Chapter One
Jean-Jacques Leroy considered himself, above all, a good Catholic boy.
He faithfully attended Mass every Sunday (at least when he was at home in Toronto – he usually didn't have time during weekend competitions). He almost never swore (unless he fell on a jump or lost a competition or stubbed his toe, but even then, he only did it in Quebecois, and that didn't count in a convoluted way that only made sense in his head). He performed many works of charity during his almost non-existent free time and tried his best to love his neighbors (although some of the skaters he met on the circuit made it very hard to do so at times). He and his fiancée had even made a vow to save themselves for marriage.
But sometimes JJ really, really, really wanted to be bad.
Especially when Isabella straddled his lap on the couch and nibbled on his earlobe, her nimble fingers undoing the tiny buttons of his shirt.
"Crisse de tabernacle, Bella!"
The evening had started innocently enough. Since it was Valentine's Day, they had gone out for a romantic dinner, then JJ had invited her over to his apartment to watch a movie – only to watch a movie. He wasn't a "Netflix and chill" kind of guy, after all. JJ barely even knew what that meant, having picked up the term from one of Christophe Giacometti's tweets, but considering the Swiss skater's reputation, it wasn't hard to pick up the innuendo behind the slang, especially when accompanied by an eggplant emoji.
The movie, however, turned out to be a dud, and by the midway point, they had abandoned all pretense of actually watching it, finding making out a much more entertaining way to pass the time.
They seemed to do that a lot lately, especially ever since JJ moved out of his family home over the summer – he loved his parents/coaches, but he needed some time to himself – and into his own apartment near the rink where he trained. No longer having to worry about somebody walking in on them at an inopportune moment allowed them the freedom to push the boundaries of their sexuality – both a blessing and a curse. While they had yet to completely step over the line, he and Isabella had come close to breaking their vow several times over the past few months, and JJ feared it wouldn't be long before they finally gave into forbidden desires.
It didn't help matters that in spite of the freezing February weather outside, Isabella had decided to wear the shortest skirt she owned, the fabric riding dangerously up her thighs. Swallowing hard, JJ removed his hands from her legs and slid them up the back of her red cashmere sweater until he found her bra clasp. As long as he kept his attention above Isabella's waist, he would be okay.
Probably.
JJ fumbled with the hooks for a few moments, muttering swears in Quebecois under his breath until he managed to release her breasts from their lacy confines. He then moved his hands to her front, Isabella letting out a sharp gasp as his fingers brushed against her rock-hard nipples. Smiling, he rolled her nipples between his thumb and pointer finger, enjoying the faint flush that began coloring her pale cheeks.
"Do you want to see?" she asked, JJ's eyes widening in surprise.
Though Isabella allowed him to feel her up on occasion, it was always underneath her clothes. He could touch, but not look – that was the rule, no matter how much he begged. (And he was ashamed to admit he had begged quite a lot until he realized the futility of it.)
"I thought you said not until our wedding night."
"I know, but today is Valentine's Day," she cooed, running her fingers through his hair. "My king deserves a little present for being so good. So, do you wanna see?"
She didn't even have to ask; the answer was obvious to anybody with half a brain. Still, JJ didn't want to come across as too eager. He pulled his hands out from underneath her sweater and threw his arms over the top of the couch. "Sure, if you want to show me."
Her blood-red lips curved into a knowing smirk as she rose up on her knees and slowly lifted up the hem of her sweater.
JJ inhaled a deep breath, his fingers digging into soft leather. He had often dreamed of what her breasts might look like, but they were even more spectacular than he imagined – small, but perky, her dark areola a sharp contrast to her otherwise pale skin tone.
"God, you are beautiful," he murmured before taking a nipple in between his lips, his hands moving back to her waist.
Isabella moaned as he teased her with his tongue, flicking and swirling it over the tip. "A-Ah, JJ, this wasn't a part of the deal," she said, though she made no attempt to push him away. In fact, she buried the fingers of one hand in his hair, keeping his head in place, and tugged at his roots as he continued to suckle her breast.
Almost as if they had a mind of their own, his hands found their way underneath her black skirt, ignoring his earlier resolve to keep things above the belt.
JJ expected to come across a pair of panties, yet as he lightly squeezed her butt cheeks, all he touched was bare flesh. A thong – or was she going commando? She didn't strike him as the type, but the thought of Isabella not wearing any underwear at all made the growing bulge in his pants more uncomfortable and even harder to ignore.
Releasing her nipple, JJ looked up at Isabella through half-lidded eyes. "I want to make love to you, Bella," he said, never desiring her more.
"Only a few more months, babe," she said, pulling her sweater back down as she trailed kisses against his jawline. "Just a few more months, and I will be yours, completely…"
"No, tonight."
Stopping what she was doing, Isabella pulled back. "Wait, are you serious?"
He didn't answer, his hands skimming over her hips to in between her spread legs. A soft gasp escaped Isabella's lips as his fingertips grazed against her most private area. She was, in fact, wearing a thong, but the fabric was damp, almost soaked through with her arousal – proof that she wanted him just as much as he wanted her.
"Can I touch you?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
Biting down on her bottom lip, Isabella nodded her consent and shifted her position to give him better access, her hands on his shoulders.
JJ tugged her thong aside and, after a moment of hesitation, ran a finger along her slit, causing Isabella's breath to hitch at the back of her throat. She was hairless down there, a fact that surprised him – although considering how fastidious she usually was about her appearance, perhaps he shouldn't have been.
"Please, JJ…." she whimpered.
He wavered once again, a voice in the back of his mind telling him he was going too far, that he needed to stop before they did something he knew they would come to regret. A louder, more insistent voice urged him onward, however, and he could no longer resist the temptation, slipping his pointer finger in between her slick folds. She was warm and wet, a sensation that seemed strange at first but he quickly came to enjoy as he began exploring her sex.
"Does it feel good?" he asked, only vaguely aware of what he was doing. Sex education at the Catholic school he attended only went over the basics of intercourse, and while he had picked up a few things here and there – from movies, from magazines, from Twitter (again, mostly Christophe's fault, not that JJ had much use for the anything Chris had to say on the topic, not being into guys and all – well, aside from that one confusing dream about kissing Otabek Altin back in high school, but that didn't count) – he had no practical experience in such matters.
Isabella's right hand dropped from his shoulder, disappearing underneath her skirt to guide his finger to the spot she most wanted him to touch. "There," she said, letting out a low moan as he began rubbing the pad of his fingertip over the small nub she directed him toward. "Not so fast, babe. It's not a race."
JJ adjusted his speed. "Better?"
She nodded, bringing her hand back up to his shoulder. "Much."
He continued what he was doing, keeping a steady rhythm, and before long, Isabella's breathing had become heavy pants, her sharp fingernails digging into his shoulders. JJ smirked, pleased with himself. Despite his lack of experience, it seemed he was a natural – as he was with most things he tried, to be honest.
"Who's the king, baby?"
Face flushed, Isabella closed her eyes. "Ah...y-you…ah…you are!" she gasped before her body shuddered in ecstasy.
JJ loved watching her orgasm, knowing he was the one who brought her such pleasure. She was so incredibly beautiful, even with her face scrunched up and her mouth hanging open. Not for the first time, he marveled at the fact that a girl like her would his for the rest of their earthly lives.
"So, you liked that?" he asked, withdrawing his finger once her muscles finally stopped convulsing around it.
Isabella opened her eyes and gave him a shy smile. "Yeah. You were good, JJ." She slid her hands down his bare chest. "Real good. You always know how to treat me right," she said, reaching for the fly of his jeans. "Now, it's my turn."
She started to pull down his zipper until JJ grabbed her wrists, preventing her from going any further.
Regarding him with a questioning gaze, she asked, "Don't you want to?"
He sighed, releasing his hold on her and clenching his hands into tight fists.
That wasn't the issue. He wanted nothing more than to gather Isabella in his arms, carry her to his bed, and make love to her, but the voice from earlier was back, stronger than before and practically screaming at him to stop. "Maybe we shouldn't."
"But you were –"
"I know."
"Oh…okay." Isabella climbed off his lap, shifting her thong back in place before reaching behind her back to re-clasp her bra. "I should probably be heading home, anyway. You know how Daddy gets when I stay out too late," she said, fiddling with her earlobe. "Do you see an earring anywhere?"
Standing up as well, JJ checked in between the couch cushions for the missing hoop. "I don't see it. Are you sure you still had it on when we arrived? You may have lost it at the restaurant."
"Oh, I hope not. Maybe it fell on the floor?"
She dropped down on her hands and knees and searched underneath the couch, the position giving JJ an unintentional peep up her short skirt. Though he quickly glanced away, it wasn't fast enough to prevent him from catching a flash of bare flesh. His arousal, which had begun to fade without stimulation, came back in full force.
"Found it!" Isabella said, rising back to her feet. "I have no idea how it – JJ?"
Embracing her from behind, JJ kissed her shoulder. "Stay," he murmured into the cashmere fabric.
"A-Are you sure?"
To be honest, he wasn't. The battle between his hormones and his conscious kept raging inside him like a storm, a war he was growing increasingly weary of fighting every time he touched Isabella.
Why had they decided to wait until June to get married? It seemed a good idea at the time. After all, it was the off-season for most skaters, and Isabella had always dreamed of being a June bride, so when the church happened to have an opening on the first Saturday after a sudden cancellation, they had jumped on it without much discussion.
It was only six more months, JJ had reasoned back in December, and better than his original idea of waiting until after he won the World Championships to even start planning the wedding, more than likely pushing the date even further back. Not that he didn't plan to win gold in Helsinki, but after all the pressure he had put himself under at the Grand Prix Final, Isabella had been right to insist on him giving up on that condition for their marriage.
Six months was nothing. He'd been dating Isabella since high school and had managed to keep it in his pants for over three years. He could hold out for a few more months, no problem.
"JJ?" Isabella turned around, wrapping her arms around his neck. "What do you want to do?" she asked. "It's your decision. I'm ready if you are."
His eyes widened. "You are?"
"I love you, JJ," she said, brushing her lips against his before bringing her mouth to his ear. "Come, let me show you how much."
She pulled back and offered her hand, JJ staring down at it as he inhaled a deep breath. He knew what he wanted to do.
Taking her hand, he followed Isabella to his bedroom, closing the door behind him.
God would forgive him just this once…
…right?
DISCLAIMER: Yuri! On Ice doesn't belong to me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope you enjoyed the first chapter of my first YOI multi-part, which was actually supposed to be a short one-shot but just kept ballooning. Heh. Anyway, I think it'll clock in at about six chapters, and I'm hoping to update once a week.