The room was dark, hot, thick with volatile pleasures and frenzied whimpers. Victor's teeth sank into the flesh below the underside of his knee, as his fingers trailed ever so slowly along his inner thigh, brushing against his erection, lingering, then down, down to circle his entrance.
It was calculated torture.
He crushed his lips against Yuuri's own, capturing the delicious moan that escaped him as he slipped one finger and then another into him. Yuuri clawed into his shoulders, his back arching at the ecstasy overtaking his body. When he replaced it with his thick hardness, thrusting in with a low groan, Yuuri careened over the edge, his cries flagrantly loud as he lost his fucking mind under the care of Victor's exquisite cock. He dug into the sheets, repeating Victor's name wantonly, sweat dripping down his chest. Victor bit his neck, sucking hard, and Yuuri left trenches in his arms, back, ass...
Closer...right there...harder...Victor...
THUD!
"Fuck. Not again..." Yuuri blinked at the ground now inches from his face. He adjusted himself out of the uncomfortable blanket burrito he found himself trapped in, rubbing his shoulder as it throbbed from the impact. His glasses were askew. He sighed, having forgotten to take them off yet again. It was a miracle they were still intact. He removed them, rubbed his eyes and lay unmoving for a while, annoyed with himself. It was a passing cloud of anger though. This wasn't the first time he had a dream like this, and it wouldn't be the last. In the privacy of his mind, his twenty-three year old self conjured outrageous but admittedly blissful moments that he could neither fight, nor wanted too most of the times.
He tried to think when they'd started...hmm...sometime around the Grand Prix. How fitting. He shrugged and closed his eyes, letting the dream fade before hunting for a clean pair of boxers.
Hiroko Katsuki beamed up at the incredibly handsome Russian standing in front of her; her son had excellent taste if she did think so herself, "Welcome to Yu-topia Akatsuki! I trust you had a pleasant trip Mr. Nikiforov?"
Victor immediately became fond of the plump woman, "Victor is fine Mrs. Katsuki. It's very peaceful here. Thanks for accommodating me."
"Ha! Like I could turn away my son's favorite ice-skater. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."
"Do you know where I can find Yuuri?" Victor looked around, "I thought he'd be here at this hour."
"He's up at Ice Castle. That's Yuuri for you, he spends most of his time there. If you hurry you might catch him on the ice."
Victor clapped his hands together, "Perfect! I was looking for a reason to take Makkachin out."
Yuuri skated away his agitation, spending more hours on the ice than his current form really allowed. After the Grand Prix Finals and as he finished college, he'd binge eaten his way into a rounder shape not conducive to the demands of the sport. But, it was the only thing that kept his mind occupied after Aria and especially after that dream. It was stressful being around his family for long periods, especially since he still had no idea what he was going to do with his life. Not that he believed they would impose on him like that. It was just difficult not to admit that he was well and truly lost. So, he skated. It hurt because of his extra weight, and he could barely manage the combinations loops and flips after a while, but it kept his spirits up and kept him moving. Just him and the music. Nothing else mattered, for now.
He took a break and leaned against the barrier, kneading his knuckles into his side, breathing heavily. Fuck, he really needed to start exercising. The weight was suffocating him. He regretfully remembered the two pork cutlet bowls he'd gobbled at dinner the previous night. He promised himself not to be so irresponsible later. He may not have made a decision about his competitive career but if he continued down this road, Minako would hang him up and strip the fat from him herself. He shuddered. That was not the visual he needed.
He stretched for a couple of minutes before returning to the ice, not noticing that his phone was lighting up every couple of seconds. If he'd cared to give it his attention, he would've see the stream of messages from Minako, Takeshi, Yuuko and his mother:
Victor is at Yu-topia?! Did you know about this?! I'm on my way. /M
Vicchan is very sweet Yuuri! How come you've never spoken to him before during your competitions? He's headed to Ice Castle to meet you. /H
Yuuri, what the hell?! The triplets are going crazy with the news, though they've promised to keep off social media until we hear from you. Are you still at Ice Castle? Is Victor really there?! I'll be there soon! /Y
Yuuri, you need to look at your phone, we dont want you fainting again! Answer my calls you dumb-ass! /T
Yuuko rushed to Ice Castle as soon as Hiroko messaged her. She tiptoed into the viewing area and found Yuuri to be the only person in the building. She let out a long breath, 'Geez. I knew it couldn't be true.'
She went back to the skate racks, and bent to fix some of them that were out of place. She heard the door slide open and waved a dismissing hand.
"I'm sorry, but we're closed for a private session tonight. You can come back in the morning. Have a good night."
"Is it Yuuri Katsuki's session? His mother said I might catch him here."
Yuuko froze. That accent. That was...but that was impossible! She turned and found herself face to face with Victor Nikiforov, the Russian legend himself and his pet poodle who had jumped onto the counter to greet her. She blinked, petting Makkachin automatically, sure this was a joke.
"Is it okay if I go in? I'd love to see him finish up."
"S-sure."
"Oh, can I get a pair of skates as well?"
Yuuko went into autopilot. When Victor fucking Nikiforov was out of sight, she scrambled for her phone to text Takeshi.
Yuuri was deep in his own world. Training in Detroit had been difficult for him. People were always there, talking, critiquing, interrupting his thoughts. Alone on the ice in his hometown, he didn't have to worry about a soul bothering him. He was grateful to the Nishigoris for going out of their way for him. The place was all his once it wasn't booked in advance. He smiled, concentrating on his feet, warming down from the day's practice. The ice gave an almost fairy-tale glow at this time of the evening; it was another reason Yuuri liked staying at Ice Castle so late.
He took no notice to Victor who stared at him with unhidden want as he glided across the ice.
'One, you need to tone that look down. Remember, he doesn't know about the banquet. And two, try not to scare him. It's already complicated enough as it is.' Victor nodded to himself, reconfigured his expression and stepped onto the ice.
Yuuri had no idea he was being followed until a second set of skates appeared in his field of vision, alerting him that he wasn't alone. Confused, he slowed a bit and looked up into the gorgeously sculpted face of Victor Nikiforov.
"WHAT THE-"
Yuuri gasped, jumped back, and naturally lost his footing. He would've surely ended up with another bruise on his skull if Victor hadn't reflexively grabbed his arm and pulled him forward. Yuuri's arms went around the Russian's neck, stabilizing him but heightening a rather awkward situation. Victor lips were so close, and he could see the exact specks of green in his eyes that no picture could ever capture. It was innocent given Yuuri's blunder, but the smirk on Victor's face looked so deliberate.
'You. Need. To. Fucking. Stop.'
He begrudgingly released the petrified skater, "Hello Yuuri. Lovely night."
Yuuri gaped, flabbergasted, "V-Victor? Wha-" He glanced over to Yuuko and Takeshi who were at a complete loss on what action to take. They'd been so sure Hiroko got things mixed up. Yuuri was now convinced he'd skated himself into a delusional state. 'I've gone mad. I'm hallucinating.'
Victor was battling his own emotions. He'd tried on the plane to reconcile the fact that Yuuri wouldn't remember their initial encounter and what it would be like meeting him for the 'first time'. But he couldn't help himself now. He reached out and tipped Yuuri's chin gently, ignoring his inner voice screaming bloody murder at him. Victor didn't care, not yet. He was...relieved to be close to Yuuri again.
"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"
Yuuri's entire face down to his collarbone went red, "O-okay. Why are you here?"
"I'm going to be your coach Yuuri. I'm going to get you to the Grand Prix Finals. And you're going to win."
Yup. There was the confirmation that his insanity had finally manifested. All those months of keeping everything buried in the pit of his stomach had culminated in this pipe dream. Yuuri wrapped a hand around Victor's own and moved it from his face, "Excuse me." The hand felt real. It felt...familiar. Yuuri needed several stiff drinks.
But Victor wasn't finished. He rested a less suggestive hand on Yuuri's shoulder now, "Aren't you going to talk to me?"
"I really just want to go home," Yuuri moved away from his touch, overwhelmed by it.
"Yuuri..."
How did Victor Nikiforov even know his name? Why was he looking at him with such intensity? This had to be some kind of sick joke. Yuuri shook his head, "I'm going home."
Victor nodded, the memories holding him a little too closely. They both needed to calm down. Victor hadn't realized how much seeing Yuuri again would affect him. Every few seconds he was back in the hotel, back in Yuuri's room, drinking champagne from his lips.
Yuuri left the rink, not even stopping to greet the Nishigoris. They let him go quietly, still unsure of what to say or do. Victor skated towards them, frowning, "He's stubborn."
'This is entirely your fault. How many times do we have to go through this? He doesn't remember the fucking banquet. He doesn't know you. You can't expect him to look at you that way just because you wish it was so.'
Yuuko's defense for her friend flared; legend or no, Yuuri's quirks were off limits to strangers, "It's nice to meet you too Victor. You sort of showed up out of nowhere. What did you expect him to do?"
Victor was sheepish, "I'm sorry for the trouble. Honestly, I just wanted to get that initial conversation out of the way. I didn't expect him to be this cold."
"Uh, how would you respond in a situation like this? And why are you talking like you know him?" Takeshi pointed out.
Victor smiled; he didn't need to lie here, not really, "When you've seen someone skate at a competitive level, you don't need to talk to them to learn who they are," he watched them share a confused look, "Did you think I was joking? I want to be his coach."
"You watched him..."
"I watch all my fellow competitors. But Yuuri's viral video was quite..." Victor grinned through the umpteen rush of emotions, "Well, I guess we'll see what he has in him. If he ever talks to me that is."
"Give him some time. He'll come around," Yuuko said, still coming to terms with what Victor was saying, "he's been having a rough few months."
"Try not to push too hard," Takeshi followed his wife's lead, "and ease up on being in his face like that, as least until he's comfortable with all this."
Victor, at the very least, had the good sense to appear apologetic for his behavior.