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Time seems to collapse upon itself. It’s a wonder they make it through the door of their hotel room without kissing again. The door clicks shut, and Yuuri’s hand is on Victor’s face, cupping his cheek. He’s trying to remember when he’s ever touched Victor first, or without asking, and Victor’s saying, “I’m sorry.” Yuuri can’t tell what happens first, or what’s happening next. His head is spinning.
Yuuri struggles just to get out the word, “What?” Then Victor’s hands are on his neck, and he has to fight to hear what Victor says to him.
“I kissed you in —”
Yuuri’s breath catches in his throat, and before he can stop himself he asks, “You regret that?”
“ No, Yuuri,” Victor says quickly, emphatically, continuing in a rush, “No, no. I just — fuck — in front of all those people —”
The knot in Yuuri’s stomach vanishes in an instant, and he surprises them both by saying, “Shut up.” He holds Victor’s face in both his hands, draws him in, and kisses him. He pulls back, though, almost as quickly as he had leaned in. “Shit, sorry. Is this o—”
Victor yanks Yuuri back in and kisses him hard.
They kiss with desperate fervor, their hands roaming each other with no destination. Yuuri thinks of everything he wanted to do to Victor on the ice, but couldn’t because hundreds of people were seated arena-style watching them. He thinks of his parents watching him get kissed and quite literally swept off of his feet on live television, and he starts to feel overwhelmed; he’s sure that he’ll drown in this, like he does everything else, but impresses himself instead. Wrestle with that later, he tells himself sharply, and pushes Victor’s coat down his shoulders.
Victor wriggles the coat off, hands flying to Yuuri’s waist as soon as his arms are free. Yuuri is already working on getting Victor’s tie loose.
Eventually, Yuuri has to break the kiss to get a look at Victor’s tie. Their hands get tangled together as they both try to get the tie off. Finally, Yuuri drops his hands so Victor can get his own tie off while he gets rid of his team jacket.
“Fuck — help me with the costume,” Yuuri says.
Victor reaches over Yuuri’s shoulder and snakes his hand down Yuuri’s spine, the zipper coming undone in its wake. He kisses Yuuri as he pulls the fabric gently up, breaking for a short moment to get it over Yuuri’s head, and then diving back in.
Yuuri breaks away as he’s struggling to get a hold on the zipper of the pants, and Victor steps away to lay the costume reverently across a chair. Yuuri yanks his shoes off and reaches for the zipper again just in time for Victor to crowd him again, take hold of his hips, and kiss his neck.
Yuuri yelps. It sounds a bit like a wounded animal, and he cringes.
Victor’s head snaps up. “Wha—?”
“No, it’s —“ Yuuri shakes his head. “Do that again.”
Victor grins like Yuuri offered him something. He trails wet, open mouthed kisses up and down the side of Yuuri’s neck, scraping his teeth methodically. Each time he does, Yuuri jumps as if there’s lightning in his veins, every muscle reaching out to cling on and a constant cry of Victor Victor Victor! seeping out of every pore.
“Yuuri,” Victor moans without pulling back, and his voice reverberates in Yuuri’s skin, and —
That’s it, Yuuri thinks. He’ll never be satisfied with hearing his name any other way ever again.
“Yuuri,” Victor says again. “Can I —“
“ Yes, ” Yuuri gasps, fingers sinking into Victor’s shoulders, wondering why Victor is still wearing so many layers.
Victor grins into the crook beneath Yuuri’s ear, a warm chuckle bubbling out of him with a hot puff of breath that clings to Yuuri’s skin. “ ‘Yes’ , what? What should I do, Yuuri? What can I do to you?”
Yuuri mouths wordlessly, trying to summon a coherent thought. It doesn’t come; he just wonders again why Victor still has so many clothes on while he’s naked from the waist up. “ Anything, ” he says as he begins to tug on Victor’s suit jacket.
Victor groans, and the suit jacket is ripped off, discarded without a care. His hands fly back to Yuuri’s waist, and he steers Yuuri backwards to the bed, clever fingers working the zipper open. He gets Yuuri’s pants and briefs halfway down his legs, and says, “Sit for me?”
As Yuuri obeys — without a moment's hesitation, though his breath catches hard in his throat — Victor sinks along with him, dropping all the way to his knees without ever taking his hands off of Yuuri. “Yuuri,” he says, their eyes locked together, and it sounds like a prayer, and it makes Yuuri’s head spin. “You are breathtaking.”
Yuuri wonders if this is a line Victor uses on every man he manages to get into his bed. He tries to stifle this thought almost as soon as it crops up. He tries not to imagine dozens of men passing through Victor’s bedroom, with each of them another echoing, haunting utterance of “ breathtaking ” in Victor’s smooth-as-honey voice. He can’t let his own dumb brain ruin this for him.
“Can I?” Victor’s voice cuts through the storm in Yuuri’s head.
Yuuri blinks at Victor several times before it occurs to him what Victor is asking him. “ Please. ” It comes out breathless, desperate. He sounds pathetic, and later he’ll replay it in his head over and over again while he tries to sleep, but just now, he can’t find it in himself to care.
Victor’s breath travels up his thighs, hot and damp. Yuuri watches Victor creep closer, but still gasps like he’s shocked when Victor captures his cock between his lips. Victor’s tongue rolls languidly over the head, his eyes fluttering shut as a soft moan escapes him, like he’s savoring the taste. Yuuri’s hand flies to his mouth. He has to bite hard into his skin to keep himself from making some frankly embarrassing noises. Victor doesn’t have any such restraint, moans getting louder as he goes as if he’s the one getting sucked off, and slurping in a filthy way that Yuuri has always imagined he would find disgusting.
Yuuri gets fixated for a second on Victor’s shirt, wonders why it’s still on, and then Victor’s nose brushes Yuuri’s torso, and a high-pitch noise escapes Yuuri as the hand caught in his mouth drops to search from leverage. “ Victor! ” he cries without meaning to, and he’s vaguely aware that he sounds so far gone and oh, god, what will Victor think of him? But his fear vanishes as Victor leans back a little, rolls his tongue again, and Yuuri gasps, “Oh, my god, I’m —”
Victor yanks his head back fast, squeezing Yuuri tightly at the base. His lips are glistening, and his eyes are almost all black, and Yuuri is at risk of coming no matter what Victor tries to hold it back.
“Please, I’m so close.” Yuuri feels as if he’s listening to someone else have sex, and watching from behind their eyes. He doesn’t feel in control of what he’s saying. He doesn’t even sound like himself anymore.
“Will you fuck me?”
If Yuuri hadn’t watched Victor’s lips move, he would have been convinced that he was the one who asked it. Victor’s voice echoes in his ears, and Yuuri thinks maybe he hallucinated it. Surely, Victor doesn’t want Yuuri to…
But Victor stares up into Yuuri’s face, his mouth hanging open, his grip loosening, and he waits. He holds his breath.
Yuuri tries to even out his own breathing, but can’t manage it. “Y-yeah,” he stammers — Victor’s eyes light up — and his sharp breaths pull at his voice as he struggles to go on. “But, I’m — I’m so close —”
“Another time.” Victor concedes, his grip loosening. He strokes fast.
“I can go again, just —” Yuuri gasps. “ Please —”
Victor’s hand stutters to halt.
Oh, god. Yuuri’s face scrunches up, his eyes squeezing shut. What’s he going to think now? Fuck — not on the fucking edge now, are you? He holds on more tightly to the blanket. Oh, god, what’s he thinking — ?!
“Yuuri,” Victor says softly.
Yuuri peaks one eye open.
Victor’s eyes are locked on Yuuri, and he’s grinning. Ear-to-ear fucking grinning, and eyes sparkling, and he asks, “How do you never cease to surprise me?”
Yuuri opens his eyes all the way, fists loosening. That doesn’t sound like a line. He doesn’t think Victor has said that to a dozen guys before, and that would mean —
Victor’s lips wrap around the head of Yuuri’s cock, his hand moving in a blur, and he sucks hard, his tongue moving in non-stop waves that sends Yuuri catapulting into a white-hot abyss. The room turns into a blur around him, his hands tightening again, and he’s grateful for the noise in his ears — not a ringing or a buzzing, but a great vibration that resounds in every part of him — because he doesn’t think he could bare to hear whatever pours from his mouth.
It’s only when Yuuri comes back to himself does he realize his balled-up fists are wrapped in Victor’s hair. It’s only when Victor’s tongue swipes across his lips — and he grins again — does Yuuri register that he just came in Victor Nikiforov’s mouth.
There’s no time to dwell on this. Victor’s on his feet, unbuttoning his own shirt while he leans down to kiss Yuuri fervently. Yuuri can taste himself on Victor’s tongue — another thing he always figured he would find unpleasant — and his cock is already twitching against his thigh.
Yuuri starts to work on Victor’s belt, but just like with the tie, his hands are a fumbling mess. Victor drops his shirt, and goes for the belt. He whips it off, and that goes to the floor, as well. There’s a beat of silence that Yuuri can feel reverberating in his chest.
Victor kisses him, hard but fast, then goes to his backpack. He searches almost frantically through the contents, tossing about half of them to the side. The room is filled with nothing but Victor rifling, and Yuuri’s breathing.
Yuuri’s mind bubbles in the quiet. He wonders, what’s Victor looking for? Suddenly, he wants to cover himself up. He resists the urge. He thinks he should say something, but what would he say? He can’t think of anything to say. What is he looking for?
Victor retrieves something, at last, from the bottom of his backpack. He stands to face Yuuri. He’s holding a condom and a bottle of lube, and Yuuri feels stupid all of a sudden. That should have been obvious. He was worried about nothing.
What was he even worried about, anyway? He doesn’t know.
He tells himself to stop feeling worried now.
Victor’s still smiling.
He tries to muster up a smile in return.
Stop worrying.
He’s scared that he's going to cry.
Victor says his name. It sounds far away.
Stop it.
He gets fixated on Victor’s pants.
He fights not to cover himself up.
Victor asks him something, and the words take longer than they should to reach his brain. He’s scared that he’s missed it altogether, and he’ll have to ask Victor to repeat himself, and then it’s going to be so obvious that I don’t know what I’m doing. His anxiety conjures the image of Victor, fully dressed and on his knees for him and he thinks, Oh, god, am I supposed to undress him faster? That’s why Victor’s shirt was on for so long. That’s why Victor’s still wearing pants, and he’s in nothing but his socks.
But his brain catches up. Victor has asked him, “Will you prep me?”
It hits Yuuri all at once. Every awful thought that he’s been suppressing for the past couple of hours.
He thinks of his parents watching Victor kiss him, literally sweep him off his feet, and pin him to the ice, and thinks they could probably definitely tell that he wanted to rip Victor’s clothes off in front of everyone. He thinks of Mari watching it all, and it’s almost worse — she’s never going to let him live this one down. Hell, all of Hasetsu probably saw what happened. What must they think of him?
He thinks about the other skaters. He thinks of Phichit winking at him before the medal ceremony, but what does Phichit really think of the whole thing? What is Chris going to say? Surely, he is out gossiping about it already.
And he thinks again of Victor, fully dressed as he knelt before Yuuri. And he thinks of Victor on top of him — can practically feel the cold of the ice seeping into him. And he thinks of Victor, who has too many international gold medals to count, spending everyday coaching him, all for his groundbreaking silver medal that’s on the floor in the pocket of his jacket. Victor, who kissed him because “that was the only thing I could think of to surprise you as much as you’ve surprised me.” Victor, who wants Yuuri to fuck him with all the eros in the world. Victor, who wants Yuuri to prepare him for that — like Yuuri has any clue at all what he’s doing. But it’s taken Yuuri months just to learn how to achieve eros on the ice, while playing a character, and he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
Yuuri must stare at him for a while, or maybe he’s just slipped and shown how awful he feels, because Victor’s smile fades. He’s still holding the condom and lube. He’s still watching Yuuri.
Yuuri’s cheeks are so hot they burn. He feels more naked than when Victor was sucking him off. It takes him several seconds to realize — shit — he’s crying.
“Yuuri?” Victor’s voice is soft and uncertain.
Fuck, stop it.
“I’m fine.” Yuuri can barely get the words out, and then a sharp sob wracks his body.
Victor starts toward him, then stops. “Are you okay?”
“ No, I —” Yuuri sobs again. “I’m sorry. I —”
Well, you’ve ruined it all now. Yuuri draws his legs into his chest, burying his face in his knees. There’s no coming back from this. Yuuri’s sure of it, and he almost hopes that Victor will just go away. Yuuri has burst into tears twice in one day — yelled at Victor the first time, and ruined sex the second. Who knows if Victor will even continue coaching him after this.
Yuuri feels the bed dip, and his breath catches in his throat. He freezes — holds his breath — and stays like that for a long while before he’s brave enough to peak over his knees.
Victor sits as far away as he can, just watching Yuuri.
Yuuri can’t read his face.
“Yuuri?” Victor says.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri says without thinking.
Victor frowns. “Sorry for what?”
“I —“ A gasp rips through Yuuri’s chest, and he has to take a moment to breathe deeply. He squeezes his eyes shut, shakes his head, and says, “I’m being stupid.”
“ No, ” Victor says sharply, causing Yuuri to jump. “Sorry. I’m sorry. You’re not stupid.”
“I am,” Yuuri protests.
“No,” Victor says again. “No, I’ve been an idiot. I kissed you in front everyone, and I’m —“
“That’s not the problem.”
Silence falls over them, and once again, Yuuri thinks, I’ve done it now. I’ve ruined everything.
“Okay,” Victor says evenly. “What’s the problem?”
Yuuri’s mind races. He wants to ask, Why did you kiss me? What were you thinking when you did it? Did you mean it when you told reporters it was the excitement of the moment? But he can’t bring himself to do it for the same way he’s never been able to ask why Victor wanted to become his coach.
“Have I made you feel pressured?”
“ No, I just —“ Yuuri hides his face in his hands, and groans. “ I’veneverdonethis. ”
“Sorry, come again?” Victor says.
Yuuri takes a long, deep breath, and then blows it all out before he can say again, “I’ve never done this.”
“Topping?” Victor asks.
Yuuri slowly drops his hands from his face, sure that he’s going to find Victor is making a joke, laughing at him. But he’s never seen Victor look so genuine, and concerned.
“ It’s okay,” Victor says like he’s way out of his depth right now — and he definitely is — but there’s also a careful gentleness to his tone. He’s trying.
My god. Yuuri wants to kiss him all over again, but he can’t. Not now. Probably not ever again.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to do —“
“Sex.”
Victor stops.
Oh, god.
Victor’s thoughts fly fast behind his eyes.
Oh, fuck.
“You’ve never…” Victor starts, and Yuuri feels like he’s going to pass out. “...had sex?”
Yuuri knows he turns bright red, because his face heats up even worse than before and it spreads down his chest, seeping into every limb. He doesn’t know what to say to that. He can’t so much as form a coherent thought. His rapid breathing is the only sound that fills the air for a while.
“I didn’t consider that,” Victor finally breaks the silence. “I’m sorry, Yuuri.”
Yuuri blinks. “You’re… sorry?”
“I shouldn’t have gone so fast,” Victor says. “I should have considered that. I should have… I don’t know.”
They sit in awkward silence again. Yuuri wants to tell Victor none of this is his fault, and that it’s all Yuuri’s own stupid fault. The silence weighs down on Yuuri, constricts his lungs, presses on his ribs, threatens to crush him altogether until Victor speaks softly — so softly Yuuri almost can’t make out what he says.
“Truthfully, I… I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
Yuuri’s stomach curdles. His face gets hot again. He knew it. “Wh-what do you mean?” he asks, even though he knows — he’s sure he knows — what Victor’s going to say.
“I don’t —” Victor pauses. He looks like he’s thinking hard about what to say next. “Um — I don’t — really — know how to say how I… feel.”
How do you feel?! Yuuri wants to shout in terror, but thankfully, his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth.
Again, neither of them says anything. Yuuri is convinced every second that at any moment Victor will tell him, I don’t know why I kissed you. He can hear Victor’s voice, echoing around in his head, telling him, We shouldn’t do this.
Again, Victor breaks the silence. He drops his gaze into his lap. “I can’t ever tell just where I stand with you,” he says, barely above a whisper but Yuuri catches every word like it’s said right into his ear. “But, I… like… you.”
“ You…? ” Yuuri speaks for the first time in minutes without meaning to. It escapes, breathless and disbelieving.
Victor looks back up, brows furrowed.
“That’s not —” Yuuri goes on without wanting to. “You don’t —” He forcefully shuts his mouth. Fuck.
Victor’s head tilts. “It wasn’t… obvious?”
“Obvious?” Yuuri echoes, and searches for what he wants to say. He doesn’t know what he wants to say. He doesn’t even know what to think right now.
“I kissed you,” Victor says simply, and he leaves it at that. Silence falls over them once more, but this time Victor lets it go on. It begins to simmer, but he just watches Yuuri, and waits.
Yuuri’s mind is spinning. This is too much. This is so far from what he expected. He expected that —
“You…” Yuuri starts, stops himself, and then goes on anyway. “So… you didn’t kiss me just to surprise me, then?”
Victor is taken aback, eyes wide. “ Wha— ? ” His head shakes rapidly, almost violently. “ No. Yuuri, of course not.”
“Oh,” Yuuri says, and he thinks about that. He really tries to come up with something to say, but he’s still coming up blank. All he can think is, Victor likes me. Over and over again. Victor likes me. It lingers on the surface, struggling to sink in. He can’t get it through his head. He can’t convince himself it’s real.
“And, you…” Victor starts.
Yuuri looks into Victor’s face for the first time since he began to cry. He doesn’t want to think how he must look right now.
Victor looks worried.
Yuuri tries to control how scared he must look.
Victor takes a deep breath. “Did you add that quad flip just for the base value?”
Yuuri swallows hard, and he really doesn’t want to answer that, but he can’t bear to sit in painful silence any longer. “No,” he admits softly.
Victor smiles like Yuuri has proposed to him, tears jumping to the corners of his eyes, which he promptly blinks away. Yuuri doesn’t know why, but that’s what makes him finally unfurl his now aching limbs. He reaches out to touch Victor, and he knows for sure that Victor is holding his breath this time because it’s there for a moment, hot against his wrist, and suddenly stops when his palm presses into Victor’s cheek.
“Victor, can I —“
“Yes.”
Yuuri searches for an ounce of the confidence he had mustered up earlier. “‘Yes’, what?” he asks, trying to echo Victor from earlier.
Victor laughs, a light and bubbling sound that bursts from deep within his chest, and leans in closer. “ Anything, ” he echoes Yuuri right back.
Time collapses again, and Yuuri doesn’t know what happens when — what happens before something else — whose hands move first, and when they go where. One of Victor’s hands never leaves Yuuri’s waist, but the other can’t seem to find a final place to rest. Yuuri thinks that he’s settled on having both of his hands in Victor’s hair, but then the axis between them begins to shift — he finds that he’s on his knees, and Victor’s leaning back. Yuuri has to follow him in order to keep kissing him. He winds up hovering over Victor, and stops.
“Is this okay?”
Victor smiles. “More than okay.” He brushes the backs of his fingers across Yuuri’s cheek. “Do you just want to kiss me? Which, by the way, would also be more than okay.”
Yuuri is, once more, painfully aware that he’s naked. He wasn’t for a second, lost in kissing and tipping over together as if they were just so drunk in the feeling. “Um,” he says. “It’s only — I just don’t want to hurt you.”
“Oh, Yuuri, you won’t hurt me.”
“But I don’t know how to —“ Yuuri goes red again. “You know.”
“Oh, my Yuuri, ” he says, taking Yuuri’s face in his hands and kissing him again. “I can show you.”
“ Oh, ” Yuuri says, breathless.
“Only if you want,” Victor hurries to add.
“No, I do. ”
Victor smiles again. Kisses Yuuri again. “Get the lube?”
Yuuri nods, clumsily climbing off of Victor and sliding off the bed. He gets to the side table, grabs the bottle, decides to take the condom now for good measure, and by the time he’s turned around Victor is already tossing the rest of clothes he was wearing off the bed. “Wow,” Yuuri says.
“Am I going too fast?” Victor asks.
“No,” Yuuri says quickly, pressing one knee into the mattress. “Just impressed.”
Victor grins. He can’t seem to stop doing that.
Yuuri puts his second knee on the bed, and stays kneeling there at the edge. “So how do I…?” he begins, careful to keep his gaze on Victor’s face. But then, Victor leans back against the pillow, stretching out his arm to beckon Yuuri, and Yuuri’s brain screeches to a halt to wonder at how Victor looks like a goddamn painting.
“Come here,” Victor says softly.
Yuuri swears he is pulled in by some invisible force, but he gives way to it. He kneels between Victor’s legs, and prides himself on only shaking a little bit. He drops the supplies retrieved from the bedside table on the mattress.
Victor is silent, just smiling up at him.
“So… what should I do first?” Yuuri asks.
“Oh, first, you should definitely kiss me again.”
Yuuri laughs. “Yeah? Is that an essential step?”
Victor leans up. “Arguably the most important.”
Yuuri laughs, and at first he can’t stop laughing even as he kisses Victor. But then, Victor’s hands are holding his waist again, his thumbs drawing intoxicating circles into his skin, and he’s scared he might start laughing giddily into Victor’s mouth. He’s starting to think they might only kiss for the rest of the night because he couldn’t possibly imagine stopping to do anything else right now.
Victor puts one hand on Yuuri’s cheek, the other still lingering on his waist, and he gently pulls them apart to say, breathlessly, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”
Yuuri looks into Victor’s face and wonders how many times Victor will do something that stops him in his tracks — knocks the wind from his lungs — because he just can’t quite believe it. He opens his mouth to bare his soul. He wants to tell Victor that he has no idea how long Yuuri has wanted him, but he stops himself. He can’t open the door to that conversation — maybe not ever, but certainly not right now. “How should I start?” he asks.
Victor groans, and kisses him quickly once more. “Sit back.”
Yuuri leans away and sits back on his heels. His heartbeat quickens with every millimeter that Victor’s hand slides to the bottle of lube lying on the mattress; it skips a beat when Victor opens the lid with a pop.
“Give me your hand?” Victor says.
Yuuri does without really thinking about it. He’s caught up thinking about his breathing.
Victor holds Yuuri’s hand delicately, like a fine piece of fragile art, as he coats the middle and index fingers. “Ready?” he asks softly.
Yuuri swallows hard. “Are you ready?”
Victor smiles. He guides Yuuri’s hand south, brushing past his thigh and coming to rest between his legs. “Now, start with two —”
“ Start with two? ”
Victor chuckles. “Yes, and just slide them in slow, okay?”
Yuuri looks up. He blinks, expecting more instruction.
But Victor just smiles back at him, and looks patient.
“That’s it?” Yuuri finds himself saying. “That’s your big lesson?”
Victor laughs. “Only the first part. I’m not going anywhere.”
Yuuri nods. “Uh-huh. All right.”
It must not be very convincing, because Victor’s smile softens again, and he says, “We don’t have to.”
“I want to,” Yuuri says too sharply, and too quickly he thinks, and hurries to add, “I just — I told you, I don’t want to — I’m scared I’ll hurt you.”
“I promise you won’t.”
“But I —”
“I won’t let you hurt me.”
Yuuri pauses to consider this, and after a long while, he says, “Okay.”
“Okay?” Victor says.
Yuuri nods.
“Because, it doesn’t have to be okay.”
Yuuri nods again, and finally, he smiles. “I know.” He puts his dry hand on the mattress to support him as he leans in and kisses Victor again. “Thank you,” he says, his lips still brushing Victor’s.
“Stay here.”
“What?”
“Don’t think about it too much.” Victor snakes a hand around Yuuri’s wrist. “Okay?”
Yuuri nods. “Okay.”
Victor guides Yuuri’s hand again, this time all the way to where he wants it. Yuuri gently presses both of his coated fingers past the tight ring of muscle, holding his breath as he watches Victor’s face intently for any sign of discomfort. It doesn’t come, but Victor also doesn’t throw his head back and moan like in porn, even when Yuuri has his fingers buried to the hilt. Victor’s breath does quicken, and he kisses Yuuri again.
“Now what?” Yuuri asks, and his voice only shakes a little bit.
“Another,” Victor whispers.
Yuuri’s eyebrows shoot up. “ Already? ”
“ Yuuri, ” Victor groans. “Please stop looking scared and start looking impressed.”
“Wha—?”
Victor kisses Yuuri yet again, and doesn’t fully stop kissing him to say, “You can come more than me, but I can take dick like a pro.”
“Victor,” Yuuri groans, and he slowly slides a third finger alongside the other two.
“That’s it.” Victor’s mouth is trailing off the edge of Yuuri’s, across his cheek.
“Should I — move —?”
Victor nods minutely. “Please.”
Yuuri pumps his hand, and he thinks the angle is awkward. He thinks he’s not doing this right, and speeds up to make up for it. Victor gasps.
“ What? ” Yuuri says, and freezes.
Victor sinks back into the pillows. “ Keep going. ” He sounds breathless.
Yuuri leans back on his heels again, finds a more comfortable angle, and plunges his fingers all in one fell swoop, earning himself a long, low moan from Victor. Yuuri sets what he thinks is a brutal pace, but Victor is soon whining “ Another, please ” all the same.
“ Anoth —” Yuuri bites his lip, and hesitates again for just a moment, but there isn’t a trace of pain anywhere in Victor’s body and he’s pawing at Yuuri’s arms like he wants to pull him closer again but can’t muster the strength. Yuuri sinks his fourth finger into Victor, pauses only to see the look on Victor’s face, and then he starts to move.
Almost as soon as he’s started again, Victor stops him. “That’s enough,” Victor says.
“What?”
“I’m ready.”
“Are you su— ?”
“Like a pro, Yuuri.”
“Okay, okay.” Yuuri reaches for the condom, but Victor snatches it up first.
Victor fumbles his hand ripping the plastic open, but manages to slide the rubber on Yuuri in one smooth motion.
Yuuri groans.
Victor flops into the pillows once more, hooking one leg on Yuuri’s hip. “Go on, then.” He kisses Yuuri again, and again.
Yuuri presses into Victor, and he feels like he’s having an out of body experience. Even in his wildest dreams, he had imagined Victor looming over him. Yuuri had imagined writhing beneath him, and now he’s writhing beneath Yuuri. Somehow, this makes it all so much more intense than Yuuri could have imagined. He moans — a high-pitched sound that joins the list of things that will keep him awake for nights to come — and Victor takes his face in his hands, kisses him again and again and again, effectively swallowing every noise that Yuuri makes.
Yuuri can feel Victor in every part of him. He’s set aflame in Victor. He buries his face in Victor’s neck because he can’t look Victor in the face as every part of him screams, God, I love you! He worries Victor will work out what he’s too scared to say with words, that his body is yelling out all the same.
“ Yuuri, I —” Victor gasps. “I’m so —”
“Yeah.”
“ Please. ”
Victor’s high-pitched plea strikes a chord in Yuuri’s chest, and quite suddenly realizes that not once tonight has Victor been touched. He begins to lose himself in a sea of I’m so stupid but he pushes it back with all his might, snaking an arm between the two of them and wrapping his fingers around Victor’s cock. It’s another incredibly awkward angle to be working with. He pulls his face from Victor’s neck, pushing himself up with one hand and one elbow to try and get a little leverage, and tries to stroke Victor in time with thrusting into him. Both rhythms wind up uneven but Victor throws his head back and moans, fingers clawing at Yuuri’s shoulder as his leg tightens on his waist, and Yuuri once again has to bury his face in the vast expanse of Victor’s neck to hide how he feels — to hide that he might cry at any moment.
Victor’s not focusing anyway. He clings to Yuuri as he comes. Every part of him tightens around Yuuri, and Yuuri lets out a long, broken noise as he’s hurled over the edge again. (He had always thought it a myth that you could see stars if you came hard enough.)
Yuuri finally returns to his body and finds Victor gone, but a cursory glance reveals Victor emerging from the bathroom with a damp cloth.
“Can’t stand to let everything dry,” Victor says as he sits on the edge of the bed. “Can I clean you up?”
Yuuri’s in enough of a daze to allow himself to be taken care of. Victor makes quick work of it, apparently eager to crawl into bed, pull the covers over them both, and hold Yuuri. Yuuri is still in enough of a daze to just lay there — to just hold Victor, and be held.
Victor dozes off, his breath a steady rhythm against Yuuri.
(And Yuuri is left alone with his thoughts, staring into the dark abyss of the room. His brain goes back to work, spiraling endlessly.)