Yuuri didn’t flinch when he hit the ice for the fourteenth time in a row. He expected it when it happened and wasn’t shocked when his feet came down at the wrong angle and slid out from beneath him. Then came the crash and the cold and the wetness of the ice dampening the fabric of his sweatpants even more than they already were. If nothing else, at least he was consistent in his failures.
He rolled and was back up on his feet in less than a second, a look of determination on his face.
Shake it off. Try again.
He gave himself half a minute to rest, enough time to allow the aching in his bruised left thigh to relent to a more tolerable level, and then it was time for attempt fifteen of the quadruple flip—the jump he could launch just fine but couldn’t seem to land with any reliability. It was to be the final jump in his Free Skate at the Grand Prix Final, and he and Victor were leaving for Barcelona tomorrow. It was now or never.
The Ice Castle skating rink was dark. Yuuri hadn’t bothered to turn on more than a few lights, just enough to see the barriers so he could avoid a collision. It was close to three in the morning, but Yuko had long entrusted Yuuri with a key for nights when he couldn’t sleep. Nights just like this one. He could rest on the plane tomorrow. Now was the time to work.
Just as he was picking up speed to attempt the jump again, Yuuri heard the doors of the skating rink open and close. Without looking, he knew who it was. It didn’t stop him from rounding the edge of the rink and launching into another quad flip.
After he fell for the fifteenth time and rolled to his feet, he met Victor’s eyes briefly and kept skating.
Shake it off. Try again.
But even as Yuuri turned his back on Victor, his heart had started to pound.
Victor was little more than a silhouette in the darkness. Hands in his coat pockets. Quiet footsteps around the perimeter of the rink. Only he could bring such a presence into a room with barely a sound. He was like a shadow spilling out over the ground.
It was only a matter of time before Yuuri’s eyes were drawn back in his direction. Even now, after becoming intimately involved with him, Yuuri still couldn’t help but stare at his boyfriend sometimes. Victor had stepped into a pool of light. His expression was neutral . . . if a little flirtatious.
Yuuri soon gave up the idea of attempting another jump. He was too distracted now to have any hope of landing it. Butterflies had exploded into flight in his stomach.
Victor came to a stop at the barrier. “Couldn’t sleep?”
God, that voice. The texture of it rubbed Yuuri all over.
But what was he doing here? It was late, and this wasn’t the first time Yuuri had snuck out of bed when anxious thoughts refused to let him sleep. Victor’s question was rhetorical. He knew where Yuuri went in the middle of the night and why. And all things considered, Victor was usually good about giving Yuuri space when he needed it. So what had changed his mind tonight? Was he unable to sleep, too?
Curious, Yuuri skated over to him. It was probably smart to take a break anyway, or he was going to hurt himself. He was breathing hard but felt pretty good, given the lateness of the hour and the level of exertion he’d just put his body through.
“What number was that jump?” Victor said. “Nine million and one—or nine million and two?”
When Yuuri stopped just short of the barrier, he was wearing a little smirk. There weren’t many things he was truly proud of, but this was one of them. “Fifteen.”
Victor whistled and looked away.
His expression was difficult to interpret. He looked neither happy nor unhappy. There was a certain amount of tension in the way he held himself, but it didn’t make Yuuri think a lecture was forthcoming, even though he probably deserved one for not getting a decent night’s sleep before they left for an important competition. Yuuri wasn’t sure what Victor was thinking, and it made him feel off-balance.
“I can land it,” Yuuri said. “I just need a little more time to work it out.”
When Victor returned his gaze in Yuuri’s direction, his blue eyes looked almost black. “I believe you,” he said in a soft voice. “Come here.”
He put his gloved hands on the barrier and leaned down to offer a kiss that was immediately accepted. The warmth of it made Yuuri realize he was cold in his t-shirt and damp sweatpants. He grabbed hold of Victor’s scarf and held him there, and that heated him right up. Yuuri didn’t let go until he was practically toasty, and by then, they were both smiling against each other’s lips.
“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?” Yuuri said. He flushed with pleasure when Victor pressed a kiss to his forehead. This whole time, Yuuri had needed to be touched and hadn’t even known it. He felt completely recharged and ready to try again.
“I just wanted to check on you, but it looks like you’ve got things well under control.” Victor kissed him, this time on the temple. He inhaled deeply, drawing Yuuri’s scent into his lungs and holding it there for a long moment before he released it. His voice was a gentle rumble in Yuuri’s ear. “Don’t stay up too late, okay? The bed gets cold without you.”
And then the warmth was gone. The scarf slid free from Yuuri’s fingers as Victor straightened and turned back toward the doors with the intention of leaving.
Yuuri blinked at Victor’s back, already missing him even though he had only taken a few steps. He’d walked all this way by himself in the middle of the night. Was he really going to turn around and go back home alone?
I need your help. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.
Victor turned and waited, hands buried in his pockets. He looked tired and maybe a little lonely, but his eyes were still kind. He’d come here with no intention of asking Yuuri for anything, despite whatever Victor might want himself.
“Will you stay?” Yuuri asked. “If you don’t mind, I mean.”
It was beyond rare for Yuuri to invite another person into his private time like this, but he’d never experienced anything like this relationship before. He knew he was an introvert that needed a certain amount of alone time to feel settled and recharged, and Victor respected that, even though he didn’t always understand it. The fact that he was about to leave Yuuri here to skate by himself was evidence of that.
But what Yuuri had come to discover was that time with Victor still counted toward that alone time. Even though Yuuri was with another person, he didn’t feel drained like he did with other people. It was strange, and he didn’t fully understand it. But it was like spending time with Victor was the same thing as spending time with only himself. That was how deep he was in Yuuri’s heart now.
Victor smiled, took his hands out of his pockets, and walked over to where the barrier opened up to the actual rink. There, he sat down on the step, one knee hugged to his chest, the other foot resting on the ice.
This left Yuuri a bit wide-eyed. He wondered why Victor had chosen to sit. Normally, he was either on the ice as well or standing at the barrier. Victor always took an active role in what was happening. To have him instead sitting down made Yuuri feel like he had a supportive boyfriend watching him instead of a professional figure skating coach. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that, especially this close to the Grand Prix Final.
He tried the quad flip three more times. The third was the worst attempt by far, and afterward, he was left with a throbbing wrist and badly shaken nerves. He looked to Victor for his normal technical critique but found his coach just watching him in silence, one finger pressed to his lips as he often did when he was concentrating.
It wasn’t long before Yuuri couldn’t take it anymore. He skated over to where Victor was sitting and put his hand on the barrier to balance himself while he leaned down to adjust his left skate. “Why do you think I can’t land it? Be honest with me.”
I shouldn’t have to ask you this. You’re my coach.
Victor didn’t respond at first. When his finger finally fell away from his lips, he said, “Why do you think you can’t?” His tone was the one he reserved for his more private moments with Yuuri. Not the animated voice he used during practice.
That was not the response Yuuri wanted to hear. He tried not to feel irritated but was too tired to put much effort into it. “This is your signature move. You know what I’m doing wrong, so just tell me what it is so I can work on it. You can’t start going easy on me this close to the end.”
This had been a point of contention between them ever since Moscow. Yuuri had sat Victor down and told him under no circumstances was he to treat him differently now that they were in a relationship. He explained the feedback he’d received from both Yakov and Yurio and said that he needed to step it up. Yuuri hated the idea that Victor might be withholding valuable feedback from him because he cared too much about Yuuri to criticize him.
Still, there was a part of Yuuri that knew he was being unfair—and maybe even assessing Victor’s motives incorrectly. After all, he cared about winning just as much as Yuuri did.
“Yuuri,” Victor said. “The reason I’m not lecturing you right now is because you’re already lecturing yourself. If you were being smug and overly-confident, I’d be in your face giving you an earful like Yakov has to do with Yurio. But what good would that do you? A coach’s job is to provide a different point of view than the student’s. It serves no purpose to reinforce one that already exists.”
Yuuri visibly deflated. He hadn’t thought about it that way.
The way Victor was sitting so casually made one thing very evident: he was calm. This was beyond confidence. He had perfect faith in Yuuri and wasn’t concerned about whatever was going to happen at the Final, nor did he seem particularly bothered after witnessing the repeated failure of a vital technical component in Yuuri’s Free Skate program.
Victor’s attitude was everything Yuuri’s wasn’t . . . and maybe that was a good thing.
“Would you like to listen to what your coach has to say?” There was a touch of ice in Victor’s words, even though he was still smiling. “There is a first time for everything.”
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. “I’m just frustrated. And yes, I want to know your opinion. What am I doing wrong?”
“You’re preoccupied,” Victor said with a shrug. “Something’s been on your mind since Moscow. Once you figure out what it is, you’ll figure out the jump as well. I’m not worried. But that is the reason I asked you why you think you can’t land it. You’re the only one who can answer that question.”
Victor wasn’t wrong. Yuuri had been preoccupied, though not always in a bad way.
Certainly there was the anxiety leading up to a competition that he had embarrassed himself at last year. But even worse than that was the knowledge that his time with Victor would likely be coming to an end soon.
Things had been good between them since Moscow. More than good. Their relationship had deepened so much that it was almost enough to drive away Yuuri’s fears that this was temporary. And it wasn’t all physical or romantic. Somewhere along the way, they had become companions. They still went on frequent dates and had trouble keeping their hands off each other behind closed doors, but the intimacy stretched beyond those moments. Every word and glance possessed a deep understanding of the other person.
The sex was good, too, if infrequent. More like the icing on a very solid foundation of cake. It was rare that they found themselves truly alone these days, so while they’d done plenty of messing around, they’d only taken things further once since coming home. In Yuuri’s bed, back at the house. It had been quick and not as satisfying as the times before—but only because there were people downstairs, and Yuuri couldn’t seem to relax.
Before that, they’d made love again in the hotel room at the Fukuoka airport the morning after their first time, and that was good. Even better than the prior night. Yuuri thought about it often. Waking up to the feel of Victor’s mouth on his neck. Kissing for what felt like hours before attending to other pleasures. Yuuri on top. Victor on top. Tangled sheets, lazy wet kisses, asses grinding out a sinful rhythm Yuuri probably wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about for years. It had been a blur of perfection. Every second of it, wonderful.
But then they’d come home to Hasetsu . . . and they weren’t alone anymore.
Almost as soon as they walked in the door, they’d celebrated Yuuri’s birthday a second time with his family and friends in attendance. Everyone was aware of his romantic relationship with Victor, but Yuuri still felt shy about it. All eyes were on the two of them when he blew out the candles on his second birthday cake, and he’d be lying if he said that didn’t bother him a little. He wasn’t ashamed of anything. But just because he’d allowed Victor this deep inside of his heart didn’t mean everyone else had the right to invade.
After his first night home, things had gotten strange. Not with Victor, who was just as sweet and devoted as he ever was. But Yuuri felt a pressure in his head. He was unsettled. Anxious. Searching for something he had no name for. He didn’t find it in Victor’s arms at night, in his mother’s cooking, or even in long sessions of skating that would have normally helped clear his troubled thoughts.
He knew a lot of it had to do with the idea that Victor would not always be around. The Grand Prix Final was coming up fast, and it didn’t just represent the competition they’d both been working so hard to win. Regardless of the outcome—be it a gold medal or last place—it would mean the dissolution of their professional relationship. Maybe even their personal one.
“Are you nervous about Barcelona?” Victor said, drawing Yuuri out of his thoughts.
Yuuri shrugged. “It’s part of it.”
“Yuuri.” Victor’s tone held a gentle reprimand. He wasn’t satisfied with a partial answer.
With a sigh, Yuuri leaned his weight against the barrier and wondered if he had the courage to just say it. He didn’t know why he had such trouble getting the words out. Maybe it was because he didn’t want Victor to think he owed Yuuri something when he had already given so much of himself and his time.
“I’ve been thinking about us,” Yuuri said.
Which was a partial truth. Good enough for now.
What he was actually thinking about was what was going to happen to them after he announced his retirement. He had already made the decision in his heart that the Grand Prix Final was the end of the line, but it wasn’t the right time to say it out loud. Not when he was about to depart for his last competition.
“You say ‘us’ like we’re a bad thing to think about,” Victor said. His eyebrows were pinched together in the middle. He wasn’t understanding the disparity between Yuuri’s words and his demeanor.
“One day, you won’t be my coach anymore,” Yuuri said.
There were a million questions he wanted to list after that. What will you do then? Will you return to skating? To Russia? Do you regret coming to Hasetsu to watch me fail over and over again?
“True,” Victor said slowly. “One day.”
There was a long pause, wherein Yuuri said nothing, and it gave Victor time to guess.
“So when you say you’re thinking about us,” Victor said, “what you mean is you’re worried about what will happen to us when I’m no longer your coach?” Another pause—and as the seconds ticked by, Victor’s expression became more and more incredulous as his suspicions were confirmed by the silence. “Yuuri, the way I feel about you is not going to magically disappear the day you retire.”
Yuuri had to take several steadying breaths before speaking. Though he knew it wasn’t true, his mind often told him the opposite of what Victor was saying. Namely, that he was only drawn to Yuuri because of the skating and nothing else. And once that was gone . . . well. “People have flings all the time. It’s not uncommon for two individuals working closely together to get involved and then split when the job is done. It happens.”
“I realize you don’t have much experience with relationships, but believe me. This isn’t a fling.”
“We’ve never actually said what it is.”
“Well, I’m in love with you,” Victor said, his tone flat. “Does that help?”
Yuuri pressed his lips together and dropped his gaze. It hadn’t been his intention for this to turn into an argument. He didn’t know why he was being so insecure. Every sign Victor had ever given him pointed in one direction, yet Yuuri couldn’t help but fear the other.
Maybe it was because this wasn’t just about insecurity . . . but about doing what was right.
Victor sighed and pushed his bangs out of his face. When he dropped his hand and began to speak again, his voice had lost the edge of irritation. “Remember when you came home from Moscow, and I asked for your trust in that hotel room? That wasn’t just meant for what happens between us in bed. I want you to trust that wherever you are, that’s where I want to be.”
It was a better answer than Yuuri could have hoped for. Victor had just laid out something that was much more long term than they had ever established.
But the very thought of Victor’s talent wasting away also made Yuuri feel incredibly selfish. This had bothered him ever since he’d returned from Russia. A little worse every day. In terms of both of their professional skating careers, Victor’s answer benefited Yuuri alone, and this relationship wasn’t just about him.
It made Yuuri sad to think Victor’s hiatus might become something more permanent. This was the man who had inspired Yuuri to master the ice in the first place. The man he’d wanted to compete against. Victor Nikiforov was the most decorated male figure skater in the world, yet he was sitting there on the sidelines watching Yuuri fall on his face every day. He was a waste of Victor’s talent, but to let him go might mean Yuuri had to give up far more than just his coach.
Yuuri knew what he had to do, yet he still couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud. He opened his mouth—and meant to at least tell Victor that he should consider his own career before saying something so bold—but the words died on his tongue.
Victor was watching him with the same puzzled expression as at the beginning of their conversation. “Why does that make you look so unhappy? I just told you I want to be with you.” He was using his disgruntled, borderline-haughty tone now. His feelings were hurt.
“I want to be with you, too,” Yuuri assured him.
Though not at the expense of your career. I’ll give up my own first.
But before that, I’ll win a gold medal to make it count. I’ll do this the right way. For both of us.
Victor’s expression shifted into something more tender. When he held out a hand, Yuuri extended his own in kind. He was wearing his black practice gloves to protect his skin from the ice. Victor peeled it off and brought Yuuri’s bare hand to his mouth. Victor kissed it several times and then held it there, eyes closed. His thumb was rubbing Yuuri’s ring finger.
“It’s a commitment you need, then,” Victor said, his lips moving against Yuuri’s skin. “The last thing you should be worrying about right now is us.”
The words materialized from Yuuri’s memory before he knew what was happening.
It’s almost like a marriage proposal.
He drew in a slow breath and held it. Victor wasn’t down on his knees, but he was close. He was still sitting at the edge of the ice with Yuuri standing tall in front of him.
After pressing a final kiss to Yuuri’s hand, Victor smiled up at him. There was a glimmer of mischievousness in his eyes, like he was planning something. “Good to know.”
When Yuuri released the breath he was holding, a good deal of the tension in his shoulders had vanished. His heart had started to ache terribly, but he returned the smile and squeezed Victor’s hand.
Yuuri loved him so much.
And because of that, he knew what he had to say to Victor in Barcelona would be easier. He would find the strength to do the right thing out of love, comforted with the knowledge that he was obviously loved in return. Yuuri decided then that he shouldn’t be looking at this milestone as a negative thing. As long as he kept his mind on this, he would be able to tell Victor when the time was right.
Maybe when they were both retired, they could make a real commitment. It was good Victor hadn’t asked for one now.
“Why don’t you try that jump again?” Victor suggested. “Maybe you’ll feel a little lighter on your feet this time.”
Under Victor’s supportive gaze, Yuuri pulled back on his practice glove and did a quick warm up lap around the rink to help him gain some momentum.
“Can you hear the music in your head?” Victor called to him. “Get your mind in the right place.”
Before now, Yuuri’s thoughts had been focused on the technicality of the jump. Not the performance itself.
As the soft piano music filled his mind, Yuuri began to move to the familiar choreography that immediately preceded the jump. He tried to clear his thoughts of anything except the melody and was almost successful. He wasn’t worried anymore about Victor leaving him when this was all said and done. That might very well happen, but it was time he learned to be at peace with it.
The moment for the jump was on him before he even realized it. He launched himself off the ice—and nearly landed the quadruple flip.
It wasn’t perfect. His feet didn’t connect with the ice like they should, and he had to put a hand down to keep the rest of his body from crashing into it.
But he didn’t fall. That was huge.
Scarcely able to believe what had just happened, Yuuri looked to his coach for an assessment.
Victor had a finger pressed to his lips once more. He was smiling behind it. “Again.”
Yuuri did it two more times, again taking time to go through the choreography of his Free Skate beforehand. The second attempt was the best because his confidence had received a significant boost, but his hand still came down on the ice. Still, it was a noteworthy improvement. He was so happy by attempt number three that he didn’t even care when the sight of Victor grinning at him distracted him so much that he missed the jump completely and fell.
They were both laughing as Yuuri slid and came to a stop just in front of Victor. Yuuri got up on his knees and grinned while he clapped off ice shavings from his gloves. Even though his body was sore from too many falls, he felt so much better about Barcelona.
“You’re going to be fine, Yuuri,” Victor said. “You already know what to do.”
Yuuri got to his feet and skated around a bit to shake off the feeling of that last fall. “Want to call it a night soon? It’s getting late.”
“Whenever you’re ready. I’m in no rush.” Victor’s chin had come to rest in one of his palms, and he had a dreamy look in his half-lidded eyes. “Just enjoying the view.”
Yuuri blushed and straightened his posture. He liked it when Victor watched him skate like this. It made him feel beautiful in a way that nothing else did. He was going to miss this. . . .
He was aware that he was showing off. Doing turns with a little too much attention paid to the tilt of his hips. He kept his eyes on Victor the entire time, wondering if he could guess what was on his mind.
They hadn’t had sex in days and not for lack of trying. Between his family and the other patrons of the onsen, it was just difficult to find alone time. And when they weren’t at home, they were either on a date in public or here at the Ice Castle in the daytime with other people in the vicinity.
But you’re alone with him now, aren’t you?
The thought almost made Yuuri trip over his own feet. He looked at Victor again and felt a tug in his lower abdomen. His heart had started to pound again. “We haven’t been completely by ourselves in a while.”
Victor chuckled. “Tell me about it. I love your family, but there are times when I wish we had our own place.”
That was a pleasant thought. Yuuri let himself imagine what it would be like to share an apartment with Victor—with their own furniture and a bed large enough for them both. Most importantly, there would be a lock on the door to ensure absolute privacy while they did anything and everything they wanted to each other.
“Have you ever thought about doing it in here?” Yuuri asked, choosing his words very carefully. He could scarcely believe he’d had the boldness to voice them at all, but it was so much easier to feel confident here in the dark with Victor’s eyes on him. Yuuri could let his shyness fall away and take up another role with far more ease.
And why not now? This might be the last time they were on this rink together.
“Doing what exactly?” The inflection in the words implied Victor already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear Yuuri say it.
“Having sex with me. Here. At the Ice Castle.”
“You mean, after watching you methodically seduce me on that rink for months? With those eyes and those hips and everything in between?” Victor laughed again, quietly melodic. “What haven’t I thought about?”
Yuuri came to a stop just in front of where Victor was sitting and gazed down at him, looming tall and self-assured. “Do you want me to show you what I think about?”
Victor let his hand fall away from his face. He was breathing hard now, too.
After Yuuri put the guards on the blades of his skates, he stepped off the ice and helped Victor to his feet. With his skates still on and adding to Yuuri’s height, they came nose to nose with one another. Victor leaned in for a kiss, but Yuuri only smiled and put a hand on his chest. He guided Victor over until his back was pushed up against the barrier of the rink.
Yuuri hadn’t been lying when he’d said he often thought about this. He’d just never had the courage to do anything about it. Even now, he wondered if he could actually do it.
Victor’s eyes were wide as he watched Yuuri get down on both knees, the toes of his skates resting on the ground. He put his hands on Victor’s thighs and slid them upward. Yuuri was still wearing his black practice gloves, and somehow they made the moment even sexier. Yuuri palmed Victor through the fabric of his slacks and worked at the zipper with his other hand.
Victor wasn’t fully hard yet, but he was excited, his lower belly working for every breath from where it peeked out from beneath his sweater. When his cock sprang free, Yuuri mouthed at it before taking Victor in hand.
Yuuri had never gone down on Victor before—or anyone else for that matter—but he’d lost count of the times he’d fantasized about it. Though he had no idea what he was doing, he let his imagination guide him. Victor tensed up at the first feeling of hot breath on his skin. He was getting harder by the second, coming to life in Yuuri’s hand.
Stop thinking. Just do it.
When Yuuri closed his eyes and put his mouth to the tip, Victor whispered something in Russian and leaned his full weight back against the barrier. Yuuri focused on the head, giving it a little suck and then drawing back to think about the taste. It didn’t taste like much of anything, actually. Just skin, which Yuuri hadn’t expected. He decided he liked it and put it back in his mouth, drawing Victor in deeper this time.
Yuuri did everything he thought he might like to feel himself . . . things Victor had done to him more than once. Yuuri had been paying attention whenever Victor had gone down on him, taking in both the feel of it along with a book of mental notes on how he could reciprocate. He moved his head, hollowed out his cheeks, and made sure the underside of Victor’s cock received plenty of attention from his tongue.
Soon there was a new taste in Yuuri’s mouth. Victor’s excitement was mounting.
His hands were caressing Yuuri’s face now—tenderly, without attempting to guide or pressure him to go deeper. Victor was also still wearing his gloves, and the feel and smell of the buttery leather was doing the most delightful things to Yuuri’s head. If he had known how much he would love this, he’d have done it a long time ago.
Victor’s thigh was tense and trembling beneath the pressure of Yuuri’s hand. His breathing was ragged as he whispered, “I’m close. Yuuri . . . you should. . . .”
Yuuri responded to this by taking him deeper. Victor always got embarrassed or apologetic when he was close to coming, as if Yuuri expected him to be some kind of sex god who could last for hours or something ridiculous like that. But no, he loved that he had this kind of effect on Victor. He found an incredible amount of satisfaction in making him lose control.
When Victor came in his mouth, Yuuri swallowed without giving it much thought. The taste had been on his tongue for a while now, and this was just a warm flood of more. It wasn’t unpleasant and the gasps of pleasure rising up from Victor made every second more than worth it. Yuuri had discovered a new favorite past time. This was fun.
Soon he was turning his eyes up, his tongue barely teasing the slit of Victor’s overly-sensitive cock.
Victor was a mess. Breathless and flushed. The collar of his coat askew. Hair pushed in the wrong direction. He was still stroking Yuuri’s face as he calmed down, his expression a mixture of adulation and something else that made the temperature in the room tick steadily upward.
His gloved thumb pushed into Yuuri’s mouth.
“Stand up,” Victor said, his voice dark with want.
It was Yuuri’s turn to feel that pang of nervousness and excitement—because he had no idea what was about to happen.
Victor helped him to his feet and immediately had both hands down the back of Yuuri’s sweatpants, squeezing and kneading bare flesh as their lips crashed together. This was not a gentle kiss. Victor had never once been rough with him, but there was a power behind his seduction that he had never fully unleashed before now. Yuuri loved it. Standing up a little straighter, he wrapped his arms around Victor’s neck and met every kiss with equal passion.
He felt a chill on his backside when Victor pushed his sweatpants down. Then Yuuri was left standing, still facing the barrier, while Victor moved downward. He first kissed Yuuri’s neck, then dipped lower to mouth at his nipple where it pressed hard against the cotton t-shirt. Victor went lower still, and Yuuri’s sweatpants were soon around his ankles. Victor took his time licking a slow path up the underside of Yuuri’s cock. The sweet pink of his tongue was in stark contrast with the pure sexual heat of his stare.
Yuuri put both hands on the barrier and prayed his knees wouldn’t give out.
Victor was every bit as talented at blowjobs as he was at quadruple flips, but that wasn’t what he did. Instead, he worked the foreskin of Yuuri’s cock back and forth with firm strokes of his hand and said, “You know, as good as this tastes. . . .” He paused long enough to kiss the tip, a whisper of tongue teasing the slit. “. . . I bet it feels even better. Do you have stuff in your bag?”
He did. Yuuri had started carrying condoms and lubricant around with him ever since that night at the Fukuoka airport. He didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded dumbly in response to the question. His head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Victor smirked, one eyebrow arched higher than the other. “Do you want to use it? Because I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this, but I have my own fantasy about you and me in this place.”
Yuuri’s breathing slowed. “Tell me.”
Not long after, Yuuri had Victor bent forward over the barrier of the rink . . . just like he’d asked to be. He was slicked up and ready, Yuuri’s fingers already moving inside of him, but soon it was time for something else. Victor moaned and tensed up when he felt the pressure of Yuuri’s cock at his entrance.
Yuuri took it slow, rocking his hips ever so slightly until Victor began to open up. “That’s it,” Yuuri whispered as he nudged a little further inside. Gentle and patient, fully aware of the power he’d been entrusted with and unwilling to do anything with it except make his lover feel safe. “Let me in, baby.”
The endearment had an immediate impact on Victor. He exhaled a shaky breath that had little to do with the sex. It was the first time Yuuri had called him anything other than his name.
Victor completely gave in to him at that moment and relaxed against the barrier with his head resting in the cushion of his folded arms. His smile turned blissful, and he breathed an affirmation as Yuuri filled him up and began to move.
To be continued