
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11647443.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Isabella_Yang,
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy, Yuri_Plisetsky, Jean-Jacques_Leroy's_Parents,
      Isabella_Yang, Otabek_Altin
  Additional Tags:
      Pliroy, Catholic_Guilt, peripheral_jjbella, peripheral_otayuri, porn_and
      angst
  Series:
      Part 11 of please_please_please_let_me_get_what_I_want_this_time
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-07-29 Words: 2217
****** Omnipresence ******
by Blownwish
Summary
     God won't keep him from sinning, God only watches.
Notes
     Just more of that Catholic porn. You know how I do.
     Had writer's block until I heard Sour Girl, by Stone Temple Pilots,
     on my playlist. RIP, Scott Wyland.
He was a mess out there. He could barely make a jump; his legs felt like less
and he couldn't focus. All he could see was the threat Otabek gave him with one
look, and it lit a fuse. JJ never felt so lost, so crazy-lost. It took
everything inside of him to scrape up a smile at the kiss-and-cry.
It was the worst performance of his career.
He couldn't land one jump the next day during practice. He was broken, and the
other skaters stared as he picked himself up off the ice like a novice, again
and again. He just gave up, got off the rink and went to his mother. “I don't
know what to do.” She took him behind the concession stands and rocked him
gently as he leaned down and sobbed into her shoulder, like he did when he was
little and the other boys made fun of him for taking figure skating lessons
instead of playing hockey. “I just don't know what to do.” It didn't matter if
she understood why he fell. It didn't matter if she knew what he did to deserve
it. It didn't matter because her shushes and the stroke of her hand in the
short hairs of his undercut didn't need explanations to work.
“Everything will be okay.” She kissed his cheek and she kept rocking. “No
matter what happens, it is okay.” She took off the silver necklace his father
had given her at Lourdes, kissed the image of the Blessed Virgin Mother on the
medallion and he bent his head, so she could fasten it around his neck. “She's
always with you, baby boy. She loves you, no matter what. And I do, too.”
++
It was a weakness. He always loved women and truly loved his Isabella. But
something was twisted inside of him and made him think about other things when
he touched himself. Terrible, lustful things.
“But that is how sin works,” Father Dubois said during his sermon during JJ’s
First Communion. He sat in the pews in his first suit, with other little boys
and girls in veils and white dresses, like little brides. Father looked at them
over his bifocals from the bronze lectern. The Holy Spirit in the form of a
dove was molded into it, bringing the Jesus in the form of Cross to an open
book. “It seems natural. You're naturally hungry so you might steal a cookie
before dinner. You're naturally inclined to laugh, so you listen to dirty
jokes. But what's natural isn't always going to be what's right. The Seven
Sacraments were given to us so that we can reconcile ourselves with God. We
never know when sin will find us and we are always falling, always failing in
his eyes. But God has given us a way back to Him. These are not a burden, like
your chores. These are a comfort. God’s way of giving you a hug and telling you
it's going to be alright.”
He kept going to Mass, kept going to Confession so he could take Communion, and
kept waiting for the feeling that God was hugging him. But all he get was shame
when he looked at Jesus, nearly naked and hanging on a Crucifix. Why didn't he
think about Jesus’ body when he was all alone, thinking about doing those nasty
things to other boys? The only comfort he found in church was the Virgin
Mother. Her arms were always outstretched. Her smile was always there.
“When Saint Peter doesn't let someone in through the front door, Mother Mary
lets them in through the kitchen.” His mother loved saying that. She had a
collection of Madonna statues mounted on their wall in their family home,
seventeen in all. “Only God will judge us. Our Mother doesn't judge. She only
loves Her children.”
He would ask Her to look away when he closed the door to the bathroom. God
would see everything but She was innocent and She didn't see sex. She didn't
know he would look at pictures of men doing things to each other and imagine
them doing those things with him. She only knew JJ was a boy who felt bad when
he came out of the bathroom.
She only knew he felt bad when he came out of that hotel room at Skate Canada.
She didn't know he touched another male behind that door for the very first
time. Or that this was a boy who was only fifteen. That he let JJ touch him,
put his mouth on him, sodomized him -- but God saw it. He saw everything, even
though JJ couldn't bring himself to tell Father Dubois in Confession. God knew
what JJ had done to Yuri Plisetsky.
“Please don't tell anyone about this?” JJ begged him. “I've got a girlfriend
and if my family knew - “
He just sneered at him. “Like I'd want anyone to know you were anywhere near
me.” Yuri grabbed his collar and snarled. “Just suck me off, you idiot. That's
all I want from you.” He was just fifteen. He couldn't have known what he was
really asking for. He was so angry, so beautifully angry.
He had kissed Isabella on the mouth, but he had never been intimate before. He
never felt someone else touch him between the legs, never touched anyone else
like that. Never pushed his naked body against another one, or put his mouth on
someone like that, never saw another person come. So when Yuri tossed his
sweaty head back and forth and sobbed and stared into his eyes and showed him
the shocked face he made, JJ never felt so close to another person and he came,
too, all over the sheets.
“Your secret is safe, asshole. No one is going to know.” He was wrong. God knew
the whole time.
++
Isabella expected something big when they went to Barcelona. He told her to,
back in Montreal. It seemed only right; if he couldn't find comfort in
Confession then at least he could try to make it right with another Sacrament.
So he bought the most expensive ring he could find and kept it in his pocket to
remind himself to hold himself together as they boarded the plane together,
hand in hand.
She was taking catechism classes and the Montreal archdiocese set her
Confirmation date after Easter. It would be a summer wedding if he played his
cards right. He just needed God on his side.
But he couldn't pray to God. Not after Skate Canada. Or Rostelecom. Yeah, it
happened twice. He had to ask Mary for intercession. He would kneel, he would
bow his head, and he would chant countless Hail Marys. She didn't know and She
didn't judge. She just loved him.
She didn't know how desperate he was in Moscow, watching Yuri glide across the
ice like a dream he couldn't stop having; beautiful and frightening, tempting
and challenging with his snarls and angry looks as if he was fighting it, too.
JJ slipped up so many times, teasing him, whistling at him, watching him in
those tight costumes that molded the tighter body JJ had already tasted. Once
wasn't enough. Once made it worse. Once only let him know how much he wanted
more of Plisetsky.
This was how sin worked. It started with the best of intentions. JJ cornering
Yuri in the locker room to ask him if he was okay, because he was just a kid
and JJ was an adult and - God in Heaven please forgive him? - he wanted to make
it right. But they'd already gone too far and JJ riled him up too much and
everything went wrong because Yuri grabbed his collar again and Yuri pressed
his body against his again and Yuri told him to meet him at room 543 at the
Hilton Inn.
Pigeons were like doves and the snow was like a veil as JJ walked down the
street, and strangers looked away as he pushed through the hotel doors. As he
darted through the lobby. As he stood in the elevator. He was breathing heavily
when Yuri opened the doo, wearing nothing but a towel around his waist. JJ
couldn't take his eyes off of him. Couldn't say anything as he walked in.
Couldn't remember what Isabella’s face looked like when Yuri dropped the towel.
“So you won again.”
No, he lost.
He fell to his knees. He bent his head. He took Yuri in the mouth that couldn't
take Communion anymore. Felt Yuri’s hands pull his hair. His nails digging into
his scalp. Heard his breath hitch with his as he thrusted fast. Thrusted hard.
Made him choke, gag, and cry, not just because he knew God was watching, but
because it wasn't enough to stop him from doing this.
If God was all powerful, then why didn't He stop JJ from throwing Yuri on the
bed? If God was all merciful, then why didn't he give JJ the strength to keep
his mouth away from Yuri’s? If God was all loving then why did he make this boy
too beautiful not to touch? Too tempting when he twisted and ground against his
knee and dared him to use two, three fingers, hard - and then -
“Fuck me.” JJ’s hands were shaking as he knelt between his legs and pushed. He
was trembling when he felt the heat in Yuri's eyes surround him and take him
under.
++
Barcelona was a Catholic city. They visited her churches and kissed the feet of
Saint Bruno’s statue at La Sagrada Familia, and they watched JJ kneel on the
marble floor before the Holy Virgin.
“Will you take Communion this Sunday?” His father put his hand on his shoulder
as he knelt. “It will make you feel better. I know how the stress gets.” JJ
wasn't sure. All he knew was that he put the wedding ring box in his right
pocket and that Yuri Plisetsky was staying at the Princess Hotel. He stared at
the Holy Virgin Mother’s face as his father patted his shoulder. “Sacraments
are easier on your knees than marble, son.”
They went back to the hotel and JJ wondered what room Yuri was staying in. He
wondered if he caught his scent in the escalator - Hugo Boss? - and walked
Isabella back to her room, watching for him as he kissed her cheek.
Then he found him. Yuri was in the lobby, surrounded by his fans. Angels,
Yuri’s Angels. They were all little girls, hardly out of middle school, and he
looked embarrassed, even a little disgusted when they out those kitty ears on
his hoodie.
JJ wondered what Yuri would look like wearing those ears, naked and snarling
his name, when Yuri called her a bitch. She just clung to him and buried her
face in his jacket.
And then he saw a familiar face. “Otabek!”
Later that day, he saw Otabek and Yuri sitting together with the others at that
restaurant. JJ’s ring was on her finger and he was bound to win because he was
going to make everything right. Except… they were sitting so close, Otabek and
Yuri. Were they… were they friends? Otabek glared at JJ.
Then, that night, he checked his Instagram. Oh.
Oh.
++
He had won bronze, but only because the Virgin Mary was around his neck. Only
because his Isabella had chanted his name when he was like a bird with a broken
wing, during his short program. Only because his mother let him cry. The mercy
of women was his only salvation. He kissed his mother's medallion when he gave
it back to her after his Exhibition Skate.
His father’s eyebrow went up. “You should get a Crucifix from the basilica
before we go home.” Maybe. JJ toyed with the idea of asking for Confession at
La Sagrada, too.
He watched Otabek and Yuri whispering together. Yuri was dressed like dangerous
sex in a shredded tshirt and tight pants. Otabek wore his leather jacket and
Yuri was grabbing the collar, like he'd grabbed JJ’s collar in those hotel
rooms. And when he spoke Otabek's face lit up in a way he never saw before.
Oh.
And this was how a fall from Grace taught humility. The lights went down and
Yuri's head looked up to Heaven with perfect defiance, then showed the world
what JJ already knew: he was temptation incarnate, beautiful and deadly. His
gut twisted when his lethal body turned and flew through the air, when Otabek
bit off his glove, as Otabek shot a finger gun through Yuri’s heart, and as
Yuri collapsed on the ice. He looked up and silently begged God to forgive him
for all he had done and for all he had failed to do. He had no way of knowing
if He did. But he did know he would never sin this way, again. Not because he
didn't want to, but because Otabek searched the audience when the show was over
and gave JJ the same fire when he caught him looking at them. JJ was so, so
pitiful.
God did see him later that night, in his hotel shower, alone, touching himself.
God didn't stop him, God didn't offer him comfort. He never did. God just
watched.
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