open post | 5 | kink

[meerkats]

O P E N   S M U T   P O S T

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◉ sex!

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

[onsensual]

[ 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. ]

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

[playscoach]

[ 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.

one day Vitya, one day <3

[onsensual]

[ 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.

Soon, he hopes~

[playscoach]

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?

[onsensual]

[ 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. ]

[playscoach]

[ 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.

[onsensual]

[ 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. ]

[playscoach]

[ 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.

[onsensual]

[ 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. ]