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Yuuri doesn’t remember getting off the ice. He doesn’t remember the flashing cameras and what he said to the interviewers who drilled him with questions as soon as he stumbled out of the rink. He doesn’t remember Phichit running over to him to take a commemorative selfie for his instagram. He doesn’t remember getting into a cab. And yet he knows all of it happened, somehow, like recalling random details of a dream but not being able to put the pieces together.
Today has been a blur.
He remembers one thing very clearly, though. He couldn’t forget if he tried.
Dazed and tired from anxiety attacks and the exertion of skating, Yuuri looks out the smudged cab window at flickering city and car lights, a kaleidoscope of reds and yellows catching in the glass. He sees Victor’s reflection in it, surrounded by bright colors, watching Yuuri out of the corner of his eye and smiling. Yuuri runs his tongue along his bottom lip. If Victor notices, he says nothing.
Yuuri’s tired eyes flutter shut. He can remember the force of Victor’s body crashing desperately into his, his elegant eyelashes fanning out over his chilled, rosy cheeks, the fingers threading through the crisply gelled hair at the back of Yuuri’s head -
Something he had never felt before, a pair of flower petal lips, generously covered in honey-sweet lip balm, pressing against his own, the hint of a tongue at the seam of his mouth.
Yeah. Everything else had sort of faded away, after that. Like his heart decided to quit while it was ahead, to stop registering everything else because there could be nothing that felt more wonderful than kissing Victor.
Yuuri wonders how long Victor has wanted to do that; if he’s been thinking about it ever since his fingers first flirted under Yuuri’s chin in what was, in hindsight, a thinly-veiled attempt at gauging his interest.
Yuuri had certainly been thinking about it. He still is. He’s not convinced he’ll ever be able to focus on anything else in his life.
Once again, Yuuri recalls the warmth of Victor’s breath on his face, the sweet press of his lips.
Yuuri had felt heat pooling in his cheeks then and he feels it again now, just from the memory. He breathes, fogging up the cold glass inches from his nose. He replays the memory over again and again in his mind, trying to convince himself that yes, that was real. Stuck in a dreamlike daze or not, Yuuri knows it was.
His hand, conveniently resting on the seat between Victor and himself, itches for contact. As if on cue, Victor lightly touches the inside of Yuuri’s palm with his fingers, silently asking for permission to continue.
(As if he hadn’t kissed Yuuri on international television without so much as a warning.)
Yuuri’s fingers twitch absently. When Victor curls his fingers into the gaps between Yuuri’s, Yuuri realizes that Victor has taken off his gloves, and that what Yuuri is feeling is flawless alabaster skin. Victor’s hand is cool in his own, seeking warmth by threading spindly fingers with Yuuri’s and squeezing tightly. When Yuuri is finally able to catch his breath, he squeezes back, eyes still focused on the window, but maybe more on Victor’s reflection than the nightlife outside.
Just as he thinks that simply holding Victor’s hand is enough to make him feel invincible, Yuuri remembers something else.
He had thought he was over it. He supposes the thrill of competition made it easy to focus on something else, but…
Almost cautiously, Yuuri turns his head to look at his and Victor’s tightly linked hands. He glances up a little shyly and meets Victor’s frozen lake eyes, shining with admiration and fondness and something else Yuuri doesn’t dare to put a name to.
A molten honey smile quirks up the edges of Victor’s mouth, like he thinks something about Yuuri is amusing. The latter smiles crookedly in return, a whisper of a laugh leaving his lungs in a flustered hurry.
He’s not really worried about what Victor said in the parking lot anymore, especially after kissing him. He knows, logically, that Victor wouldn’t - couldn’t - just resign like he’d threatened he would.
But Victor’s lips had formed the threat easily, just like that. Yuuri heard Victor say he would quit and leave word for word. The voice in the back of his mind that has warned him of that very possibility over and over since Victor first appeared now corresponds with something Victor had said out loud.
Yuuri turns back to the window, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth. Victor is affectionately rubbing the pad of his index finger between Yuuri’s knuckles.
He knows Victor didn’t mean it. He’s sure of it. But Yuuri’s mind is tricky like that - it will wholeheartedly believe one thing, but show him another in his dreams at night until he wakes up with a sheet of cold sweat on the back of his neck, damp hair plastered to his forehead, and he has to tip-toe to Victor’s room and listen for his light snores on the other side of the door before he’s ready to crawl back into bed.
There’s no door separating you right now.
Slowly, Yuuri strokes his thumb over the back of Victor’s hand. He shifts so that he’s facing forward and, just in case his coach had missed it the first time, innocently drags his tongue across his bottom lip until it glistens while throwing him a side-eyed glance. Victor’s response is a quiet, choked noise in the back of his throat. It’s nice to see that Yuuri might not be the only one who’s a little helpless.
Yuuri retracts his tongue and keeps it safely behind his lips for later. Victor will never leave. Yuuri won’t let him.
They arrive at their hotel a few minutes later. Victor pays the driver as Yuuri climbs out of the cab, stretching his worn out limbs and breathing in the frosty night air as he waits for his coach. When they’re both ready to go, Victor places his now gloved hand gently on the small of Yuuri’s back, guiding him as they walk inside and head past reception.
Even through layers of fabric, the hand on Yuuri’s back somehow manages to burn him. Yuuri feels a strange urgency to get Victor alone somewhere as soon as possible, so when they step into the elevator, Yuuri is quick to hit the door close button and waits in agony as their view of the lobby disappears all too slowly. Victor is blissfully ignorant of the cocktail of emotion brewing in the pit of Yuuri’s stomach, humming quietly to himself with a carefree smile. His hand is still resting on Yuuri’s back, though - a little firmer now that they’re alone, it seems. Yuuri is not the only one who wants to be close.
The doors hiss shut. A musical ding and a short jolt alerts the duo that they have begun their ascent. His hands ball into fists. Before he can stop himself, Yuuri turns to Victor, grabs him by the collar and forcefully backs him up against a wall. Victor makes a sound of protest, a frantic hand reaching for Yuuri’s shoulder, but Yuuri isn’t having it. He knows he must look a little ridiculous, hair mussed from gel and skating and having fingers tangled in it, face flushed an almost humiliating shade of red, but he sets his jaw in determination and fixes Victor with the most intense look he can muster.
Victor looks visibly taken aback, eyebrows shooting up to his hairline. “Yuuri?”
Yuuri glares, and Victor chuckles nervously, looking like he wants to ask what’s wrong. Deliberately taking action before he has the chance to think about what he’s doing, Yuuri strains his aching calves as he raises himself up on his toes, chin pushing forward resolutely until his mouth meets Victor’s in a bruise of a kiss. Heat sears Yuuri’s lips, his teeth kind of hurt from clacking against Victor’s, but he doesn’t care. His lips move feverishly, hungrily, almost like he’s trying to hurt Victor by kissing him so hard. Victor, for once, is the one who has to keep up, taking a minute to register what his situation is before hooking his hands under Yuuri’s thighs and lifting him up, never breaking the kiss. Yuuri grunts as he’s pushed against the elevator wall, hands fisting into Victor’s soft hair.
“Yuuri,” Victor sighs into his mouth, pulling back by a fraction and then immediately pressing a kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s slick lips. “ Yuuri .” His mouth burns a path from Yuuri’s chin down to the side of his neck, not asking for permission before sucking what is sure to be an alarmingly visible hickey later into Yuuri’s flesh.
“ Mnn ,” Yuuri chokes out, ankles hooking behind the small of Victor’s back. His hands insistently push Victor’s head deeper into the crook of his neck. Victor chuckles lowly, sending pulsing vibrations over Yuuri’s abused skin.
“Yuuri likes having his neck kissed,” Victor sings, in the same tone a grade school bully uses to accuse another kid of having a crush. Yuuri doesn’t have the patience to be teased right now. He pulls a patch of Victor’s hair into a tight fist.
“Less talking,” Yuuri pants, tilting his head and hoping Victor will get the message, “more hickeys for me to regret next time I go out in public.”
Victor laughs against Yuuri’s damp skin and is about to comply when the elevator jolts slightly to a stop. Victor swipes his hands out from underneath Yuuri’s thighs and keeps them safely in behind his back, hair conspicuously disheveled. Yuuri manages to wipe the spit off his neck and lips just before the doors swish open.
They pointedly avoid eye contact with either of the two hotel customers shuffling into the elevator and slip out, Victor fumbling around in his coat pockets to find his keycard as they march down the hall. Yuuri rolls his eyes and, with audacious nerve that he’s beginning to think has always been lurking underneath his timid exterior, given how frequently it’s been bubbling to the surface lately, firmly slaps Victor’s ass. This earns him a surprised yelp, but Yuuri, undeterred, slips his hand into Victor’s back pocket and feels around for the key a little more thoroughly than he needs to. He slides his hand back out with a triumphant smirk and the card held neatly between his index and middle fingers.
Victor looks equal parts turned on and bewildered, hand running through his already messy hair incredulously as he asks “What has gotten into you - “
Yuuri swipes the card and pushes the door open, grabbing Victor by the collar again and pulling him down into a burning kiss as they stumble past the threshold.
Yuuri easily kicks off his shoes while Victor struggles to untie his without toppling over from balancing on one leg or breaking their kiss. Yuuri pulls away with an irritated huff, licking Victor’s lip balm off his lips and dropping down to his knees to tear Victor’s shoelaces apart. Once he’s finished, he chucks the shoes across the room out of spite and stands up again so quickly his aching legs almost give out.
Victor looks as messed up as Yuuri feels, hair standing out at odd angles and lips kiss-bitten. “Yuuri,” he starts in a careful chuckle, “aren’t you tire - ?”
“ No ,” Yuuri cuts off Victor’s worried inquiry and coils his arms around his neck like twin snakes. He drops his voice to a husky whisper, distantly wondering how long his bravado will last ( Thank god for post-competition adrenaline , he tells himself) as he says “I’m needy .” He pointedly shoves a knee between Victor’s thighs.
The downright dumb, flustered look on Victor’s face makes Yuuri’s heart squeeze fondly, ruining his demanding, sexy image of himself for a minute, and he shakes his head. He knocks his forehead against Victor’s and ignores the startled Ouch! that it earns him. “Say you’ll never leave me,” he orders. His arms curl tighter around Victor’s pale, inviting neck. Later , Yuuri tells himself.
The gears behind Victor’s pretty forehead finally start to shift. “Oh, Yuuri ,” he begins, smiling pitifully with shining eyes. He’s figured it out.
Yuuri cuts him off with a frustrated tongue down his throat. After a few seconds, he bites down harshly on Victor’s bottom lip, making him flinch.
“ Say it ,” Yuuri demands, practically growling. His face burns. Victor knows what this is about now.
“ Yuuri - “ Victor tries affectionately.
“Wait,” Yuuri interjects, frustration and desperation and passion bubbling in the back of his throat. “A-Apologize first. Apologize .”
Victor looks like he could cry, even though he’s smiling. His eyes shimmer in the dim light. “I’m so sorry , solnyshko . What a miserable coach I am.” He reaches around Yuuri’s middle and pulls him somehow closer. “I will never, ever leave you. I would die if I did.”
Yuuri can’t decide if that makes him feel better, turns him on, or angers him. It’s probably all three. He fights back the tears stinging his eyes. “I’m so - so mad at you,” he chokes furiously. “I know you would never leave, but how could you say that? How could you even think it? How could you not - not have more faith in me?” Yuuri’s bravado crumbles at his feet. His face is less than an inch away from Victor’s but he can’t meet his eyes. A tear slips over his burning cheek, followed by another, and then another. “Why are you so stupid ?”
Victor makes a sympathetic noise in the back of his throat and kisses Yuuri warmly on the temple. “I don’t know, Yuuri. I’m worse at this than I thought.” He rubs a hand over Yuuri’s aching back muscles. Yuuri shudders, eyebrows furrowing stubbornly. He lifts his head and scowls.
“I never want to hear the word ‘resign’ out of your mouth again,” he warns dangerously, tugging at Victor’s hair. “Don’t even think it. Never, ever even think about leaving me.”
Victor is visibly flushed, but he somehow manages to look smug anyway, raising one eyebrow in amusement. “Awfully possessive, aren’t we?”
Yuuri remains firm. “Absolutely.”
Victor drops the smirk in favor of something more gentle, more fond. “Okay,” he agrees softly, stroking a hand over Yuuri’s hot, tear-streaked cheek.
Yuuri’s lips wobble. He lets Victor hold him tightly in his arms, rocking them gently from side to side. Every once in a while, he feels lips at his temple, and his heart clenches sweetly and painfully.
“I guess you’re human, too,” Yuuri says finally, fingers curling into Victor’s jacket. The carpark had been the first time Yuuri had seen him make a mistake. And it seemed like Victor had been making up for years of perfection by fucking up as badly as he did.
But in a way it’s almost comforting, knowing Yuuri isn’t the only one making mistakes and still figuring things out.
Victor makes a hurt noise. “Of course I am, how rude!” he feigns offense. Yuuri manages a watery smile, finally lifting his chin and meeting Victor’s eyes.
Victor calms, smiling back. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, Yuuri clamps a hand down over his lips, takes a deep, steadying breath, and with as much force as he can muster, announces: “I love you.”
Victor gasps dramatically against Yuuri’s hand as if he can’t believe what he’s hearing, so he says it again. “ I love you .”
And suddenly, Yuuri is blissfully trapped in another bone-crushing hug, except this time he doesn’t fall onto hard ice and there aren’t thousands of people watching.
“ Moye solnyshko ,” Victor whispers into Yuuri’s shoulder. “I love you more.”
Yuuri grins. He had been expecting to hear that from him, but evidently, Victor hadn’t.
Yuuri gently runs his hands through the tangles in Victor’s hair he’d created in the elevator, smoothing down the messy strands and twirling them between his fingers. Victor starts trailing kisses up the side of Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri feels a sharp reminder of his drive earlier in the pit of his abdomen. He realizes he still has one knee jammed between Victor’s thighs.
“Hey,” Yuuri says softly, glancing over to the dual beds a few steps away. “Why do we have two beds?”
Victor hums mischievously. He reaches under Yuuri’s legs and lifts him easily, striding over to the nearest one. “I have no idea,” he says in mock-confusion and Yuuri snorts a laugh. Victor rests one knee on the mattress as he gently lets Yuuri down onto the sheets. Yuuri’s fingers are linked tightly behind Victor’s neck. “Why would we ever need more than one?”
Yuuri grins. “Beats me,” he giggles as Victor seals his lips over his.
This time, Victor kisses the same way he skates - smoothly and with unyielding passion. Yuuri melts. He’s mesmerized.
In fact, Victor’s whole body is moving the same way it does on the ice, sans jumps and twirls. He’s all fluid, sweeping motions that move through his whole body like a wave, and Yuuri is drowning blissfully underneath him. His arms reach under Victor’s jacket, fingers tracing the curve of his spine, the muscles of his back. Victor’s tongue is loose and soft in his mouth, lips sipping down Yuuri’s quiet moans and sighs like wine. They pause for a moment to catch their breath, faces warm and eyes hooded.
“Do you want me, Yuuri?” Victor mumbles huskily against his lips.
Yuuri shudders, trembling hands grabbing white-knuckled fistfuls of the fabric unfairly covering Victor’s shoulders. “Yeah,” he says easily, body arching so his stomach is pressed flush against Victor’s. His hips squirm when he adds “ Please .”
Victor smiles warmly, blinding even in the dark. “Then,” he murmurs, sliding a hand under Yuuri’s back and licking his lips. Yuuri purrs at the touch, eyes half-lidded and hazy.
Victor grins cheekily. “ Itadakimasu !” he cheers in heavily accented japanese, “Time to eat my katsudon!”
Aaaaaand there goes the mood.
Yuuri makes a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh as he pinches the bridge of his nose and blushes heavily. “ Itadakimasu ,” he responds weakly and Victor immediately sheds his jacket.
Yuuri watches in a fuzzy daze as Victor makes a show of pulling his shirt up over his head, hands lightly tracing his pearly abs. Yuuri swallows. He’s embarrassingly aware of the fact that he’s salivating. Victor must see the heated look on Yuuri’s face, because he laughs good naturedly and rustles his gel-stiff hair. “You’re so cute,” he cooes.
Yuuri puffs out his cheeks indignantly. He glides his hands up Victor’s thighs and over his hips until they meet the warm, muscled flesh above his belt. Yuuri flushes even redder as he gently massages Victor’s abs, clicking his tongue in irritation at the fact that no amount of rigorous training will make him look as godlike as Victor.
“Unfair,” he grumbles, pinching lightly. Victor yips.
“You’re one to talk,” Victor accuses with a half-hearted scowl. He unfastens his belt and slips it out of the belt loops on his slacks. Yuuri bites his lip. “Looking so sexy out on the ice. I know I said to seduce me, but you didn’t have to make me fall in love with you,” Victor continues, voice acquiring a teasing lilt toward the end. Yuuri shrugs helplessly with a sheepish grin.
“I’m not going to apologize for being sexy, or making you fall in love with me,” Yuuri laughs as Victor casually climbs out of bed to slide his pants down his endless legs. Yuuri’s eyes can’t help but glance between between them. It seems that his coach was not unaffected by their earlier... activities . Yuuri snaps his gaze up to the ceiling. He hears rustling fabric and something light dropping on the carpeted floor of their hotel room before the mattress dips between Yuuri’s parted legs, and Victor is sitting between his thighs, unapologetically naked.
Yuuri feels the blood previously pooling in his cheeks rush south.
Victor smiles cheerfully. “Your turn!”
Yuuri nods, sitting up and unzipping his jacket with impatient, shaky fingers. Underneath, he is still in costume. When he finds that he lacks the strength to worm his way out of the tight-clinging fabric, he huffs and tells Victor “ You do it.”
Victor doesn’t seem to mind the idea one bit, a hand coming up to rest at his chin in excitement like he’s a child about to open a present on Christmas. They clamber out of bed to make the job easier on themselves. Victor stands a little closer than he needs to, practically hugging Yuuri as he reaches for the hem of Yuuri’s shirt and lifts. Yuuri allows himself to rest his forehead on Victor’s shoulder, breathing in his intoxicating, sweet scent. It’s soothing, doing this, and strangely domestic.
Yuuri feels the fabric being pulled up and, once it catches under his arms, lifts his hands tiredly above his head so Victor can remove his shirt completely. He hadn’t realized just how exhausted he was until now. The hands previously pulling fabric over Yuuri’s head now rest warmly on his hips, waiting to guide Yuuri’s pants down his legs.
Victor chuckles. “Are you tired, solnyshko ?” he asks gently, kissing Yuuri’s forehead.
Yuuri fights to keep his eyes open. “No,” he says through a yawn.
Victor laughs fondly again. “We don’t have to do anything, you know,” he offers. “We could just cuddle.”
Yuuri rubs at his eyes. “I want to, though,” he protests softly, and it isn’t a lie. “Can we just... go slow?”
Victor visibly melts and leans forward to kiss his cheek. “Of course, solnyshko ,” he says by Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri shivers.
“You keep saying that word,” he points out, pausing to kiss Victor’s cheek, too, because it’s there and he wants to and he can. “What does it mean?”
Victor gently bites down on Yuuri’s earlobe. Yuuri lets out a breathy sigh.
“ Moye solnyshko . ‘My little sun,’” Victor explains quietly. “Because you shine so brightly.”
Yuuri feels a new wave of affection and lurches forward to hug Victor with an embarrassed groan. “That’s so cheesy,” he whines. “And exactly like you.”
Victor laughs and, without warning, shucks Yuuri’s pants and underwear down past his hips so they pool gracelessly at his ankles. Yuuri’s breath hitches, but he doesn’t protest, shoving the pile of fabric and sequins away with his foot and taking a step closer to Victor. He feels...skin. A lot of it.
Victor’s hands roam over Yuuri’s sides before changing course and gliding over the small of his back, creeping toward his ass before hesitating at the dimples just above it. Yuuri, unable to wait, takes one of Victor’s hands in his and guides it further south, planting it firmly where he needs it to be. “Touch me,” he urges softly.
Victor doesn’t need to be told twice.
They land back in bed in a flurry of wayward limbs. A frantic hand rifling through Victor’s bag at the foot of the bed and a quick discussion regarding positions later and Victor is gingerly placing a square foil packet and a blue bottle of lubricant in Yuuri’s trembling hands.
Yuuri gulps, setting the condom aside for now, and pushes Victor onto his back with a warm hand on his shoulder. “Kn-Knees up,” he instructs, and Victor is a little too pleased to be ordered around. Yuuri pops open the bottle and starts slicking up his fingers when something occurs to him.
“Were you...planning on this?” he asks, feeling cool semi-liquid trickle over his skin.
Victor lifts his head off the mattress and winks. “I’m always prepared for everything,” he says smugly.
Yuuri raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t look so prepared in the elevator earlier,” he points out casually. Victor laughs.
“I couldn’t help it,” he says with a delighted smile and a shrug. Yuuri thinks he looks brilliant like this, hair tousled cutely and pink dusting his nose and cheeks, lips spread into a carefree smile. “You keep surprising me today."
Yuuri smiles knowingly, snapping the lid of the bottle shut and wiggling his fingers. “Surprising you is my top priority,” he says, climbing between Victor’s thighs and hovering over his body with his non-slick hand splayed out by Victor’s head. He glances off to the side a little shyly, cheeks pleasantly warm. “You make… the funniest expressions.”
Victor chuckles. “Do I now?”
“You do. It’s… it’s cute, Victor,” Yuuri compliments softly, licking his lips and looking straight into Victor’s eyes. “You’re cute.”
Victor reddens conspicuously and clears his throat. “Yuuri,” he breathes, “I want you.”
Yuuri smiles. “I know. Should I…?”
“ Please .” Victor raises his hips off the mattress, his cock brushing against Yuuri’s. They both stop breathing for a moment.
“Okay,” Yuuri whispers. After leaning down and pressing a firm kiss to Victor’s lips, he slinks back so he’s sitting between Victor’s thighs. “I’m - I’m putting in a finger now.”
“Hurry, hurry,” Victor urges softly. Yuuri gulps and pushes in the first finger.
It’s… warm; that’s all Yuuri has to say about it, but Victor’s reaction is much more intense. He lets out a long hum (more of a purr, really) of approval, head lolling to the side as he bites his lip. Yuuri’s finger is buried to the hilt. Swallowing dryly, he pulls out only to push back in. Victor makes another pleased noise.
“More, more, hurry,” Victor encourages. Yuuri complies, thrusting his finger in and out a few times before hesitantly adding another. Victor lets out a moan that ends in a breathy laugh.
“Cheeky,” Victor says. “Didn’t even ask if I was ready.”
Yuuri stops immediately and quickly bows his head with a profuse blush. “I-I’m sorry!” he apologizes loudly. Victor reaches down to pat his head.
“Don’t worry. I was ready,” he soothes. “I was only teasing. Please continue.” His voice is a little raspy and his face a little redder than before. Yuuri nods and scissors his fingers.
Victor’s eyes snap wide open and he throws his head back, choking back a noise that Yuuri doesn’t know whether to classify as pained or delighted. Yuuri keeps moving his fingers regardless, twisting and curling and feeling around for something specific. This time, he gives Victor a warning before adding another finger and digging around deeper inside of him. The tips of his fingers brush against a soft bit of flesh and Victor moans, high-pitched and almost feminine.
“ There ,” he sighs dreamily. “There, right there, solnyshko .”
Yuuri blushes fondly at the pet name and continues to prod at the bud, making Victor’s upper body twist and his elegant hands curl aggressively into the sheets.
“Are you ready now?” Yuuri asks, his arm beginning to get tired. Scissoring and stretching his fingers against Victor’s walls again, he wonders why his fatigue is deciding to catch up with him now . As aroused as he is, the idea of physical exertion right now is a little overwhelming. But he still wants to do this.
Victor nods frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” he whines eagerly, hips pushing into Yuuri’s hand as his slick fingers are pulled out of him.
Yuuri wipes his fingers on the sheets and climbs on top of Victor to kiss his slightly sweaty forehead and then his neck. He lazily sucks at a patch of skin, lapping at it with his tongue, and… can’t really motivate himself to move. Victor is much more energetic.
“YuuriYuuriYuuriYuuriYuuri,” he rushes out, punctuating each mention of Yuuri’s name with a light slap on his shoulder. “I want you, please, what are you waiting for?”
Yuuri feels himself stiffen at how desperate Victor sounds and, in a rare instance of genius, wraps his arms around Victor and rolls onto his back. Victor is on top of him now, an endearing look of surprise on his face.
“Ride me,” Yuuri says, nodding towards his hips. His even tone does not correspond with the vibrant flush of his cheeks and the eager squirming of his legs. “I’m not… my whole body hurts from skating. You be on top.”
Victor’s look of confusion ebbs away to understanding before settling on excited. “Yes,” he says breathlessly, sitting up and straddling Yuuri’s hips after propping up Yuuri’s head on one of the cushy hotel pillows. He reaches for the condom buried between wrinkles in the sheets and tears the packet open with his teeth. He gives Yuuri a questioning look and, after Yuuri blinks and nods curtly, takes Yuuri’s cock into his hand and rolls the condom on. Yuuri shivers, never having worn one before, and thinks that it feels a little weird. He doesn’t get the chance to think anything else because Victor gives his cock two quick pumps before positioning the tip at his entrance and sinking down in one slow, smooth motion.
Yuuri chokes, the feeling brand new and utterly overwhelming. “ Guh …!”
Victor whines loudly, obviously not as concerned as Yuuri about the possibility of receiving a noise complaint, and braces his hands on Yuuri’s chest, the heels of his palms pressing against Yuuri’s nipples. There are too many things to process right now - Victor’s pleasure-twisted face, the elegant curve of his spine while he drags his hips down against Yuuri’s, the unfamiliar and explosive sensation of having his cock buried deep between someone’s legs, hot, fleshy walls pressing in tight from all sides. It’s almost unbearable, feeling this good.
“Victor,” he pants, hands circling tightly around Victor’s tense wrists. “It’s so - tight .”
Victor smiles, bottom lip caught between his teeth, shiny hair in his dark eyes. “ Mmn , do you like it? I do.” He raises his hips only to sink back down again. “I’ll try and go slow.”
Another time, Yuuri would like their positions to be flipped - him twisting seductively in Victor’s lap, his coach pounding up into him obscenely - or to have the energy to fuck Victor into the mattress and explore the hell out of his possessive streak by pulling his silky hair and biting the shell of his ear. For now, though, he lets one hand guide Victor’s hips as they drag and grind into his own, the other tentatively wrapping around his cock, fluid leaking from the tip. Victor lets out a throaty gasp and a moan, bucking his hips harder. Yuuri finds himself responding similarly, his grip on Victor’s cock tightening. He doesn’t feel in control of his body any more. He’s just conscious enough to focus on the tight, wet heat enveloping his cock, and the feeling of Victor’s filling his curled palm.
He sees stars when he comes, a helpless cry escaping his throat as he throws his head back and screws his eyes shut. Victor follows suit, clenching around Yuuri before collapsing on top of him and catching his breath. They breathe together for a few moments, chests rising and falling in tandem. Yuuri finds himself strangely awake; energized. He cups Victor’s cheeks, lifting his chin off of his sweat-slick chest, and kisses him softly, drinking in the pleased sigh Victor lets out in response. When they pull apart, neither of them speak for a time that Yuuri can’t quite quantify - time passes strangely when he’s with Victor. Yuuri pushes Victor’s hair out of his sweaty forehead, looks him in the eyes, focused and ready.
“Again?” he asks, and Victor smiles.
In the morning, Yuuri awakes to a pleasant ache in his muscles and a slight chill in the air. The hotel window is closed, but the cold still crawls over the skin of his arm, resting limply over downy covers. He scrunches up his nose and suddenly realizes that it’s pressed against the back of Victor’s neck. When he experimentally curls his fingers, they brush over Victor’s ribs. When he breathes in, his chest pushes against Victor’s back. He blinks his bleary eyes open and can’t see much other than the wispy strands of Victor’s silver hair.
They’re... spooning .
The memories come rushing back to him, a slideshow of smooth, damp skin, gentle hands, and other appendages Yuuri won’t let himself dwell on for too long. As he starts to put the pieces together, he has to bite down an ecstatic giggle.
Victor loves him and they had sex. Yuuri could not ask for a more fortunate turn of events.
Sighing dreamily with characteristically perfect timing, Victor stretches as he rolls onto his back, Yuuri having to scoot backwards to make room. Victor’s mile-long eyelashes flutter as he slowly wakes up.
Yuuri grins warmly when their eyes meet. “Good morning,” he greets softly.
Victor takes a moment to shake off his sleep-induced stupor, eyes glazed and foggy. He gives Yuuri a blank look for a minute before realization slowly dawns on him, lighting up his entire face. “It is, isn’t it?” he returns finally, propping himself up on one elbow and leaning over Yuuri to kiss his cheek.
Yuuri hums, hands touching Victor wherever they can reach in slow, sleepy motions. The hotel window is frostbitten but Yuuri has never felt so warm.
“How do you feel, solnyshko ?” Victor asks conversationally, voice low and soft. His accent seems heavier, probably because he’s still tired. “Was it a good first time? Hm?”
Victor ducks his head and kisses under Yuuri’s jaw. Yuuri tilts his head to the side instinctively. “Yeah,” he answers sweetly, tired arms circling Victor’s middle. “But, um… I hope I wasn’t… Well, did it… hurt ?” he whispers carefully. His cheeks fill with color.
Victor hums in thought. He drops on top of Yuuri, giggling at the startled oof that it earns him, and nuzzles affectionately into Yuuri’s collarbone. “ Well ,” he says, fingers carding through Yuuri’s greasy hair, “it always hurts a little, at first.” Victor shifts a little and winces in discomfort. Yuuri blushes heavier, gently cupping Victor’s cheek as if in apology and scratching softly behind his ear. “But it felt good, too. You were very good.”
Yuuri feels his heartbeat speed up at the praise, his reaction only intensifying when he realizes Victor can probably feel it, with how he’s draped across Yuuri’s chest. “Thank you,” he says quietly, not quite knowing how he’s meant to respond. “You felt really… nice.”
Yuuri feels Victor smile against his skin. “I was so impressed, Yuuri,” he praises, lifting his head, “that your stamina in the rink applied to sex as well!” His expression is far too innocent for what he is saying, and Yuuri is far too weak a man for such words so early in the morning.
“I mean,” Victor continues animatedly, suddenly full of energy, “three rounds! Are you sure you were a virgin before last night? You were insatiable - !”
“ Victor - “
“ - And you lasted longer than me that one time - “
“ Please ,” Yuuri begs weakly, a hand covering his burning face. “I’m - I’m glad it was good for you, too, but it’s too early . I - I can’t handle - “
“ Aaah , that’s right,” Victor cuts him off once again, a slim finger tapping his lips before he continues with “I forgot about your praise kink ,” in a clandestine whisper.
A strangled noise of resignation bubbles up from the back of Yuuri’s throat in response. Victor pats his head sympathetically and busies himself by pressing apologetic kisses up and down Yuuri’s neck. “ Moye solnyshko ,” he cooes warmly, “so handsome when you get flustered.”
Yuuri grumbles, not willing to let on how much the compliment gets to him however backhanded it is, although Victor likely already knows. When Victor hovers over Yuuri to kiss his forehead, Yuuri bites a hard kiss in between Victor’s neck and shoulder.
“ Ow ,” Victor whines through a laugh. “ Yuuri , such a brute. Sex changed you.”
Yuuri snorts and sucks a hickey into the skin over Victor’s pulse where it’ll be nice and visible, just to be mean. Victor doesn’t seem to mind, though, humming pleasurably and rolling his hips. Yuuri has just enough common sense to push Victor away. “Come on, I need to shower. I’m gross.”
“You’re lovely ,” Victor counters, aiming another kiss at Yuuri’s lips, but Yuuri turns away so it lands on his cheek. “ Aww , come on.”
Yuuri somehow manages to slip out of bed despite Victor’s octopus-like grip and pretends not to be embarrassed when he realizes he’s still naked. He runs a hand through his hair and okay, yeah, he really needs to shower. An idea comes to him. He flushes red as he casually asks “Would you like to join me?”
Victor, judging by the excited cheer he lets out, is ecstatic. “Always!” he exclaims, and now it’s Victor who’s eager to get out of bed, dragging Yuuri to the bathroom himself.
Yuuri commits every detail of the rest of his time with Victor to memory.