CHAPTER ELEVEN

-Onward and Upward! Russia has more than one Christmas!? Hot wine is on the menu!-

January 7

Though Yuri had been awake for over an hour already, leaving the comfort of two big blankets - and the warmth of his fiancé - was unthinkable. He quietly pushed to sit up against the headboard with a few pillows behind himself, let Victor's arm slide down his front to rest against his lap - the other still under his lower back - and brought his knees up to rest his right hand against while looking at his phone. His left arm slid over his partner's head and upturned shoulder, and set it gently on the man's broad back, thumb stroking back and forth slowly. His coiled-up ear-buds were clicked into the phone soon after, and he quietly listened to some music while he checked the Instagram feeds.

He deadpanned the screen when he started seeing video-posts featuring the melt-down at the Russian Skating Federation conference from the day before, and he nervously clicked into one when he saw that it featured subtitles. One hand slid up to the center of his chest, and tried to quell the pounding of his heart as he saw the video start to play; he knew what was coming, in principle, but not the details.

Footage was shot from somewhere in the center of the room, giving Yuri a clear view of the back of a certain reporter's head. He found his prior assumption correct about what was being said prior to the RSF noticing he was in the room, but it was surreal to watch the entire thing fall apart after he was told to join Team Yakov at the high table. It was especially weird to see Victor put the water bottle, and then the coffee mug, in front of his hand, but when the offending journalist started talking, and Yuri was able to read the translation of what he'd been saying, as well as his partner's responses, it made a pit grow in his stomach.

I thought that was weird... He was trying to hide my ring... He thought dubiously, and thumbed at it unconsciously. The last thing I ever wanted was to cause Victor trouble in his efforts to come back to competitive skating, but this whole time I was only thinking about the way he'd have to divide his time between me and himself. When I heard the fight starting, I thought it was because the sportscaster was mad that Victor was coaching a non-Russian. If us being together is going to rock the boat, too...then...

When Yurio finally made himself known in the midst of it all, Yuri's eyes were wide, and all the angry butterflies in his stomach were scared away. He watched in wide-eyed amazement at the things the teen was yelling, though he balked a little when his own 'super-gay' declaration on Japanese National television came up. He'd twitched forcefully enough that Victor stirred next to him, pulling his arms inward in a tight, cat-like hug around his core, but then released again, and the Russian buried his face in the space between Yuri's side and the pillow just beneath him with a half-groaned sigh.

Yuri was unsure if his partner had actually woken up in that moment and was just trying to go back to sleep, or if he had just moved in his sleep. He wasn't about to go poking and prodding just to find out, in any case. That would be Makkachin's task, and the big fluffy woofer came in almost as if on cue then...with his food-dish in his jaws. Yuri's eyes went wide yet again, and he frantically tried to shoo the dog away by brushing his hands through the air, but those soulful brown eyes just looked back at him in confusion. Makkachin lowered his head down and set the dish on the carpet...then rose his head back up again and sat down. Yuri was petrified, seeing the drool hanging down from the pupper's mouth.

Then the bark came.

"Rouf!"

Victor didn't budge.

Another bark, followed by a pitiable whine, and the dog leaned down to pick up the dish again. He took the two steps forward to get his front paws on the edge of the bed and nodded the bowl around before dropping it on the bed behind his human's back and barked again. The silver Russian groaned quietly and cringed in his half-sleepy haze, but Makkachin reached a paw out and poked at his person's back clumsily through the blankets and whined again.

Yuri just watched in terrified-but-amused silence, and pulled the ear-buds out. He wrapped the cable around his phone and set the whole thing aside, "I think he's hungry."

"...Whattimeisit...?" The older skater mumbled.

"Nearly 10am."

"Ah!" Victor was up with a start, and sent the metal bowl flying from the blankets to land on the floor and roll away. It bounced lightly off the nearby wall before rolling to a stop upside down, "We should've been up a while ago!"

"I was." Yuri mused, and leaning forward to wrap his arms around his legs. He set his cheek over his knees since his partner had let him go, "I didn't want to wake you up though."

"But everything starts today!"

"...Everything...starts?" He lifted his head again, his smile turning to a glance of confusion, "What are you talking about?"

"CHRISTMAS STARTS TODAY."

Yuri gave an incredulous look, "...Christmas was like 2 weeks ago. It was your birthday? We were in Hasetsu still? We did the deed that night."

"NO! ORTHODOX CHRISTMAS." The Russian's arms were up in the air for dramatic effect, but he gave a look anyway, "...Don't you know...?"

"...No?"

Blue eyes blinked, "But I could've sworn that I..." He started, only for the dawn of remembrance to shine in his mind, "Oh right! I only told you it was touristy this time of year but then never explained what for!" He called out, and laughed at the absurdity of it as he collapsed back down to sit like normal; Yuri sighed, smiled, and turned his head gently from side to side. Victor then clapped his hands together, and his eyes got watery from excitement. He quickly reached under the blankets to retrieve his fiancé's hands and pulled them forward, dragging Yuri closer in the process, "This is perfect, then! Orthodox Christmas is a HUGE DEAL here! I can spend all week showing you around! It'll be easy to forget about everything that happened yesterday!"

"...All week?" Yuri echoed, "Christmas is a whole week here?"

Victor smiled brightly, getting more excited as the seconds passed, and happily leaned in over where he held their hands together to kiss his partner, "Mh. Until Orthodox New Year! This is going to be amazing! I can't wait to show you!"

"...There's an Orthodox New Year?"

"Yeah!" The Russian answered enthusiastically. He started stretching his legs towards the edge of the bed, getting Makkachin excited in his own right, and pushed up to stand, "Let's get ready and go! The Christmas markets in St. Petersburg make that one in Barcelona look like a kids' show! And you'll be able to try the hot wine this time!"

Yuri was still surprised at the whole thing, but watched his partner hop up and leave the room, utterly naked, but with something of a bounce in his step, stopping only to collect the dog's food bowl on the way.

He was pretty upset after the conference yesterday. Seeing him this excited about Orthodox Christmas will be a nice change of pace.

.

The excitable Russian practically had a whole ensemble just for the occasion; a dark silver suit with a thick white long-coat on top. He wrapped a woolen white scarf around his neck and shoulders, and topped his head with a fluffy white ushanka. Black gloves went onto both hands, and while probably not the most weather-appropriate thing, black leather boots on his feet.

"The party technically started last night." He was explaining as Yuri was putting his own cold-weather gear on; Victor had said he'd buy his fiancé a new wardrobe, and the man was good on his word. Yuri donned a thick, dark-grey jacket in similar style to his pea-coat, but with the warmer addition of a plush faux-fur trim around a large hood, and a few extra inches on length at the bottom. He had a new, thicker black scarf, and his own matching ushanka hat to keep his ears warm, "But that part of the celebration is super churchy, with Masses held all around the city to wait for the first star to appear. The New Year's party is the really big deal around here, but I like to have fun for the whole week leading up to it. It's usually the only mid-season break I take."

Yuri pulled on some gloves as well, and flexed his fingers to make sure they were on right before turning to his partner, "Where do we go first?"

.

Pavlovsk Park was a ways south of the city, but it was well worth the wait to get there. By 2pm, the pair were sitting in the back of a Troika; a sledge drawn by three horses...quickly. Snow slid under them at a break-neck pace, the wind leaving their noses and cheeks pink as it whipped past. Yuri was absolutely terrified, but at the same time, thrilled. He held the top of his ushanka down to keep it in place, but soon after, found a white ushanka dropped in his lap, and he looked up, "Victor, your hat-" He started, only to see silver hair lashing in the wind, perfectly accenting crystal blue eyes and pale-but-rosy skin; Victor was having the time of his life.

The horses' hooves thundered against the snow, galloping at full speed. The perfectly aligned trees along the wide roadway went by like huge pegs in a geometric maze, passing through one another as the sledge slid by.

The inside of Pavlovsk Palace was no less impressive, although significantly less adrenalin-pumping. Every wall held a painting; some huge, others in clusters where they were much smaller. Fireplaces dotted random walls, pillars between rows of innumerable windows held up elaborately decorated vases or candelabras. Golden chandeliers hung from the ceiling in prominent locations, flanked by candle-mounts held up by arrays of delicate chains, which in turn were separated by the presence of floor-to-ceiling green-marble pillars.

By the time they made it to their third and final stop for the day, the cruel winter sun was already setting. However, in lieu of daylight, St. Petersburg shone on its own; a dazzling array of Christmas lights came to life along the streets, many even suspended in the air above sidewalks. The sound of music and revelry came into earshot as the pair walked along, and soon, the full sight of the Pionerskaya Square Christmas Market was visible.

"There's a few different set-ups like this around the city." Victor explained, eyes up at the glittery display, a backpack hanging off of one shoulder, "But this one has a skating rink."

A dawn of realization cracked in Yuri's eyes, "...I was wondering why you packed our blades. Ikimashou!" (Let's go!)

The rink was rather small, maybe only a quarter the size of a competition rink, but it was still smooth ice, and that's all it needed to be. A pair of gold blades set down on it first, followed by standard chrome-silver, and the duo made their way out normally like all the other revelers. Under all their winter gear, it was hard to tell who either of them was, especially since Victor had taken his hat back and all his silver hair was hidden under the white fluff, save a tuft that came out over his left eye.

Yuri saw groups of other people linking up arms or holding to each others' hands for support, many being new to the ice and needing the balance. So, he took it upon himself to use it as an excuse to do the same with his partner, who to that point had not taken his hand since leaving the house.

"I'll just pretend I can't skate or something." Yuri suggested quietly, sliding his gloved hand into the inside bend of his partner's elbow, letting the silver Russian pull him along, "No one will make a fuss again like yesterday if everyone thinks you're just making sure I don't end up on my arse."

Victor had still glanced around nervously when he felt it, but hearing the words made sense, and he nodded, and let himself enjoy the contact for what it was. His nervous expression changed over to the happy, fun-loving look he normally had, and he relished in the game of tugging his partner along the frosted glaze of ice, surrounded by hundreds of other people who had no idea who either of them were.

They skated easy laps around the makeshift rink for about 15 minutes before the sound of a familiar voice called out their names from somewhere in the crowd.

"Victoooor! Yuuuriiiii!"

"Uh oh..." The Russian lifted his head, "...Baba Yaga cometh."

"That's not nice!" Mila barked from the other side of the rink-wall, practically clambering over it as she shook a fist at the laughing skater.

Yuri let himself be pulled along as Victor went over to where the red-head was trying to get onto the ice, and dragged a toe-pick to slow down as they got nearer.

"I suppose it was only inevitable that we'd run into someone we knew." Victor mused, offering his other elbow to her so she could cross the wall without falling off of it, "Are you on your own?"

"I was with Yuri, but he vanished around 30 minutes ago." She explained, and took the arm, lowering down to the frost with a toe-pick to touch down first, "Nice hats, by the way."

Yuri smiled and waved, but Victor waved his head back and forth, as though tousling his hair, "Setting trends all across the city."

Mila laughed quietly to herself, but then reached up to snatch the white puff straight off her rink-mate's head, sticking it on her own instead, "Thanks for keeping it warm for me!"

Victor just blinked a few times in surprise, his ears getting pink quickly where the cold air could get at them suddenly. His hair was disheveled and unkempt...but that didn't stop the domino effect behind them as they slid around the ice. Yuri heard the first gasp, then the shriek, a yell, three people collapsing on the ice, then a group of four after that as he turned around to see what was going on. More novices were falling on their backsides in an attempt to stop before colliding with the growing pile, while slightly-more-seasoned skaters managed to get around it.

"O čert!" (Oh shit!) They all heard, and the trio now stopped to look back at the train-wreck in their wake, "O Gospodi, éto Victor Nikiforov!" (Oh my god, it's Victor Nikiforov!) Someone else called, pointing a shaky hand at the rough-looking silver skater from where they'd all fallen on the ice. Someone nearby was trying to push themselves up onto their hands and knees, but were still looking at the trio, "Alkash!" (Drunkard!)

"What are they saying?" Yuri wondered, leaning in. He held his free hand up to shield his voice.

"Everything from 'oh my god,' to calling someone a drunk, though I don't know if they're referring to me, or us, or one of the people they ran into." Victor answered, and lifted his right hand briefly to set his hair back into place.

"...Is this my fault?" Mila wondered suddenly, holding both hands to the silver skater's arm as she watched the group start to clamber back to their blades, "I pulled your hat off and suddenly everyone freaked out."

"Maybe that makes it my fault then." Victor shrugged, and turned fully around to face the flustered group, "Allo~"

"AHHH! Èto dejstvitel'no Victor!" (It really is Victor!) One of the ladies on the ice shrieked in disbelief, grabbing for a male companion right next to her and hugged him so tightly that he struggled to get free again while she giggled incoherently.

"I guess the jig's up." Yuri huffed, "Are you going to do a little dance so we can carry on, or...?"

Someone else in the skater-pile gasped after that, pointing straight at the Asian, " Èto tože Yuri!" (It's Yuri, too!)

"Only if you do, too." Victor laughed, and slipped forward on the ice to start helping people back to their feet.

Once the seething mass of fangirls, fanboys, and assorted collateral damage were back up on their blades and moving away, the silver legend moved backwards towards the center of the rink where it was clearest. He could see the eyes of most people on him at that point, even people who were beyond the rink wall and who'd only heard the screaming and came running. Only one blade scratched across the frost as Victor watched and listened to the murmur all around, moving backwards as though practicing the most basic moves in the field, one arm wrapped around himself while the other balanced an elbow on it, a finger on his lip. After a moment, he shrugged and smiled, deciding to give them a little taste as recompense for the pile-up his recognition caused. His free leg swung out a little further from himself as a silent gesture that he was going to do something, and people started making more room, keeping their small kids closer to the edge of the rink so they wouldn't wander across and get kicked.

Yuri had moved off with Mila to watch from the crowd, and he leaned closer to her, "Does he get recognized a lot here, too?"

"This place might as well be called St. Viktorsberg." She laughed, "He's been on television here so often, either as part of some RSF documentary about skating, or as the feature of any given news station's sports headline. A lot of networks around here are run by the state, too, and since professional skaters are sponsored by it, they kind of own him. They tell him to jump, and he asks how high and in what direction."

"That sounds kind of depressing..."

Victor had built up a bit of momentum by then, and leaned far over to show off a basic flying camel spin.

"It's not all bad." Mila turned slightly and took the older skater's arm like she'd done with her rink-mate a few minutes before. The silver legend had twisted into a low sit-spin variant, one heel gliding out from center while an arm went up above himself, "He gets exposure from the state events he's dragged into, so private companies see him, and they want a piece of him, too. By the end of it, all the stuff he basically has to do for free as part of his job as a Russian athlete comes back as profit somewhere else down the line. Call it the 'reverse Victor Nikiforov loyalty card'...he'll do one thing for the RSF for free, and gets three paid opportunities for his trouble."

"...I guess that explains how he has so much extra income. I was starting to wonder how he was going to afford all the expensive stuff he says he wants to have...like flying first class everywhere, instead of taking the ISU's voucher for tickets to fly Economy."

Victor moved up into a tall scratch-spin, both arms up above himself as he became a white and silver blur on the ice.

Mila just chuffed a laugh, "Yeah...he's high maintenance, that's for sure. But at least he lives within his means. He doesn't even have credit cards...just his one bank card."

"Have you known him a long time?" Yuri wondered, eyes moving from his fiancé to the woman standing next to him.

"A bit longer than our Yuri has, at least, but not by much. He's like ten years older than me, so he's been here ages longer than anyone else on Team Yakov...except Georgi."

"Does he have family in St. Petersburg? Or anywhere in Russia?"

The crowd around them had started moving again as they clapped and cheered, so the two skaters pushed off to avoid becoming speed-bumps. Victor was still in the center of the rink, giving a bit of attention to some fans who'd approached.

"Family?" Mila echoed, putting a finger on her lip with her eyes up in thought, "I'm not sure, actually. I'm guessing not though, since none has ever turned up for any reason. It's always been just him."

"He's been really evasive when I've asked about it." Yuri explained, "Acts like he doesn't hear the question."

"He's aloof like that. Sometimes I think he plays dumb so people don't expect much of him, but then he creates these masterpiece performances, and I can't help but be reminded that he's still a genius in his own way." The redhead said quietly, passing by the front of the Russian as they went around the tiny rink, then turned her head to face forward again to watch where she was going, "He may not be an intellectual, but he's smart in a lot of other ways. He's got a huge heart, and he cares a great deal about the people around him, even complete strangers...but he's pretty secretive, too. If he doesn't want you to know something, you won't."

"He's given me nuggets here and there, but nothing that really makes any sense." Yuri explained, "The best I ever got out of him was him saying that 'family' meant a lot of negative things to him. I've been wondering if something happened to him in the past, but he just...refuses to discuss it."

"That sounds like him." Mila mused, "He resets himself every so often so he can approach problems with a fresh perspective, and he does that with everything, not just skating." They came around the small rink again, and Victor glided closer with every blade-scratch forward, "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Yuri." She offered, looking straight at him, and pat his arm where she held to it, "If you didn't know anything about it this whole time he's been coaching you, then he won't think you need to know later, either. He's already packed up that box and put it away on a high shelf somewhere. Maybe it's a box of bad stuff, or maybe it's just mind-numbingly boring...who knows? He doesn't think it's important. The memories he's making with you now mean way more to him than anything that happened twenty years ago."

"Hey!" Victor called out suddenly, waving a hand as he skated to catch up, and slid an arm around his partner's back as he got closer, "We should go get some of that hot wine now! There's a vendor just over there!" He said, pointing out past the edge of the rink to a wagon-like van with lights mounted around the side windows.

.

Victor's little red Audi came to a stop in the attached garage, snow trailing in with the tires as it moved up the driveway and dragged it onto the concrete floor. Yuri pushed the passenger-side door open, but found it close on him again suddenly, and his toasted mind didn't notice until he'd banged his forehead against the window. The slender Russian laughed and moved to pull the door open from the outside, watching the garage door close when he clicked the button on his keys, and then pushed the car door closed again once his partner was clear of it.

"Let's get you inside."

"Let's get you inside." The blitzed young skater echoed happily, stumbling in with an arm barely holding onto the man holding him up, and a dumb-happy look on his flushed face.

Victor did his best to get his fiancé out of his cold-weather clothing, even with Makkachin bouncing around them excitedly, "Hang on, hang on...I'll feed you in a minute." He laughed, settling his inebriated lover on the big blue couch before he reached down to ruffle the poodle's ears affectionately, "Come on, then. Dinner-time for Mah-kah-chiiiiin~!"

The flufferbutt barked and bounded around the side of the couch, heading for the kitchen just behind it, tail wagging frantically as he paced by his food dishes. When food and water were finally replenished, Victor cleaned up the mess...but then heard a loud thud, and a quiet moan after it.

"...Yuri?" He wondered, an eyebrow raised slightly as he came up behind the couch, seeing just beyond the edge of the seats where his partner had rolled off of it and landed face-down on the floor, feet in the air where his knees had been bent, but otherwise flat. The Russian gave half a laugh, shook his head, and moved around to the front to help the man up again, reaching down to settle a hand on the skater's back as he crouched on one knee, "You okay?"

"...Floors are...hard..." Yuri answered tepidly.

"Yes indeed." Victor laughed in agreement. He moved his other hand down after that to grasp under the man's shoulders and hoisted him up, pushing him back until he could sit on his knees and hold himself up, "Oh, you have a red spot on your face where you hit the hardwood." He grinned, pointing at it and then booping it with one finger.

"Ow...quit it..." Yuri whined incoherently, only to look up with those drunken eyes and laugh as well, "...Did you know...that...you're really hot...?"

Slate eyes blinked at the sudden bluntness of those words, but as Victor looked on and smirked, "You're really drunk."

"I'm not that drunk." Yuri contested, "I just had a really good time."

"You rolled off the couch."

"I only had two glasses."

"They were kind of big and you hadn't eaten before you drank them."

"Oh c'mere I wanna look atchu..." Yuri slurred, leaning forward to slide both arms over the Russian's shoulders, squishing their faces together in what might've been meant as a kiss, but hadn't quite managed to become one.

It all reminded Victor of the drunken escapades of the Sochi Banquet, especially when the drunken figure started rubbing against him rather insistently. All the hapless skater needed was to lose the pants and get a tie to wrap around his head. Unlike back then, however, the Russian wasn't just looking on in confusion, arms pinned to his sides by a tight hug. His arms were free, and the man's gyrating was causing something to stir in him. Two more rolls and he couldn't force himself to be the voice of reason anymore, letting his partner push him onto his back on the floor beside the couch.

When they were down, Yuri paused, and lifted his head to gaze down with those hazy brown eyes, "Be my coach, Victor..."

"I am your coach..."

Yuri lowered down a bit on his elbow, a few fingers weaving through disheveled wisps of silver hair, while the other slid down the Russian's chest and over to his side, curling around his waist, "Noooo...I mean...be my coach...in love...!"

The look on Yuri's face was identical to his drunken-Sochi-face...the face that Victor fell in love with; tired, messy, giving a half-incoherent look...but at the same time, honest, needy, and longing for him. Blue eye shut for a moment, and Victor shook his head briefly, looking up again after, "...Are you sure?"

"I thought about it...during my last Short Program..." Yuri insisted, moving to get one leg over his fiancé's slightly-parted thighs, "I want..." He went on, slower than before. He pushed off the elbow that held him up above the floor, and crawled in over top of his partner, settling over his hips deliberately, "I want you...all of you... And I want you to have all...of me..."

Victor just huffed a nervous laugh, "...You're drunk. You don't know what you're saying."

"Vicctooorrrrrr!" Yuri whined, rocking side to side where he was perched on his fiancé's lap, only adding to the friction, "You hardly drank anything at all earlier!"

"I had to drive."

"Have some fun with meeeee!" Yuri pleaded, fingers moving down towards where the dark-grey suit-pants were buttoned, and started undoing them, "I can tell you want to!"

"Of course...you're doing things to me..." The Russian huffed, only to feel his laughter catch in his throat as an eager grip took hold of him. His voice changed to giving out quiet gasps, and his head turned slightly against the floor, bringing up one hand to put a knuckle to his lip, "Y-Yuri..."

The hazy younger man leaned forward, and set his left hand palm-down on the hardwood next to his fiancé's side, just under where the man had brought his arm up. Half-lidded eyes gazed down on him affectionately, "Victor..."

Each pull and gentle twist sent a warm, almost electrical pulse through the uncertain Russian's core, rising up to his heart to encircle it, then faded again. His breathing became more ragged, and quiet gasps were turning to more emphatic moaned grunts of pleasure. He could've lost himself in the feeling, if not for his partner's words still rattling around in his brain, so he tilted his head around again to look forward. Sultry eyes gazed back at one another...and Victor was convinced. We've been like this a few times...so it's not like he doesn't really know what's going on, even in this state... Victor tried to rationalize. His hands went up around the man's head, cupping gently as they pulled him back down into a deep kiss, hips starting to roll under where Yuri still had a hold on him.

Clothing couldn't come off fast enough. Victor pushed up to sit, reluctantly stopping everything else so he could undo the buttons of his suit-coat and shrug out of it, hands then moving swiftly at the smaller buttons of his regular shirt. All the while, Yuri continued the string of kisses as his busy hand worked at center. The button-down shirt was gone a moment later, pants and underwear barely being pushed far enough away to be out of the way. Victor fell back down to the floor again, dragging his partner with him, and hands moved between them to start working at the second set of clothes.

Reluctantly, Yuri stopped for a moment to wriggle out of his heavy sweater and cast it off, leaving just a t-shirt between his partner and his own skin. That didn't last long; Victor abandoned his query to pull the t-shirt away, too, and slid his hands from front to back to front again, still rolling his hips. When he'd gotten enough of his partner's bare chest to sate him for the moment, he pushed back up to sit again, and slid his hands down to the man's waist, moving to guide him up and over his lap.

Yuri found himself pushed forward against the seat of the blue couch, and scrambled to grab at one of the pillows to his left, holding it tight in his crossed arms as he felt the Russian doing the rest. A belt-buckle clinked as it was undone, the cord rustling quietly as the leather was pulled through, then a button clicked, and a zipper was undone. Fabric jostled and was pushed away, and a few seconds later, Yuri could feel his fiancé's desperation pressing up against him. Arms went around his smaller frame as Victor clung to his back, panting for breath already, and one hand going down between Yuri's legs to massage at that newly exposed flesh. Yuri gasped as he felt it, biting down on the edge of the pillow. With every squeeze and pull, he could feel his partner's length sliding up behind him, then down again, not quite trying to get in yet but wanting to. Pale, slender hands continued to roam and squeeze, silver hair dragging against his skin as Victor kissed the back of his shoulders.

But then the moment came, and the length became the tip, prodding gently while trying to find the right spot. In that last, brief moment before he felt the push, Yuri suddenly wondered what he'd gotten himself into. It became painfully clear in that moment that neither of them really knew what they were doing, and with barely half the tip inside, Yuri yelped like a kicked dog and clenched up, and pushed up onto his hands against the edge of the couch...lifting off of his partner in the process. He twisted where he'd risen onto his knees, faced his perplexed fiancé, and comically dropped to his side with a petrified look on his face.

"...Y-Yuri...?" Victor's voice quivered, though the stunned skater on the floor could barely hear it, "Yuri."

The moment was utterly and completely lost...especially when Makkachin came running over to find out why someone had suddenly screamed. The dog even started to lick Yuri's face to make sure he was okay, and with it, Yuri found himself stone-cold sober. Eyes were wide open and unblinking, but turned slightly to look past the dog, seeing the confused look on his partner's face, "...Sorry...sorrysorrysorry...!"

"Hah?"

"Sorry! I can't! I couldn't! I thought I could but I can't!"

Victor blinked incredulously, and watched his fiancé cringing there on the floor where he'd fallen, all but crying for the embarrassment of having gone so far only to bail at the last second. He sighed and moved to sit on the side of his leg, reaching over to set his hand against his beloved's ribs, and spoke to him quietly, "...It's fine... ...Maybe next time."