calvinbox | open post | 5

orrr post sexytimes cuddles.

[ from TFLN. ]

[ Phichit grins at his phone, sitting comfortably on the edge of his hotel bed while he waits for Chris to come up. The genuineness of Chris' offer had taken him by surprise, sure, but after a quick flurry of texts with Yuuri two floors down discussing the pros and cons before accepting, he's actually pretty excited. This is a new experience. It's not his first time with a guy, sure, but he's only 20. He has plenty to learn, plenty of years ahead to experiment, and it's not like hooking up is something he does that often. He's looking forward to the world of possibilities ahead, and maybe he's a little nervous about it too. But that's normal, right? If you're going to have (hopefully) fun sex with your kinky friend who has way more experience then you, then you're going to be nervous, right?

Well, anyway, he put his large hamster plushes in the bathroom already, so there won't be any extra beady eyes on him. That helps. ]

Edited 2017-01-15 19:15 (UTC)

[There's a solid ten minutes between Chris' last text. Plenty of time to work up those excited nerves. A knock at the door doesn't happen, but there's another noise. A sort of THUD from the opposite direction.

Then there's a knock at the balcony door. Chris is standing casually with a bag, waving.]

Mon cheri!

[ Phichit nearly jumps at the sound, turning quickly towards the source--and laughs when he sees Chris standing there. He quickly takes a picture-- ]

Just one second!

[ Added a filter, added some text...@christophe-gc playing prince charming on my room's balcony! u 3 u friendship~ So much for not cluing Celestino in, but the boy has no damn impulse control. Then a quick text to Yuuri and he's up and opening the balcony door. ]

Hey! How did you even climb up here?

[He'll slide into the room and set the bag down, smirking]

You told me to be sneaky. I only had to get one down and three across from my room. [Do not underestimate Chris' willingness nor skill in reaching a booty call with style.]

I didn't keep you waiting too long, did I?

I did, didn't I? [ Phichit laughs sheepishly, rubbing he back of his head. And here he went, Instagraming away when Chris went through the trouble. Oh well~ ]

You didn't keep me waiting, I was texting Yuuri and charging my phone so its fine!

[ A pause--and another smile. ]

So what did you end up bringing?

[Chris honestly would prefer the attention for his act over the continued secrecy. It was more of an excuse to show off than anything, so if it got him even more attention than just Phichit's, all the better. He'll toy with the bag, taking a few items out and setting them out on the table.]

Already bragging about me? [Massage oil, Strawberry lube (japanese label), a variety pack of flavored condoms (french label), a cock ring, and two different vibrator (reasonably sized).]

You wish.

[ Really, going through whether this was a good idea or not. He's over that now--he's decided this is a great idea. With bright eyes he watches as Chris removes item by item from the bag and reaches automatically for the cock ring. ]

I've never actually held one of these before.

[WOW. He sees how it is. He's going to have to impress, huh? Not that he wasn't already planning to, but still... have a little faith!]

No? Makes a dick feel just like a vibrator, like I said.

[ Admittedly, probably won't be hard to impress him, oh he of not nearly as much experience with this sort of thing. Anyway, there's a wicked little glimmer in Phichit's eye and he takes Chris' hand in his before dropping the cock ring into his open palm. Another wide grin, something that would be feigned innocence if he wasn't such a naturally pleasant person. ]

Okay, so show me.

[Chris perks an eyebrow at the ring getting dropped back into his hand. He very deliberately sets it aside, hand reaching for Phichit's arm with a gentle grasp. The man pulls in Phichit closer, pressing their bodies together. Looking down with a kind, if mischievous expression, he'll coo]

Are we in a rush? I'd like to take my time with you, mon cheri.

[ Goodbye ring, he really hopes to know you better soon. But, Chris is right, so Phichit wraps his arms around Chris' neck--another first, someone this much taller than him. He toys with the hair at the back of Chris' neck, and all feigned innocence is, for the moment, put to the wayside. ]

Nope, no rush, but don't take too much time.

[ For all the things about this that are new and exciting, Phichit has never been one to wait for other people to act, so he leans in first and catches Chris' lips with his own. He even needs to nudge Chris' head down and go slightly up on his arches and everything. ]

I won't waste your time. [Christophe leans in to return the kiss, arms wrapping around Phichit's waist. His hands rub over clothes, feeling out the shape of the younger man's body. He'd definitely been admiring Phichit for his good looks and enthusiastic personality. He couldn't be more pleased about this invitation. His lips move slow and savoring, exploring and getting a feel for how Phichit kissed in return. He sucks the man's lower lip before breaking away just slightly]

What are you into?

[ The kiss is nice--really nice, even though stubble is yet another new experience. He was just getting into it, when his tongue ready to poke out and explore, when Chris pulls away to speak. Just the tiny tip of his tongue, back into his mouth then. ]

What?

[ Huh. That's a question. After a beat of being caught by surprise, another slightly bashful but mostly chipper smile. ]

I'm not sure what you mean?

What do you like? Top, bottom, oral-- you have some experience, right? Or do you want to experiment? [it was easier to make assumptions when dealing with a woman, but there was more questions with a guy. Better to know what they're getting into upfront, instead of feeling around in the dark..... unless Phichit liked feeling around. Chris can do either.]

Oh.

[ Duh, Phichit. ]

I'm not a virgin if that's what you're asking. I'm just not really picky.

[ He thinks for a second, his fingers absentmindedly playing with Chris' hair. ]

I was just thinking that since you've got that much more experience than me, that we could do what you want. If you're up to it.

I like to lead, so I'll take good care of you. [he's more of a dom than anything, but he can go the other route if it's someone he really wants. If Phichit was pliable, he'd enjoy being the one in more control. He gets an idea and leans down to kiss Phichit's neck, hands dipping down lower. He'll get a couple handful of the man's ass before lifting him up, hoisting Phichit quite playfully to hold up in the air]

[ Phichit leans his head to the side to allow more access, and once he's hoisted up he can take a hint. His strong legs go up to wrap around Chris' waist, holding him with up relative ease. ]

Jaaeo, my night is in your hands.

[Skaters are always the best to lift up. Skaters and cheerleaders. Chris will be holding Phichit nearly level to his own height, a little higher even, kissing upward to catch the man's lips. This time it's not so slow, more open mouth kisses right away, his tongue pressing experimentally to try and meet Phichit's, tracing across the sharp of the man's top teeth.

Since he's not supposed to be wasting time, he'll walk them slow and steady toward the bed. Once there, Chris breaks the increasingly passionate kiss abruptly. He tips Phichit back with a lack of control, but it's fine since he'll land with a bounce on the mattress, Chris falling along with him with a grin. Definitely don't do that while still kissing, that's how you clack teeth!]

[ Yuuri has never really trusted anyone as strongly or as deeply as he trusts Victor. Not Phichit, not Minako, not even his family--at least, not since he was very small. With them there was always the underlying buzz of concern that he was doing something wrong, that he was disappointing them in some way or another. He's not sure exactly when or how it changed with Victor, that the anxiety that came with being wanted and loved by his idol sank away to a low hum no longer ever-present but rather called upon at intervals of stress. He thinks maybe breaking down in front of him and laying himself bare had done the trick, but he can't know for sure, when it all feels like a gradual process that happened without his anxiety's permission. Maybe that's what real love is, something that ignores the brain entirely and goes straight for the gut.

He doesn't know when he stopped being so nervous about what Victor would think of him at every turn. No, he's still anxious, he thinks he always is going to be, but now, with Victor, he knows that it's not real. He knows that his concerned are baseless, because Victor loves him entirely, for who he is and everything he wants to be. The buzz is just a buzz, that's all. It's unfamiliar territory, being so able to trust someone at his most vulnerable. He likes it. If he were to lose it, he's not sure he could ever recover.

They've done this before, discussed it after Yuuri came off of the ice with too much energy left to dispel and too much need to follow through with his Eros. Victor made him feel safe enough to be her, even if the whole process tightened his stomach into knots. He would be fine the moment he saw Victor, he just knew. He needs a release, and being her, his eros, a person so distinctly detached from himself, will give him just that.

Once hes got his hair pushed back out of his face and his face made up like he learned from youtube tutorials (hell no was he asking for help, that would be mortifying), Yuuri fusses and sets himself up on his bed while he waits for Victor to get back from the shop. He fidgets with his pearl necklace, his transparent blouse, the edge of his short, tight skirt. He hikes up the thigh high stockings and wiggles his ankle in the high heels--you can do this Yuuri. You do it on the ice, you can do it off. He needs to remind himself, even if this isn't a first. Even if he knows he can. ]

Edited 2017-01-16 03:04 (UTC)

[ Daily, small things remind Victor of why he chose to do what he did, why looking at the breadth and depth of his career and deciding it was worth dropping - at least for the year - for this man. The pleasure of watching Yuuri in bloom is unending: a subtle straightening of his shoulders at breakfast, holding Victor's eyes for longer, if not looking away at all, the small, happy glow of a job he knows he's done well anticipating Victor's actual praise. The reality is Victor is a finger on the hand that keeps pushing Yuuri onward, but he takes a deep and selfish happiness in knowing he was the definitive, tipping pressure toward greatness.

And he wants it so badly to mean as much for Yuuri, for him to love and allow himself to be loved and trust in that all the way to the gold because it's a language they share besides English, carving out their hearts a jump at a time, smoothing it over and doing it again. Higher. More beautiful. Delicately, like finding Michaelangelo's statue inside the stone rep after rep, competition after competition. And just as thrilling as the first time. Victor is in love and it feels like the way things should have been from the start, letting someone else have the key to all that is instead of him.

("You've changed," Chris said, not complaining, per se, but not happy either. Victor couldn't disagree, though he smiled beatifically and peaceably urged Chris to finish his damn coffee.)

Getting to be on the ground floor of a whole new avenue of Yuuri's expression - Victor can think of nothing more exquisite. So he creates room for him, gives Yuuri a safe space to play out this thing that Victor's helped awaken and gotten sweat and a scored back for it, an exhilaration gone unmatched because Yuuri is unmatched. He can be him, or he can be her. Victor belongs to them.

This evening sees Victor gallantly rescuing Hiroko's cabbage stock as well as making a few personal purchases, a promise given to Yuuri that he'd be swift to see Yuuri off to bed, the usual. What isn't usual is the smokey-eyed vision that greets him inside his room, Makkachin nowhere in sight, replaced with - god.

Victor nudges the door closed, avoiding collapsing against it to do so, but it's a near thing. His eyes are transfixed, already dark and deep with the night, a midnight blue eclipse taking Yuuri in and all at once he knows who he's addressing, who's demanding his attention. Victor draws himself up, smiling at last with the molten sensation rolling down his spine. ]

Ah, good evening. To what do I owe the pleasure, ma chèrie?

Edited (Typos) 2017-01-16 13:01 (UTC)

[ Somehow, when Victor enters the room, everything about this seems just as easy to access as it does on the ice. Victor walks into the room, looks at him all dolled up like a woman, and acts like he's just seen a super model laid out before him. He acts like Yuuri feels whenever he sees a Victor, and it's encouraging. It's the reminder he needs to embody his Eros properly, that Victor loves him like this, that it isn't humiliating. It's a reminder that the reason he's doing this is that bring her makes him feel good.

It's like turning on a switch, because as soon as his reason for confidence is confirmed it comes easily. His knees tilt sideways together in more feminine pose, and he leans into one arm as he shoots Victor a playfully seductive look. ]

I was just thinking about how good you make me feel when you look at me like that. Are you going to join me?

[ not for the first time, he wishes English had gendered personal pronouns. It's not quite the same. ]

[ Victor can do a whole lot more than look at Yuuri. Before the sentence is out of his mouth Victor is already making short work of the scarf he'd worn out, draping it over the back of a chair, attention unerring on this entrancing creature. ]

All too happy to. Let me look at you closer...

[ Taking the lead comes natural to Victor, and more over is generally Yuuri's preference even as this beautiful and quietly terrifying fatale. The thrall she has over Victor takes him back to the ice, though the only cold in the room is the moonlight blue kissing his face as he obeys a silent command in the line of Yuuri's body, coming to him and sitting squarely in his sights. They push and pull, request and demand coming from both sides in no clear pattern.

Two fingers reach, draw from the curve of Yuuri's jaw to the apex and lift it to the faint light, careful not to ruin Yuuri's delicate work. Honestly, Victor had no idea. Maybe incorporate the makeup into the routine if it makes Yuuri happy. ]

Have you been working on this? What a lovely addition, Yuuri, I'm so pleased that you're sharing more of yourself with me.

[ The makeup is something Yuuri learned from Phichit, if he were to be honest about it, though this hadn't been exactly the scenario considered. He remembers going to see plays and musicals with Phichit back in Detroit, because his friend loved the theatricality of it all, always so enamored by the stage. Makeup, he explained, could be so important for building a character. It could work like a mask, it's just the same as how they do it in opera, or in kabuki. Putting on makeup in the bathroom mirror with a dedicated focus helped him feel like this character he created, this character he could embody, was just as beautiful on the outside as he imagined her to be, as he imagined himself to be in those moments.

He doesn't want to talk about it. He doesn't want the veil to lift and for his anxiety to creep back up his stomach. It will, if he talks about how he was practicing when Victor was out so it could be a surprise, or how he had spent hours researching instead of just going down the hall to ask Mari for advice, because the thought of exposing himself to ridicule would have made him stop right where he was and never go back. He doesn't want to be that person right now, he wants to be Victor's Eros as much as Victor is his.

I want to share everything with you he thinks, but doesn't say. Instead he pushes back Victor's coat off of his arms before grabbing the collar of his shirt. He slides his hands back delicately underneath as if to adjust it, letting his fingers ghost along the back of Victor's neck before coming back around to grip fabric. He tugs, to pull his fiance in. ]

Stop talking and kiss me.

Mademoiselle.

[ And Victor goes willing or not (it is. very, very willing), a warm chuckle pressed easily into Yuuri's soft mouth, tacky with something. Mm. Vanilla? Ah, his Yuuri is anything but!

Because if he's surprising Victor with this, he has a need that must be met, an insecurity that he is trying to remedy in the most direct fashion. Victor understands his role intrinsically and will play it with all the passion that Yuuri expects: nothing less than complete worship. Victor abides, dedicates his love to this altar.

Victor shifts the angle of the kiss along with his weight, dispensing with the light teasing in favor of bearing Yuuri down to the bedspread, tongue thrust in, a hand roaming to tip one of Yuuri's stockinged knees outward in a whisper of nylon. A finger taps the fabric, smile sharp as the teeth that worry Yuuri's lip as they briefly part. ]

So many pieces to unwrap. My diva makes me work hard to please her, but [ The hand at his knee skims up, up into the dangerous heat kept tight under the skirt, seeking the sinuous shift of lace he knows is there, eyes bright on Yuuri. ] - is she even wet for me yet?

Edited 2017-01-17 03:22 (UTC)

[ Victor's lips against his are a spark to start a raging fire in him. They always are and Yuuri is sure they always will be. Victor's weight is magnetized to his own body, and his knees would have slid apart to let Victor in without the help. Victor's hands on his knees though, wisping down over synthetic black fabric closer to his thighs, it's intoxicating. Yuuri's own hands hold tightly to the back of Victor's neck as they kiss, as their tongues dance tantricaly. His fingers shift up to grip the longest short hairs at the base of Victor's skull, to pull him in closer. Kissing Victor like this is always like learning to breathe differently. Like learning to breathe as her.

His grip on the back of Victor's head remains tight as his fiance pulls away to speak, and Yuuri hangs his head back with a playful come-hither stare. His heels are still on, though one threatens to fall off as it hangs away from his heel--it's that same foot that is rubbing up and down the side of Victor's leg. He's not fully hard under black lace and nylon but he's on his way there. ]

Why don't you unwrap me and see?

[ He rolls his hips gently towards Victor's hand, punctuating his words with a hint of action. ]

[ Viktor huffs another laugh, fingertips drawing a hot line that crosses over the garter belt. ]

So much work.

[ He wouldn't have it any other way. Yuuri won't mind while Viktor takes his time, as long as he obeys, right?

Viktor drags his mouth away and down the handsome line of Yuuri's jaw, nosing the sweet softness behind his ear with no small delight. It's an awfully fluffy move compared to the mischief his hands are getting up to, one testing the taut pull of the skirt across Yuuri's (frankly magnificent) thighs, the other coming back inside and continuing its journey north and finding that lace, the shape of his cock burning hot when Viktor palms him and firmly skates the heel along his length.

Granted Viktor may be biased, but he does love Yuuri's cock and makes it a point of worship as much as possible, and Yuuri dressing it up for him so prettily really is thoughtful. Yuuri is the best. ]

I love youuu. [ It gusts happily into the curve of Yuuri's ear, a mushy nuzzle into his neck as Viktor hums and works Yuuri into stiffness while he gently pushes the skirt upward to ring around Yuuri's trim waist, relieving him from a certain amount of pressure while Viktor himself inflicts yet more with his hand. ] You really have no idea how happy you make me.

[ Yuuri has some idea of how happy he makes Viktor, if it's even a fraction of how happy Viktor makes him. Contrary to what some of the press might have suggested, Viktor hasn't molded Yuuri into anything. Viktor's choreography didn't create the diva under his hands. She had always been there, along with everything else that Yuuri had tapped into ever since Viktor crashed into his shamble of a life. His best self had always been there in his head, his heart, his gut, and yet alone in the world his anxiety wrapped around him like a hardened shell. A vicious cycle of never achieving self-actualization, begetting less and less. Before Viktor, the only thing he was really sure about himself was that he had failed, but failed what? Himself? His family? His dreams? All of it, he thought, until Viktor. Viktor smashed through that shell he built around himself, simply by being his truest self. Simply by being Viktor.

If Yuuri's love is selfish, he would have it no other way. Without Viktor, he simply couldn't be. Yuuri loves him completely.

His breath catches in his throat as Viktor's palm presses against his lace-covered cock, the sound and feel of the stutter in his breathing no doubt grazing the shell of Viktor's ear. His hips roll again, and again, gently fucking into Viktor's hand like his hips could beckon Viktor closer. His fingertips toy with Viktor's hair, his other hand moving to grip his shoulder. A teasingly chaste kiss is pressed in front of Viktor's ear, before Yuuri nips at his fiance's earlobe, before he lets his eros out on the tip of his tongue. ]

Show me Vitya, show me how much you love me. Show me that you love me as much as I love you. Do you feel how wet you get me?

[ He should be flushing, but he isn't. Only Viktor could get draw this level of filth out of him. Viktor who is alone privy to the inner workings of Yuuri's head and heart. ]

[ Viktor's hum is agreeable and warm against Yuuri's neck, obediently running the heel of his hand up the center of Yuuri's shaft and close gently around the lace-covered tip, teasing the light dampness already growing out from where the slit rests. So early? My Yuuri is eager, but Viktor's remembering what lace and sheer fabrics do to his darling's erogenous zones when he's aroused, like throwing jet fuel on a roaring bonfire.

It's why Viktor doesn't mourn Yuuri losing his virginal inexperience: he is as sensitive today as he was when he let Viktor explore him over the course of an hour, back when Yuuri wasn't ready for penetrative sex. Yuuri had been laid out, made to spread his legs with his feet pressed to the mattress, forbidden to bring his hands anywhere near his cock. And Viktor made an evening of making Yuuri sigh and arch with only the balls of his feet driving into the bed, his magnificent thighs tense with pleasure. Ahh, memories.

Therefore Viktor has good reason to remove himself from beneath Yuuri's skirt and leverage himself up onto his elbow, no cruelty in the smirk looming over Yuuri's face. ]

I like to think that I can show my love in how well I know you, Yuuchan.

[ Here Viktor retreats further, craning up to rest on his knees and drape Yuuri's fine, stocking-clad legs high up and over them, bodily dragging Yuuri down. Snug as a bug. Viktor's hands then busy themselves skimming upward to feel out the shape of the bra beneath that sheer blouse - gorgeous embroidery apparent. ]

How well I know my diva's body and only care to make her feel like the divine being she is.

[ The pressure increases, Viktor pushing up and outward against Yuuri's breasts, massaging them in broad circles with his gaze intent on his face because this is merely the appetizer for when the bra comes off. ]

Moan when you haven't had enough.

[ Yuuri can feel the pressure of Viktor's erection through pants and lace. If he shifts his hips just so he could probably feel the cold teeth of Viktor's zipper straining under the change of fit. He does shift his hips--just slightly, to tease, but finds himself thoroughly distracted from the potential of teeth catching on lace by Viktor's hands. He loves Viktor's hands, with warm palms and long fingers constantly wandering across his skin. They give him goosebumps as often as they soothe, and as they slide up her blouse, skin rises in response, sending a shiver down to Yuuri's toes.

Oh yeah, he's definitely sensitive. With all the stress of waiting for Viktor to come home, he's only keyed himself up with anticipation.

Any smile from the quiet laugh Viktor pulls out of Yuuri quickly sinks down into neutral. He's preoccupied. With the intensity of their connection, with the feeling of Viktor humoring him, treating his pectoral's like tits (they should try this when he's out of shape, he barely thinks for a moment, that might make him feel better about the weight gain for a bit), with the stubborn desire to not moan because Viktor asked for it. He can only breath heavily, tongue peeking out from his lips for just a second before retreating in favor of his teeth. A bite to the corner of his lips, and eye contact willfully kept. To see and be seen by Viktor, that's all he's ever wanted--all he's ever going to want. It riles him up more than even the way Viktor's thumbs brush against his lace-covered nipples. ]

Come on Viktor.

[ It's not a moan--really it's not. He's sure it's not. It's a whine of a demand. Not a moan at all. Either way, he pushes his hips down against Viktor's in emphasis, his hands gripping Viktor's wrists insisting on more attention than he's giving. ]

[ The offer had maybe sixty percent of the seriousness that was applied the last time the Victor was this frustrated and confused about what to do. But straws are being grasped at and while Yuuri's upset isn't yet approaching Cup of China levels yet (no imminent performance anxiety, no ideas what is Victor doing wrong) it isn't going anywhere good.

All he knows is he's tugging his skinny tie free of his shirt collar and blurting out: ]

Well, would spanking me make you feel better?

Edited 2017-01-22 20:44 (UTC)

[ Yuuri isn't upset. He's not angry, not really. He's frustrated, at the end of his rope about something completely stupid. He loves Viktor entirely and completely, but that doesn't mean that Viktor isn't sometimes the biggest idiot that Yuuri has ever met in his life, with the worst timing.

It started with Viktor's joke that he would only kiss a gold medal. At first Yuuri blanched when Viktor seemed to be serious about that. The joke became reoccurring, and sometimes it was actually cute, but not today. Not when he had flubbed the short program this time at Asian Open, but somehow managed to recover well enough in the free skate to land silver against Guang-Hong. What he needed was to be lead down the path towards decompression in their hotel room, not for Viktor to playfully tease him by refusing to kiss him at all.

He's not angry. He's tired, annoyed and frayed, and Viktor's suggestion threw him for a loop.

He hadn't expected that at all, and his first reaction is just to freeze in surprise. Would that make him feel better? What really would make him feel better would be Viktor actually understanding what Yuuri needed, but then, that could do it. It's not a terrible idea. Maybe the idea that venting his frustration through spanking his fiance makes him as much of a fuck up as he already thinks that he is but... ]

...Maybe?

Edited 2017-05-05 22:03 (UTC)

[ For the items they couldn't get at the Hasetsu equivalent of a farmer's market, Viktor shoulders part of Mama's shopping list at a commercial market so she can get back to the Yu-topia customers in time for lunch prep. Viktor's happy to do it for reasons which encompass his adoration of Mrs. Katsuki, married her adorable Omega son, and then got her adorable Omega son pregnant, so he needed to hit the market in any case to replenish their stock.

Viktor's list looks something like this:

cake

so much cake

ice cream???

some greens, god Yuuri

you're going to regret all of this when you have to work the weight off

mochi

The pharmacy counter alleges the efficacy of all manner of prenatal nutrients claiming to guarantee certain secondary genders down the road, homeopathic remedies for swollen ankles formulated specifically for Omegas, but Viktor settles on a standard heating pad with some extra quilting and moves on with the rest of his list, smiling at anyone who seemed to (and didn't seem to) recognize him. Walking on clouds, spring in his step, maybe a little tired from too many nights in a row of emergency trips to the bathroom for Yuuri and laying awake massaging his neck and shoulders until his darling drifted off again.

His life is... perfect. Not at all anything he ever saw himself having even after he was finished with the ice. But to think that he's going to go into his next, and possibly final, season side by side with his husband, watched on by their child is unthinkable and it's happening.

They have a place of their own now, but Hiroko all but insisted kindly that she put them up for the final weeks. Viktor is immensely grateful for the Katsukis' support, quelling some of the anxiousness that he only really felt when lost too far down a rabbit hole, thinking of things that could go wrong or needing help in the first days, neither of them having had children before, and who better than the best mom that Viktor knows?

Besides, Yuuri deserves his support structure that he's had all his life and Viktor's done his best to be the doting husband and not wince too much when he packs away another pint of neopolitan.

Dutifully stopping by the kitchen to drop off Hiroko's affects, Viktor wanders back to their shared room, converted from two smaller ones to accommodate a larger bed, and on that bed almost constantly now is his Yuuri and perpetual spread of licked-clean dishes and empty wrappers and bags. Viktor melts at the sight.

]

Yuuuriii~, I'm back! We cleaned them out of wontons but the rice balls with furikake should work, right?

[ Pregnancy has been...overwhelming is really the only word to describe it. Yuuri has always had these preconceived notions of what it could be like, as anyone who presented as an omega would. He imagined a thousand negative scenarios for every positive one, and the idea that he would be the worst parent, the idea that he would do any child a disservice made him very sure that he would never let it happen. Not that anyone would want to bond with him anyway, so it was a non-issue.

In all of his overthought and overwrought scenarios, he never once considered that he could actually be happy and stable enough to decide to keep it--To keep her. When it came down to it, the only disservice he had done was to himself. He fumbled with guilt and regret in his delivery of the news when he discovered that their slip up had done exactly what their natural instincts wanted, but the moment that Yuuri saw Viktor's face light up he knew. They had to do this. They were doing this. A stubborn man's decision now set in stone, and that was that. He had to see Viktor light up like that for the rest of his life, to coo over his stomach and what would come from it, something that was entirely and completely theirs. That was something worth doing.

The months that came after were somehow simultaneously the most harrowing and most wonderful of his life so far. They didn't overtake the post failure period for consistency of depressive drops and panic attacks, but the emotional whiplash was nothing to take lightly. He felt like he was always worrying, more than usual, and worrying about worrying magnified by the stress and pressure of an infant kicking his bladder, of demanding more food which he was happy to give in exchange for the constant buzzing reminder that he would be fat again once the baby was out in the world. Yet in contrast there was the pure and unadulterated joy around him, directed at him, from his loved ones. His family, his friends, Viktor shining like he had when he was young and skating on the ice like nothing in the universe could lift him higher. Yet something had, and that something was inside Yuuri. Yuuri had done it, had given Viktor something better than skating.

Sometimes the thought made him actually throw up, and sometimes he couldn't stop smiling into the palms of his hands. He's been a complete and total mess, and he's happy. It's some kind of wild contradiction, and he's sure of one thing: he wouldn't change it for anything.

Three weeks. That's how long it should be according to the Doctor, and he feels heavy. Sometimes he doesn't want to get out of bed at all, just prop himself up and stare down at his belly. Sometimes all he wanted to do was get out of bed, to move around, to go skate or for a walk or go sit in the onsen, but he couldn't. It was hard this close to the due date to go around without help, too much energy to expend that he didn't feel like expending. If he lets himself acknowledge the feeling for what it is, he would know it anywhere; the creeping claws of depression, ready to drag him down the moment his baby girl isn't physically part of him anymore. He shouldn't feel this way and he knows it. All he wants to do is stay in bed.

So while Viktor had gone out, that's exactly what Yuuri had done. He sat in bed and ate snacks that he knew the baby liked. He checked social media (which with the exception of boosts at any shared photos had gone rather quiet without him or Viktor on the ice--because really, what do they matter when they aren't skating?), he checked skate blogs and news, watched youtube videos and gently caressed his stomach, a soft soothing comfort for himself just as much as for the baby.

He feels like he's sinking, like his worth is dependent on something out of his grasp. It takes Viktor coming back home to lift him up. Talk about emotional whiplash. ]

Yeah, that's fine. Please tell me you got the mochi too.

[ If Viktor doesn't get over to him for a hug right this second he's going to lose it, whatever it is. He's not sure. ]

[ Viktor has been doing some poking around and, honestly? He's a little offended that Christophe never breathed a word to him. He may not have Viktor's number (why, oh why?) but it isn't as though the current reigning world champion and soon-to-be Olympian is hard to get a hold of on social media, or that people wouldn't happily point Chris in the right direction since it's where everyone was facing anyhow.

(This is all assuming he cared for Viktor's well wishes and attention, and who didn't want that?)

They've only brushed shoulders on the circuit, but he's had Viktor's polite interest since just before his senior debut. Only in recent years has dear Christophe found his niche as his body matured and made his strengths quite evident. And those were mainly behind him, so if he didn't know that Viktor was taking notice it's entirely understandable.

And as a fellow who also shares his birthday on a major holiday can attest, it's easy to forget and see it baked into the holiday itself. Which is why Viktor wheedles his address out of a blushy clerks manning the phones for the skating federation he and Christophe share and he proceeds to order several dozen roses and boxed (Swiss, of course) chocolates to his apartment to brighten up his special day. A note is left on the most prominent dozen, arranged in the shape of a heart and filled with a grip of younger pink roses, still buds. ]

Beautiful flowers for a beautiful boy. Happy birthday!

In town for the weekend, want to catch up?

Much love,
Viktor

Edited 2017-02-07 00:18 (UTC)

[ Christophe has never been a shy person, but there is a distinct difference between approaching just anyone and approaching Viktor Nikiforov. Shouting for his attention before his senior debut has been ballsy, and he doesn't regret it. It gave him an opening for conversation the few times they have brushed shoulders, but that was it. Viktor was an enigma, and Christophe couldn't figure out how to really put himself on the map of his interest.

That was until two years ago, when he figured out exactly what he wanted to do with his routines and brought Roxanne and Sempre Libra to the ciruit. He shot himself upwards with his own actualization as a skater, getting gold after gold until he found himself with silver on the podium beside his idol. Watching Viktor skate hadn't inspired him to be his best nearly as much as standing there with him did, just barely missing the golden target.

They had chatted afterwards but not for long. Viktor, he discovered, had a perchance for fluttering off like a butterfly, and Chris had been bombarded by press. That had been it really. The same thing happened last year, and he imagined it would go similarly again this time around. Friendly conversation and exciting competition that fizzled into nothing. It was a shame really, he was starting to get disappointed.

Well, he always had admired Viktor as a skater first, so nothing had really changed, had it?

He was looking at his face in the mirror, debating growing a goatee, when the doorbell rang. Flowers and gifts from fans on valentines day wasn't new, especially when it became public knowledge that the day was his birthday too. He sighed and prepared for the first of many. He took the bundle from the delivery man with a warm smile that dropped into vague disinterest when the door closed behind him. He places the bundle down on his kitchen counter and goes for the note--

Oh wow. Never let it be said that Viktor Nikiforov doesn't know how to surprise someone.

A more genuine smile takes the place of the one that fell, and he leans back against the counter to text the number left on the card. He grabs the bundle of flowers and presses it against his face for a glamorous selfie. ]

You are full of surprises, aren't you Nikiforov? 💋 💋

I'm having brunch with my family, but I would love to see you after.

[ By nature of being Viktor Nikiforov he has the privilege of double standards, being able to apathetically push back at unwanted attention when he's not feeling it or pout when attention he does decide he wants on a whim is attention he also isn't getting. Viktor is a grown man and is spoiled for choice which he can rarely take advantage of in the need to also protect himself. So fickleness suits him.

Tracking Chris's progress has been a small pleasure of his for some time, right up to the point of starting to share the podium with him, and then it became something of a dance that Viktor enjoyed even more. True, he gets distracted easily and has to fulfill a modicum of media obligations yet does more because his fans want to hear from him, but Viktor cares and wants to show he cares.

Which is why he's tickled that Christophe blesses him with an expertly taken selfie with Viktor's gift, wiping off the rest of the lip balm from his finger to reply right away. ]

Ahh, la perfection! ♥__♥

Bien sûr ma chérie, I wouldn't dream of speaking with you how I want to in front of your parents ;)

We'll say Café Kairo at one?

[ Chris chuckles at Viktor's innuendo, and he reaches for a piece of chocolate from another gift bag he had received the day before. He takes his time to reply, but not too much time. ]

Parfait ♥ à tout à l'heure

[ What a good start to the day. He would have brunch with his parents and ride the delight of the fact that he would be having a casual, friendly (and seemingly flirty) coffee with Viktor Nikiforov all the way do Cafe Kairo. Finally. He was saddled with a bag of gifts by the time he made it to the cafe, having kissed mamon et papa goodbye at the other end of town, and putting the bag down became a priority. He glanced around for Viktor, and finding himself there first among tables of couples, he took a seat outside and turned his attention to the birthday wishes on his phone.

The server came by to ask if he was waiting for someone. Of course, I'm waiting for my date he replied easily, with a wink and a charming smile. ]

Edited 2017-05-10 23:54 (UTC)

[ Another silver medal.

Chris found his stride two years ago, when he decided to take all of that sexual frustration he was feeling thanks to puberty and turn it into inspiration. In those two years he's gotten golds, silvers, bronzes in qualifiers, had even lost his footing one or twice to drop him just below the podium, but with Viktor? He's competed against his idol a handful of times now and every time? Silver.

He shouldn't be disappointed. Viktor Nikiforov is a force of nature, and if he can get silver and stand next to him repeatedly, that's a sign of his own skill. He's earned these silvers, through hard work and raw talent. He wants more than this though, and wonders if he'll ever overtake Viktor's impossible dominance.

That's a thought. He runs a hand over his cock as it stirs under hot water. This was supposed to be a quick rinse off--he has to change back and head out for the presser in a minute, but maybe a quick one wouldn't hurt.

With a sigh he abandons that train of thought to soap up the curve of his ass and rinse. He can get off to thinking about Viktor later.]

( Another gold medal.

It isn't as though Viktor isn't proud of himself; of course he is. The competition was good this year: Chris Giacometti seems hell-bent on giving him as good a run for his money as he possibly can, and he enjoys being able to inspire his fellow skaters to perform their absolute best. Any concerns he might've had about the Swiss boy's growth sport were laid to rest on the ice; Chris has grabbed puberty by the horns and turned it into a strength.

In return, puberty seems to have -

Well. Enhanced Chris in ways beyond height. In Viktor's defense, it's hard to not notice when a figure skater begins to fill out and look different. They all wear such tight costumes, and they share showers, and spend their off evenings eating and drinking and making merry when they're on the competition circuit. Chris was a cute child, but he's becoming a very handsome young man. With Viktor's inclinations the way they are ... )

No. Stop it.

( He mutters under his breath. Viktor touches the gold disc at his chest and tries not to think about his country - something he's been doing for two or three years now, ever since he began to understand why Yakov has been so strict about which men he is and isn't seen with. His coach knows, of course. It all came to a head on the night before his seventeenth birthday, when Viktor confessed that his mother had hit him and told him he was unnatural for wanting to ask a boy out on a date. Think of Russia, she said. Think of the shame you'd bring on your country. His lifetime of blood, sweat and tears could be rinsed away, just like that.

His family already hates him. Viktor couldn't bear it if his country hated him too, if for no other reason than those joyous screams and cheers are all he has left to hold on to.

A shower will help, Viktor thinks, as he steps into the changing room. He has an interview in about thirty minutes but there's still time to get himself turned around. He removes his medal, then his clothes, and pulls his hair into a bun on the top of his head, before digging out his towel and heading into the showers. )

Oh -

( He's used to sharing showers, but he isn't used to catching the increasingly handsome Chris rubbing suds over the firm curve of his ass. Viktor blinks, feeling heat bleed into the the edges of his ears, and clears his throat a little awkwardly just to let the Swiss know he isn't alone. )

Chris! I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here.

( Long fingers clutch at the towel wrapped low on his hips. )

Would you like some privacy?

( That's it. Play it professional. Viktor arranges one of his smaller fake smiles onto his lips and tosses a wink his way. )

I know how important it can be to have a little alone time before dealing with the press.

Edited 2017-02-26 14:18 (UTC)

[ Being gay in an international sport, you learn quite quickly what you can and can't do, with whom, and where. Josef had sat him down and had a talk when he started to find himself. Not a talk about what he did in his private time, but about public image and international borders. He couldn't be vocally out if he wanted to be in the ISU's good graces. Not until he retired, and then he could do whatever the hell he wanted.

It infuriated him for a short while, being the naive teenager he was (he thinks now with the fine perspective of being the ripe old age of eighteen), but it wasn't that hard to understand once the very sudden feeling of betrayal settled. It didn't matter what he did, it only mattered what was in the public eye. It didn't matter what he skated to, so long as he charmed all of his fans equally with no visible preference. It didn't matter if everyone knew, so long as he never said anything about it. He found it all terribly frustrating at first, but the payoff was worth it. The payoff was silver medal after silver medal next to Viktor Nikiforov.

Viktor Nikiforov who he had just considered getting off to in the shower. Viktor Nikiforov who just waltzed into the showers and froze.

Generally unbothered, Chris just smiles with amicable warmth, turning halfway to facing Viktor as he continues to soap himself up, moving onto his chest. ]

Non, it's not a problem at all. It's not as if I have anything that you haven't seen before.

[ He winks, playful, with no weight behind it. He likes to think that they're at least friendly by now. ]

[ The tie around Yuuri's wrists is simultaneously tight and soft, something that can only be said of good silk. He tugs his wrists to test them, and wonders if his hands are going to fall asleep like this, or his shoulders end up stiff. With his hands tied to the headboard of their bed there is little Yuuri can do but squirm, trying to make himself more comfortable.

Not even a year ago he might have been completely unsure about all of this, but now? Knowing exactly how much Viktor wants this, being able to see the look in his eyes once the restraints are tightened, Yuuri isn't unsure at all. Viktor gives him confidence in most things, and this is no exception. He wants this because Viktor wants this, and that's reason enough. He trusts him implicitly. ]

They're fine, Viktor, I promise. I can move my fingers.

open post | 5 | kink

for merlin.

> for nevercomefirst

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yuuri!

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fun fact: dyk word of God says Victor is fluent in French?

Of course he is, more reasons for Yuuri to feel like his polyglot fiancé is out of his league

pshaw he will use every poly of that glot to clean Yuuri's heels to a mirror sheen if s/he asked

one day Vitya, one day <3

Soon, he hopes~

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The Thing. You know the Thing.

I am the latest late.

here juuuust in case

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continues dominating inbox

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for extramom

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for drunkmom