, sounding amused. “Breathe, princess.”

Pulling in a sharp breath, she makes the mistake of looking at Yeonjun again. Her eyes are watching Taehyun intently, her chest shallowly rising and falling and the muscles in her arm visibly flexing with the effort of fucking her like this at such an odd angle. It must be sore, yet her pace is unrelenting. Taehyun looks up at the ceiling again.

“Fucked you speechless, hm?” She goads, and Taehyun thunks her head against the wall.

“Fuck you,” she pants, digging her nails into Yeonjun’s shoulder.

“Gonna cum? Hm? Go ahead, let me see it.”

The way she says it lights that fire again, the one that wants to yank back away from what Yeonjun wants. She’s winning, Taehyun thinks, but it’s far too late for that. A shudder rips through her and she bucks her hips, clenching wildly around Yeonjun’s fingers as she covers her own mouth and cums.

“Good girl,” Yeonjun murmurs, massaging a small circle into her thigh, and Taehyun jerks a little. Assigning the wrong reason for it - she hopes, at least - Yeonjun gently pulls her fingers out and lets Taehyun’s thigh down, following after it with her own body. They’re so close together that each breath Taehyun takes presses her chest against Yeonjun’s.

“Do you ever stop acting so fucking smug?” Taehyun gripes belatedly, testing how her legs manage her weight. The hand is out of her pants now, held out uselessly to the side and shiny with her mess. Purposely, she looks away from it. Down to where her own hands are perfectly capable of buttoning her back up.

“You just came for me, what is there not to be smug about?” She grins, pressing closer, and Taehyun rolls her eyes. She shoves a hand against her chest, cocking an eyebrow when Yeonjun stays exactly where she is. For a moment they’re quiet, Yeonjun’s eyes scanning over her face. Whatever they find, she keeps it to herself. Taehyun pushes against her again and she backs up. Not just enough to make room between them, but crossing all the way back to the curtain and pulling it aside with her free hand.

“What are you doing?” Taehyun asks, standing frozen against the wall.

“Cleaning this off?” Yeonjun returns, cocking her head to the side.

“I can do that.”

Both her eyebrows shoot up so comically Taehyun really almost laughs. “I- uh,” clearing her throat, Yeonjun shakes her head and steps out of the changing stall. “As much as I want to see that, we’ve already been here too long.”

Now Taehyun faces the very real conundrum of deciding who wins in this uneven exchange - is it her, for receiving without giving, or Yeonjun for getting her?

“Right,” she whispers, following Yeonjun out. The locker room feels entirely different when she looks around it, even though everything is objectively the same. “Well…”

“You could say thank you,” Yeonjun teases, peeking over her shoulder as she wipes off her hand with a makeup wipe.

It’s infuriating. Taehyun’s lost count of how many times she’s rolled her eyes today alone. Nonetheless, her legs feel a little shaky and she has to admit that this is another entry for the very long list of Yeonjun’s accomplishments. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” Yeonjun answers smugly, definitely intending the literal implication. She slings her bag over her shoulder and her eyes openly roam up and down Taehyun’s body. “I’ll actually walk you out.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Taehyun denies quickly, gathering her own things. “Seriously. I can handle myself.”

“I’m sure you can, princess,” Yeonjun answers. It’s not even worth trying to tell her not to call her that again. That ship has definitely sailed. “But it would be the least I could do.”

“We’re already uneven, what are you trying to do?”

“Uneven,” Yeonjun repeats incredulously. “You never stop, do you?”

“No,” Taehyun answers, walking out first since Yeonjun is so god damn stubborn. “Never.”

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

The first competition of the season crashes into Taehyun like a brick, thrown into her face by the tornado that already picked her up, just to fuck with her some more.

For better or worse, Yeonjun doesn’t really acknowledge what happened at all. She does what she’s always done - swings by Taehyun to comment on her performance when they’re on the ice together, goes out of her way to say hi (or, more specifically, to be acknowledged). But she doesn’t bring it up outright. Taehyun can’t decide what it means, so she can’t decide if she’s glad for it.

Just before they get on the practice ice the day of the competition, though, that changes. Yeonjun sidles up close to her, leaning down to whisper in her ear as they wait in a line to skate out.

“304,” she says, and Taehyun looks up at her over her shoulder.

“Huh?”

“My room number,” Yeonjun grins, raising an eyebrow. “If you want to come see me tomorrow.”

“And why would I do that?” Taehyun scoffs, facing forward again.

Yeonjun blows out a breath, huffing a short laugh. “I don’t know. Maybe you’ll have some steam to blow off when this all plays out.”

It’s Taehyun’s turn to step on the ice and she ignores Yeonjun entirely, pushing herself into her warmup laps as fast as she can. If Yeonjun were to chase her, they might be evenly matched. Yeonjun’s legs are long, her strides powerful, but Taehyun is smaller, which makes her quick.

In any case, Yeonjun doesn’t chase her and she doesn’t proposition her again. She minds her own business for the rest of the competition, adopting the single-minded focus she’s always conducted herself with. Taehyun has grown very good at watching her, learning her expressions when she’s content versus when she’s displeased with herself. This time, on both days, they tell her Yeonjun is confident. They warn her not to let her guard down, to focus.

She still places second to Yeonjun.

By all accounts, not a bad performance at all. This is, after all, a new bracket for her. Her coach is more than happy with second, especially against an Olympian. It’s only Taehyun who’s displeased enough to find herself outside Yeonjun’s door the night after the free skate.

Yeonjun takes her sweet time answering after Taehyun’s knock, a knowing smile on her face when she does. She openly checks Taehyun out the way she always does, eyebrows raising as she realizes what Taehyun really wished she wouldn’t have - she’d left the rink in her warmup clothes, sweatpants over her tights and her warmup jacket. Then she’d gone back to her hotel room and showered, changing into nicer clothes. Just a long sleeve shirt and simple jeans, but she can’t deny she’d chosen a tight-fitted shirt for a reason. She knows it paid off when she watches Yeonjun’s eyes linger a moment too long on her chest, her waist, before flicking back up to her face.

Neither of them have any illusions about why they’re here, and yet for a moment they stand staring at each other, silently deciding who will acknowledge it. How’s it going to go?

“Here to get advice on winning?” Yeonjun asks, and Taehyun presses her hand to her chest and shoves her back into the room, kicking the door shut behind her.

Grabbing a fistful of Yeonjun’s sweatshirt, Taehyun pulls her down into a heated kiss, pressing against her whole body just so she can’t stand on her own. It leaves her stumbling as Taehyun keeps pushing her back towards the bed, losing all the grace and finesse she carries so well on the ice.

The backs of her knees hit the end of the mattress and she falls down onto it, grabbing Taehyun's waist to pull her with. “I distracted you, didn’t I?” She pants against Taehyun’s lips. She tries to pull back further, as if either of them really plan to talk, and Taehyun grips the back of her head to keep her right where she is.

“I know how to focus on what’s important,” she answers, getting fed up with Yeonjun’s determination to kiss her anywhere but her mouth. Instead, she grabs Yeonjun’s shoulders at either side and shoves her so she falls back against the mattress. “You’re not.”

“The implication was already there,” Yeonjun laughs, only smiling wider when Taehyun bats her reaching hands away. “If you feel the need to make sure I know I don’t qualify as important to you, doesn’t that mean-”

“God, do you ever shut up?” Taehyun interrupts, yanking the hem of Yeonjun’s shirt up and over her head. Yeonjun, at least, lifts her arms to make it easy on Taehyun.

“If I stop pissing you off, you might forget you hate me. Then where would we be?” Yeonjun reasons out, propping herself on her elbows and watching Taehyun move next to yanking off her sweatpants.

Her outerwear might have been more casual than Taehyun’s, but that doesn’t mean she hadn’t dressed up. Now, having shirked her clothes somewhere off to the side, Taehyun can see the matching set of underwear underneath - a lacy black corset bra and sheer black lace underwear.

The look on Yeonjun’s face betrays her a little too honestly. She’s waiting to see what Taehyun has to say about it, for her little game to be acknowledged.

“I don’t hate you,” She answers belatedly, tucking a finger under the bodice of the bra. In her peripheral vision she can see Yeonjun’s eyebrows raise, but she ignores it. “You wear this to bed?”

Breaking into a smile, Yeonjun shakes her head. Her hair falls off her shoulders with the motion, revealing more of her collarbones. She has a small tattoo there that she must cover for competitions. A forget-me-not flower. Taehyun finds it a little ironic. “No. Just for you.”

With a roll of her eyes, Taehyun removes her finger and drops her hands to the waistband of Yeonjun’s underwear instead. “I guess we’ll leave it on, then, if you want me to see it so bad.”

“And what about you?” Yeonjun asks, pointedly eyeing down her body.

“Feeling uneven?” Taehyun challenges, her hands stilling with just her fingers hooked into the line of her underwear, pulling it down enough to reveal more of the V in her hips but otherwise leaving her however much coverage the sheerness of the lace offers.

“Oh,” Yeonjun grins, doing that thing again where she pretends she knows so much about Taehyun. “Sure, if that’s how you want it played.”

And she does, but the answer annoys her. The sight of Yeonjun’s perfect teeth annoys her. The look in her eyes, like Taehyun is an endearing thing she likes to toy with, annoys her. She slides off Yeonjun’s lap and to her knees, then pulls the underwear off, dropping it to the side. Yeonjun’s knees easily spread again to make room for her, and Taehyun looks up at her face again. She wants that lazy smile to drop. To be the reason Yeonjun falls apart.

Grabbing Yeonjun’s thighs, she spreads them wider just because she can, because Yeonjun is flexible enough to do it and she lets her, and then she leans in and licks a stripe up her pussy, watching Yeonjun’s face as she does. Her chest rises higher, pulling in a deep breath, and her fingers twitch on the bed but her hands stay where they are.

“Can I tell you something?” Yeonjun asks breathlessly, brows furrowing in displeasure when Taehyun pulls away from her to respond.

“You’re such a baby,” she tsks. “Don’t start conversations if you don’t want me to stop.”

Yeonjun drops her head back, laughing out a dry, exasperated note. “I was going to tell you you look pretty like this,” she says, her attention locking back on Taehyun. “But if you’re going to be insufferable…”

“You already knew I’m insufferable,” Taehyun retorts, leaning back in and ignoring the rest of what she said. “It didn’t stop you from fucking me once. Are you going to shut up now or not?”

“No, probably not,” Yeonjun answers, adjusting herself to better look at Taehyun. “Unless you make me. Think you can do that?”

In the back of her mind, two sides of Taehyun war with themselves. She’s just as demand-avoidant as she is competitive. Triggering her competitiveness is virtually impossible; it has to be her own idea, otherwise she’s simply doing what Yeonjun wants her to do. She doesn’t want Yeonjun’s challenges or her pride at a job well done, she wants Yeonjun to fold.

She pauses a moment too long, and Yeonjun watches her just as closely. Her expression gives nothing away, but suddenly she’s speaking again. “I asked you a question.”

Taehyun blinks at her, uncomprehending for a moment. Then she narrows her eyes. “Do you need everyone to tell you things you already know, or is it just me?”

“What do I already know?” Yeonjun asks, cocking an eyebrow.

“Of course I can fucking do it,” Taehyun answers with a roll of her eyes, finally leaning back in the rest of the way and circling her tongue around Yeonjun’s clit. The thighs under her hands tremble a little, Yeonjun letting out a soft noise, and the reaction emboldens Taehyun.

She’s gotten very good at watching Yeonjun. Every shift in her expression as her tongue works over her is noted - the sharp breaths when she flicks at her clit, soft moans when she sucks on it, shaky exhales when she fucks her tongue inside.

Yeonjun’s fingers are clenching the sheets by the time she notices them again, and it’s when she sees Taehyun looking that she finally comes up with something to say. “If only you were as good at centering your spins as you are at this.”

Taehyun sucks her clit into her mouth, relentlessly pulsing on it until Yeonjun cries out and drops her head back, thighs shaking harder. Then she pulls off and Yeonjun whines.

“Don’t stop, why are you stopping?” She asks, but Taehyun ignores her in favor of leaning back to admire the glistening combination of arousal and spit making a mess of her, trailing two fingers lightly down the length of her slit and teasing at her entrance.

“Who knew you’d be so whiny?” She asks in return, her attention moving back up to Yeonjun’s face so she knows what it looks like when the tips of her fingers press inside Yeonjun.

“I’m-” she gasps, hips writhing like she’s trying to take her fingers deeper inside. “I’m not whining.”

“No?” Taehyun teases, gripping her thigh tighter until she stops moving. “Why are you stopping?” She mocks.

Yeonjun’s expression sours, annoyed, but she clenches around Taehyun’s fingers. “That’s just immature,” she complains, hiccuping out a high noise when Taehyun fucks her fingers knuckle-deep inside her and holds them there.

“More immature than commenting on my spins right now?” Slowly, she starts to move, the pads of her fingers pressing inside Yeonjun, eyes watching her carefully.

“I wouldn’t bother if you couldn’t fix it,” Yeonjun answers breathily, squirming again. “At least when I was you I was capable of taking some direction, princess.”

Taehyun adds a third finger, changing her angle again and fucking into Yeonjun harder, losing more of her already thin patience. “I’ll take my direction from people I respect.”

“You respect me,” Yeonjun retorts smugly, letting out a small moan when Taehyun’s thumb starts rubbing circles into her clit. “No one you don’t respect could get to you like I do.”

There’s no denying that, really. She can at least admit it to herself, and denying it to Yeonjun somehow makes her look worse. It seems Yeonjun has been watching her, too, and she thinks she knows what Yeonjun sees. She gets to Taehyun, digging under her skin and mattering so much to her that the frustration starts first from Taehyun’s own self. It forces her to play along, play into Yeonjun, convincing herself she’s winning these little games while she loses the big one.

What was her goal, even? Shut Yeonjun up? Then why is she still talking?

Ignoring Yeonjun, finally, she goes back to searching out her g-spot. When her fingers press against it, Yeonjun cries out, yanking on the sheets in her fingers. The legs around her shoulders jerk, bumping against her, and she pushes against the one she still holds.

“Keep them open, or I’ll stop,” she threatens, then leans in and sucks Yeonjun’s clit in her mouth again.

“Fuck,” Yeonjun whimpers, head dropping back on her shoulders. Taehyun can only watch her chest heave, a red flush spreading down from her neck. This is what it looks like, Taehyun thinks when her legs shake harder. This is what it looks like when she’s close.

She slows down and Yeonjun whimpers, lifting her head again to give her a pleading look. Pulling her mouth off, she instead uses the fingers of her other hand to rub slow, light circles on Yeonjun’s swollen clit. Purposely, she doesn’t remind Yeonjun to keep her legs open, but Yeonjun doesn’t forget.

“What do you want?” She asks, cocking her head to the side.

“To cum,” Yeonjun breathes. “Please.”

“No,” Taehyun answers, pressing her fingers harder against Yeonjun just to watch her jolt. “Try again. What do you want?”

Yeonjun takes a shuddery breath, exhaling another whimper. “I want to see you naked.”

Taehyun will take it. She pulls her fingers out, grabbing the hem of her shirt instead. She’s not fond of staining it, but she supposes that’s the price she pays for choosing not to strip before she had Yeonjun’s mess all over her hand.

She can’t meet Yeonjun’s eyes anymore, tossing her shirt aside and moving to take off her belt, but Yeonjun sits up and Taehyun looks at the hands reaching for her.

“Let me?” She asks quietly. Taehyun watches her fingers wrap into her belt and pull her a couple of steps closer. Something about it is…

Taehyun thinks, for better or worse, in terms of advantages. What is Yeonjun gaining from her? Concession, she supposes, but she doesn’t think Yeonjun actually cares about that. If she does, she’s terrible at demanding it. It seems like Yeonjun just wants to do something for her. She doesn’t know how to make room for that.

“Maybe I’ll make you cum if you do it well,” she says. Yeonjun’s eyebrows tick up and then she uses her grip on Taehyun’s belt to yank her to the bed, turning as she does so Taehyun lands on her back and Yeonjun lands on her.

“Unlike you, I’m not afraid of a challenge,” Yeonjun says, working her belt open with one hand while the other smooths up her stomach to cup her breast.

“Unlike you I know how to pick my battles,” Taehyun refutes, angling her hips up to let Yeonjun slide her pants off.

“Or do you just start losing if you take too many?”

Taehyun clamps her mouth shut, shifting her hips when Yeonjun starts rubbing over the fabric of her panties. The urge is there for her to say she doesn’t lose, but that just isn’t true, is it? It used to be. She used to be the best in her hometown rink, used to be the top of her class. She’s used to being the best.

It doesn’t even bother her that much, really. Really, though Yeonjun would probably never believe her. No one would. One gains a reputation when they’re known for being good, a reputation where suddenly no one cares much about their successes, only their losses. Only the failures they can devalue her against. Taehyun supposes she’s played into that. With Yeonjun, most of all.

“I don’t care about winning,” she finally says, watching Yeonjun’s face as she does. Her eyes flit back up, locking on Taehyun’s, and her eyebrows raise. Not disbelievingly, but… Taehyun doesn’t really know how to categorize it. Curious, she guesses.

“No?” Yeonjun asks, sitting up. “Then what do you want?”

What a question. “I want you to do something.”

Yeonjun pulls her panties off, leaning down over Taehyun and going back to rubbing her pussy without the fabric in the way. “Something like this, princess?”

Taehyun doesn’t answer, instead clapping a hand over her mouth to help stifle the noises that would be wrung out of her by the attention after ignoring her own arousal for so long.

“You’re so wet,” Yeonjun practically coos, grabbing the hand covering her mouth and pinning it to the bed. “I want to hear you. I didn’t get to last time.”

“Why would you want-” Taehyun cuts herself off with a gasp, arching up into her hand, and she doesn’t end up finishing her thought.

“I’m not denying why I’m here,” Yeonjun answers, dipping a finger inside her.

“You think I’m denying why I’m here?” She pants.

“I do,” nodding, Yeonjun leans down into her neck and plants a kiss there. “Which is fine.”

Whatever that means. Taehyun really can’t bring herself to dissect the little riddle, much more occupied by the frantic pace Yeonjun is working up to. She’s out of patience for the interplay, and it seems Yeonjun is, too. She pulls back to watch as she fucks into Taehyun with three fingers now, much quicker than her at finding the right spot inside her.

“Better than the first time, isn’t it?” Yeonjun goads, laughing when Taehyun unthinkingly clenches around her. The sound of Yeonjun’s fingers inside her is embarrassingly loud and finally she can’t hold back her building moan any longer, closing her eyes so she doesn’t have to watch how Yeonjun reacts. Not that it matters when Yeonjun can speak. “So pretty,” she whispers, kissing her neck again.

“Just- oh my god, Yeonjun, fucking-”

“Relax,” Yeonjun chastises, squeezing her fingers around Taehyun’s wrist. “Quit thinking so much.”

Taehyun doesn’t answer, mostly because she has no idea how. She lets out a shaky breath, rolling her hips against Yeonjun’s hand, and for once Yeonjun doesn’t say anything to provoke her any more. Her eyes are sharp, fixed on facial expressions Taehyun loses track of as she gets lost in the feeling building in her stomach, gasping and fighting back the only word on her tongue.

“C’mon, princess,” Yeonjun says softly. It’s the ghost of a tease but none of the heat, gentle enough that if Taehyun weren’t kind of in the middle of something she would do something about it; mock her or… fuck, she doesn’t care.

“Yeon-” she makes a high-pitched, discontent noise, arching away. “Yeonjun,” she cries, rolling frantically against her hand as she cums.

“There you go,” Yeonjun whispers, slowing her hand and releasing Taehyun’s wrist, massaging small circles into it even though she’d barely gripped it hard enough to notice. “Aww, you’re trembling.”

“Shut up,” she shoots back weakly and Yeonjun laughs.

Taehyun closes her eyes, taking deep breaths to settle herself, and Yeonjun stays laying over her, one hand drawing shapes across her shoulder. She seems comfortable there, not taunting her again, and Taehyun takes advantage of the momentary lapse to flip them over.

Yeonjun giggles as she hits the mattress, cocking an eyebrow at Taehyun. “Something to prove?”

“Always,” Taehyun says, settling back between her legs and spreading them open, pleased to find her still dripping wet.

Before Yeonjun can come up with something clever, she lowers her mouth to suck her clit directly, gaining a twisted sort of pleasure from the way Yeonjun cries out.

“Fuck, Taehyun, you-” Yeonjun’s fingers tangle in her hair, pulling at it, and she lets out a just as intense whine when Taehyun responds by pulling off.

“You want me to stop?” Taehyun asks, raising her eyebrows.

“God, no, never say something that stupid again,” she answers, shoving Taehyun’s head back down now. “Do exactly what you were doing.”

“Except it’s your idea this time,” Taehyun mutters with a roll of her eyes, staying right where she is. “Say please.”

Yeonjun caves embarrassingly fast. “Please.”

She can’t help but smile, watching Yeonjun for a moment longer. Furrowed eyebrows and pout-set lips, watching Taehyun intently. Then she goes back to eating her out, still watching so she can see her expression drop into bliss.

The hand in her hair keeps pushing her down, desperately chasing everything that’s given to her, and she keeps whining Taehyun. Not just incoherent nonsense, not princess, but her name. It gives her a feeling she could get drunk on.

Roaming her hands over Yeonjun’s thighs, she pulls her legs up onto her shoulders and buries her face deeper, reveling in the pitch of Yeonjun’s moans. They might be too loud now, but she can tell by the deepening red of Yeonjun’s chest that she’s close and there’s no way she could stop.

When Yeonjun cums, though, she’s almost silent. Her eyes shut, pouty lips dropping open and forming soft, overwhelmed whimpers. It’s not until she tugs Taehyun’s hair again that she pulls away. Limbs flop bonelessly to the mattress and Taehyun feels like she won.

She leaves her hands resting on Yeonjun’s thighs, watching her take more deep breaths with her eyes staying shut. She’s not really sure what to do with herself - any amount of physical affection would be strange, but it would feel equally strange to just leave.

“You don’t have wipes, do you?” She asks. Yeonjun gestures vaguely towards her suitcase in the corner, her hand flopping back down to the bed after. Taehyun looks in the direction and then back at Yeonjun, not sure what to make of the fact that her eyes still haven’t opened.

Taehyun’s hesitation makes her smile. “You can get them. I’m fine.”

“‘Kay,” she mumbles, sliding off the bed. She lifts the lid of the suitcase with the cleaner of her two hands, and luckily the pack of wipes shoved in the corner is easy to get to.

By the time she’s climbing back onto the bed, Yeonjun is watching again. She doesn’t say anything while Taehyun wipes off the mess on her thighs and hands. Then Taehyun cleans herself off and tosses the used clump in the trash can before getting dressed. Yeonjun’s quiet is starting to unnerve her.

“Um,” she starts after working her crumpled shirt over her head, trying and failing to smooth her hair even a little bit. “I’ll be honest, thanking you every time would feel weird.”

Yeonjun snorts, dropping back onto the bed and propping herself on her hands. She’s still mostly undressed, but at least she’d put her underwear back on. Taehyun isn’t sure what to do with the headspace she’s in.

“You can say whatever you want,” she says, head tilting to the side. “You okay?”

“Um,” Taehyun blinks, looking at the door and back to Yeonjun. “I’m fine. You?”

“I’m good,” she answers softly, brows furrowing. “Do you need to go?”

“I… yeah, I should… yeah. I’ll, um. See you on, what, Monday?” Taehyun cringes at her stutter, taking a tiny step back and then straightening her shoulders.

“Wednesday,” Yeonjun corrects, still watching her with that odd little soft look. Taehyun hates it, but in a different way than she’s used to feeling with Yeonjun. “See you.”

And Taehyun all but flees, speed walking back to her own room.

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

Taehyun’s loop is perfect. Out of all of her jumps, it’s always been her best. The highest, the fastest, the cleanest. She got her double loop before her axel. She’s always known never to lean into the idea that she’s safe, that the moment she stops improving is the moment everyone else catches up. But on this one jump, she has to admit that she’d started to believe that it would never fail her.

She’s studied the scoring system extensively, convoluted as it is, and tries to run an updating tally of her score in her head as she skates no matter how much her coach tells her not to. Lots of things have an impact on the grade of execution - under or over rotation is a small reduction, downgrading is a reduced value and lower grade, double-footing the landing significantly reduces the grade.

And then there’s falling. A full minus five from the grade and another minus one from the overall score.

So, falling on the triple loop costs her the podium. She’d recovered well, at least, and the rest of her short program plus a good free skate kept her at fourth. But fourth might as well be nothing.

She’d made it back to the hotel much earlier than usual, easily slipping away from the bustle of people. No one wants to talk to fourth place. She’d showered, she’d eaten dinner, she’d ignored her coach’s texts. Now she just… sits. As if the answer of whether or not to go to Yeonjun will magically reveal itself if she vacillates enough.

But without even making a decision, she goes when she thinks it’s late enough. Whatever that really means, given that they’ve never set a time, but as long as she can wait nonetheless. Nothing else she’s done has helped her mood.

“There you are, princess,” Yeonjun says when she answers the door. It feels like something inside Taehyun is rattling, a feeling so pervasive it makes her imagine being found out immediately, as if one look is all Yeonjun needs to see way too much.

Or maybe it’s the fact that Yeonjun doesn’t add anything to her greeting. Maybe that’s the source of the weird feeling. Yeonjun’s gotten good at picking something, anything to provoke her - a slightly underrotated jump, a travelling spin, even edge errors - any minor flaw in her practices as long as Yeonjun can throw them in her face to irritate her right into another locker room hookup.

In Taehyun’s defense, there haven’t been many. A few late nights, that’s all. Both of them prefer the privacy the hotel had offered them last time. There were just… too many weeks between competitions.

Anyway, Yeonjun’s silence unnerves her. It means she doesn’t know what to do, either. Maybe it even means she thinks less of Taehyun. What did she say? I wouldn’t bother if you couldn’t fix it.

“That’s it?” She asks, ducking under Yeonjun’s arm into the room.

“Were you expecting something?” Yeonjun asks, shutting the door and following after her.

“I guess not,” she shrugs, running her finger along the TV stand as she crosses it. “Some gloating, maybe.”

Yeonjun doesn’t respond. It’s starting to make Taehyun itch - she wants to run away from this, she thinks. Back to her room, where she knows she’ll sit in silence and curl into herself and beat herself to a pulp. Just the same, she wants to stay right here and prove to herself that everything is the same. She wants Yeonjun to taunt her so she can get even and then she can feel better. It always works like that, and Yeonjun isn’t playing her part.

“Are you not bothering, then?” She demands, turning to face Yeonjun. In response, her eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“What does that mean?”

“You-” Taehyun sighs, looking around the room. Another point Yeonjun, she supposes. Of course the comment didn’t mean as much to her as it does to Taehyun.

“What do you want, Taehyun?” Yeonjun asks carefully.

It irritates her, which is at least a step in the right direction, but she can’t very well tell Yeonjun that she wants it all to be the same in spite of her massive fuck-up. To prove to her that she’s still a competitor worth antagonizing, even if she’s not. She’s already stooping low enough to crave for validation she hasn’t earned, she can’t very well ask Yeonjun for it on top of that. Then it’s not even true, just a thing Yeonjun is doing for her.

“You want me to tell you you can do better?” She prods when Taehyun doesn’t answer, stepping forward. It’s weirdly more relieving than irritating. Finally she’s giving Taehyun something to work with. “I thought I was the one wanting to hear things I know.”

“Maybe I was just getting worried you’d lost your edge,” Taehyun answers, squaring her shoulders.

“You’re one to talk,” Yeonjun says, closing the rest of their distance. It’s nothing worse than she’s ever said before, except this time instead of fueling the fire, the words douse it.

Luckily, Yeonjun’s lips press against hers before she really has to contemplate that. She presses into Yeonjun until teeth cut into her lip, until the sting brings her into focus and gives her something to bury herself in. Then she slides her hands up under Yeonjun’s shirt, feeling up smooth skin and muscle until it’s bunched enough for her to lift it off and cast it aside.

She reconnects their lips before Yeonjun can keep talking, unhooking her bra next, and Yeonjun’s hands move to unbutton her pants, yanking them down until she can kick them the rest of the way.

As soon as they’re off, Yeonjun grabs her by the hair and turns her toward the bed, tossing her down and crawling over her. A leg nudges between her thighs, pressing against her, and she thrusts up against it immediately as their lips crash together again.

It’s too quiet. Her knee took the brunt of the fall, and while she hasn’t looked at the bruise she knows it’s there because it still aches. The feeling between her legs is something, sure, but there’s nothing new to replace the words, the reminder. She reaches down to Yeonjun’s pants, and tries to come up with anything to say.

“You’re quiet,” is all she manages, slipping her hands into the back of Yeonjun’s now undone pants and using the grip on her ass to drive her hips down harder.

“A-a-and we’re back to what you want,” Yeonjun condescends, yanking her shirt off.

“You’re getting lazy, is what I’m hearing. Four hookups and you’re out of lines? Need me to hold your hand?”

“Five,” Yeonjun corrects. The fact that she dives into her neck immediately after means she can’t see the small smirk that plays across Taehyun’s face. “Maybe if you want good lines from me you should earn them.”

“Earn them how? Or do you need me to come up with ideas for that, too?” Mustering her strength, Taehyun flips the two of them so she lays over Yeonjun, leaving their legs twined together and grinding her hips down again.

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow, glancing down the length of their bodies and back up at Taehyun’s face. “Maybe you should start winning if you want to earn them.”

Taehyun falters, flushing hot with real shame. Whatever her face does, it’s noticeable, and a second is all Yeonjun needs. It was already there, the concern, just under the surface of Yeonjun’s playing along. Now she can see the weakness she was waiting for, which makes her react to the weakness.

It would be one thing if the weakness made her mean. But the problem with Yeonjun seeing the weakness is the way it makes her face grow soft, her eyes wide, wanting to fix it, and that’s so much worse. Watching Yeonjun doesn’t just mean noticing how much better than Taehyun she is on the ice. It means noticing how much better than Taehyun she is in general. She’s not the kind of person to say the things she says to Taehyun. She doesn’t mean them, she doesn’t need to. Punching down isn’t her style.

Part of Taehyun has known from the beginning that the way Yeonjun talks to her is entirely because it’s the only thing Taehyun will respond to. She’d said it herself, very plainly - I’ve got your attention, don’t I? It’s the kind of thing Taehyun has always chosen to ignore because there’s no way for it to exist alongside everything else. It belongs in a different story.

But it’s different now, impossible not to notice. This feels like she’s watching a movie and Yeonjun just looked straight at the camera. The actors know they’re acting now, too self-conscious to get back in character.

“Taehyun…” Yeonjun whispers, hands gently grabbing her waist, and Taehyun sits up straight.

“Nevermind,” she says quietly, slipping off of Yeonjun, “I can’t do this.”

“Wait, Taehyun,” Yeonjun calls, reaching for her.

“No,” she pulls her hand out of reach, slipping off the bed. “It’s- don’t worry about it, okay? I just changed my mind.”

“Can we at least cut the bullshit before you go?” Yeonjun asks, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and sitting up after her. “I’m-”

“Don’t,” she interrupts before the word sorry can form, taking a step back and looking around for where her pants went. She doesn’t want Yeonjun to be sorry. An apology would be too much, too real, because if Yeonjun apologizes Taehyun will have to forgive her, she’d have to. And if Taehyun forgives her, why is she here?

There’s a pause, finally, giving her the false hope that just maybe, Yeonjun had given up on this.

But of course she didn’t. Instead, she slips back into character so jarringly it forces Taehyun to freeze. “That’s disappointing,” she says, and the words hang in the air for a long moment until Taehyun finally looks back at Yeonjun and meets scared eyes. “I didn’t think you were the type to give up.”

“I’m not fucking giving up,” Taehyun seethes, leaning in like the words have tugged a leash on her.

“Yeah? Prove it.” Yeonjun fires back. “Are you stronger than this or not?”

Taehyun can’t help but laugh, dropping her pants back to the floor. “You’re joking, right?”

“I thought I was here with my main competition,” she continues, leaning forward. “Is that you, or are you just a competitor?”

Taehyun crosses back the short distance to the bed just to shove her shoulders back until she hits the mattress. “One fall and you think you’re invincible, huh?”

“One fall and you think you’re done, huh?”

Yeonjun is the one who flips them this time, grabbing hold of Taehyun as soon as she lays over her. She drags hot kisses down Taehyun’s chest and stomach, yanking down her underwear when she reaches it and spreading her legs wide.

“Here’s what you’re going to do,” Yeonjun says, leaning down. “I’ve decided. I want you to tell me your wins.”

“My wins?” She repeats, propping herself on her elbows. “You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I am. If you answer, I’ll keep eating you out. Otherwise I stop.”

There’s an obvious bluff here, but Taehyun doesn’t call it.

“I can’t-” Taehyun huffs, dropping her head back for just a moment of Yeonjun not being able to see her. Then she looks again, eyes drawing helplessly to Yeonjun poised between her legs, scratching light patterns across her thighs. “I can’t remember every competition I’ve ever done.”

Yeonjun grins. “I think you do,” she says slyly, “but that’s fine. It doesn’t have to be a competition. What would you want me to know, if you were admitting you want me to know things?”

“Yeonjun…”

“No? That’s fine, I like my view.”

Taehyun shakes her head, looking off to the side, but once again she can’t keep her gaze off Yeonjun for long. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“Anything, princess,” Yeonjun insists, eyebrows raised expectantly. “What was the first challenge you ever beat?”

Taehyun drops down to the mattress with a huff, staring up at the ceiling and mapping the speckles with her eyes. “When I reached the juvenile level, there was this one girl-”

She gasps when Yeonjun does as she’d promised, hand flying to tangle in her hair while her tongue presses against her.

“Fuck,” Taehyun breathes, throwing her other hand over her eyes.

“Keep talking,” Yeonjun reminds her.

“She- everyone knew about her, she’d been in juvenile for like three- god- three years or something. Everyone knew she had doubles, but sandbagging meant she always wuh- won.”

“Little bitch,” Yeonjun takes the time to mumble, and Taehyun laughs breathlessly.

“I kicked her ass at nationals right before I tested up to intermediate. She didn’t- ev-” interrupted by a moan, Taehyun arches into Yeonjun’s mouth at the sudden suction around her clit, losing track of her words. And since she stopped talking, Yeonjun eases off. “You’re a bitch.”

Yeonjun’s answering laugh fans hot against her skin. “Insult me all you want, princess.”

Making a frustrated noise, Taehyun thunks her fist against her forehead and looks down to find Yeonjun watching her, waiting. She could make demands of her all she wants and never get anywhere with them. Yeonjun already set her terms.

She drops back against the bed. “She didn’t do anything wrong,” she continues, making a small noise when Yeonjun starts again. “I was just better. Then next competition season we found out she’d test- tested uh-up to intermediate, too.”

“Because of you?” Yeonjun guesses, spreading her thighs back to their original position.

“No one ever said that.”

“They thought it,” she says decisively, repositioning herself. “Keep going.”

“More?” Taehyun questions incredulously, looking at her again.

“I said wins, plural.”

“Fuck you,” she groans, hitting her knee against Yeonjun. The bruised one. The ache reminds her why all of this is happening. “I almost quit over the double salchow, is that what you want to hear?”

“But you didn’t,” Yeonjun points out, taking Taehyun’s clit in her mouth again.

“No, I didn’t,” she squirms, trying to think around waves of pleasure setting her whole body trembling. “Don’t fucking stop, just let me think for a second.”

“Am I distracting you?” Yeonjun murmurs, sounding awfully amused by the whole thing.

“Shut the fuck- oh-” Fingers twisting harder in Yeonjun’s hair, she forgets what she was trying so hard to figure out how to say and just says it. “I was supposed to do a single at re- regionals because I didn’t have it, but I felt- ah, good-” whole body jerking, Taehyun squirms up the bed only for Yeonjun’s hands to grab her hips and pull them back down. “I landed it for the first time in competition.”

“I bet your coach wanted to murder you.”

Taehyun laughs again, the interruption helping to dispel some of the mind-numbing tension in her body. “I was lucky I landed it.”

“You knew what you could do,” Yeonjun says simply, pulling up and giving her another small respite.

Yeonjun’s choice of words reminds her again of the thing that keeps demanding to be felt, no matter how hard she tries to forget or how good Yeonjun is at distracting her.

“I’m a good jumper,” she says, quieter than she meant to, fidgeting with the hand in Yeonjun’s hair. “My loop has always been my best.”

“I know,” Yeonjun nods, squeezing her hips. “You’re going to land a quad before I do.”

“You have a quad,” Taehyun rolls her eyes, “toe-loop. I’ve seen it.”

“Not competitively,” Yeonjun answers. “I’m scared of the risk. You’re not.”

“You think you know so much about me?”

The room falls silent, a cocked eyebrow her only answer. She does. Fuck, she really does. “Are you ready to take some direction yet?”

“Unbelievable,” Taehyun laughs, dropping back. “You want to give me skating tips now? Right now?”

“No,” Yeonjun answers, moving up her body. She props herself over Taehyun’s face with one arm and grabs her chin with her free hand, focusing her. “No. I want you to take what I give you without cumming.”

“Without…” in a daze, Taehyun can only watch uncomprehendingly as Yeonjun moves back down with the same hot, slow kisses as before, until she’s back where she started and barely teases two fingers against Taehyun’s entrance before fucking them inside her.

“Without cumming,” she repeats, watching Taehyun’s face until she gets it.

Then she goes back to curling her tongue around Taehyun’s clit, fucking her in a steady rhythm. The very fact she’s told Taehyun what not to do makes it that much harder not to think incessantly about how much she needs to cum, the fact that in spite of their pauses and Taehyun’s fluctuating mood, she’s still audibly wet and easily worked back up by Yeonjun’s mouth.

Nothing feels normal right now, and no answer feels correct. Yeonjun’s never set a condition like this on her before - or, really, conditions in general. She knows Taehyun wouldn’t listen. Taehyun is very good at not listening, at least when it comes to Yeonjun. She pushes and pulls and mostly pushes, getting her way by whichever insufferable design suits her at the moment, and Yeonjun… accommodates. Yeonjun doesn’t tell her no.

Sometimes it leaves her tired. Of herself, mostly, tired of running into wall after stubborn wall. She doesn’t remember when she built so many.

“Yeonjun,” she whines as her orgasm builds, expecting her to pull off if she doesn’t want Taehyun to cum. Her eyes focus on Taehyun’s and watch, but she doesn’t stop.

Taehyun thrashes a little, squeezing her legs around Yeonjun’s shoulders and letting out a ragged moan. She clenches on Yeonjun’s fingers, trying to hold back her orgasm, and finally Yeonjun pulls off of her, reaching up to soothe her free hand over her stomach.

“Why?” She asks breathlessly, melted against the mattress now that the pleasure has ebbed.

“Control,” Yeonjun answers, tilting her head to the side. “That’s your problem. You know what made you fall earlier?”

“I overrotated,” Taehyun answers, watching the hand on her stomach.

“Mhm. You’re powerful, you gain and handle momentum well, but sometimes you get too focused on how good those look and forget you also need control.”

“I need to tone it down?” She asks, looking at Yeonjun again, who smiles softly.

“You need to learn when to tone it down. Your power is still the best thing about you.”

“So when do I give it up?” Taehyun whispers.

Yeonjun’s mouth goes back to her pussy, three fingers inside her this time. Narrowed eyes watch her every expression as her arousal rockets right back to where it was.

“Yeonjun, I can’t,” she gasps embarrassingly fast, tugging Yeonjun’s hair. “I really-”

Yeonjun doesn’t so much as slow down, watching her unflinchingly. Yes you can. A loud whine rips out of her and she drops her head back against the bed, trying to breathe, fighting back against the throbbing between her legs as Yeonjun continues mercilessly pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Until her whole body is wound tight and she’s incoherent save for “please, please.”

A permissive hum vibrates into her skin and shakes her apart, every nerve ending in her body lighting up as she cums so hard she swears she sees stars, cliché as it is.

For a moment, between the way she’s shaking and the rush in her ears, she loses track of time. Not of Yeonjun, though, because she doesn’t leave. Silently she hopes the hands rubbing her thighs won’t stop, and they don’t. Yeonjun’s hands are so kind to her, despite having no reason to be. Taehyun throws both arms over her face to hide what’s there, trying to calm down.

After a minute or so, Taehyun really doesn’t know how long, the hands do stop and she swallows down a whimper when Yeonjun pulls away. Then she hears the sound of a package wrinkling and feels stupid. Even though she knows it’s coming, she jolts when the cold wipe presses against her and Yeonjun murmurs an apology, quickly cleaning her off.

A moment later, Taehyun hears what sounds like the wipe missing the trash can, confirmed by the quiet fuck that follows. It almost makes her smile.

Yeonjun lays alongside her after that, resting an arm over her stomach. It’s the closest she’s ever gotten to actually holding Taehyun without the pretense of sex. Between the two of them, Taehyun would wager she’s the bigger reason it’s never happened before.

Give me a sec, Taehyun means to say, to promise she’ll return the favor, but the words don’t actually form. She ends up pressing her lips into a line, still covering her face. Yeonjun doesn’t seem to be in any rush to say anything, either, her other hand gently raking her nails through the hair at Taehyun’s scalp.

“Don’t worry about me,” Yeonjun says softly, eventually, once both of them have been silent too long. Taehyun uncovers her face, letting her arms fall above her head, and though they knock Yeonjun’s hand out of the way she’s quick to return it to her hair.

“I can’t do that twice.”

“Stop keeping score,” she chastises with a small smile, eyebrows furrowing in a hint of that same concern from earlier. It doesn’t feel so grating anymore.

She has such expressive eyes. For a long time, Taehyun was used to seeing her in performance mode. When she is, they get serious. Fiery, intimidating. It’s hard to be intimidated by Yeonjun once you know her. Knowing her means getting soft eyes and gentle hands. Even Taehyun, in spite of her insistence on pretending Yeonjun is out to get her.

“I have no idea what I’m doing,” she confesses, apropos of nothing. There are two things she could be referring to, and she doesn’t know which it is. Maybe both. Nonetheless, Yeonjun huffs a short laugh and nods.

“Would you believe I don’t, either?”

“No,” Taehyun answers flatly. They stare each other down for only a moment before both breaking into laughter. Then she watches Yeonjun tilt her head side to side like she’s thinking, eyes wandering around the room.

“I’ve been thinking about something you said,” she finally opens, looking at Taehyun again. “You said that you don’t care about winning.”

Taehyun bares her teeth in a grimace. “I do care a little,” she admits and Yeonjun laughs harder.

“Naturally.” Voice dropping quieter, she looks down at the hand still tracing Taehyun’s side. “But you said it like…”

Eyes tracking over Taehyun’s face, she deliberates again. The boundary is being pushed, and she knows it.

“You said it like you were trying to tell me something,” she finally concludes. “And I can’t decide what it was.”

“What do you think it was?” Taehyun asks and Yeonjun’s eyebrows fly up. There’s something endearing about how excited she gets, even if Taehyun’s stomach twists a little at acknowledging it. She still wants Yeonjun’s hands on her even though the clock is ticking closer and closer to the metaphorical midnight.

“Are you acknowledging there was something?” She asks. The coy shrug Taehyun answers with immediately pisses her off, face crumpling into a pout, and Taehyun covers half her face with her hand when she turns her head to laugh.

“I just want to know your theory.”

But Yeonjun grows reticent again, like she’s scared to be right. If she is, it might pop the bubble. Neither of them want to pop the bubble. They’re used to charged exchanges, layered conversations, saying goodbye before the dust settles. This is the first time Taehyun has looked closely at her face with the wherewithal to notice she has a little mole under the corner of her eye.

“I think you should keep thinking about it,” she says softly, sitting up. They’ve reached another impasse, courtesy of Taehyun herself, and she really just wants to shower this day off of her and be done with it.

Still, it’s not as bad as it could have been. It feels weird to just leave Yeonjun, even when she knows she’s fine. That in itself complicates things a little. She already knows this might as well have never happened once they leave this room. They’re good at that, Yeonjun especially. She’s never used the things she learns about Taehyun here against her. Nonetheless, it’s impossible to un-develop a relationship. They’ll be different because of this.

Taehyun wonders, not for the first time, if that would be so bad. When she peeks over her shoulder, Yeonjun is watching her. “Thank you.”

“I thought thanking me would be weird.”

“I’m not thanking you for sex,” she answers quietly. Yeonjun sits up, so close Taehyun can feel the warmth of her body, though they don’t touch.

“In that case, thank you, too.”

Taehyun cocks her head to the side, not sure how that makes sense. “For what?”

“Letting me.”

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

On the day of the free skate at their next competition, Yeonjun breaks pattern. She glides up next to Taehyun during their warm-up laps and glances down at her curiously. “You look like you’re up to something.”

With a jolt, Taehyun’s head whips to look at Yeonjun. “Up to something?”

“Answering a question with a question is a sign of lying,” Yeonjun teases, turning to glide backwards.

“Where’d you learn that?” Taehyun snorts, making little slaloms with her feet and purposely ignoring the cameras and eyes in the crowd on them. “Cop procedurals?”

Yeonjun pouts, turning back around. “Whatever you’re planning, I think you should do it,” she says over her shoulder. “If you care what I think.”

“Mm, I don’t,” Taehyun answers, but she doesn’t fight the smile on her face.

Yeonjun leaves her alone after that, both of them focusing on their respective practices. The feeling that she’s being watched is probably in her head. Or, well, she is being watched, but most of her attention for who is watching her is focused on whether or not Yeonjun is watching her. It’s probably in her head.

In any case, she doesn’t warm up anything more than what’s in her program. Yeonjun had lit a spark in her ever since the night of the Grand Prix final, and now she’s locked in a strange ritual of ‘recreating the magic’. She’s not usually among the superstitious breed of athletes, but this feels like the day for it, if any. She needs this.

She’s near the end of the lineup, forced to wait through almost every other program. Long ago, she’d learned never to watch the skaters in front of her. She stays in the locker room or somewhere in the wings, keeps herself warm and her headphones on to block out all the noise they can, and she doesn’t watch. With one exception.

Stepping out onto the ice is always the same feeling. It’s amplified lately, but nothing she doesn’t know. The ice crunches under her blades as she skates a small circle, presenting herself to every side of the arena, and then takes her starting position with adrenaline thrumming in her veins, choking on anticipation until the music starts and it all fades away.

Before a performance, she’s a wreck. She never shows it, of course, but she’s wracked with nerves that make her a nightmare to deal with, all high-tension and ready to snap. After a performance, she usually needs time to decompress, to overanalyze every single step. During the performance, though, her instinct takes over and all she knows is the move she’s doing and the very next one. While she does her opening layback, she thinks about the very first jump in her program. A triple loop.

There’s nothing stopping her from upgrading the jump on the fly. Not if she feels good about it. Not if she’s more sure than ever that she can.

Deep breath. Set up the edge. Four rotations.

Smiling doesn’t suit her music. She has to stifle the burst in her chest, the buzz under her skin, as the volume of the crowd explodes and she pushes through to the next element. You’re not done, you’ve only started, she reminds herself, over and over until she hits her final pose. Her face turns down dramatically, the final note plays, and she looks up beaming.

Every step from the ice to the kiss and cry booth is a blur, her coach’s words a buzz in her ears - a positive one, but that’s all she registers. A water bottle is nudged into her hands, a jacket tucked over her shoulders, but all she can watch is the recap as her scores are calculated.

The numbers start tallying and then her total appears next to her new rank. First.

First.

Almost everyone has already skated. Yeonjun has already skated. Yeonjun’s name is below hers.

Her own disbelief is reflected back to her on the humiliatingly gigantic screen and she uses her coach’s arms wrapping around her as a guise to tuck her face into her shoulder, hiding momentarily from the attention. She’s never cried in the booth, never, but it’s a real threat now.

Again, she walks the halls back to the locker room in a daze, but before she can reach it someone snags her by the arm and tugs her into a different room labelled ‘flower sweepers’. They’re all on the ice right now, but they won’t be for long.

When Taehyun’s eyes land on Yeonjun, she’s beaming. “You did it,” she whispers, bouncing on her feet.

Taehyun doesn’t cry in the booth. She never said anything about locker rooms. Her eyes well up stupidly fast and before she knows it Yeonjun’s arms are wrapping tight around her.

“I did it,” she whispers, and Yeonjun laughs and kisses her head. For a moment she lets herself stay in the embrace, buzzing with the electric high of knowing what she can do. Neither of them mention her outranking Yeonjun. That’s not what this is about.

Soon, too soon, she has to acknowledge where they are. “The kids will be back in here soon.”

“Insatiable,” Yeonjun teases, yelping indignantly when Taehyun slaps her shoulder.

“I meant that we need to leave, pervert,” Taehyun retorts, lowering her voice to a whisper at the end just in case. “God, keep it in your pants.”

“Tights,” she shrugs, laughing when Taehyun hits her again. “Alright, alright, c’mon,” tugging her hand, she pulls them back out of the room, dropping her wrist once they’re back in the hall. No one is out here, but she’s being careful and Taehyun appreciates it. Maybe respecting her career is a low bar, but it’s a bar a lesser competitor would at least consider.

They’re in different dressing rooms. When Yeonjun drops her off at the door to hers, trying to walk in the direction of her own, Taehyun calls “wait, Yeonjun.”

“Yeah?” Turning around, Yeonjun’s eyes scan her body very familiarly. She’s never quite gotten over the feeling it gives her when Yeonjun looks at her like that.

“410,” she says, waiting only long enough for recognition to dawn before pushing into the locker room.

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

The knock on her door shoots adrenaline up her spine and for once she sees the other side. Is this how Yeonjun feels when she shows up? For a moment she considers channeling the same energy Yeonjun does, but then she quickly tosses the idea aside. Instead, she walks over to the door and leans up against it.

“Who is it?” She calls, fiddling with the deadbolt. A soft sigh sounds from the other side.

“Your favorite rival?” Yeonjun tries.

“Oh my god, Beomgyu Choi?”

“Who?”

Taehyun laughs, flicking the deadbolt open and peeking around the door. “My best friend. We were rivals in the second grade, but apparently I was the only one who knew the rivals part.”

“Oh, so I’m just part of a pattern?” Yeonjun grins, allowing herself to be dragged inside.

“Huh?” There’s a small thud when she presses Yeonjun right up against the door. “If you also didn’t know you’re my rival this whole time, we need to start over.”

“Please no,” pouting, Yeonjun grabs at her waist and tugs her close. “I know, I know, I’m the most formidable opponent you’ll ever face-”

“You-” interrupted by another laugh, Taehyun reaches up and grabs her by the chin, “are fucking annoying.”

There’s no reason not to interrupt her with a kiss when she can already fill in the answer in her head. You like me like that.

“Besides,” Taehyun murmurs against her lips, walking them back to the bed. “Wouldn’t my most formidable opponent have a quad?”

“As you so observantly noted,” reaching down, Yeonjun grabs her by the backs of her thighs and lifts her up just to toss her on the bed. “I do have a quad.”

Taehyun reaches for her when she lands, tugging her back down until their lips connect again. Yeonjun makes the first move to undress her, breaking them apart when she tugs Taehyun’s shirt over her head. Then she sits back and looks at her, fanning her hands over her stomach.

“But you competed it first,” she concedes. “And I’m proud of you.”

Taehyun flushes up to her ears, turning her face away and immediately realizing that just made it more obvious. “Shut up,” she mumbles, incapable of mustering her usual heat.

“Oh,” Yeonjun whispers, sounding positively giddy, “did that get to you, princess?”

“Shut up,” grabbing Yeonjun’s wrists, she tries and fails to flip them over. Instead, she ends up laying with her wrists pinned to the bed, Yeonjun’s grinning face looming over her.

“No,” voice dropping lower, she leans a breath away and Taehyun’s face flushes hot. “I’m not done telling you how well you did.”

“I don’t need you to-”

Yeonjun interrupts her with her lips, body rolling against Taehyun, and just the idea of it makes her squirm. She knows more than well how every part of Yeonjun’s body feels against hers, the things Yeonjun can make her feel.

“I didn’t ask if you needed me to, princess. I’m giving you what you earned.”

Then she stops to strip off Taehyun’s pants, following next with her own shirt. She’s not wearing a bra and her nipples are hardened from the cold of the room, tempting for Taehyun to reach out and touch her. They’re nice to play with even if Yeonjun isn’t very sensitive there, a good size to cup in her hand.

Taehyun has to wonder if the delay is intentional, Yeonjun making her wait to hear what she has to say for long enough she forgets she was telling her to shut up at all. But Taehyun prides herself on being able to see all sides of the game, knowing what’s being played. Usually, staying silent is the answer.

Usually. “Nothing to say?” Yeonjun goads, tracing along the muscles in her stomach. “Where’s that smart little mouth of yours?”

“What, like I’m a doll with a string you can pull?” She answers, and for just a moment Yeonjun’s eyes widen until she realizes she’s kidding and falls into a scowl while Taehyun breaks into giggles. “You’re too easy to mess with.”

“Sounds like I’m the doll with the string,” rolling her eyes, Yeonjun’s hand drifts lower until it’s between Taehyun’s legs, tracing lightly over the fabric.

“Mhm,” spreading her legs in encouragement, Taehyun reaches up and loops her arms around Yeonjun’s neck. “Go ahead, say more stupid shit.”

A grin plays at Yeonjun’s face, her fingers pressing harder between Taehyun’s legs. “You almost broke character earlier,” she teases. “I could see it. Smiling doesn’t really suit Stravinsky.”

“But I didn’t,” Taehyun retorts smugly.

“No,” she whispers, slipping her hand inside Taehyun’s panties. “You were perfect.”

She flushes again, yanking Yeonjun down to kiss her and grinding down against her hand. For just a moment, she gets lost in the momentum of it and forgets about playing the game.

“You’re cute when you try to hide your blush,” Yeonjun murmurs, snapping her back into it. “You like hearing it, don’t you?”

“It’s not about you. Maybe I’m just happy tonight.”

“Oh really? Why?” Yeonjun asks, faking a tone of surprise. Taehyun pulls away to glare at her and her eyes crinkle into a smile. “I like seeing you happy.”

“God, shut up,” Taehyun groans, dropping a hand from Yeonjun’s neck to cover her face. Yeonjun laughs, stripping off her underwear. “Wait, I…”

Yeonjun pauses, watching curiously as she suddenly clams up. “You…”

“I brought…” she sighs, waving her hand towards her suitcase, and Yeonjun raises her eyebrows and climbs off her. The urge to keep covering her face is strong, but she watches Yeonjun instead. Her sweatpants hang low on her hips, showing off a hint of red lace underneath, and it’s stupid how much the sight actually gets to her.

It doesn’t take long for her to find what Taehyun was talking about, shooting a glance over her shoulder. “This is what made you all shy?”

“I wasn’t shy,” Taehyun objects, flipping her off when her perfect fucking eyebrows raise again. “There’s lube, too.”

“Prepared,” Yeonjun comments, digging around for the little bottle. Too much? Taehyun wonders. That had been what she feared, that there was something too… intentional about it. But she doesn’t have much time to consider it before Yeonjun is walking back to her and tossing both on the bed.

“Shut up,” she huffs belatedly, sitting up and dragging Yeonjun closer so she can yank off her pants, and Taehyun feels cold fingers unclasping her bra and laying her back down.

“Yeah, yeah,” grinning, Yeonjun settles between her legs and teases two fingers up and down her slit. “See, I would, but I promised to tell you something, didn’t I?”

“Are you taking so long because you haven’t figured out what it is yet?”

“So you do want to hear it,” the fingers slide inside of her, trying to distract her.

Taehyun scoffs, squirming against her hand. “I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t tell me to shut up again.”

“You never fucking do,” she groans.

“No,” she acknowledges, sounding proud of it. Her fingers speed up, thumb rubbing against her clit. “I like talking to you.”

Shutting her eyes for a moment, Taehyun takes a deep breath. She feels Yeonjun adjust her position; her movements faltering as her body shifts, a warm body getting closer, and long hair brushing against her skin.

“I like how you react,” she continues. “I like watching you think about what you’re going to say next, and how I can tell when I’ve really pissed you off because you set your jaw and your eyes get all fiery like you’re going to show me exactly what you’re made of.”

“And you like pissing me off?”

“I like seeing what you’re made of.”

“What’s the difference?”

“You’re made of more than anger,” adding another finger effectively prevents her from thinking too much harder about that. “Especially when you skate. You look untouchable when you skate.”

There are a lot of things Taehyun could say to that, but what comes out of her mouth is a small “yeah?”

“Yeah,” she smiles, “you’re so captivating. Every time I watch you I feel like I’m sitting on the edge of my seat the whole time, like you’re drawing me in.”

With a small whimper, Taehyun twists her fingers in the sheets and shuts her eyes again. When they’re closed, she’s only left with what she can feel, Yeonjun’s fingers stretching her open and lips trailing along her collarbone.

“Look at me,” Yeonjun demands, waiting until their eyes meet. Then she watches her for a second, like she’s still deciding what to say. Like Taehyun is somehow telling her what to say. The fingers inside her gradually slow and stop, Yeonjun still watching her. “You’re exactly who you think you are.”

“Sometimes I don’t know who that is,” she confesses instead of owning up to that. Acknowledging the compliment feels like accepting it, and she doesn’t know how.

“But you do know. You knew it today.” Yeonjun says decisively, her hand moving again.

Taehyun’s mouth drops open but nothing comes out except a moan, Yeonjun’s fingers still carefully taking her apart. It feels like if she starts truly believing she does well, she’ll get complacent and stop improving. Another weird little dichotomy - she’ll rail against anyone trying to tell her she’s not enough, just to turn around and tell herself the same thing.

“You’re beautiful,” Yeonjun murmurs, leaning down to kiss her. She means to pull away, but Taehyun knows if she lets her she’ll say more things, so she grabs the back of her neck and holds her there, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.

A small groan sounds from Yeonjun’s chest before her fingers pull out and she reaches away, fumbling for wherever she’d dropped the dildo on the bed.

“Princess,” she whispers against her lips, trying to pull away. She probably can’t reach like this.

“No. Figure it out.”

Yeonjun laughs, making herself impossible to kiss, and her free hand grabs Taehyun’s wrist and tries to pull it away. Her eyes fly open when she struggles to do it. “Have you always been stronger than me?”

Shrugging coyly, Taehyun tries to tug her back down and huffs in frustration when she presses her whole weight back. “I thought you weren’t afraid of a challenge.”

“A challenge is different from impossible demand,” Yeonjun says slowly, prompting Taehyun’s eyes to narrow at her tone. “Do you want me to fuck you or not?”

She finally drops her hand to the side, rolling her eyes along with. “Fine.”

Yeonjun also rolls her eyes, though she can’t stop grinning, sitting up and studying the dildo she takes in her hands. It’s nothing special - a little curved, the least dick resembling one she could find, but Yeonjun’s eyes land back on her and she can see something in her face. Taehyun’s eyebrows raise of their own accord, waiting, but Yeonjun only grabs the lube and re-centers herself between her legs.

For once she doesn’t make Taehyun wait, instead slowly pushing it inside her. Taehyun shuts her eyes again, arching up into the feeling, and a hand soothes up and down her thigh. Something feels so different this time, but she can’t bring herself to be bothered by it. The usual post-competition buzz under her skin, the restlessness, it isn’t there. It’s more likely than not that she’ll wake up tomorrow under the weight of the new bar she set, but for now, for right now, it’s just settled on the higher rung and it fits so well. All there is now is Yeonjun bottoming out the dildo inside her.

There’s no warning before Yeonjun presses the little button at the bottom and the low buzz makes her gasp, body jerking up. Slowly fucking her, Yeonjun uses her other hand to hike one leg onto her shoulder, putting it in reach for her to kiss down her thigh. When Taehyun finally opens her eyes, she finds Yeonjun watching her face even as her lips suck lightly at her skin, not enough to mark her, but enough to make her legs shake in combination with the dildo speeding up.

“You’re quiet,” Yeonjun teases, her words tangible against her skin. “Don’t want to call me a bitch some more?”

“Be a bitch if you want me to call you one.”

“Yeah?” Batting her lashes, the hand holding Taehyun’s thigh in place squeezes tighter. “If you’re calling it like you see it, then what am I right now?”

Taehyun squeezes around the dildo, craning her neck back, but she keeps her eyes on Yeonjun. On pouty lips mouthing against her skin, long fingers tracing her body, flushed chest pulling in quick breaths that betray her controlled facade.

“My favorite rival,” she answers, and Yeonjun falters for just a moment. The smile that breaks across her face is small and pleased - gratification rather than victory.

Despite making her shy, the admission also spurs her on. She presses the button again, the vibrations getting stronger, and Taehyun lets out an embarrassingly high moan. Yeonjun hums softly, leaning in so the angle changes and lighting up when Taehyun jerks, crying out again.

“Fuck, yes, like that.”

“Good?” Yeonjun checks, gripping her leg again to keep her in place.

“Good,” Taehyun whimpers, fisting her free hand in the sheet. “So good.”

“Gracious enough to praise me now that you won, huh?”

“Shut the fuck up or I’ll stop.”

A nasally giggle answers her and she presses her lips in a line to stop herself from smiling. She hasn’t heard that laugh from Yeonjun before, but it strikes her as a genuine one, more than any other.

She does stop talking, though, focusing instead on fucking into Taehyun with her usual maddening precision, and Taehyun whimpers out another small noise. “More,” she demands, “the- there’s another- ah-”

“Can you take it?” Yeonjun teases, her thumb resting over the button without pressing it. Taehyun’s arousal pulses at the threat of it, having no control over when exactly Yeonjun will turn it up.

“You fucking know I can.”

“True,” slowing her pace, her eyebrow arches up in pleasure when Taehyun mewls. “You’re so good, aren’t you?”

Taehyun rolls her eyes, looking up at the ceiling and resolving herself to wait Yeonjun out, but of course she’s not having that.

“Aren’t you?” She repeats deliberately, pushing the dildo all the way inside her and holding it against the spot that has Taehyun gasping, trying to squirm up the bed. “C’mon, princess, let me hear you say it.”

Shaking her head, Taehyun tries to grind down against the dildo, breathy noises escaping her at the vibrations that hum throughout her body. With a small, discontented noise, Yeonjun pulls it back, waiting to hear her whine of protest before she suddenly turns up the speed again and fucks it back into her hard and fast.

“Fuck, Yeonjun,” she cries out, bucking her hips. The sudden intensity steals the breath from her lungs, leaving her gasping in each breath, trembling with the shocks.

“Taehyun.” The demand doesn’t need any more - Taehyun knows what she wants and what she’ll do about it.

“Fine, I’m… fuck, good, I’m-” she loses the ability to speak, focused on not cumming embarrassingly fast, but at least Yeonjun seems satisfied, finally.

“Good girl,” she murmurs, vaguely smug. God, Taehyun really doesn’t care anymore.

“Yeonjun I sw- ah- fuck you, I swear to god-”

“What, princess? What will you do?”

“You’re for- forgetting something,” she breathes, wound so tight that all she can do is grip the sheets. “Make me cum and I’ll remind you.”

Yeonjun breathes a laugh but does as she’s told, keeping up her frantic pace. Taehyun watches her until she can’t anymore, until the sharp look focused on her and her alone is too much and she drops her head back and her eyes closed.

She doesn’t warn Yeonjun, but she doesn’t need to. “Cum for me, princess,” she says, and Taehyun rides out her orgasm to the sound of Yeonjun’s gentle voice murmuring more nonsense about how good she is.

The weight that’s settled half over her when she regains her senses is comforting, steadying the trembles that roll through her in waves. Yeonjun is still whispering softly to her, words she knows without making them out, and before she knows what’s happening Taehyun is laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Yeonjun asks, twirling Taehyun’s hair in her fingers.

“I don’t know,” shaking her head, Taehyun covers her face with one hand and tries to regain control of herself. “I really don’t know.”

Yeonjun hums, amused, and gently fixes strands of Taehyun’s hair back in place. “You’re so cute.”

Making a face, Taehyun reaches over and pokes at her side. “What’s made you such a fountain of affection today?”

“You’re letting me,” Yeonjun grins, laughing out loud when Taehyun’s expression contorts incredulously.

“I seem to remember telling you to shut up. Like, a lot.”

“Yeah, well,” she shrugs. “For someone who loves telling me to shut up, you never do anything about it.”

“Doll with a string,” Taehyun mutters under her breath.

“Wh- oh,” hands grab Yeonjun’s waist before she can ask, her hair fanning in all directions when Taehyun spins her over and climbs on top of her. Then she interrupts the words on the tip of Yeonjun’s tongue with her lips, reaching a hand down between her legs to keep her distracted.

There are a lot of ways victory can feel. A new favorite of hers is Yeonjun moaning into her mouth, grinding down on her hand, grabbing the back of her neck and keeping her close. She makes such pretty noises, little whimpers that would be inaudible if she were any farther away, like they’re just for her.

Two fingers slip inside Yeonjun easily, her soaked underwear bunched to the side so Taehyun can fuck her. Yeonjun spreads her legs on her own, clinging desperately to Taehyun’s shoulders.

“Just fuck me,” she pleads, nails digging into her skin, “please, I can take it.”

Taehyun laughs breathlessly, inching a third finger inside her and watching her face shift and breath stutter, her pussy clenching tight around Taehyun’s fingers. “Can you?”

“I didn’t say I’m prepped, I said I could take it,” Yeonjun fires back. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not.” The grin on her face says otherwise, but she doesn’t try to tamp it down. “You’re hot when you’re annoyed.”

That pleased smile gives her away again, though she doesn’t acknowledge it. “I’m hotter when I cum.”

“True,” she acknowledges, “but you’re in my hands now.”

Yeonjun’s eyes widen a little, watching Taehyun drag her underwear down her legs and her hands slide back up her thighs until she’s fucking three fingers inside her again. Yeonjun sucks in a sharp breath, hands flailing uselessly before one twists in the sheets and the other reaches for Taehyun. She lets herself be dragged up into a kiss, swallowing each moan she gets as she teases her thumb against her clit.

“Taehyun, please,” she whimpers, “please, I’m…”

“Soaked,” Taehyun answers teasingly, watching Yeonjun flush. “I haven’t even touched you until now. What are you so worked up for?”

“Are you- fuck, are you kidding me?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Yeonjun shivers at her tone, arching up into her. “No one in their right mind could fuck you without getting worked up.”

Satisfied, Taehyun pulls out her fingers and reaches for the dildo. Even the promise of more doesn’t stop Yeonjun from whining when the stimulation stops. “Such a baby.”

“You’re mean.”

Her lips are made for pouting. It makes her difficult to mess with sometimes. “So mean,” Taehyun agrees, tone dripping with faux sympathy.

Yeonjun tries to set her pout deeper, but she can’t help the way her eyes widen in surprise and hips nudge down on the dildo. In one smooth motion, Taehyun fucks it the rest of the way inside her and turns it on, watching Yeonjun jerk and cry out. She mumbles a string of curses, thunking her head back against the pillow, and though the reaction doesn’t fit at all Taehyun finds it hard not to smile.

“Sensitive?” She asks, starting to fuck the dildo slowly in and out of her. A nod answers her, a delayed mhm, and she mumbles cute under her breath. It doesn’t seem like Yeonjun heard her. “You’re cute.”

“You- think so?”

Huffing a laugh, Taehyun spreads her legs wider and speeds up her pace. “Yeah, I do.”

“Wow,” Yeonjun breathes, brushing her hair back off her face and letting her arm fall to the bed. “You really are gracious when you wi- oh”

The higher speed of the vibrator makes her clap a hand over her mouth, which does very little to muffle her moan. Grabbing her wrist with her free hand, Taehyun holds her hand down to the bed. “Go ahead, let everyone hear how well I fuck you.”

“Taehyun,” she moans, fucking down on the dildo again. “I’m-”

“Already?”

When she eases back Yeonjun groans, kicking at her with her knee. “Bitch,” she complains, and Taehyun laughs.

“Getting even,” she retorts, pushing the dildo back in.

“Thought we weren’t keeping score.”

“That’s what you told me. Bold words from the reason it’s uneven.”

“Not so much anymore, huh?” Yeonjun grins. In response, Taehyun turns up the vibrator again just to watch her smile drop. Her moan is high and strained, breathing heavy and chest flushed deep red. This is more overwhelmed than she’s ever seen Yeonjun before, and a tiny part of her grows worried.

She eases off again, enough for Yeonjun to relax, and whispers “you okay?”

“I-” Pulling herself together enough to look at Taehyun, she nods. “I’m okay.”

That should be enough. Taehyun doesn’t know why she still hesitates. When Yeonjun reaches a hand out for her, she follows easily until she’s leaning over her body and Yeonjun tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Do what you want, princess. I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”

“You like this?” Taehyun checks, working the dildo slowly back inside her. Yeonjun chokes on her breath and lets out an airy laugh, nodding before she answers.

“I like this,” she whispers, her eyes locking on Taehyun’s. “Get your revenge or whatever. You earned it.”

Taehyun actually doesn’t like the idea that this is all vengeance on her part. Before she can properly object, Yeonjun reads something on her face that makes her eyebrows raise.

“Kidding,” she adds, tugging Taehyun closer. “Doesn’t feel like revenge, anyway.”

When she kisses Yeonjun, she can feel the way her breath hitches when she’s fucked properly again. Yeonjun tries her best, but her mouth gets sloppy the longer she’s worked back up to the edge until she can’t kiss back anymore and Taehyun moves down to her neck.

She prides herself on knowing Yeonjun’s tells pretty well by now. Even though she doesn’t tell Taehyun when she’s close, Taehyun pulls out the vibrator at the right time to have Yeonjun whining, squirming on the mattress as the pleasure ebbs.

“Still doesn’t feel like revenge?” She asks, laughing a little when her face contorts incredulously at the 180 degree turn.

“What do you want from me?” Yeonjun complains, meeting Taehyun with pleading eyes.

“This,” Taehyun shrugs, unable to stop her grin as her eyes travel down Yeonjun’s body and back to her face. “I like seeing you like this.”

“Feels like you won?” Yeonjun asks wryly, and for just a moment Taehyun gets that same feeling as she did last time - the fourth wall break, the I know you. It felt like a break in character before, but now it feels like… something else. She’s honestly too preoccupied to identify it.

“I did.”

This time when she fucks back into Yeonjun, it’s to the sound of a strangled whimper. “Please,” Yeonjun begs breathlessly. “Please, please, let me- ah-”

Taehyun stays quiet, just watching while Yeonjun falls apart again. One of her hands reaches up, wrapping her fingers around the wrist of the arm Taehyun is using to prop herself up. Yeonjun’s other hand is still gripping the sheets, anchoring herself while her back arches up slowly, all the muscles in her stomach visibly tense.

“Taehyun, please-”

“You can cum,” she whispers, and the effect is immediate. Yeonjun’s whole body jerks, a whine ripping out of her throat as she rolls her hips with each wave of her orgasm. She shuts her eyes, teeth biting into her bottom lip, and Taehyun can’t help but whisper the one word she’s thinking. “Pretty.”

Once she’s fallen slack against the bed, letting out an overstimulated whimper, Taehyun switches off the vibrator and tosses it aside, staying right where she is. Yeonjun hasn’t let go of her yet.

“Taehyun,” she whispers, her eyes still closed.

“Yeah?”

“Can you…”

She doesn’t finish her question, but she does turn her face away like she’s embarrassed. Taehyun isn’t stupid, she can fill in the blanks. Yeonjun doesn’t say anything when she moves but her face twists a little like a cringe and Taehyun shushes her softly, placating her so that she can lay down next to her instead.

They end up in a reversed position from when Yeonjun did this for her, though Taehyun is also fitted in the crook of Yeonjun’s arm. While Taehyun searches for what to say, if anything, if she’s supposed to, Yeonjun speaks first.

“I’m okay, sorry. Just… need a minute.”

“What are you apologizing for?” Taehyun asks, tracing along the bottom of her ribs. Yeonjun flinches like she’s ticklish, but she doesn’t say anything about it.

“Needing this, I guess,” she huffs, shrugging like it doesn’t matter.

“Would you want me to apologize?” Very quickly, Yeonjun shakes her head. For a moment they fall quiet while Taehyun mulls it in her head. Quieter, she asks “do you always need this?”

Yeonjun’s eyes fly open, looking down at Taehyun. “No, not always,” she promises. Taehyun’s own doubt must be obvious on her face, because Yeonjun frowns and reaches her free arm around her. “I like it, but I don’t always need it. It’s okay that you haven’t done it before.”

“How do I know if you do need it?”

“Because I’ll tell you, like I just did,” She pokes at Taehyun a little to punctuate her sentence, trying to lighten the mood.

“Technically you didn’t tell me.”

Yeonjun’s lips bunch together in chagrin and she rolls her eyes. “Touché,” she sighs, then eyes Taehyun anew. “Can I ask you about something?”

“You can try,” Taehyun shrugs and she snorts, poking her side again.

“Will you tell me what you meant about not caring about winning now?”

“I still want to know what you think.”

Yeonjun grabs the hand on her stomach, playing with her fingers as she thinks. “Winning is just a side effect of being one of the best, for you. That’s what you really want. And you want people to look at you without doubting that you deserve to be here like… like you doubt it.”

Silently, Taehyun props herself up on her elbow so she’s looking down at Yeonjun. Whatever she’s waiting for doesn’t happen - Yeonjun’s expression remains set, watching her back unflinchingly. “Close enough,” she finally agrees, pulling her hand out of Yeonjun’s to brush a few more loose strands out of her eyelashes. “You’re only missing the part where I want to be equals with you.”

Real confusion crosses her face and she blinks, her head shaking minutely. “We are equals.”

And Taehyun shakes her head back, holding up her finger as a signal to let her think. Yeonjun does, but not without an impatient little huff.

“You think people put our names together because they see me as your competition. I think they put our names together because I’m chasing your heels. Every improvement I’ve made over the past three years has been because I was watching you, then me, then you. And after that is when people started talking about me as a skater, and not just a trick horse.”

Yeonjun’s lips move, twisting and pressing together like she’s mulling words over, but she doesn’t interrupt. “And the worst part is you don’t even care,” Taehyun laughs, dropping her head back and looking around the room. “You’re doing what you love. That’s why you’re such a good artist, because everyone can see the love you have for it when you skate. It’s why everyone loves you off the ice, too. You’re not threatened by anything because it’s not even about that for you.”

“Do you not?” She asks softly. “Love skating?”

“No, I do.” Looking back at Yeonjun’s hand, she tentatively laces their fingers together again. “But I think for a while I only loved it because it’s what I’m best at and I like being good at things. It was when I figured out what being an artist looks like for me that I started loving skating specifically.”

She can feel Yeonjun’s eyes on her, but she doesn’t look. They sit in silence, and sit some more, Taehyun weaving her fingers in and out and back into Yeonjun’s. It’s when she starts restlessly shifting that Yeonjun finally speaks up. “So maybe I’m not so full of myself after all,” she says, a wry grin on her face when Taehyun’s eyes dart to her.

“Dear god,” Taehyun laughs, falling back so she’s propped on both elbows and laughing. “You know what, fuck you.”

“‘Kay,” Yeonjun jokes, following after like she’s about to roll on top of Taehyun again but stopping when she’s on her side. There’s another one of those long pauses, just staring at each other. Each one blows the bubble bigger, and they both know it. “I’m okay now, if you want to go,” she offers quietly, “I know you’re not done denying why you’re here.”

“Will this conversation have happened when I leave?”

“Do you want it to?”

Not for the first time, but maybe most prominently yet, she worries about how fair this is to Yeonjun. Her eyes don’t betray any misgivings, and Taehyun considers her eyes very honest, but she’s also seen firsthand how good Yeonjun is at pretending. “Not yet,” she whispers, “but I don’t want you to forget.”

“Then I won’t.”

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

Standing in front of the door to Yeonjun’s hotel room, Taehyun runs her fingers through her hair to make sure there are no weird bumps at the top of her head and the ends fall appealingly over her shoulders before she knocks.

Yeonjun opens the door the way she always does - cracking it only wide enough for her lithe body to lean against the frame, eyeing Taehyun up and down like she’s waiting for her to squirm about being left out in the hall.

“I brought these for you,” she says when not so much as a hello is forthcoming, holding out the bouquet of roses she’d been sent to deliver.

“Flowers,” Yeonjun smiles, purposely covering her fingers as she takes them. “You shouldn’t have.”

“I didn’t. You left too soon for your sponsor to get to you, so I got the pleasure.”

Yeonjun raises an eyebrow at her, the flowers she’s sniffing surely covering an infuriating smirk. Wordlessly, she bumps the door open wider with her hip and turns back into her room, expecting Taehyun to follow. Naturally, she does.

“No compliments for me, then?” She goads when Taehyun shuts the door behind them. “Didn’t I do well, Taehyunie?”

“You won, what more do you need?” Taehyun scoffs, eyeing the empty shot bottle on her nightstand.

“Your attention,” Yeonjun pouts, setting the flowers aside and flopping onto her bed. “If you’re not going to be nice to me, you could at least tell me how fucking crazy it’s driving you.”

It’s not, is the thing. She feels weirdly fireless, but not like the night she fell. Not in a bad way at all, actually. Lately it takes more and more to get her there, to make her the Taehyun who started all this. And as much as she would like to argue her newfound zen is maturity, or even confidence, she knows that’s not quite true.

In any case, Yeonjun will handle it. She knows exactly how to find the button Taehyun is looking for, she’s digging for it already. But Yeonjun isn’t an idiot. She knows what’s happening as well as Taehyun does, maybe even better, but that conversation hasn’t happened yet, has it? Until then, Yeonjun will play the game. That’s what Taeyun asked her for, after all.

So Taehyun stays quiet, not out of speechlessness but because she knows nothing gets Yeonjun worse than her silence. Yeonjun needs something to play with, words to twist, banter to fuel. Taehyun only needs her walls.

And silence offers her time to look. Yeonjun’s long, chocolate brown hair falls in brushed-out curls, still with an obvious crimp where her hair tie had held it in a tight ponytail during the competition. Her makeup is off, but her waterlines are still dark with leftover eyeliner. She’d changed into sweats and a tank top she’s definitely cold in, given that it’s January, but it shows off her cleavage and the straps of her pretty lace bra and that was certainly the goal.

“We’re both going to the Olympics,” Yeonjun continues when the silence grows too much for her. “Shouldn’t we be celebrating?”

“It’s not a done deal,” Taehyun points out, though the comment had made her stomach flutter. “We find out tomorrow.”

“You would say that,” Yeonjun grins, waving her over. “You’ve skated beautifully all season. There’d be an upset if you didn’t make it.”

“You say that like it’s only my spot in question,” Taehyun deflects, staying where she is on account of the knot that took over her heart.

Rolling her eyes, Yeonjun props herself up on her elbows. “Of course mine isn’t, I won,” she grins, cocking her head to the side. “Do I have to come get you, or something?”

“I could just go,” Taehyun shrugs, wondering if Yeonjun can tell she cut her yet. It’s that damn fire going out. Now she’s bad at the game.

“But you haven’t. Why’s that, Taehyunie?”

Taehyun sighs, throwing a glance over her shoulder at the door and then refocusing on Yeonjun. She picks the question she’d rather answer. “Yeah, come get me if you want me so bad.”

Yeonjun grins, tossing her legs to the side of the bed and crossing to Taehyun. She puts her hands on the wall either side of Taehyun’s head, caging her in, and leans teasingly close. “I know what you want,” she hums, sharp eyes locking on Taehyun, both of them too stubborn to look away first. “You want me to tell you what a good job you did, hm? Want me to tell you how pretty you looked out there? How powerful? How proud I am of you?”

Taehyun’s hand flies up to grab a fistful of her hair, tugging her head back just to lean in the same distance. “I want you to shut up for once,” she shoots back, just before she crashes their lips together.

Yeonjun uses the weight of her body to press Taehyun back into the wall, not-so-subtly lodging her leg between her thighs. Taehyun had changed before leaving the rink into a warm turtleneck and thick wool trousers, which works in her favor for this. They dull the sensations of Yeonjun’s body pressed against her, even if being pinned floods her with heat.

“I really am, you know?” Yeonjun pants against her lips, grabbing her waist tight before she continues. “Proud of you. You’re almost as good as me.”

Taehyun is a realist. It’s not the undeniable fact that Yeonjun is better that gets to her, it’s the saying it. Plucking her competitive instinct like the string that puppeteers her, rubbing it in her face when Taehyun knows damn well Yeonjun doesn’t even care the way she does, that she already believes the thing Taehyun’s been trying so damn hard to prove. What’s the saying? A prison of her own design.

If it were anyone else, it would foster real hatred. But this is Yeonjun. Yeonjun who would, in fact, much rather praise her than keep taking trivial jabs. Yeonjun who she thinks still doesn’t fully realize how much Taehyun admires her. Admires, still. Maybe she guesses, or maybe Taehyun is just much more transparent than she’d like to fashion herself, and maybe that’s why her quips come paired with the praise Taehyun will never acknowledge she needs so badly.

They’re equals now. Yeonjun is a few steps ahead of her, probably always will be, but they’re on the same platform. She has the only assurance she truly needs, because if it weren’t the case, Yeonjun would talk to her the way she talks to the flower sweepers and the juniors at their rink, with platitudes like keep going instead of actual feedback.

If they weren’t equals, she couldn’t walk Yeonjun back to the bed using her hair as a leash and toss her on her back. Yeonjun bounces when she lands, eyes searching to focus on Taehyun again.

“Take off my belt,” Taehyun demands. Yeonjun never tells her no. She does as she’s told and Taehyun takes a deep breath as she watches. Setting the belt aside carefully, Yeonjun rests her hands at either side of the button of Taehyun’s pants and waits for more instructions.

“Do I really have to tell you what’s next?” Taehyun challenges, cocking an eyebrow at her. These pauses are starting to make her itch, giving her far too much time to think about what they’re really doing, what’s really happening here.

“You’re tense,” Yeonjun points out, tucking her pointer fingers into her waistband to tug her closer. Of course she noticed. “You’re not actually worried, are you?”

Taehyun rolls her eyes, but it’s a hesitation and Yeonjun knows it. “Of course not,” she responds anyway.

For a moment, Taehyun struggles to read her. Struggles to figure out if they’re still playing the game. Yeonjun is good at her promises, but she’s never been as good at the game as Taehyun. Can’t turn off how much she cares, and Taehyun is confusing her right now. It makes sense, she supposes. Second isn’t better than Yeonjun, but it’s not a loss. She’s all but guaranteed a spot in Beijing. She should be bulletproof right now.

Finally Yeonjun lets out a hum - discontented, like she doesn’t believe Taehyun. “I must have missed something,” she says, popping open the clasp on Taehyun’s pants. “I mean, I thought you did fine, but if you’re doubting it…”

“I did better than fine,” Taehyun objects, and a smile plays across Yeonjun’s face. Cold fingers trace up Taehyun’s spine as she lifts her shirt first, as far as she can until Taehyun has to take over. And then while Taehyun is working the collar over her head, Yeonjun tugs at her pants until they pool on the floor and the shirt joins them.

Before Taehyun can step out of them, she’s lifted by the waist and tossed onto the bed, leaving her limbs sprawled in favor of watching Yeonjun strip off her sweatpants. Her underwear is black this time, a simple satin material accessorized by gold loops which attach a second black elastic band that highlights the sliver of skin between it and the band of the underwear.

She breaks her eyes away, back up to Yeonjun’s face, but she’s already been looking way too long and Yeonjun is smirking down at her, swinging a leg over her hips. Her hair falls with her as she leans down, a curtain shielding one side of their faces. “Like what you see?”

Taehyun narrows her eyes, grabbing hold of Yeonjun’s waist. “Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Well I don’t know, princess. Why are you here?”

Kissing her works better than answering, even if Yeonjun laughs into the kiss and it shoots a wave of chagrin through Taehyun to realize that she’d chosen the more telling answer. Yeonjun reaches a hand down between them, slipping it past the lace band of Taehyun’s underwear, and Taehyun’s thighs bump against Yeonjun’s calves when she tries to spread her legs wider.

“I can’t be confident about it,” Taehyun whispers in between kisses, opening her eyes to watch Yeonjun react. They’re so close together that she’s a little blurry, but that increasingly familiar look of concern is still crystal clear.

“Why you’re here?” Yeonjun tries, even though she knows that’s not the answer. Taehyun resists the urge to roll her eyes.

“The… team.” She settles on. “Whether I made it. I can’t… you’re not going to get me to insist I deserve it. I don’t know if I do.”

Yeonjun’s fingers press harder against her and she jolts, her breath hissing between her teeth. “Do you think I’d just get your hopes up?” She demands, tilting her head to the side.

“Nuh- no,” Taehyun gasps, squirming when Yeonjun’s fingers dip lower, spreading her wetness up to her clit so she can move faster.

“You must really think my standards are low,” she goes on, and something expands in Taehyun’s chest even though she doesn’t think Yeonjun means that.

“Your standards have nothing to do with how I skate,” Taehyun answers. It’s true, a little too true. Observations like that aren’t part of the game.

“Taehyun,” she calls. Taehyun doesn’t know when she’d looked away, but when their eyes meet she kisses her instead of saying anything. It plays on a loop in her head. Taehyun, Taehyun, Taehyun.

There hadn’t been much time to look, but something had been on Yeonjun’s face before she kissed her. Something soft, something Taehyun usually only sees in those liminal conversations before she leaves for the night.

“Of course you made it,” she whispers against her lips, her hand moving faster so Taehyun will choke on her breath instead of answering. “Stop thinking so hard.”

Big ask, but feeling Yeonjun one-handedly take off her bra without once breaking her rhythm on the fingers on her clit or their kiss is a huge distraction to contend with. The fingers in her underwear keep working at her until she’s moaning into Yeonjun’s mouth, and only then do they come off.

Yeonjun stops to look at her for a moment, like she’s trying to assess how she is. “What do you need from me?” She asks in that same quiet tone that’s become their unspoken time out voice.

Taehyun looks up at the ceiling, thinking it over. It’s not like she’s actually going to be able to stop thinking about it, which really only leaves one answer. “Just keep acting like I made it.”

“You did,” Yeonjun shoots back, cocking an eyebrow at her. A little self-pleased smile plays on her lips and Taehyun can’t help but smile back, even if accompanied with some exasperation. Even if Yeonjun herself doesn’t know if this is a good idea, she won’t ask if Taehyun is sure because the very act of asking would tell Taehyun she has doubts.

“It’s not like I’ll be less depressed if I don't get my hopes up. They’re up. I’m done for.” She explains anyway, just in case the worst happens and Yeonjun ends up with misplaced guilt.

“Not until you’re standing next to me on the podium, you’re not,” Yeonjun teases, slipping two fingers inside her.

“Yeah? On which side?” Taehyun asks and Yeonjun makes a lips zipped motion with her free hand that has Taehyun laughing. “I’d like to see you on my left.”

It’s a confusing thing to say, given there are two configurations for that, but Yeonjun knows what she means. First and second, but Yeonjun is first.

“You would?” She asks, her fingers faltering for a moment. It could be offensive, frankly, but Taehyun only snorts.

“I would,” she affirms. I’d be next to you, she doesn’t say. You’ll have gotten the acknowledgement you deserve. It’s hard to watch someone for so long and not become a fan.

“I’d like that too,” Yeonjun admits, “it’d be a nice way to go out.”

“Go out?” Taehyun repeats, propping herself up, and Yeonjun freezes, eyes widened like she’d said something she was not supposed to. The whole room suddenly feels very still.

“Nevermind,” she says quickly, trying to go back to what she was doing, but Taehyun sits up and she’s forced to pull her fingers out.

“You’re retiring,” Taehyun says quietly, and hearing the words out loud makes the rock drop in her stomach full force.

“I haven’t told anyone but my coach,” Yeonjun says sheepishly. Please don’t tell anyone is the quieter part, but she doesn’t ask Taehyun for the promise.

“You’re not even…”

Yeonjun raises her eyebrows, watching her try to mentally work it out. “I’ll be 27 next Olympics.”

It makes sense, honestly - even Taehyun is already plagued by concerns about how old she is given that the youngest contenders for the next games are currently eleven. Nothing gives one an age complex quite like competitive athletics does, and skating has one of the shortest shelf lives.

“Still, that’s another four years.”

Yeonjun shrugs. “That’s what my coach keeps saying. She wants me to do another season or two, but I don’t know… I guess it would just feel weird to drop off in a mid season. Plus, I really like coaching.”

Also fair. Taehyun’s seen her with her small army of basics level one skaters, and she looks overjoyed teaching little kids how to bunny hop. She doesn’t know why she cares so much - it should be good news, shouldn’t it? If first place retires, and she’s second place, then…

Then she has no hotel room to come to when it’s over. Then she doesn’t have Yeonjun.

Whatever is on her face is as painfully transparent as always, she’s sure. There’s a lot reflected back to her on Yeonjun’s, too. The only thing she can make sense of is the apologetic part.

“I’m sorry,” she says finally. “I really didn’t mean to tell you like that. Or tonight.”

“It’s- it’s fine,” Taehyun answers, shaking her head.

Why should it bother me? But she can’t bring herself to say that part. Instead she grabs the back of Yeonjun’s neck and pulls her into a kiss, trying to get back to where they were. She doesn’t bother trying to come up with anything to say, given that there’s nothing clever in her brain and all their usual lines are too close to all the brand new soft spots that have turned the usual game into Minesweeper. There’s only what she can do physically, which is drag Yeonjun with her as she lays down and guide her hand back between her legs.

Yeonjun kisses her differently this time. Her lips move slowly, soft enough that Taehyun can feel the exact shape of them against her own. Her fingers, too, are unhurried and deliberate, as if she were fucking her for the first time and feeling out the best way to do it.

Once she’s worked a third finger inside, she moves her kisses down. Taehyun hadn’t realized how breathless she was until Yeonjun stopped, and now she pulls in deep breaths and squirms while Yeonjun’s lips seek out each sensitive spot along her neck and chest. One of her hands tangles in Yeonjun’s hair, but she doesn’t do anything with it except hold onto her.

“You’re so pretty,” Yeonjun whispers against her skin, but the whisper is reverent. It’s not the time out voice, because the time out voice is for when they’re playing the game. At this point, the game is lost. She’s not even sure who won the game, which is the most comical way it could have possibly ended. What’s left when they stop pretending they have anything cutting to say to each other? Just the two of them. Just Yeonjun’s free hand grabbing hold of hers as she makes it the rest of the way down her torso and closes her lips around her clit. Just her eyes locking onto Taehyun’s.

She sighs out a shaky breath when Yeonjun’s tongue flicks against her, tightening her fingers in her hair. In the back of her mind, she wonders if this is how Yeonjun has always wanted to fuck her. It’s not like it would bother her if it wasn’t true, not like she’s hated what they’ve done, but this is just so… different. There’s really no other word for how gently she’s being worked to the edge, the waves of pleasure that roll over her with nothing to take her attention away from them. There’s nothing hungry about it, but that doesn’t make it any less consuming.

Moaning so softly is a vulnerability in and of itself. That’s all she can think as each one leaves her mouth and sounds in her own ears. But Yeonjun’s hand squeezes hers when she subconsciously pulls it away and she squeezes back, focusing her eyes back on Yeonjun. When she cums, Yeonjun’s name leaves her mouth on a breath as soft as the orgasm that pulses through her.

She barely gives it a moment before she’s tugging Yeonjun back up, tasting herself on her lips as she makes quick work of undoing Yeonjun’s bra so that she can roll them over. Yeonjun had done this so easily, so seamlessly Taehyun wonders if she even had to think about it the way she herself is now. Yeonjun is laid out below her, pliant and soft and vulnerable, and everything she’s tried so hard not to feel is crashing into her all at once. If this is the beginning of the end, she wants to begin it right.

Is this the beginning of the end?

“Taehyun,” Yeonjun whispers, nudging her back. “Are we talking about it? You seem like you need to talk about it.”

“I…” Shaking her head, Taehyun leans down and buries her face in Yeonjun’s neck, kissing slowly down the length of it. She lets each hitched breath and the rhythmic squeeze of Yeonjun’s hand on her waist encourage her, settle her, until she reaches the hollow of her throat and figures out where she wants to start. “I think you’re beautiful.”

“You do?”

The little waver in her voice makes Taehyun lift her head so she can see her face. “Yes. I think you’re fucking stunning.”

Yeonjun’s eyelids flutter, face flushing red, and when she looks away Taehyun cups her cheek and turns her head back. “I also think you’re the most beautiful skater I’ve ever seen, and when the industry becomes a graceless quad machine you’re going to be one of the ones everyone holds up as an example of the golden days of this sport.”

“That’s… an insane thing to say,” Yeonjun laughs breathlessly. Taehyun shrugs.

“I mean it. You know I mean it, right?”

“I don’t think you’d say it if you didn’t,” she concedes, shifting underneath her. “Why are you telling me this? I’m not… I mean, I…”

Taehyun quirks her head to the side, waiting for the rejection with her heart in her throat.

“You’re not trying to change my mind, are you?” Yeonjun whispers.

“No, I’m not,” she answers just as quietly. “I’m just… if you’re retiring, then we’re almost out of excuses.”

“Excuses,” Yeonjun repeats, swallowing hard. Excuses. Not reasons.

Steeling herself, Taehyun represses the urge to sit up and instead leans closer. “I’m done denying why I’m here.”

Yeonjun’s eyes grow round, scanning over her face. “And why are you here?”

“Because I want you,” she acknowledges first, fighting down a small smile at the words. “Because you understand me more than almost anyone else. Because you motivate me and I come to see you even when everything really fucking sucks because I know you’ll make me feel better.”

It really looks like Yeonjun might cry, but she closes the short distance to kiss Taehyun instead. One hand cups her cheek while the other wraps around her waist and tugs her down until she’s laying flat on top of Yeonjun, making it impossible for her to continue her original plan.

“Yeonjun,” she breathes between kisses, winding a hand in her hair and tugging gently. “Jun.”

“Princess,” Yeonjun answers, and a small, pleased flush runs through her to know that hadn’t died with the game. “Forget about it, if you’re thinking what I think you are.”

“Absolutely not,” Taehyun objects, speaking around Yeonjun’s multiple, insistent interruptions. “I need to eat you out so you’ll consider putting up with my annoying ass.”

Bursting into laughter, Yeonjun drops her head back, finally. “I like your annoying ass. You don’t need to convince me.”

“Okay, then I need to eat you out because I really, really want to,” she counters, receiving a stupidly fond look considering what she’d actually said.

“Do you know why I like you so much?” Yeonjun asks, letting her tug her underwear off nonetheless.

“Not a fucking clue.”

The flippant tone makes Yeonjun laugh seemingly against her will, quick to reprimand Taehyun with the gentlest tap against her shoulder. “I think you’re cute,” she says first, grinning when Taehyun scowls at her. “Especially when you get pissed off about it.”

A little gasp interrupts her when Taehyun buries her face between her legs, but she steels herself and keeps talking. “And you fascinate me. I love getting to know about you.”

Taehyun sucks on her clit and she groans, dropping her head back, but she still doesn’t stop. “And you’re sweet. So- so sweet, even when you- Jesus, Taehyun,” she laughs, dropping off her elbows and throwing an arm over her face. Another moan escapes her. “You tried to pretend otherwise, but you can’t. You’re sweet and you pay attention and you’re- fuck, you’re so good, Taehyun. All I’ve wanted is for you to see how good you are.”

Heat flushes through Taehyun’s whole body at the words, but she channels it into what she’s doing, working Yeonjun over methodically until that telling flush spreads down her chest. Yeonjun grabs her hand, lacing their fingers together, and three times is a pattern. Holding hands like this is such an intimate little gesture, so sweet and so Yeonjun, Taehyun can’t help but to be endeared by it.

She squeezes Taehyun’s hand when she cums with a series of soft whimpers, giving one weak tug before falling slack against the mattress. Taehyun climbs back up her body and collapses into her arms, something much deeper inside her than one night can account for finally soothed by being properly held.

“It’s bad timing,” Yeonjun murmurs softly after a moment, playing with her hair. “I didn’t want to distract you.”

“I don’t get distracted,” Taehyun answers, fascinated by tracing her fingers along the lines of Yeonjun’s face, mapping the bones of her brow, and cheek, and jaw. It’s not a place she’s touched before, not with this kind of purpose, anyway. Too intimate. Yeonjun watches her with her fond eyes. “On the ice, anyway.”

“Yeah,” she concedes. “You’re good at that. You know what’s been bothering me?”

“Probably every single thing I’ve said to you since October.”

Yeonjun snorts, shaking her head and laying her free hand over the hand Taehyun has on her face so it won’t move. “You think you’re chasing after my heels. I think you’re the reason I even started working on that damn quad. Sometimes I think you respect skating as a sport more than I do, because your elements are so precise. So, I think people put our names together because they genuinely can’t decide who the better skater between us is.”

“We make each other better?” Taehyun rephrases, giving her a look. “How dare you take the whole reason I even made you my damn rival and make it romantic?”

Laughing, Yeonjun pulls her closer and wraps both arms tight around her. “It’s been romantic the whole time. I’m very fond of you calling me a bitch.”

“Well, good, ‘cause I probably won’t stop,” Taehyun answers, tucking her face in Yeonjun’s neck. “Have I been distracting you?”

“You have been making this year so much more fun,” Yeonjun answers, her tone so serious that Taehyun groans into her neck, pressing into her like she’s trying to vanish. “What?” She laughs again, and Taehyun thanks the fates that she’s so weirdly endeared by her behavior.

“You and your perfect answers and your perfect hair and perfect-” she’s yanked out of hiding by the hair, her small whimper muffled by Yeonjun’s mouth on hers.

“Stay with me tonight,” Yeonjun says when they part, pressing her forehead against Taehyun’s. “Please.”

“I need to grab clothes first,” she answers, though she makes no move to get up. The pout that answers her gets kissed. “Then I’ll come back.”

“Fine,” Yeonjun sighs, sprawling out on the bed. “I think you look perfect like that, though.”

Rolling her eyes, Taehyun pulls the blanket with her as she gets up and pointedly settles it over Yeonjun. “It’s cold.”

Once she’s dressed, she pats her pockets for her phone and room key and comes up empty, realizing they must have fallen out. They’re not hard to find, barely slid underneath the bed, but before she can tuck her phone in her pocket the screen lights up and she chokes on her breath when she sees the notification waiting for her.

You have been selected for the 2022 Winter Olympic games.

“Yeonjun.”

“Did they send it already?” Yeonjun asks, rolling over to grab her own phone. “Damn, I was up until midnight last time.”

“Yeonjun,” she says again, lost for any other word. Her eyes are burning dangerously, her hands shaking a little.

“Taehyun,” she answers softly, beckoning for her attention. It’s hard to pull her eyes away from the words in front of her - she feels almost certain that if she looks away it will stop being true. But the soft smile waiting for her is a good concession. “I fucking told you so, didn’t I?”

Pressing her lips together in a bizarre mix of amusement, irritation, and something else entirely, Taehyun shoves her phone in her pocket and crawls up the bed to kiss the stupid, smug look off Yeonjun’s face, just like she always has. “I probably need to call my coach. Add, like, ten minutes.”

"As long as you come back,” Yeonjun answers, rubbing the tops of her arms soothingly. There’s a worried pout on her face, but only just. She’d like to think it’s because Yeonjun knows what she can do for her now.

“I’ll probably cry when I come back,” She admits, getting another soft smile for it.

“That’s fine,” she whispers, petting her hair. “Can I say I’m-”

“No,” Taehyun interrupts very quickly, covering her mouth. “Wait until I’m back.”

“‘Kay,” she smiles from behind her hand, kissing Taehyun one more time once she’s free before nudging her back. “Then hurry.”

❄︎𐬿𐬺⛸️

Taehyun loves the ice early in the morning. She waits to turn on her practice music just so she can spend a few minutes listening to the crunch of her blades, echoing around the otherwise quiet rink. The cold bites at her hands and face, wind rushing through her hair as she picks up speed, and she finally gets why Yeonjun skates with it down for as long as she can before it annoys her.

Just as she’s getting into the flow, about to turn her music on, a familiar voice interrupts her mindset. “Taehyun!”

She turns to look at Yeonjun as she rounds the back end of the ice, smiling wide enough to make sure Yeonjun can see it. Technically, she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Yeonjun is waiting with her arms crossed when Taehyun makes it to the hockey benches where she’s standing.

“Your break is supposed to be another week,” she scolds, catching her by the shoulders.

“You’re a good coach, but you’re not my coach,” Taehyun retorts, giggling when Yeonjun’s eyebrows raise incredulously.

“Right, no, I’m only your girlfriend, why should that matter?” She challenges, cocking her head to the side. A grin spreads across her face and Taehyun knows what’s coming before she even says it. “Only an Olympic gold medalist. What do I know?”

“Yeah, well,” Taehyun laughs, reaching over the wall for her water bottle. “Someone fucked off after the Olympics and I had to go win Worlds so everyone knew who was next.”

She still doesn’t really like talking about herself like this, mostly because it feels so drastically unfamiliar. But Yeonjun’s face lights up every time she brags on herself. That’s why she does it.

“And then you did,” Yeonjun answers, arching an eyebrow again. “And now you’re supposed to rest.”

“I’m not doing anything crazy! I was just going to fuck around to my playlist for a bit. I missed the ice,” she pouts here, appealing to the finger Yeonjun is wrapped around. “You know how bored I am.”

Yeonjun sighs, looking terribly put-upon, but Taehyun is right and she knows it. “You’re like those fish that have to keep swimming or they die.”

Taehyun rolls her eyes softly, swallowing the water in her mouth. “Great white shark.”

“Yeah,” she agrees, tucking a strand of Taehyun’s hair behind her ear. “Can I join you?”

“Of course you can,” dropping her water bottle back where it belongs, she reaches up and presses her cold fingers into Yeonjun’s neck, grinning when she flinches. “We’re skating to my music, though.”

“Deal,” Yeonjun grins, leaning down to kiss her. “Be right back.”

Then she runs to the coaches office, where her skates are. Taehyun has lost some of the momentum from her laps, standing here for so long, but that warms her right back up. Fucking cliché as it is. Scoffing at her own thoughts, she moves over to the control booth and puts on her playlist, going back to her laps until Yeonjun joins her on the ice and she decides to find out who’d really win in a race between them.

The answer is Yeonjun, though instead of passing Taehyun she catches her by the waist, lifting and turning her. Their foreheads press together, Taehyun’s face just slightly higher than her own as she keeps gliding along the ice. Then she sets Taehyun down, grabbing her hand to keep her from drifting too far away when she strikes her landing pose.

“Beautiful,” Yeonjun grins. Taehyun couldn’t stop smiling back if she were actively trying.

“I’d say second place,” she shrugs, turning forward and racing off to the sound of Yeonjun chasing her again.

Notes:

Please comment I'll love you forever
Thank you sixty three winks for making such a fun fest!! 🤎

RT this fic
talk to me