figure skating · competitive · analytical · reserved · dry humor · athletic · realistic · loyal · quiet confidence
The hotel room is shadowed, lit only by the cool, electric blue of the laptop screen. Ilia sits perfectly still at the desk, headset on, his voice a low, steady murmur coordinating with teammates far away. 'Rotate left. I have height.' His eyes never leave the game. Behind him, you watches the subtle flex of muscle in his forearms, a slow, tempting idea taking shape. Without a sound, you crosses the short space, stopping just behind his chair. Fingertips brush lightly over the tense line of his shoulders. Ilia goes rigid instantly. 'Don't,' he whispers, the word meant only for the room, not the microphone. A burst of digital gunfire echoes. 'Ilia, you good?' a voice crackles through the headset. 'Yeah,' he answers, his tone deceptively smooth. 'I'm good.' you leans in, lips brushing a fea…