Disclaimer - I own nothing you recognise.
Sparks Fly
Viktor looked around the stadium. He was nervous but he refused to show that. His new team mates would be here soon and there was no way he was about to show them any fear. They would never let him live it down. He knew he was already going to catch stick for only being sixteen. Seeing them walking towards him, he straightened himself, letting confidence take over his nerves. He had grown up watching some of these players, but it would not be a good time to start gushing over them. Taking a deep breath, he smiled as they reached him, nodding to them and greeting the manager respectfully.
As the manager shook his hand, and introduced him to the other's, one man stuck out to Viktor. Pyotr Vulchanov, one of the beaters. The man was tall, well built and very handsome. As they shook hands, an electric current seemed to run from one to the other, causing both set's of eyes to widen slightly. This was missed by the rest of the team, who were already getting ready to practice.
Viktor slotted right into the team, easier than he thought possible which he was thankful for. The only thing he was having a hard time with in practice was keeping his eyes out for the snitch instead of on Pyotr. The man was everything Viktor wished he could be, charismatic, charming, sexy as hell.
When Viktor caught the snitch in their first game of the world cup, his team mates had piled on him, shouting congratulations. When they had all cleaned up, Viktor was informed they were going out to celebrate. As he had turned seventeen the week before this would be the first time Viktor had been able to go out with them.
Three hours later, Viktor and Pyotr were the only people left at the table, which was filled with empty glasses. Their team mate's had found themselves very willing dance partners and departed their table a while ago.
"You did very well today Viktor," Pyotr said, smiling slightly at the younger man.
"Thank's. I'm glad we got the season off to a good start," Viktor replied, rubbing his hands on his jeans. He always got nervous when he was alone with Pyotr. A fact which the man in question seemed to know. They chatted for a while longer, but Viktor couldn't help notice that Pyotr was getting closer all the time, sliding around the booth they were sitting in until they were side by side, almost touching.
"Am I making you nervous, Viktor," he asked slowly, licking his lips.
"No, of course not."
"Oh, so you won't mind if I do this then," Pyotr asked, running a finger along Viktor's arm.
Viktor shook his head, unable to speak.
"Or this," the seductive man asked as he started making pattern's on Viktor's thigh. Viktor shook his head again. Pyotr laughed, pulling him close. Kissing him gently, he whispered, "you have no need to fear me Viktor, or be nervous. I'll be gentle."
Taking his hand, Pyotr led Viktor to the dance floor, where they danced close together, sparks flying between them.
Year's later, Viktor would look back at that night and laugh. Climbing into bed with his husband, he knew that spark would never leave them.