Chapter 33 Learning You
Learning You
After the shoot and mouthfuls of cake, we headed back to Wynter and Cahya’s apartment.
Cahya had gone out with Jax to some concert so we were alone.
I sat down on Wynter’s bed while he was in the shower as I played Plants vs.
Zombies on his laptop. Clayton’s had just posted his interview, and I was dying to see it. I clicked on the link.
Interviewer: Wynter, you've become the face of Clayton’s luxury jewelry. What's that partnership been like for you?
Wynter: It’s been incredible. When they first approached me, they said I was exactly what they were looking for—someone who could bridge elegance with strength.
For me, it’s all about storytelling, whether I’m on ice or modeling their pieces.
Each diamond, each design, tells its own story, just like my skating routines do. The artistry just clicks naturally.
Interviewer: You’re known for your unique approach to gender expression in skating. How do you navigate that in such a traditional sport?
Wynter: *laughs* I just believe in being myself.
When I’m on the ice, I’m not thinking about what a man “should” look like—I’m thinking about the story I want to tell.
If that means wearing glitter or a tiara with my costume, so be it.
We’re in an age where self-expression is becoming more fluid, and skating should be about that freedom of expression.
Interviewer: Some say you’re challenging traditional views of masculinity in the sport. Is that intentional?
Wynter: Not really, but I’m okay with it if I am.
I’ve always thought that real masculinity isn’t about fitting in a box - it’s about embracing all parts of yourself.
You can be strong and delicate at the same time.
When I wear Clayton’s pieces, it’s not about being ‘more feminine’—it’s about being whole.
I just want to be authentic, and hopefully that encourages others to do the same.
Interviewer: Your influence extends beyond skating now—you’re becoming a cultural figure. What’s next for you?
Wynter: *smiles* The story’s still being written.
I’m excited about new projects with Clayton’s and whatever else comes my way.
But mainly, I’ll keep being me, keep pushing boundaries in my own way—whether I’m wearing a gold medal or a tiara.
At the end of the day, it’s about the performance, the artistry, and staying true to who I am.
Interviewer: And clearly that authenticity is resonating with people.
Wynter: That’s the hope. Figure skating is evolving, fashion is evolving, and if I can be part of that evolution while just being myself—that’s everything I could ask for. The ice has always been my canvas, and now, with Clayton’s, I have new ways to express that artistry off the ice too.
I couldn’t help but tear up at his responses and the realization of how much he had grown, not just physically but mentally as well.
Most wouldn’t know this, but I did—it took Wyn a long time to be able to get to a point in his life where he could be entirely comfortable in his own skin.
It took him a long time to be able to say “this is who I am, screw what everyone else thinks.”
I hoped to get to that point someday, just as he did. That I could be so unapologetically myself that it’d shake the world and make them see me.
Just then Wynter made his way out of the shower, steam following. Like something out of a dream.
“Hi.” I smiled, scooting over, watching as he dried his wet hair and sat down next to me on the bed.
“Hey, how was your gaming session?” he questioned. “Become a twitch streamer?”
“Over my cold, dead body,” I informed him, and he chuckled—his teeth were flawless, his canines were always really sharp. I reached out and placed my hand gently on his chin, tilting it.
“What is it?” he wondered.
“Your teeth are so sharp, do you bite?” I questioned as he leaned forward, and I brushed my finger over his canines. He smirked, turning away with a slight laugh.
“Not unless you ask me very nicely. Use your manners,” he prompted ,and I giggled as he inched closer and placed a kiss on my jawline, brushing his soft lips and tongue along.
“Is that so?” I hummed as I pressed my lips against his once more, our tongues dancing in gentle sultry harmony. “Wynter…” I sighed.
My tongue tangled with his and he kissed me hungrily like he never had before, he reached over and lifted my hand over my head pinning it to the headboard and I let out a soft gasp.
“Can I ask you something?” I anticipated.
“Right now?” he wondered.
“Yes.” I nodded. “Does it feel good for you, when we kiss this way?”
He looked at me, incredibly surprised at my question and that I was oblivious enough to ask it. But my naivety was that of inexperience. I needed to know.
“Yesoh,” he breathed, his dark eyes drowning me in desire. He suddenly flipped us over in a swift motion so I was straddling him. He lowered my hips down, and I was immediately met with heat. I could feel him this time, feel his arousal against me.
“Y-You’re…” I marvelled in surprise,
“Hard,” he breathed as I squirmed in his lap. He kissed my jaw again. “Yes, very.”
“Because of me?”
“Only because of you,” he assured me, and moved my hips so I could feel him again.
He sucked in a sharp breath, and I felt him throb against my clothed core.
Like a heartbeat between us. “You know, I feel good not only here,” he pointed at his heart, “but everywhere.” He lifted his hips, and I let out a soft sigh.
“I’m glad.” I nodded, and then his mouth met mine again. I brushed my teeth over his bottom lip slightly as he guided my hips down on his. I could hear him biting back a moan. “Don’t hold back, you promised you wouldn’t.”
“Okay,” he whimpered. “I won’t.”
He crashed his lips down on mine once more, our tongues battling for dominance. I pressed the fullness of my chest against his. The sounds he let out into my mouth were the kind of thing that would cast out even the most refined angels from heaven.
“It feels good for me too,” I assured him.
“Well, I know that,” he responded rather nonchalantly.
“And just how would you?” I challenged.
He lifted an eyebrow at that before flipping me around so my back was facing his chest and I was seated between his legs. “What are you—”
“Open your legs for me,” he asked softly, and I did as he asked.
His hand dipped down between my thighs and traced the lining of my grey underwear.
I shuddered at the sensitivity. He then traced his two middle fingers down lower before reaching past the fabric to my drenched core.
He pulled his fingers back and they glistened with my own desire.
He licked his own fingers clean and I watched in amazement. “That’s how.”
“Wyn…” I sighed, “I want your fingers in me.”
“I thought you’d never ask, darling” He mused, “Who am I to deny such a polite request?”
He then began to slowly trace his taunting fingers up and down my soft thighs, before pressing them to the fabric of my panties, rubbing slow circles earning a moan from me.
“Soaking through your pretty panties just for me?” he questioned, and I nodded in agreement.
“Always for you,” I breathed.
“Tell me, Yesoh, do you think of me when you touch yourself?” he wondered, lowering the hem of my underwear that almost stuck to me as he peeled them off.
“I—I um.” I blushed in shame.
“I am your lover. I will not be the one to judge you—you’re supposed to want me like that. So be honest, Soh, is it me on your mind when your fingers dance in the dark at night?”
“Yes,” I confessed, his long slender digits moving between my folds.
“Fuck,” he breathed in surprise that I actually admitted to it. He continued to circle my clit, and I leaned back onto his shoulder. His other hand slipped off my bra and brushed my nipples through my shirt, the mix of sensations driving me crazy.
He then dipped a single finger inside of me, my walls clenching around him, before curving it like reaching for honey from a jar.
My mind shattered at that. I begged him for another, and he did as I asked, inserting a second as I gripped onto his arm.
Tears collected in my eyes in pleasure, and he kissed them away, salt on his lips as he pleaded with me to break for him, just for him.
“I want you to soak my fingers. Make me yours, Yesoh,” he encouraged, his voice deep and sultry as he continued his gentle pursuit.
“Wynter, please.” I gasped as he moved his fingers faster, hitting a spot so deep within me I knew my own fingers could never reach.
I felt myself teetering over the edge as a dam broke forth within me, and I came undone at his will, my desire drenching his fingers and his white linen sheets, marking the scene with my pleasure.
And as I came, he moved his fingers back to my swollen clit, moving back and forth, clearly not caring if I messed up his bed or not.
In the end, my breathing was heavy as he gently kissed my forehead. “Shhh, you did so well for me,” he cooed, and I hummed; my mind had gone entirely numb.
“But Wyn…your sheets…” I attempted to catch my breath, “I’ve never done that before. I—”
“It’s a good thing. I don’t care what my sheets look like if you’re having fun.” He shrugged, playing with my hair. “That doesn’t matter to me.”
“I’m thirsty.” I sighed, flipping over onto his pillow, closing my eyes. “I want a milkshake.”
He chuckled at that. “I’d be surprised if you weren’t, you’ve lost a lot of fluids.”
“Shut up.” I grumbled. “Make it chocolate.”
“Your wish is my command,” he agreed before leaving for the bathroom and coming back with a warm towel and wiping down my legs. He changed the sheets and threw them in the washing machine too, replacing them.
I didn’t know that life could feel this good, especially for me.