CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED TWENTY SEVEN
Yuri had his hands over his face, hiding behind them even as Viktor reached across to gather up his phone from the corner of the bed. He could feel the cool plastic case against his skin as the Russian looked on to confirm that the call was done, and they wouldn't be putting an unintended show on for the man's uncle. Still, Yuri could feel his heart pounding away, and lifted his head to peek through his fingers and see how the phone shook slightly with every embarrassed thump. At least, until Viktor took the device away again and twisted over to set it back on the nightstand where the charger cable crept up from the wall.
"Now," The Russian's soft voice purred from above, his hand coming back to settle on Yuri's chest again, inching towards the man's side and brushing deliberately over a sensitive pink nub as it went, "I believe we have some unfinished business from earlier this afternoon to deal with."
A single brown eye looked between the fingers that still covered them, having followed the man's movements, but then settled on the single slate eye glancing back down on him from behind silver bangs, "...Unfinished business?" Yuri echoed briefly, then closing that eye and letting his head fall back to the blanket it had been hovering over, "...Thatwassoembarrassing! Mikhailheardmemoaning!" He whined, mostly to himself.
Viktor huffed a quiet laugh, leaning his face down to nose at the back of the younger figure's hands, "Yes...unfinished from where I got you started back at the airport up north." His hand glided down Yuri's ribs slowly, sliding back up across his stomach and continuing on until those fingers dragged lightly over those boxers again and went right up to its previous perch just under the man's knee, only to slide back down again. Fingers gently bent around the curve of Yuri's athletic leg, descending into the hidden folds of fabric and teasing senselessly as they came within a hair's width of center.
The young skater was absolutely helpless to the man's touch, but he couldn't stop the slight cringe of worry as those fingers kept roaming down around his curves. He finally pulled his hands away from his face, one going down to touch gently against his partner's forearm, silently giving notice that he was still too sore for their usual fun, but realizing he didn't need to give it when the man came nosing up his neck.
"I didn't forget." Viktor whispered, "You got me well enough on your own to serve as its own reminder."
Hazel eyes shot open at that, remembering the mention but not having believed it at the time, "I thought you were just saying that to make me feel better."
"...Why would I lie about that?" The Russian wondered, his teases pausing for the moment as he looked on his husband with a perplexed but serious expression.
"...Because...you don't...act like you're hurting nearly as much as I am...?"
Viktor blinked at him, but did his best to soothe his partner's anxiety with a kiss, bringing this teasing-hand up to set a finger gently across the side of Yuri's jaw, "I've had a lot more practice hiding my pain than you ever needed to. It comes as second-nature to me. I don't even have to think about it. You got me good though, don't worry." Another kiss, "But it was worth it. 'Drunken super-deluxe Eros Yuri' can have me any which-way he wants, consequences be damned."
"...Only when I'm drunk...? But...I never remember what I do when I get that hammered..."
The Russian nosed his partner's lip quietly, bangs brushing softly against his skin, "It's the only time you have the confidence to take what's yours. But I do prefer that you have recall later, which is why it doesn't happen all that often. If 'Drunken super-deluxe Eros Yuri' were a common occurrence, it wouldn't be fun anymore." He explained quietly, "All crazy things in moderation, right?"
"I guess..." The younger man tacitly agreed, eyes cast away for a moment. Yuri shook his head and looked forward again though, "...I ruined the moment, didn't I?"
The silver legend just smiled and shook his head, pulling himself out from under that curved leg and coming back between them instead, using his own knees as a wedge to keep Yuri's slightly apart as he slid forward, "Never ruined. Only delayed." He slipped his hands under the man's back and shoulders, slouching a bit where he held himself up on his elbows, feeling his partner's hands come gently aside his arms, "No more stalling though. I need my Yuri."
"I need my Viktor, too."
The Russian smiled to hear it, and moved down into a long, deep kiss. Hearing his partner's quiet, whimpered breaths; feeling his fingers comb through his hair; one leg bending slightly up against him; the firmness of center, aching for his touch, hips rocking slightly despite the layers of clothing still between them...all together, it was the Symphony of Yuri, the music that man's body made that the silver legend found so irresistible. The taste of the mulled red wine on his lips made it all even better. His own knees parted a little further then, ankles crossing where he curved them back over his legs, pushing his partner's even further apart as he moved.
Clothing was becoming a torture, and Viktor pushed himself back up to sitting, pulling the light grey-brown sweater off himself and casting it aside before returning to undo the buttons of the white dress-shirt he'd worn underneath. Yuri pushed to sitting as well, legs still lightly curved around the Russian's waist, resting over the man's thighs where Viktor had sat back on parted knees. He leaned up and into another kiss, fingers going down to work at the brass belt-buckle as Viktor himself kept undoing one more button at a time. With the buckle undone, the belt moved out of the way, pants unbuttoned and unzipped, and the shirt open freely, they descended on one another again to the blanket. Viktor twisted slightly to the side, going down onto his right shoulder as his left hand slid up against his husband's bare waist, pulling him up onto his own side as well, eager for the warm feeling of skin between them.
The younger skater's hands brushed upwards against the bare chest before him, left continuing up to cup under his partner's cheek as the long, deep kisses went on, the right going back down to the man's side, pulling him in closer. He couldn't help but bring his right leg up, sliding it along his husband's outer thigh until it was set right over his hip. In return, he felt that same thigh coming up between his own, pushing up gently against his center.
Yuri pulled back from the kiss to draw in a breath, the pressure from below catching his attention and making him acutely aware of how desperate he was.
It's just like he said... I've had this sitting at the back of my mind since he was teasing me at the airport...
He wondered if the silver Russian had read his mind in that moment, since just as he'd thought it, he felt both of the man's hands go down between them to pull them from the last bits of fabric keeping them apart. Though not completely withdrawn, it was enough to feel stiff lengths of flesh rubbing up against one another, and each of them drew in a sharp breath of relief. Viktor's right hand, even as that arm was pinned under his side, did its best to rub and squeeze at their union, each of them lightly rocking their hips with each new feeling.
Yuri rolled them that time, pushing up onto an elbow and sliding in on top of his partner's core, legs still woven together. He couldn't help but rub slightly against the thigh underneath of him, moving his free leg out of the way to properly sit on the Russian's hips and feel him even more. He could practically feel himself sinking back when Viktor took hold of them again, slipping down a bit into the space where the man had parted his knees. Those knees came up though, holding him where he was. Brown eyes were closed and the man exhaled a string of whimpered gasps, helpless to the strokes, twists, squeezes, and pulls beneath him. It was all he could do to hold himself up, palms down on his husband's chest, fingers unsure if they should clench into fists or splay out as far as they could go.
Eventually, he lost the fight though, his senses overwhelmed to the point of making his arms weak, and Yuri slowly but surely went down until his forehead was against his husband's collarbone, breathing heavily with each tug.
With so little room between them though, Viktor eventually had to let go, reaching around instead to sneak his hands down the back of those boxes, and get two palms full of his partner's ample SkaterButt. Kisses went back to the younger figure's neck, nibbling adoringly as palms and fingers massaged and roamed, right hand sliding under and between the man's legs.
Yuri found the strength to push up onto his hands again as he felt it, sliding forward a bit from the surprise of it, but then sliding right back into the crook of the Russian's lap. His breathing became more and more labored as the caresses went on, feeling his partner starting to push up harder and fast against him, making him wish all the more that he wasn't so sore still. He slid his hands over his husband's chest, brushing his fingertips against the Russian's abdomen until switching places with a grasp around their centers. He felt those warm palms go against his thighs after that, thumbs and pointer fingers sliding up to touch deftly to the crests of his hips and holding tight. Yuri held fast with both hands, feeling every curve of that precious skin as it slid against him, sliding over his fingers.
The day-long anticipation, even if it had largely been subconscious since boarding the plane, made Yuri feel on edge sooner than he meant, and he let himself go, curling his fingers around just his husband. He could feel the change in the Russian's movements when he withdrew, thrusting through his hands like he'd actually gotten to be inside him instead.
Viktor eventually rolled them over again, pulling his partner's legs tight against his waist as he continued the fervent slide through the man's fingers. He pulled away only when he felt himself precariously on the edge, lowering himself down from where he's held himself up on his hands and kissed at his partner's damp chest, sweat beading on his skin. The kisses and nibbles trailed lower, giving attention to each sensitive nub as they went, tongue dipping into the skater's navel, and finally coming to the flesh Yuri had himself abandoned for his sake. The Russian made quick work of those thin boxers, pulling them up and off his husband's legs and casting them away so he could give the man his full and unhindered attention. It was music to his ears to hear the gasps, and reluctant but vocal breaths as he started kissing and licking at that hypersensitive flesh. He gave every inch of it the love and affection he held for the whole man, squishy bits included, glancing up to see the look on his partner's face in response to it all. Left hand came to help hold the shaft up, but the right went down below, careful to avoid triggering any pain as he pressed and searched for the fun-button from the outside. He knew he'd found it when Yuri unexpectedly jerked his legs and arched his back, crying out as his hands clenched tight on the blanket. One probing finger became three, pressing in a circular motion several times before pausing, then going the other direction.
Yuri folded his arms over his eyes, gasping and moaning quietly, toes curling and flexing, with each passing moment bringing him closer to the edge. There was always a particular sound he made that signaled the finale, but as soon as he uttered it, he felt the Russian's warmth leave him. Startled by the unusual abandonment, one brown eye opened from under the folded arms, and watched as the man crawled back over top of him. Those fingers kept circling though, even as the silver genius went for his neck again, pushing past his arms. Yuri clung for dear life, hands going over his husband's shoulders and clambering at his back, fingers clinging to the white fabric that still covered him there. He wanted skin though; even through the mental oblivion that Viktor had put him into by overwhelming all his senses, Yuri still wanted skin.
The shirt was pulled up towards the man's shoulders, and frantic hands felt at the Russian's back, tracing over all the faded scratches and residual bruises he'd left the last time. The feeling came on quick after that; everything in his pelvis and gut tingled and felt hot from the inside out, rushing out from center like water had been poured right into him. His legs tightened and bent inward, toes curling, and his nails raked across pale skin. He bit down on the stiff collar of the older man's dress-shirt, but still cried out between clenched teeth, feeling his whole body tighten up all at once as the powerful surge flowed through him. He threw his arms back over his husband's frame, hugging him tight as he tried to gasp for breath, being set down into the blanket gently with an arm under him.
Ragged breaths finally drew in, and cherry-hazel eyes looked up, half-closed, at azure looking back down on him. His whole body trembled, especially his legs, which gradually fell weak and limp as Yuri dragged at the air. He felt his husband sitting over his hips, knees coming up against his sides as spent flesh was gathered back up again and rubbed gently.
"I ca...can't move..." Yuri gasped, too weak to resist, barely able to keep his eyes open as it was.
Viktor just watched him intently, looking on in adoration for how his touch had turned his partner to proverbial mush. He worked at himself for a little while longer, bracing against his husband's shaking frame, fingers occasionally tracing through the sticky white fluid that had already been dripped onto the younger skater's core. He added his own a moment later, closing his eyes and feeling sweet release where he still held them both together. He rubbed a few more times before finally letting go, holding himself up on his hands to catch his breath.
He eventually held himself upright and let his arms go limp, and he tilted his head back, suddenly finding the whole thing rather funny and laughing quietly.
Yuri gave him a weird look, "...Wh...what are you...laughing for...?"
"I was just...thinking..." Viktor answered, looking back down again with quite the satisfied look on his face, still catching his breath a little, "About how a year ago...you were still too scared to kiss me...or even share the same bed with me. The twin beds we had in Barcelona...I shoved them closer together, but you still kept the sheets folded between the mattresses so I wouldn't surprise you in my sleep." He explained, shrugging out of his shirt and using it to clean them up as well as he could, "I'd been trying so hard to get closer to you since I'd first arrived the previous April, the whole time never realizing you didn't remember the Sochi Banquet. Trying to figure out if you'd even be receptive to the idea of me, or if I'd forever just be this distant idol of yours, struggling enough just to call me 'friend.' And yet, now..." He rolled the shirt up into a ball-shape and pitched it towards the empty laundry basket near the door, one sleeve unraveling and holding to the rim as the rest tumbled in. He then turned to pull the blanket and bed-sheets away from where they'd still somewhat been neatly pressed against the pillows, making an entry-point and then lifting off his husband's hips to kick off the remains of his clothes. He wedged his hand under the younger skater's back and pulled him up against his chest, dragging him into the opening in the covers before pulling the cool sheets back overtop of them both. He nuzzled the side of the man's head, reaching up with a free hand to brush the spiky black hair from his eyes, "Now...you let me touch you in ways and places that leave you breathless and paralyzed." He purred.
Yuri could still feel his legs trembling a little, but the strength in his arms was gradually coming back, so he wiggled until he managed to turn onto his side, and tossed one arm over his husband's waist. He sagged down into the pillows, pressing his forehead to the Russian's bare chest for a moment before tilting his face to kiss the same spot instead, "...I need...to learn how to do that for you, too..."
"When you're sober, you mean?"
"...Eh?" The younger figure's eyes blinked open, and he leaned his head back to see his partner's face, and the devious-yet-innocent smile he bore upon it, "...What...do you mean? What else do I do when I'm drunk...?"
"Oh, plenty of things."
"V-Viktor!? You have to tell me!" He was starting to get nervous, "I know I can get crazy, but...!?"
"Calm." Viktor mused, wrapping his arms around the man's head and gently stroked his hair, "It's time for cuddling."
.
.
.
The freight service with all their suitcases arrived around 10 the next morning. For once, Viktor was the responsible one and got up on his own in expectation, leaving his 'Sleeping Beauty' to stay in bed a while longer. Makkachin panted quietly to the side as the nearly-20 suitcases and smaller bags were delivered and brought inside.
The Russian took it upon himself to go through every one of them, pulling out costumes that needed to be dry-cleaned, clothing that needed to be laundered, skates that needed sharpening, and souvenirs that needed to have a home found on a shelf or wall. He paused though when he came upon his former Free Skate outfit; the colors of fire barely visible through the glossy coat-bag it had been placed inside. He undid the zipper and folded the plastic slip away, revealing the outfit in all its smoke-and-brimstone glory.
He felt at the fabric, flattening it out a little bit to see the detail-work on the upper front, fingers tracing over the subtle glimmer of Swarovski crystal and other rhinestones within the painted 'night sky.' He sighed and smiled sadly at it.
I had this outfit designed to be like the sunlight-twin to Yuri's moonlight Free Skate. Only getting to use it twice...it's kind of a bummer. I wonder what my tailors are going to come up with to replace it...? They know what the song is, but...
He shook his silver-haired head and zipped the bag back up, resigning the outfit to its new fate amongst the closet-full of costumes from past seasons. As he hung the garment-bag on a free-standing clothing rack with the other used, and needing to be cleaned costumes, the urge to see their collection grew, and he quietly went to their spare room where all their skating memorabilia was stored, as well as the walk-in closet with all their old outfits. He clicked on the light and started sorting through the hanging items, going past the more recent and most-familiar costumes at the front. His Worlds Exhibition from the previous year, simple as it was, then Winter's Wish, and the heavy Short Program coat that technically cost him Gold, then a bit further back; the black-shirt Duetto version of his Aria costume, with the regular white-shirt version next to it, as well as the much darker, almost leathery-looking SP costume from that same year. He let that rack of garment-bags swing free again to settle into their former places, and went over to Yuri's side instead, coming immediately upon the 'Dark Eyes' costume from the Worlds EX, the blue Aria costume, the black Eros outfit, and then...the jacket from 'Yuri on Ice.' He opened the bag and pushed the plastic cover away, turning the hangar so the hook would stay on the bar but that the outfit would be perpendicular to the rest of the hanging ensemble. He looked down at it fondly, thinking back on all the memories he'd made while that season was ongoing.
I wonder if Yuri ever properly thanked that Conservatory student friend of his who composed that song...? I'm not even sure he ever spoke to her again after she sent him the mp3 in the first place.
He put a finger over his lip in thought.
...Going back to Detroit, a place Yuri spent the 5 years before Sochi... It hasn't really been that long since he left. I wonder how many people he knew back then are still around? Celestino won't be there, since Phichit moved his home rink to Bangkok, but what about the rest? Other skaters he'd trained with, shop-keeps he became familiar with, classmates who might still be attending school in the city...? ...That friend who went to the hospital...? And...her.
The Russian closed his eyes and shook his head, gently patting the chest of the jacket fondly before replacing it within the garment bag and tucking it back into the line of other costumes where it had come from. He turned the light off and slid the closet door closed, looking around the rest of the trophy-room briefly before returning to start finding places for their new rewards.
The massive NHK Trophy simply took the place of the last one Viktor had won, and that one got put into the closet on the shelf above the costumes, alongside the other ones he'd won. The Grand Prix Final Silver medal that he'd swiped from the display case as a form of motivation for Yuri was put back under glass...and the four new Gold medals they'd won were placed into their own cases, then set back onto the walls. There were dress-forms all around the room, naked for lack of the current season's ensemble placed over them, but Viktor could see them superimposed over the pale figures in his mind's eye. There were framed photos around the room as well, featuring their big victories from the most recent few seasons, though mostly from the last one, since they were together in the majority of them.
Finished in there, he looked back one last time before clicking off the light and closing the door. Makkachin was quick on his heels, nails clacking on the hardwood hall-floor as he went back towards the main living area and the kitchen. His eyes glanced over the spacious area, looking on all the furnishings he'd brought there from St. Petersburg, oddly feeling like he was seeing it all for the first time again. Slate irises then turned towards the huge windows and glass sliding-door that lead into the tiny Japanese backyard. Light poured in through the thin white curtains, casting the entire area in a hazy glow. He drew in a breath slowly...held it for a moment...exhaled...and smiled.
It's good to be home again.