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Chapter Text

It was a relatively standard interview for after the first skate at World's. Yuuri had only made it there because the skater that was supposed to go had injured himself and the skater who was supposed to replace him had gotten ill - a series of unfortunate events much like that season's skating had been for him.

Yuuri and a few other skaters were standing a few feet apart, each answering the same questions for some magazine - he hadn't paid much attention to the details of it, keen to just get it over with.

The topic was food. Yuuri had just answered questions about his favourite dish and explained why it wasn't allowed as part of his normal skating diet when an eerily familiar sound practically made his spine tingle.

He'd never heard it in person before, but of course he recognised Victor Nikiforov's laugh. That was when he realised that the man was standing behind him, answering the same set of questions... more or less.

Suddenly, he found it impossible to concentrate on anything but Victor, more appetising than the thought of katsudon had been a moment ago.

Since his interviewer was busy typing out some notes, Yuuri let himself listen in a bit, knowing full well he'd go and watch the recording of the interview at least two dozen times later anyway.

"So Victor, you're well known for liking foreign foods, yes?"

"Oh, definitely! There is just so much out there!"

"Now that you're in Japan, will you be trying any new Japanese dishes?" To his surprise, Victor gave a longing sigh.

"Well there is one thing I would love to put in my mouth."

Yuuri knew it was just a slip-up of course, bad phrasing. It happened. Even to Victor. Still, the way it sounded... He found himself sweating a little under his jacket.

"Oh and what dish would that be?"

He was yanked back into reality by the reporter's next question.

"Ah well, it's something I've only come across relatively recently but what I know of it so far seems really interesting."

Was Victor doing it on purpose? Standing so closely and giving an entire interview as one giant innuendo? Of course he wasn't, Yuuri knew that. Objectively. He gulped.

"And what's the dish, Victor?"

"Oh, I'd love to get a mouthful of Katsuki!"

The world stopped.

Yuuri was sure of it. There was no way he'd heard that right. Just no way. He briefly considered he'd hallucinated it entirely, but the identical gobsmacked expressions of everyone in earshot - skaters and interviewers alike - told the small, rational part of his brain that no, he was NOT making it up.

Yuuri had already snapped around to stare at the man behind him. Victor was smiling, patiently, completely oblivious.

Something in Yuuri, battered by all the horrible things he'd been through in the last few weeks... broke.

Before he could stop himself, he'd already snatched Victor's arm and yanked the taller man with him, away from the reporters, out the door, and to an athlete only area.

He didn't stop until they were safely in a changing room, door closed behind them, silence enveloping them.

Only then did Yuuri realise what he had just done - he had manhandled his idol, the man he'd had a crush on forever, into a changing room... Because the other had misspoken. He wasn't sure how but he had and Yuuri had probably just made the worst mistake of his life.

As he stared into the shocked blue eyes of the man that made him realise he was gay as a teen, he straightened up.

"A mouthful of Katsuki?" He asked, still trying to come to terms with both his embarrassment and what he’d just heard.

Victor's reaction couldn't have been further from what he expected. Anger, laughter even, maybe an apology but mostly anger was what he expected.

What he got was sultry laughter and a purred "Yes please!" from the other man before being pushed backwards against the wall.

It took him a few moments to figure out that there were hands on his neck, a body pressed against his own and soft, warm lips on his.

His own hands snapped forwards, holding Victor's hips in place because what else was he supposed to do? He held still, frozen under Victor's touches.

After a few moments, Victor pulled back and again, Yuuri expected anger... A joke maybe. Not a pout, followed by a drawn out whine of his name.

It was so far from reality, so much closer to all his fantasies, he found himself reacting as though he was in one.

One hand yanked Victor back as he initiated another kiss, this one less one-sided. In moments, he found himself sucking on Victor's tongue, his own rubbing against it.

The older man was making the most delicious noises, soft sighs and whines that made Yuuri want more, so much more. He pushed Victor, spun them so that he was the one pressing Victor against the wall and then a long, firm leg hooked over his hip and drew him closer and suddenly it was so, so, so much better because there was friction against his erection - he hadn't even noticed getting hard - and it almost felt like Victor was too, much as that was impossible.

A light push against his shoulders had him back off, the sight of Victor's kiss swollen lips burning into his mind, possibly forever.

He was beautiful. When he slid down the wall to his knees, slowly, Yuuri decided he had to have died and gone to heaven - it was the only explanation.

Then Victor's fingers scrambled for the waistband of his track pants and pulled them down and even that thought was wiped from his mind because moments later those same fingers were wrapped around his cock, stroking from base to tip.

Victor wasn't looking at him, simply staring at Yuuri's dick like it was some kind of prize. Heart thudding faster, he lightly stroked his fingers down Victor's cheek to make the man look up.

The heat in his gaze was spectacular to behold.

"You wanted a mouthful, right? Go on then." A voice that sounded suspiciously like his own muttered. Victor, as if he'd been waiting for permission dove forward, his lips wrapping around Yuuri's tip eagerly.

He sucked him in, deeper, ever deeper until Yuuri could barely think. He'd had blowjobs before but none had ever felt like his spine was melting in his body - as Victor bobbed his head and hummed, that was precisely what it felt like.

His fingers brushed through Victor's hair, the silky silver strands cool underneath his touch.

As if encouraged, Victor moaned and sucked him deeper still until Yuuri could feel the back of his throat close on him, Victor pulling off and coughing quite suddenly.

Yuuri winced and muttered an apology, one Victor waved off even as he sucked Yuuri back into his mouth. The second and third attempts were much smoother, no gagging or coughing involved.

He felt himself getting closer, felt the tell-tale tightening in his balls when Victor started rubbing his tongue just so, just right.

He groaned in pleasure, almost forgetting to warn the other man. "I'm c-close!" He stuttered out, pleased Victor only hummed and sucked harder, just hard enough for him to fall over the edge, his release spilling into Victor's mouth.

Watching, enraptured with the sight of Victor's throat swallowing a few times, he barely noticed that Victor was touching himself, rubbing himself furiously through his own track pants.

"Want me to help with that?" He offered, but apparently too late.

His cock slipped from Victor's mouth and the man hoarsely cried out, hand losing its rhythm as he rode out his own orgasm.

When Victor's free hand clasped his thigh, forehead leaning against his leg for balance, Yuuri just held still, giving the man time to recover.

His mind was still processing what just happened when Victor pulled back and stood, a little less than graceful. Eyes trained to the other man's bruised lips, he found himself stepping closer, joining their mouths in another kiss, this one lazy and relaxed, not frantic. When he finally drew back, Victor gave a satisfied laugh and casually tucked him back into his track pants.

"I can't believe you dragged me here like this after ignoring me for a month!" Victor complained as if that made any sense at all - when had Yuuri ignored him? How could he have, his face literally plastered all over Yuuri's walls and they’d never spoken before.

"Uhm..." He began, almost relieved when Victor interrupted him immediately.

"Oh don't worry, I didn't mind this, it was great fun, I just didn't expect it! And I could have done without the being ignored."

What WAS the man talking about?

"Well, I didn't expect you to tell a reporter you wanted a mouthful of me either, but here we are!"

Victor looked... Surprised, somehow.

"I... said what?"

"The reporter asked what Japanese dishes you wanted to try, and you said, and I quote: ‘a mouthful of Katsuki’."

Stunning blue eyes widened in shock. "I did? Oh my, I meant to say katsudon, of course!"

"You know what katsudon is?"

Victor snorted. "Of course I know, silly. I thought, since it was so highly recommended, I'd try some while I’m here."

Victor winked at him.

Somehow, even though the man had only just sucked him off, Yuuri still blushed scarlet at the gesture.

"Well, I don't think it'll measure up to the taste of Katsuki I got but it's your favourite, right? I'll definitely try it."

He nodded dumbly. What was he to say to that? The last thirty minutes were the most bizarre ones of his life.

He was still not quite comprehending what was happening when he was back in his hotel room later that evening. To his utter surprise, absolutely nothing was to be found online about Victor saying that or him bodily dragging Victor away from an interview.

He was still scrolling on SNS when someone knocked on his door. For a fleeting moment he thought maybe...

But it wasn't Victor.

It was Victor's coach, Yakov.

He blinked up at the huge Russian.

"Hello... Sir?" He greeted and Yakov huffed.

"Yuuri Katsuki. I'd like to apologise for Victor's outburst earlier. I know he has poor impulse control but propositioning you in public like that is stupid even for him. I made sure nothing ever left that room. You don't have to worry."

"So it was you? I was wondering why, uh..."

The man huffed again. "Yes well Victor is one walking PR disaster. I'm used to it by now. If I may give you some advice though... Don't ignore him for another month this time. His room is 1126. Go see him after the free or something. It'll prevent moments like today from happening again and spare me a lot of grief. That boy is INSUFFERABLE when he’s moping."

Yuuri nodded, once again dumbstruck. What was it with Russians making no sense that day? Was it a thing? Was it him? He stared after Victor's coach as he walked away.

"Oh and Katsuki?"

"Yessir?"

"Tuck your elbows in more on your quads."

"Uh...yes. Thank you."

Yuuri closed the door and locked it, for good measure.

What. The. Hell.

He did not go to room 1126. He wasn't sure what was happening but he'd narrowed it down to fever dreams, hallucinations, or a simple prank... Though sucking someone off seemed to go a bit far for that. The other two both seemed more likely, if only because they would explain why he had basically no memory of leaving that changing room or going up to his room after it happened.

It being probably the best blowjob of his life.

Stretched out on his bed in his briefs, he still tried to make sense of things when someone else knocked on his door.

He yanked it open without thinking, uncaring that he wasn't dressed. Thankfully, it was only his coach. That, at the very least made sense. Celestino briefing him on his free skate the next day.

NOT Victor sucking him off.

He tried to focus on Celestino's speech, he really did.

He kept thinking about Victor's lips instead.

The familiar terror that came with skating competitions for him didn't take long to set in the next morning. Indeed, he was already shaking by the time he was lacing up his skates. It didn't help that everyone was being so supportive - the shoulder clasps, the encouraging smiles, everything was just making it worse.

He'd already accepted he was going to fail - was in no shape to win, really, at that point, so it all felt hollow.

Taking position on the ice, he knew what would happen before it did.

He didn't go to the banquet, didn't bother.

By some miracle, he hadn't come in last, but at 24 out of 32, he might as well have. It was humiliating. Faking an injury in order to withdraw would have been better, probably.

When someone knocked on his door - again, he was on his bed in his boxers - he did the same thing as the day before - he yanked open the door...

Except it wasn't Yakov, and it wasn't Celestino.

It was Victor Nikiforov.

He stepped back to invite the man in automatically.

He looked... Angry, somehow. Victor didn't waste time in crossing the room and then turning to face Yuuri.

"Was it me?"

"Was what you?"

"Was I the reason you fell so much today?"

He winced in shame - how had his failure managed to make the man he wanted to impress more than anything, feel bad as well?

Closing the door, Yuuri sighed and sat.

"It's nothing to do with you. Just... This season... I can't seem to skate right, that's all."

Victor squinted at him.

"So... it's not me."

"That's what I said! What did you come here for, Victor?" He asked, impatient, upset and all out not feeling well. He wasn’t in the mood to deal with Russians and their nonsensical… nonsense. He just wanted to sleep.

The older skater pressed his lips into a thin line, then smiled an obviously fake smile.

"Whatever you want, whenever it suits you. That's how this works, right?"

And with those words, he all but pushed Yuuri down on the bed and kissed him square on the mouth.

Like last time, his body worked on instinct. He ground up into Victor, deepened the kiss, delighted in the moans the older man gave almost immediately.

His body moved on autopilot, with a kind of certainty he wished he could have on the ice.

His partner was loud, it turned out - loud when Yuuri rolled them over and pinned Victor to the bed, loud when he roughly grasped him through his dress pants, already stained a little from arousal. Yuuri wasted no time in yanking himself free of his pants and then Victor too, slotting their cocks together and jerking them both off while still keeping Victor pinned to the bed with his other hand.

He couldn't get enough of the dazed look of hunger in those blue eyes, of the way they seemed to water just a little, nor of the way Victor bit his lip as he tensed up, ready to come.

Yuuri was right there with him, the sight of Victor coming pulling him over the edge too. They both spilled mostly onto the front of Victor's suit jacket and shirt... And neither of them cared.

He collapsed with a moan next to the gold medallist, barely avoiding the sticky mess they'd made of his body.

What even was his life?

He fell asleep without getting an answer.

Come morning, Victor was... Gone.

Not so much as a note left behind. He hadn’t truly expected one – there was, after all, a fair chance that he had hallucinate everything that happened with Victor in the last few days - though he wasn't lucky enough to have fantasies his horrible performance.

Years of fantasies of Victor could probably do that to a man though.

And why not, it would be a fitting end to his failure of a season – a mental breakdown.

Sighing, he rolled out of bed in order to pack and go home – nothing else he could do.

The cloying hopelessness he felt didn’t ease up even once on the 19-hour trip back home. Since Phichit was off in Thailand, he had the room to himself – not that he wanted to do anything other than sleep anyway.

Maybe forever.

Chapter Text

For Victor, their story begins much earlier than it does for Yuuri – not that he knows that. It’s the GPF banquet, and Victor just won his… oh he lost count of how many gold medals he’d won. Five sounded about right, but he didn’t care much anymore.

Not about the medals, anyway. About the cute boy he’d noticed in the hotel lobby the first day they’d arrived… now HIM he’d been interested in. He hadn’t recognised the other man – not until Chris had quietly told him that he was a fellow competitor, and that it was his first GPF. He hadn’t shared any competitions with Victor, so they hadn’t met before.

He was… intrigued.

Actually, making plans to woo the other man would be a more appropriate way to put it.

He didn’t see him again until the day of the short skate – and there, it was obvious that the younger man was nervous.

Fine, Victor could wait.

Yuuri – he’d learned his name, of course – had done… awfully. So bad that Victor had gone to watch videos of his previous performances because he just COULD NOT believe someone who skated that awfully could seriously have qualified for the GPF.

What he found was… astounding. For one thing he upgraded his crush on Yuuri to a Crush with a capital C immediately.

The other man could SKATE.

So clearly, something was wrong with him. He had no idea what – just knew that it didn’t go away at the free either. Yuuri’s score wasn’t the lowest he’d ever seen… but nearly a hundred points separated them.

That made it difficult to approach him, he knew. He didn’t want to come off as condescending, nor as insulting.

He only snapped out of it when Chris pointed out that he was giving himself wrinkles, thinking too hard.

He’d play it by ear, he decided as he headed to the banquet. At the very least, this year, with Yuuri there, it would be interesting.

Interesting turned out to be the wrong word.

Not that he was trying to be dramatic, but life-changing fit it better.

He spotted Yuuri immediately, of course… and thus, also his champagne. All eight glasses that the man knocked back like they were water.

He was… impressed.

Less impressed that the other man seemed to be avoiding everyone. Especially him.

Still, he was nothing if not persistent. After Yuuri disappeared for a few minutes, he kept scanning to room for him when something unexpected happened – something jumped him.

Not something, he corrected – someone.

The very someone he’d been looking for.

The obviously drunk – there was a tie around his head, and it was adorable – Yuuri Katsuki was leaning on him with almost his entire weight.

Beautiful brown eyes specked with gold stared up at him – no words would come to his mouth though, as much as he wanted to say something smooth.

He needn’t have bothered.

With a  breathless ‘come dance with me’ Yuuri dragged him to the dancefloor.

By the time Yuuri released him in order to dance with Chris, he was relatively sure he was having a bit more than just a Crush.

The vicious spike of jealousy that shot through him when he danced ON A POLE with Chris, practically naked, confirmed it.

He pretty much snatched Yuuri away from his friend when they were finally done, and dragged him off to a quiet corner so the other could sober up a little.

That was the plan anyway.

The reality was something much more fun – with absolutely no memory of getting on the elevator or opening his room, he found himself pressed into the wall of his bedroom, being kissed to within an inch of his life by a very drunk Yuuri Katsuki.

He dimly remembered the other putting his hand on Victor’s ass like he owned him and asking for some privacy – which actually solved the riddle of how they’d ended up where they were, because there was no way he could think about anything in that situation.

Victor knew he shouldn’t do anything with the other… but a little bit of kissing, he reasoned, was probably fine.

Not that he had much choice what with how the other man’s nails were scraping across his scalp, occasionally travelling down his back and urging them ever closer together. He only had so much self-control.

He only realised they had to stop when Yuuri grabbed him by the tie and yanked him over to the bed.

Victor had no idea how Yuuri was so nimble while drunk, but in the blink of an eye, he found himself on his back, Yuuri straddling his hips.

He was smiling down at him with the most wicked grin – when he also reached for Victor’s wrists and pinned him to the bed, he put up no resistance.

He wasn’t a saint.

“Victor…” Yuuri mumbled, his lips ghosting along Victor’s ear, taking his breath away. “You know what I want to do?”

He had an idea.

Several actually. All very graphic.

Before he could get around to stuttering his way through a suggestion, Yuuri’s expression of blatant hunger had morphed into an adorable smile.

“Let’s talk about dogs!” The other man declared before hopping off Victor and stretching out next to him.

It took him an embarrassingly long time to switch mental gears.

“Uh… dogs?” He eventually asked, reminding himself that it was GOOD that they’d stopped.

His dick thought otherwise.

Yuuri, he learned had a poodle. Well, had had a poodle, thus solving the mystery of why his performance had been so godawful.

Victor had done his best to console the other, holding him close on top of the covers as they spoke about their fondest memories of their respective dogs.

It did not end there.

They soon spoke about things like their homes – Detroit, Hasetsu, and St. Petersburg, respectively. They spoke about their favourite food. Victor told him about blini, Yuuri practically sang a hymn about katsudon.

It was interspersed with the sweetest little moans that… did things to him as he listened.

Of course, Yuuri was still drunk, so doing things to him instead was still out of the question.

Didn’t matter though – Victor was having the best date of his life, and it hadn’t even been a proper date.

When Yuuri dozed off on his blankets, half-way through explaining to him why Friends was extremely over-rated, he allowed himself to stare at the other man with what was no doubt a sappy grin.

He’d mostly been joking when he’d considered that he had feelings for the other man, but as he watched him sleep on the bed by his side, he couldn’t deny the way his heart clenched at the sight… nor the way he wanted to reach out to touch the other.

Forcing himself to get some air, he stepped out on the balcony for a few seconds, trying to come to grips with the rollercoaster ride he’d just experienced.

Glancing back, he told himself that it wasn’t even over yet.

Ducking back inside, he was irrationally happy when Yuuri was awake, sitting up the bed and looking around.

He eagerly sat down next to the other man again, ready to continue their conversation.

Yuuri had other plans, apparently.

Once again, he found himself pressed to the bed, Yuuri above him. The other man was kissing him, slow and deep in a way that made him whimper with want.

He wasn’t sure whether he was relieved when the other pulled back or disappointed.

He settled on pleased when Yuuri started kissing down his throat almost immediately.

By the time he remembered that Yuuri was drunk, the other man had already unbuttoned his shirt and made his way down to Victor’s belt.

He stilled the other man’s hands – for all that he was pretty desperately into Yuuri, he didn’t want to take advantage of the other man.

“Y-Yuuri? Are you still drunk?” He asked.

The other man shot him a meaningful look.

“What do you think?” He mumbled, his mouth gliding lower, along Victor’s still covered erection.

He didn’t SEEM drunk…

Yuuri unzipped his suit pants with his teeth and Victor stopped thinking.

Maybe half an hour later, Victor was laying on his back on the bed, dishevelled, his hair a mess, kiss marks littering his body, and still out of breath, even though Yuuri was already passed out asleep by his side.

He was too… wound up to sleep.

Not that Yuuri had left him wanting – he REALLY had delivered in that regard; the man’s stamina was insane. It just… felt like something had happened between them. Something big, something important.

Rolling over, he pressed a kiss to the sleeping man’s shoulder, pleased when he shuddered in his sleep.

With startling clarity, Victor realised that he wanted to… hold on to the other. Hold on and never let go.

He was still grinning like an idiot when he woke up the next morning, looking over to find Yuuri… gone.

It took him a few seconds to realise that the other man had left, at some point in the night.

His glasses, clothes, shoes, were all gone.

That was… well, he was hurt.

Then he rationalised – Yuuri probably had a flight to catch, might have had to get his coach, even. Plenty of reasons for the other to go. Even if… they hadn’t exchanged contact details.

He wasn’t exactly hard to contact, what with being present on every SNS known to man.

He squashed any though that maybe Yuuri hadn’t felt the same, that maybe he didn’t feel as much as Victor did.

The connection he’d felt with the other had been real.

Yuuri would get in touch.

He was sure of it.

A month later, he wasn’t so… sure anymore.

He’d kept an eye out for any sign of contact from the other man, had spent his time learning everything there was to know about Yuuri Katsuki.

The other man made no move to contact him. At all.

After a week or so of moping, Georgi had the perfect suggestion – he could always encourage Yuuri to contact him, just in case the man was… intimidated, or worried, or scared.

So, he’d started making ambiguous posts on his social media accounts. Posts about how he was lonely. How he was fondly remembering the banquet evening.

Silence.

Continued silence.

His heart sank with every day that passed.

Eventually, Yakov confiscated his phone, fed up with him moping over it.

Even he had to admit that he was a little mopey.

Of course, that only lasted until the next big event – Worlds. He’d heard that Yuuri had qualified, though through somewhat unusual circumstances.

He didn’t care.

Not as long as he could see the other man again.

His chance came between the short and free programs.

It was some stupid interview – he only partially listened to his interviewer, most of his attention focused on the quiet but confident voice of the man he had deliberately stood too close to.

He knew just how to get his attention – Yuuri had told him, after all.

Katsudon.

He hadn’t tried it yet, but he was determined to do so.

Until then, though… he noticed how Yuuri twitched as he started with his innuendos. Clearly, the other man was as aware of him as he was of Yuuri.

Some of his worry dissipated – whatever had led to their lack of communication, it clearly wasn’t lack of interest.

He was just thinking of how long he could keep the innuendo up when he found himself pulled by the arm, a familiar head of black hair ahead of him.

He followed him, his heart racing as he did so.

Sure, walking out of the interview wasn’t a great move for either of them, but… but Yuuri apparently hadn’t been able to wait any longer either.

By the time Yuuri let go of him, they were alone.

Finally.

“A mouthful of Katsuki?” The other man offered, and just like that, he was moving again, eager to take him up on the offer.

It wasn’t how he’d imagined their next meeting to go, but he was NOT complaining.

At first, Yuuri didn’t kiss him back at all, and he pulled back again… only for Yuuri to reverse their positions, pressing him against the wall, until his knees were so weak, he could barely stand anymore.

And then Yuuri looked at him and suddenly he really couldn’t – his shaking fingers didn’t hesitate to pull the other man’s hard cock out of his pants. He remembered it well, the way Yuuri had felt, had made him feel…

Just as he was about to finally suck him, a finger brushed down his cheek and he looked up.

"You wanted a mouthful, right? Go on then." Yuuri said, sounding amused.

The playful, teasing encouragement was all he needed – he nearly choked himself on Yuuri in his eagerness to suck him, relieved when the other man didn’t mind that he was out of practice.

It had been a while since he’d wanted to do that for anyone.

But Yuuri wasn’t just… anyone.

His hand snuck down of its own accord, rubbing him through his own slacks.

If he hadn’t been so determined to get the other off, to hopefully impress him, he’d have eagerly accepted Yuuri’s offer to help him, but when the younger skater spilled himself down his throat, he knew he was too close already anyway, that he wouldn’t even be able to get up without finishing.

Didn’t matter.

Leaning against Yuuri, he thanked the stars that apparently, he really had misunderstood Yuuri’s silence when it came to contacting him.

Clearly, he was wanted after all.

When he was able to get back up, he quickly tucked Yuuri back into his clothes and kissed him – slow this time, the kind of kiss he’d wanted to wake the other man up with the morning after the banquet.

His heart soared, and he could no longer really convince himself that he… well, that he wasn’t in love with Yuuri.

To find out he’d actually accidentally propositioned the man was… embarrassing. He liked to think he was smoother than that.

Evidently not, he decided, when after his attempts to flirt with the other man, he simply nodded at him. Yuuri looked… a little out of it, actually.

“Thanks.” The Japanese skater said, spinning on his heel and walking out of the changing room.

Victor stared after him in complete disbelief.

By the time Victor had gotten through Yakov’s scolding, it was pretty much his bedtime – no chance to talk to the other man.

No chance before the free either – he went last, of course. Yuuri was… well, his short hadn’t been record-breaking, but his free was pitiful. Not as bad as at the GPF, but notably worse than his short.

Guilt ran through him like a sword, and as soon as he could slip away from the banquet, he did so, charming a receptionist into telling him Yuuri’s room number. He practically sprinted there, relieved when Yuuri opened the door quickly and let him in.

He had to know if it was his fault… but Yuuri wasn’t even looking at him properly, even as he reassured him it had nothing to do with him.

Victor wasn’t so sure, but it wasn’t that that ultimately hurt the worst – it was Yuuri’s question.

“What did you come here for, Victor?” He asked… confirming what Victor’s mind had been whispering at him from the moment he woke up alone.

Yuuri didn’t feel like him at all.

To Yuuri he was just… sex.

Yuuri came to him when he wanted to fuck, that was the extent of the other man’s feelings.

Forcing a smile on his face, he couldn’t help his own spite – he could SEE the other man wasn’t in a good place, but… but neither was he.

Yuuri had hurt his feelings.

So Victor kissed him.

It didn’t make much sense to him either, but it felt good.

Deceptively so – Yuuri responded immediately, took charge even. Victor found it impossible not to lean into it, not to accept what Yuuri offered – even if it was just his body and not himself that he wanted.

Like before, he ended up with Yuuri asleep by his side, him wide awake next to him.

He tried, in vain to stop his tears from falling. He’d never really… been in love. It took him to learn to care about people, if he did at all.

Yuuri was unprecedented for him, something so much more momentous than the medal he’d won… but to Yuuri, he was just a convenient fuck.

His pride demanded he never so much as look at the other again, but… but it wasn’t his pride making the decisions.

He snuggled back down against Yuuri, their sides touching just a little.

In a heartbeat, he found himself wrapped in an embrace, sleeping Yuuri wrapping his arm around him and pulling him closer.

Hastily wiping his tears, he tried to work through the mess of feelings he was dealing with. Being so close to Yuuri certainly didn’t help – not when the man was so gentle with him while asleep, holding him like he was precious.

Eventually, he freed himself, all too aware that Yuuri would want him gone by the time he woke up.

Almost defiantly, he pressed another kiss to Yuuri’s lips before he quietly slipped out of Yuuri’s room.

He wasn’t back to his own room yet when he dialled Chris, aware he probably woke the silver medallist up.

“Chris? I need to tell you something.” He began as he got off the elevator.

Chapter Text

Two weeks after world’s, things were back to normal, so to speak. There were only a few more weeks left until his season was over – not that he had anymore competitions. Given that he had completed his uni course AND skated a season so embarrassing he wished he could just literally never go outside again, his path forward was clear.

As mud.

Unable to afford Celestino’s fees for another year, he was bound to, well, quit.

It was probably for the best, all things considered.

A knock on the door tore him from his usual morose thoughts – a bad habit he had whenever Phichit wasn’t there to distract him and he was left to his own devices.

His friend was off on a holiday somewhere with some of the other students – a weekend getaway to celebrate the end of their exams. Yuuri had declined to go, he didn’t deserve a celebration weekend after the season he’d had. Not even after graduating with honours.

Of course, he wasn’t prepared for the identity of the man on the other side of the door either.

“Victor?” He asked, his voice a full octave too high.

“Hi! I was in the neighbourhood, thought I’d stop by!”

The Russian brushed past him with a smile that looked just a little too fake – he stumbled after him as the man looked around in their flat.

“T-The neighbourhood?” he asked after a few seconds of silence.

Victor gave him an impatient look before he found himself once again wrapped up in the other man’s arms. Just like every other time, his body took over as soon as Victor kissed him.

His hands wrapped around Victor’s thighs and he lifted the taller man, stumbling them both into his bedroom and throwing him on the bed. Yuuri had barely even taken in the sight of the other man there, when Victor scrambled to the edge of the bed to pull him closer.

Within moments, he felt hands tugging on his belt, his pants, his shirt.

He wanted to reciprocate, but by the time he found the presence of mind to try and do so, he was naked, and Victor was already pulling him down on the bed above him.

“Sit on my face?” The Russian breathlessly requested.

Naturally, Yuuri obliged.

When he woke up a few hours later, having passed out from exhaustion after not one but two rounds of very enthusiastic sex, he wasn’t even surprised when he was alone. No trace of Victor in the flat.

No explanation of why he had come, how he had known Yuuri lived there, or what was going on.

He just thanked the gods that he’d had the presence of mind to take down Victor’s posters after Worlds. He couldn’t well fuck the man under posters of himself, could he? Then again, why the man came for that at all was a question that remained open.

He didn’t even have a way to contact the Russian.

None at all.

No number, no address. Nothing.

All he COULD do was... Well, wait to see if he came back.

He did. Almost three weeks later. Though, not in the way Yuuri expected.

With just two weeks left on his contract with Celestino, the man insisted that Yuuri participate in a boot camp for skaters that they had apparently spontaneously set up... He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but he was all but ordered to participate, along with Phichit and a few more students.

The camp took place in Canada – so, despite the horribly low temperatures, they took a bus up to the location of the camp in Ontario. Phichit spent the entire trip chattering about how great it would be to skate with talented people from all over… Yuuri had sat quietly and listened.

They’d been told that there would be other skaters there too.

Nobody had told him one of them would be VICTOR.

He nearly had a stroke when he saw the other man among the instructors of the camp, casually standing around in the parking lot their bus parked in.

Victor, to his surprise... Ignored him.

Not on the ice, where he barked the same type of short-tempered instructions at him as he did all the other skaters, but…

He hadn’t exactly expected the other to kiss him, but he’d expected some… acknowledgement, at least.

It had him questioning whether he had hallucinated the whole thing again.

By the end of the second day of the week-long boot camp, he broke down and, after the end of the skating session, snuck to the coaches’ rooms. Victor’s was easy to find – he had stuck a name tag to the door, even drawn a little gold medal next to the Cyrillic lettering.

He knocked, eerily reminded of when Victor had shown up at his place without any warning.

At least Victor KNEW they were in the same place. Yuuri hadn’t even known the other man was in the country.

The door opened in seconds, and the other man’s annoyed expression immediately morphed into... Relief?

“Thank god...” The Russian mumbled before yanking Yuuri inside by the collar.

It was the last thing Victor said that wasn’t directly connected to instructions on what he wanted Yuuri to do to him.

As it turned out, the other man was no less impatient and demanding during sex than he had been on the ice as a coach.

Yuuri loved it.

Of course, the next morning, after sneaking out at the crack of dawn and back to his room, he realised that they hadn’t spoken at all.

Again.

He tried again the next night – same results, this time with hickeys all over his chest and thighs, thankfully concealed by his practice clothes.

Bizarre as it was, Victor made it VERY clear through his actions that he wanted sex not conversation.

Since, at that level, they were surprisingly well matched and it didn’t give Yuuri the chance to say dumb things, that... worked for him.

In a way.

When he found himself at Victor’s door the third night in a row, he still hesitated. What was he doing? He knew he wasn’t in the right headspace to form a relationship, and he also knew that he wasn’t the type for casual sex… especially not with a man he’d had a crush on since he’d been old enough to have his first erection.

That… didn’t stop him.

Didn’t stop them.

That night, Victor pulled out, well, supplies.

The other students muttered the next day, about how Victor didn’t jump anything above a double.

Yuuri had to fight a grin every time – he knew exactly why, just like he knew why the man leaned against the rink barrier more than usual and winced when he bent over.

In maybe the first bit of public contact since their first meeting at the interview, he couldn’t help but brush into the other man at one point.

He apologised, of course, to be polite… but his fingers still pressed against a spot high on the back of his thigh where he knew the older man had a bitemark.

The Russian’s shocked gasp at least confirmed that he had NOT been hallucinating things between them.

The second to last night of the retreat, he didn’t even get to go to Victor’s room – the other man was already waiting in the hallway to his own when he came back for dinner. They each had private rooms, thankfully – no Phichit there to notice that he wasn’t sleeping in his own bed, most of the time.

Victor shoved him in the door without so much as a hello… but where Yuuri had expected things to get hurried, heated immediately, that wasn’t what he got.

The other man was… tender with him. Slow, unhurried.

It wasn’t sex so much as it was ‘making love’ – except there was no love, Yuuri was all too aware when he dozed off for a while after, only to be woken when Victor collected his clothes and got dressed in the dark.

A pit settled in his stomach as he watched the other man go – he didn’t know what to say to him, so he just pretended to still be asleep.

The last night of the retreat, they didn’t get the opportunity to do what they had been doing – per the request of most of the skaters, the entire group went out to a club. Yuuri would have MUCH rather not gone, but Phichit had made it clear he wouldn’t accept a no.

So, Yuuri had dragged himself into the club and done what he usually did when he was somewhere with alcohol he didn’t want to be – he DRANK.

Naturally, the ride home was one gigantic, hung-over nightmare.

His only solace was that, well, he wasn’t the only one with a hangover. A few of the other students were doing just as horribly as him.

Or so he thought at least – when he got home and took a shower, he discovered a series of marks on himself that he didn’t recognise. Scratches on his shoulders and back. A hickey on his collarbone, higher up than the ones Victor had left there a few days before.

There was even a series of hickeys on his thighs.

He had… absolutely no memory of sleeping with anyone.

Or any memory at all.

The sinking feeling in his stomach turned to sheer terror immediately. Who had he been with? Victor again? He hadn’t even been sure that the other man had been at the club with them.

It could have been anyone… and Phichit was no help. He had found himself a dance partner early on, and hadn’t watched his drunken escapades.

Yuuri was a little annoyed – what was the point of having a best friend if he didn’t keep an eye on him?

Finally, the day came – his last day at Celestino’s rink. They’d made an appointment in his office, the day before. Yuuri knew that it wasn’t technically the official end to his career, but it might as well have been – at his age, without a coach, there was nothing that he could do other than retire.

So, to say he was surprised when Celestino greeted him with a broad grin and an atypical bear hug when he got there was an understatement.

Was… was his coach really glad he was leaving?

“Yuuri, I have to say, I’m SO glad that you decided to stay here. You know, I wasn’t sure at first, what with you having had such a difficult season, but I’m so happy you changed your mind.”

“That I, uh, changed my mind?” He echoed, completely clueless as to what the other man was on about.

“Yes, yes. I know it was all a bit last minute, but don’t worry, your payment arrived this morning. You’re all set for the upcoming season.”

“Payment?” He asked again, his voice getting progressively higher – what payment? He was broke. Had his family…? But no, they couldn’t afford it either.

“Yes, yes, it all came in. The entire year’s fee. I was surprised that I didn’t recognise the bank account, but it had your info on the transaction and everything. So, all is in order!”

The taller man laughed, and Yuuri did his best not to panic. Clearly, SOMEONE had paid his fee. But who?

“Can I… uh, see the bank account number?”

“Uh, sure, but why?”

“Oh, I, erm, don’t know which account it came from, exactly.” He stuttered, hoping his coach wouldn’t see through his lie.

“Uh… how many have you got?” Celestino asked, clearly taken aback.

He shrugged – a moment later, Celestino showed him a slip of paper. He looked at the account number – it wasn’t his, it wasn’t his family’s. In fact, it wasn’t Japanese at all. He’d have recognised the format of the bank info.

As it was, he didn’t recognise anything about it at all.

“Thanks… coach.”

“That’s alright, that’s alright! Why don’t you take another few days to get your head in gear and then we get ready for next season?”

He nodded, dumb-founded, before heading home again.

He was sure he was missing something big, but… what?

Rest, it turned out.

Taking three days off, just laying around in bed and texting his family – who knew nothing about the payment – did WONDERS for his emotional state.

Not so much for his waistline, but that was easily rectified with a few extra miles on the treadmill and a few extra hours on the ice.

Speaking of the ice – he found it surprisingly easy to come up with a new theme, new inspiration for his upcoming season.

Even if he was baffled there would be another season at all.

‘Desire’ he’d chosen – inspired by Victor, sure, but also his own desire to succeed. It had come back with a vengeance, for some reason.

He’d gotten another chance… who cared where it came from?

He would make the most of it.

So, he created two routines. It was the first time he choreographed them himself entirely – and though he had to make adjustments, Celestino was impressed with his work.

On Love: Eros, his short program was the one inspired by Victor. It was unexpected, mature, and full of fire and passion. Celestino had actually blushed the first time he’d skated it.

Being able to surprise his coach had been… fun.

His free on the other hand was choreographed to a section from the song Phantom of the Opera – a part of the duet between the phantom and his lover.

The routine itself was like a conversation too – on one hand, he had his steps and spins and on the other his jumps – he arranged them to match the distinct voices of the two characters in the song.

He didn’t love it as much as he loved the Eros program, but that was fine – he was still proud of it.

Two months into his new season and he was starting to really get into his new programmes, starting to get the hang of them.

It was also around that time that something else cam crashing into his life with the approximate subtlety of a freight train – Victor.

It was a normal evening, no sign of anything unusual for him. Phichit was on the couch studying, he was sitting and reading a book, when someone knocked on the door.

He went to open it of course, expecting… well, as always, not Victor.

How could he have expected him.

He froze in the door as soon as the head of silver hair came into view. The Russian was smiling at him, a smirk that promised yet another night of sex and hickeys… at least, until a voice sounded from behind him.

“Yuuri? Who is it?”

Yuuri had no idea why the sound of Phichit’s voice made the Russian freeze the way it did, but when the Thai skater poked his head around the corner to be able to see, Victor’s expression turned into a grimace.

“Huh? Victor Nikiforov?” Phichit asked, unlike Yuuri apparently able to speak.

He was still stuck on staring the bizarre spectacle before them.

“Ah, y-yes.”

“What are you doing here?” Phichit asked, leaning casually against Yuuri in the narrow entrance way – their flat really wasn’t very big.

If Yuuri had thought he’d been shocked before, he immediately realised he’d had no idea what shock even meant… because a moment later, huge tears started streaming down the Russian’s face.

He found himself reaching out, instinctively, for what, he didn’t know… but Victor just stumbled back a step.

“I… I, apparently, I’m making a huge mistake here. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb your evening.” The Russian bit out, before spinning on his heel and storming down the stairs.

Yuuri very nearly ran after him, until he remembered that… well, that he had no shoes on and was wearing a dressing gown. By the time he’d be dressed, Victor could be… god, anywhere really.

“Uh… Yuuri?”

Flinching, he remembered that he’d forgotten about Phichit entirely for a moment – his friend no doubt was as confused as he was.

He turned to look at the other man and gulped.

Yuuri told Phichit… everything. Not in detail, but he still recounted each of their experiences and meetings – sans the R-rated parts. No doubt the other man would rather not know about those anyway.

“So… you have no way to contact him?” Phichit asked, when he’d caught him up.

“None. I don’t… know what’s going on?”

Phichit whistled quietly.

“I might have an idea, actually.”

His head shot up – any idea was better than what he had.

“What if… what if he saw me and thought that you and I…” The other man trailed off.

Yuuri’s eyes widened.

“You think…”

“Could be. Makes sense, doesn’t it? I wasn’t here last time, and we had individual rooms in the retreat… I wasn’t at Worlds… he wouldn’t know that you have a roommate.”

Yuuri nodded, slowly.

“It makes sense, I guess? But… what am I supposed to do? Phichit, he looked so UPSET.”

His friend shot him a meaningful look.

“Now you go and make it up to him.”

“Phichit! I don’t know where he is! Or if there’s anything to make up! I haven’t… we rarely even talk!”

The other man crossed his arms.

“He CRIED, Yuuri. Go and fix it.”

Yuuri let is shoulders droop.

“And… how am I supposed to find him?”

“Well…” The Thai skater hummed thoughtfully.

“He didn’t have any luggage, so he’s got to be in a hotel somewhere in Detroit.”

Yuuri scoffed.

“Oh, a hotel in Detroit? THAT narrows it down.”

Phichit wasn’t listening though, instead pulling out his laptop and muttering to himself.

“Yes, well, it’s Victor. He wouldn’t just stay anywhere… so four and five star places…”

Yuuri tried to be reasonable.

“Phichit seriously! There must be DOZENS!”

His roommate grinned, after a few seconds.

“Actually, there are only thirteen… and only three are within short driving distance of here.”

Three. That was… well, it was less daunting than dozens, but it didn’t help much either.

Phichit’s smile when he looked at him a moment later could only be described as wolfish.

“I have the perfect plan!” He chirped.

Yuuri groaned.

Phichit’s plan was IDIOTIC, he muttered to himself as he stumbled into the lobby of an incredibly fancy hotel not an hour later. He had no idea how he’d even let himself be talked into it.

But then again… Victor had been CRYING.

He’d had to do something, right?

So, he’d agreed against his better judgement.

Clutching the flowers in his hands tighter, he approached the receptionist… who was already eyeing him suspiciously. Obviously – he didn’t look like he belonged at all, wearing baggy jeans and a somewhat saggy t-shirt.

“Can I help you, sir?”

“Yes, hi! I, uhm, I have a flower delivery? For a Victor Nikiforov? There wasn’t a room number on the order, so I’m not sure where I have to go?”

Apparently, his awkward fumbling endeared him to the receptionist.

Phichit had suggested that a delivery would at least get him in far enough to find out if Victor was in the hotel. They’d gone to the closest hotel first – if he wasn’t there, they planned to move on to the next.

“Yes, alright.” The receptionist said, hanging up the phone.

“Well, Mr. Nikiforov said he wasn’t expecting any deliveries, but he’s willing to receive the flowers. Take the elevator on the left, seventh floor.”

“Yes, thank you.” He mumbled and stumbled forward – how in the world had it worked?

It shouldn’t have.

Elevator music, something Yuuri already didn’t like, was sheer TORTURE when listened to in an anxious state, Yuuri discovered.

He quickly texted Phichit a thumbs up from the elevator, before steeling himself to see Victor again.

Either that or to be kicked out, possibly arrested and publicly humiliated.

He gulped and clutched the flowers closer. Phichit had ran out to get them for him while he had tried to wrap his head around what he’d agreed to.

The elevator dinged, the doors sliding open in what seemed like slow motion.

He was briefly worried that he’d not been give a room number, but as it turned out, there was only one door with a number on it anyway.

701.

He knocked.

Chapter Text

He made it a whopping 15 days after his resolution  – strongly encouraged by Chris – to stay away from Yuuri until his feelings… went away. Mercifully, there weren’t any events that they shared for a while, so it seemed perfect.

Perfect until he found himself in Paris, in a little café with a slice of chocolate cake and wanted nothing more than to feed some to Yuuri.

The sex fantasies, he could live with. The domestic ones? Those were… tough.

Even Chris started to get sick of getting a call every time Victor wanted to moan about how much he missed the other man.

So, when he returned to Charles de Gaulle in order to get a flight back home to Russia…

Well, Detroit was on the way.

More or less.

……….Right?

Flying first class to Detroit and taking a cab to the nearest hotel wasn’t exactly how he’d planned to spend his weekend off, but then…

He shook his head, shook off his doubts, ignored the part of him that told him in no uncertain terms that he was an idiot.

He KNEW that.

He knocked on Yuuri’s door anyway.

He opened quickly, and Victor babbled the first thing that came to mind, immediately annoyed with himself at his stupid line – the neighbourhood? Yuuri had to know that that was nonsense? Right?

Well, Victor didn’t want to be called on it.

He paid little attention to the man’s flat, instead doing what he did best – let himself drown in Yuuri Katsuki.

The younger, shorter skater picked him up and he hadn’t even known he was into that until it had happened, and had thrown him into the bed. He couldn’t have torn Yuuri’s clothes off fast enough.

At the very least, he had a good amount of fantasies to pick from, things he wanted the other man to do to him. With him.

Ignoring the nasty part of his brain that told him he was making a mistake, he asked Yuuri to sit on his face – no way he could think with those fantastic thighs around his head.

Well, he was right at least – he hadn’t had to concern himself with thinking, not until they laid side by side again… Yuuri asleep.

He was starting to rather mind the man’s tendency to pass out, actually  - even IF it saved him the embarrassment of being kicked out by the beautiful man by his side.

Given that it was late, he spent the night in his hotel room before catching a flight back home.

He was actually almost a little proud of the fact that he didn’t… go back to Yuuri.

Not immediately at least.

In fact, after the last time, after sneaking out of Yuuri’s flat, his resolution to stay away seemed to come… easier to him.

Until Yakov happened to ruin it for him.

His coach KNEW he turned down silly things like training camps and ice shows and what not.

He didn’t care for them… but when Yakov mentioned that some of Celestino’s students would be there…

He was a little angry at Yakov for so obviously taking advantage of his feelings for the other man, and VERY angry at himself for agreeing on the spot, just in case he’d see Yuuri again.

When he found himself outside, in the parking lot, pretending to be interested in what another one of the coaches was saying, he realised he’d pretty much kissed any self-respect he may have had once goodbye.

Despite how Yuuri was treating him, Victor was looking forward to seeing him, to him getting off that bus… to seeing how Yuuri would react to seeing him there.

Did he know Victor was at the camp? Was that why he had accepted as well?

His stupid heart hoped so.

The look on Yuuri’s face – a soft smile mixed with surprise reminded him of something else he tried not to think about – the fact that Yuuri was never really cruel to him.

For all that he wasn’t giving Victor what he needed, he suspected that Yuuri didn’t know.

That… wasn’t great, but it was better than the alternative. Clearly, Yuuri wasn’t a bad person, he’d just… well, he’d messed up his chance to have that talk with Yuuri on their first night.

Still, he knew the choice he was making.

Knew that it was probably wrong.

Knew that he was taking it out on Yuuri on the ice a little, being harsher to him than he needed to be, exactly.

The other man bore his ire with an admirable amount of patience.

He wouldn’t have blamed Yuuri if he’d gotten pissed off at him… but no. As far as he could tell, Yuuri never said an unkind word about him during the first two days of his constant critiques.

It made him feel… almost childish. Like he was taking his issues out on Yuuri.

Which, to be fair, he was.

Trying to go to sleep, knowing that Yuuri wasn’t far away, laying in the same kind of bed as him (probably sound asleep from what Victor knew of him) was… difficult.

Being close to him without touching was difficult, period.

Chris had made him promise though, that he WOULDN’T go to him this time, and he’d grudgingly agreed – if only because it was… unprofessional. He was there as a coach, so much as he wanted to have Yuuri fuck him again, he couldn’t go to him.

Not that knowing that helped any.

When, late at night, a soft knock sounded on his door, he scolded himself for being hopeful – it was probably just someone else who wanted an autograph.

His wrist hurt from writing so many.

He was ready to turn the person away… when he came face to face with Yuuri.

His Yuuri.

Before he could even think about it, he grabbed him by the collar, pulling him inside as fast as he could, afraid Yuuri might leave again.

He didn’t.

Instead, he drove Victor nearly mad with just his fingers – he was shamelessly begging for more from the other man, getting what he wanted every time.

Well, until he whispered to a sleeping Yuuri to stay with him.

He woke up alone.

He didn’t really expect Yuuri back the next night. Not when he was still too strict with the talented skater, too harsh in his critiques.

Yuuri came back anyway.

Victor apologised the only way he could think of – by kissing every inch of Yuuri’s body, selfishly leaving marks as he went, well aware that they would be hidden… but that he’d know they were there, and that Yuuri had to know too.

The third night in a row Yuuri stopped by, Victor was starting to feel spoiled – Yuuri never turned him down, not really, always giving him what he asked for with enthusiasm.

It was why he dashed away during the day, to pick up some things for their next night together. After two nights in a row, he was confident that Yuuri would come back.

He could almost fool himself again, into thinking that Yuuri needed him the same way he did.

When he begged Yuuri to fuck him, properly, he didn’t hesitate for a moment. He took Victor apart, opening him up with his fingers, his tongue, and finally, when he thought he was going to die from frustration, his cock. Yuuri rode him into the mattress hard – he was aware that he was ordering the other man around just as much as he was on the ice… but Yuuri didn’t seem to mind.

Victor didn’t have it in himself to feel bad for being rude to the other man, not when he found himself biting the pillow to muffle his moans as a result of it.

Yuuri, it seemed, had FAR too much stamina left over after skating – by the time he finally came in Victor, he was sore, oversensitive and still loving every minute of it.

He couldn’t even blame Yuuri when he passed out seconds after pulling away from Victor – he was asleep almost as fast.

That day, on the ice, he quickly realised that Yuuri had been… too rough.

Not that he hadn’t loved it – obviously he had, but he wasn’t in his teens anymore, and his body could feel the strain. The aches that felt pleasant when he walked felt painful when he skated – and even the simplest jumps required him to grit his teeth to get through them.

He forgot all about it, when, casually, in a hallway, Yuuri bumped into him, their usual pretence of not knowing each other well and alive. He might have believed it was accidental were it not for the fact that Yuuri smirked as he apologised… and that fingers he knew so very well pressed into the exact spot that he’d left a bitemark on Victor’s ass.

He felt it every time he sat down, enjoying the way the gentle ache reminded him… but Yuuri teasing him in public? However subtle it had been, it drove him nearly mad with want.

He didn’t bother waiting for Yuuri to come to him, instead waylaid him in front of his own room, rules be damned.

He knew they had only two nights left… two nights until they would have to separate again.

The fierce passion that normally consumed him when he was around Yuuri was different that time – he touched Yuuri gently, slowly, curious to see if the man was willing to accept that too, if he would indulge Victor in his illusions that Yuuri… loved him back.

He did, Victor’s heart breaking a little more as they moved together, gentle caresses instead of the hard, fast pace it normally was between them. It seemed that Yuuri was willing to match him with whatever he offered.

Like most of the decisions he’d made since the GPF, being with the younger man that way proved to be awful for his heart and sanity… and he didn’t regret it for a moment.

Not even when, a little after Yuuri passed out, he pulled himself together, collected his things and headed out again. He wasn’t a child, he knew the decisions he was making.

Their final night – and Victor hated to even call it that because he wanted to stay with the other, dammit – ended up being hijacked by a bunch of bored people whose names Victor didn’t even bother remembering.

He found himself dragged to a club of some sort, sullenly standing in a corner… until he spotted Yuuri across the room, evidently finishing off a bottle of champagne.

The other man signalled for him to come over – after pointing at himself to make sure Yuuri really meant him, he eagerly crossed the packed room.

It seemed like the man was infinitely more willing to interact with him in public while drunk, Victor mused as they danced to shitty music in the middle of the crowd.

He didn’t really care that much, too preoccupied with Yuuri’s hands on his hips, his thumbs slipping underneath Victor’s slacks to rub at the skin near his hipbones.

It was driving him mad, and in public at that.

Getting Yuuri back to their rooms – well, Yuuri’s room, it was closer – wasn’t all that easy – the man didn’t seem bothered by them being in public anymore, instead readily pressing him against every available surface, kissing him until Victor wasn’t sure he could remember his own name anymore.

When they finally made it to bed, he was relieved that he could stop thinking, that he could let go and fall into Yuuri one more time before they had to separate again… who knew for how long.

He dug his nails into Yuuri’s back, selfishly leaving scratches there, hickeys everywhere the man let him.

If they had to part, he’d leave his mark.

It didn’t help that Yuuri was just as fantastic a lover while drunk as he was sober – nor that he fell asleep as quickly too.

Victor allowed himself a long kiss goodbye to Yuuri’s lips before he tried to sneak back to his own room.

Not that he got that far – half-asleep, Yuuri had snatched his wrist in order to hold him back… he was pulled back into the bed to the other man, and powerless to resist.

He knew it didn’t change anything, and that if the previous banquet was any indication, he’d pass out again in a little while, but when Yuuri softly started telling him things about his life, he listened with rapt attention.

It seemed something was on Yuuri’s mind – and it took him time to figure out what it was.

Yuuri was… going to quit skating.

It was like a punch to the gut. The only reason they were able to meet at all was that they both skated in the same place sometimes… and he couldn’t justify flights to Detroit on a regular basis either. They took too long, not to mention they were expensive… no, it wouldn’t do.

But still, he also couldn’t force Yuuri to keep going if he didn’t want to… except the man readily admitted that he DID want to but couldn’t afford to when he asked why.

Victor was almost angry at the other man – why hadn’t he asked for help? Victor had more money than he knew how to spend.

But then it occurred to him – everything he knew about Yuuri, that he had learned from the man through his body, the rare occasions they spoke, it suggested that he was proud. That he was the type to deal with things alone.

Well, not if it meant Victor would lose him.

He just… couldn’t.

So, instead he lulled Yuuri to sleep, gently petting him and eventually slipping away when the man was passed out again.

He was on a mission.

Convincing Yakov to give him Celestino’s bank information wasn’t easy. He had to beg, plead and eventually lie about breaking something that belonged to one of his skaters before Yakov pulled the right strings to get him the info.

That in hand, he immediately beelined to his phone to get the transfer going, hoping, desperately, that the money would arrive in time… and that Yuuri wouldn’t be angry at him for going behind his back.

If he secretly hoped that maybe that was what would bring them together emotionally as well as physically… who could blame him?

It wasn’t.

The end of the season came and went, and after religiously checking the skating records for Japanese nationals at the end of the year, he eventually allowed himself to relax. Yuuri was signed up. The other man… was still skating.

He wanted to see it. Badly.

He wanted to see Yuuri.

After two months of no contact, he reasoned that he’d suffered enough, that he deserved… to have his heartache eased a bit.

Sadly, he wasn’t that lucky.

His flight had passed in no time at all, and he’d bounced all the way from his hotel to Yuuri’s flat, where he knocked as soon as he reached the door.

Yuuri opened a few moments later, looking adorable as always.

Heart racing as always, he allowed himself to think about the many things that they could and would do to each other… when another voice sounded from behind Yuuri.

A male voice.

A young man, actually. Victor had seen him – he had been at the skating camp too.

Well past 8pm on a Saturday, obviously wearing casual clothing… Victor wasn’t stupid. He could put two and two together.

His heart felt like it shattered into a million pieces, as he forced out an apology and practically ran away.

Chris had been supportive – far more supportive than Victor deserved, really. The Swiss skater had been surprisingly patient whenever Victor told him about his encounters with Yuuri – this time was no different.

When he heard Victor’s quiet sobs on the phone, he didn’t even bother with his usual complaints at being woken up.

So, he told his friend what had happened.

That Yuuri was… living with someone. Obviously. That the man in question had BEEN AT THE CAMP where he and Yuuri had had sex, repeatedly.

He felt a little sick.

Had he misjudged Yuuri so much? The look of shock on the other man’s face… had it been because he had been afraid Victor would tell?

As much as he wanted to trample all over Yuuri’s relationship, he knew it was just spite, momentary anger.

Chris was a better friend than he deserved – he stayed up and chatted with him for what felt like hours, when the room telephone rang. He ended the call to Chris and picked up – the receptionist had a flower delivery waiting for him, and did he want them.

He agreed, not sure what to expect – other than Chris, nobody knew where he was.

It wasn’t entirely impossible for his friend to have sent him a pick-me-up – even if strippers seemed the more likely choice than flowers for Chris.

He’d never actually received flowers – not unless he counted the ones he got at events, from sponsors. He’d never had flowers that… meant anything.

Sniffling, he turned to open the door when a soft knock came.

Chapter Text

It took maybe a minute until the door opened and revealed Victor – not that he’d ever seen the man look like he did.

His eyes were red, visible streaks of tears still on his cheeks, his hair tousled. He was wearing an ugly hotel robe, wrapped around him too tightly.

“You can put them over there.” The Russian said dismissively, and Yuuri realised he was so far hidden behind the flowers that Victor probably hadn’t recognised him.

He stepped inside anyway, setting the flowers down on a small table.

“Who are they from? Chris?” The other asked, while Yuuri tried to find his voice again.

“Ah… no. They’re from… me?” He eventually squeaked out.

Victor wore the same look of shock he’d had in front of his flat.

Thankfully, there were no more tears this time… just something like anger.

“WHAT are you doing here?” He hissed.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

The other man flinched.

“Yes, well, message received. You didn’t have to come here. I get it. I’m a nuisance and I won’t bother you again.”

Yuuri had forgotten how little SENSE the other man made sometimes.

Well, if there had ever been a time to clear that up, it was then and there.

“Victor…” He began, not entirely sure how he’d continue.

The Russian practically threw himself down on the huge couch in the middle of the room.

“I… think there’s been a misunderstanding?” He eventually offered. To his disappointment, it only seemed to make Victor… angrier.

“Yes, obviously. But like I said, I’m not stupid. I can tell when I’m… intruding. I just didn’t take you for the type to have a lover, while… yes, well, it doesn’t matter.”

Heart skipping a beat, he took a resolute step forwards.

“But it DOES matter! That’s just it! You saw Phichit and you thought… him and I were lovers?”

“Don’t insult me. You live together. What else could it be?”

He heaved a breath, stepping closer again.

“He’s my roommate. He’s another skater, from Thailand. We’ve been sharing since I came to study here. I… we couldn’t afford the rent. Celestino suggested we room together.”

Something like horror crossed Victor’s face.

“That… you… roommates?”

“Yes!”

“He wasn’t there when I… visited last time.”

“No. He was away on a trip. I didn’t… I sort of thought you knew, and that’s why you came by then.”

The other man slowly shook his head.

“So… you don’t… have a lover?” Victor asked after moments of tense silence.

It was his turn to shake his head.

Quite suddenly, Victor jumped up, pacing behind the couch and briefly cursing quite heavily.

Yuuri just… waited.

When Victor sat back down, he seemed a lot less… riled up.

“I’ve made a complete fool of myself, haven’t I?” Victor asked, eventually.

Yuuri shook his head.

“N-No! It was… just a misunderstanding. And I’m sorry about it.”

“Right.” Victor said, his voice low. “By the way, how did you find me?”

He blushed.

“Erm… well… Phichit and I looked for expensive hotels in the area. This was… the closest.”

Victor nodded, staring past him at the flowers.

Suddenly remembering their secondary purpose, he fetched them.

“Here! I… I did get these for you. As an apology.”

The bouquet was an assortment of flowers. Red roses, a few white camellias, and some other ones in the same colours that he didn’t recognise. He wasn’t one for flowers, but it was beautiful.

Victor accepted it, though he couldn’t read the emotions in his face.

“You… brought me flowers.” The other man forced out, his voice heavy again.

“Yes? I… do you not like them?” He asked, suddenly worried that had been wrong too.

Victor laughed, his voice surprisingly soft.

“No, I do. But then you know that, don’t you?”

With a shake of his head, Victor disappeared into what he assumed to be the bathroom, presumably putting them in water.

Unsure what to do, Yuuri allowed himself to sit on the couch – he hoped the older man wouldn’t mind.

It seemed not.

When Victor came back, he’d evidently washed his face – there were no more tear marks visible, only a reddening around his eyes.

Yuuri felt a sense of relief he didn’t quite… understand.

He still found himself reaching out for the other man, gasping when Victor didn’t pull away from his hand, even leaned his face into his touch a little.

Victor grabbed him by the collar a moment later, and pressed their lips together in a near desperate kiss.

He returned it, eagerly.

He didn’t quite understand what had made the man kiss him so suddenly, but… it felt wonderful.

He came back to his senses right around the time Victor straddled him in bed, naked except for his shirt, hanging from his shoulders, the buttons partly undone partly torn off.

Shaking off the haze of arousal, he held Victor in place for a second, doing his best to, well, stop the usual progression of events from happening.

“We… we should talk.” He forced out, his fingers trembling on Victor’s legs.

The Russian huffed, his hands playing over Yuuri’s chest.

“We can talk later?” Yuuri found himself nodding, despite knowing better. Victor was just that seductive.

He woke up alone.

Even though he’d expected it, he still couldn’t help the bitter taste in his mouth when he woke up the next morning and Victor was… gone.

He looked around for signs of the other – nothing.

The closest he came to finding something was the trash bin – it was full of tissues. Clearly, Victor had cried… a lot.

Which was odd.

The flowers, at least, had disappeared with the other man. That, he thought, was probably a good sign.

Still, he had no idea why Victor would cry so much over a casual partner potentially being with someone.

He knew he was missing something, but even so…

He had no idea, no clue even, what it was that was happening.

He did the only thing he could – he went back to training. It wasn’t long until his next competition – the Eurasian Senior Championship. He normally participated in Four Continents instead, but Celestino suggested that he might as well try the European and Asian circuit instead – as a native of Japan, he was allowed to participate.

The fact that Victor would be there had nothing to do with how quickly he jumped at the idea.

Nor with how hard he trained for it. If Celestino thought it was odd he was going all out for what was essentially a minor tournament, he didn’t say so.

Since all he was doing was eating, sleeping and training, time passed quickly – and after what felt like just a few days but was more like weeks, he found himself standing in a nice hotel lobby, somewhere in southern Stockholm.

Celestino was checking them in while he scoured the lobby for a familiar face.

To his amazement, he spotted Victor practically immediately. The Russian was standing with his coach, mostly facing Yuuri.

He stared, hoping he would draw the other’s attention.

Through some miracle, he did. He saw the moment Victor caught sight of him, the way his mouth fell open in apparent shock.

He allowed himself a smile – it wasn’t every day that he got such a reaction from Victor – certainly not while they were both dressed.

He discreetly waved at Victor. Just then, Celestino handed him his room key, entirely oblivious to the fact that Yuuri wasn’t paying attention at all. He checked out the key – it had the number – 321 – emblazoned on it in white letters on a green background.

Grabbing his suitcase and heading to the elevators, he made sure that the other man could see the key as he passed him.

He spent the rest of the evening fretting over his appearance, waiting for Victor to come.

The other man… did not.

Not the next evening either… and with the short happening the day after that, Yuuri didn’t hold out much hope for that day either.

He was wrong.

After the short program – Victor in first, Yuuri in a respectable fourth – a knock startled him out of bed.

His heart racing, he opened the door, anticipation and dread fighting for dominance low in his gut.

Victor jumped him before the door had even fully closed behind him and they stumbled backwards towards the bed – they didn’t make it.

Instead, Yuuri went down hard, Victor on top of him, and they ripped each other clothes off right there, on the ground.

 He would have been happy with just Victor’s hand or mouth, but the man insisted – begged, actually – for Yuuri to fuck him.

No sane man could have refused that. Besides, turnabout was fair play – Victor had last had him in the hotel in Detroit.

So, he fucked the other skater, no doubt giving a considerably case of rug burn, among other things. When they were done, he really wanted to talk to the other man, but once he disappeared to the bathroom, just to clean himself off quickly… well, Victor left.

He’d no idea how the other man had gotten dressed so quickly, but by the time Yuuri was semi-decent, the door had already slammed and he was alone again, staring down at the pile of clothes – just his own – on the floor.

The next day was… one of the worst ones of his life, probably.

It was a huge upset, actually. Obviously, everyone had expected Victor to win, but when it was the man’s turn – after Yuuri had managed to get himself into third place with only Victor left to skate – it was obvious something was wrong.

The man was stiff, winced with every other movement. He stumbled on a simple triple jump in warm-up… and then, in his free program… well, the first time Victor fell, he’d already figured it out. It was him.

He had been the one to put Victor in that state.

He hadn’t been gentle with the other skater, egged on by his repeated moans to do him harder… but he  hadn’t been thinking.

His knuckles white from gripping the barrier so hard, he watched as Victor gave one of the worst performances of his life.

He could see the anger, the disappointment in Victor’s face as he half-limped to the Kiss&Cry afterwards. He still scored high – the judges always were good to him – but… it wasn’t enough. Victor was in fourth place.

Which meant that Yuuri was on the podium – after Chris Giacometti and  French skater he had never met before.

He wanted to enjoy it, he really did… but all the medal made him feel was horror and regret.

Yuuri was miserable and he had no idea what to do about it.

Well, that wasn’t true – he knew what he NEEDED to do… he just didn’t want to.

He needed to end things, once and for all… and doing that meant he had to acknowledge what he felt. That he felt something at all… well, that was obvious. It was Victor.

But still…

Finding out the other skater’s room number was easy. He was starting to wonder about the security of hotels – all he did was flash his competitors badge and tell the receptionist he’d found something of Victor’s to be given his room number.

612, three floors above him.

The elevator ride once again felt like torture – even without the torturous music this time.

As he stumbled down the hallway to the right door, he very nearly lost his nerve a half dozen r so times.

He forced himself to go through with it though, in the end.

He knocked on Victor’s door, almost too quiet… but the other man opened anyway.

Going by his face, he had expected someone else.

Well, Yuuri knew THAT feeling at least.

He could also relate to the moment of dejection that flashed across the other man’s face, before an obviously fake smirk replaced it.

Closing the door behind himself, Yuuri wasn’t even surprised when Victor leaned down to kiss him almost immediately.

Stopping him was one of the hardest things he ever had to do.

He could see the surprise and disappointment in the other man’s face as his hand covered Victor’s mouth, keeping them just a few inches apart.

He knew… if he let the other kiss him, there would be no stopping again… and he needed to stop this before it hurt either of them any further.

His heart in his throat, he forced himself to look up at Victor… who was looking at him as if he was headed for his own execution.

He didn’t understand… but it didn’t change things.

He had hurt Victor… and he refused to do it again.

“Let’s end this.” He said, his voice strengthened by his determination.

His heart clenched up painfully when, instead of a reply, Victor started crying again.

He saw the exact moment the other man decided to run – and he wasn’t going to let it happen this time.

Practically throwing himself against the door, he blocked Victor’s only escape route.

“W-Why? Let m-me go!” The Russian demanded. He very nearly gave in, so weak to the other man’s tears… but no. This was more important.

“No. We… need to talk.” He’d said so multiple times, but this time, they really WOULD, he swore to himself.

“W-What is there to talk about? You’ve dumped me. I get it.”

He hated how… defensive Victor sounded.

“I-It’s not like that, but Victor… I have some things I need to say to you. And you to me, probably.” The latter was just a guess, but one he was relatively confident in.

“What’s there to say? Nothing you don’t already know. Let me go.”

He shook his head again.

“N-No. Not this time. I want this… please, Victor. Can’t we just talk properly? This once. Please.”

He tried to put all the longing he felt, the desperate desire to somehow… understand, finally, into his gaze.

After a long moment, Victor seemed to come to a decision.

“Fine.”

Yuuri nearly collapsed with relief at the other man’s agreement.

Hesitantly, still a little afraid that he might change his mind and bolt, Yuuri stepped away from the door and into the room.

“Let’s talk, then.” He said with more confidence than he felt.

Chapter Text

To say he hadn’t… expected Yuuri would be an understatement.

It felt a little like Yuuri was just there to trample on his feelings – bringing him flowers, no doubt meant to convince him to… not make things difficult for him.

Not that he would, or wanted to – but he didn’t want to be patronised either.

A misunderstanding Yuuri had claimed – he wasn’t stupid.

Except that he was, apparently.

He’d never even CONSIDERED that it might just be a flat share – not when the other young man was young, handsome, and a skater as well.

Angrily wiping at his tears as he watered his flowers – and weren’t they beautiful? – he thought back. He remembered, actually, telling Yuuri that he’d never gotten flowers on their first night together, back when they’d properly talked, and Victor had lost his heart like a stupid teenager.

The other man’s concern that he might not like them… well, it wasn’t too unreasonable. He HAD been incredibly upset. It wasn’t any surprise Yuuri would think that… that he didn’t like them.

Gently smelling the brightest red rose in the bouquet, he sniffled again.

He’d gotten flowers, beautiful ones, from the most wonderful man in the world… and he wasn’t in any state to enjoy them.

Quickly washing his face before he went back out, he tried to compose himself.

It worked all the way until Yuuri gently cupped his cheek, like he was something precious, something fragile.

His feelings were still too wounded for him to be willing to… deal with that.

So, instead, he went with what he knew.

Sex.

His blood nearly froze in his veins when the other man suggested they talk partway through. After all their meetings… that couldn’t mean anything good.

So, suddenly quite afraid, he went and tried to avoid the very thing he’d wanted form the beginning – a conversation.

Suddenly all the more aware that what little they had could end at any moment, he asked for something new – something he’d not asked of the other before, not willing to risk being rejected.

Yuuri did no such thing. Quite the opposite, actually.

Yuuri welcomed him into his body no less enthusiastically than he had taken Victor on a few occasions before.

It didn’t exactly cure his heartache, but the trust bestowed in him, the soft noises Yuuri made when he touched him just right, they soothed his pain more than he’d expected.

Still, he left earlier than normal, almost as soon as Yuuri passed out.

He took his flowers with him, and fled straight back home to Russia.

After what had… happened between them, Victor was painfully aware that things probably wouldn’t be the same again. He’d… well, he’d shown up at Yuuri’s house, had made a scene, made another scene and then snuck out of his own hotel room and then the country.

He wouldn’t even blame Yuuri if he wanted nothing else to do with him – but even that would have been better than just not knowing.

He was aware that whatever happened, it would have to be him that would take the first step – Yuuri had never come to him if it wasn’t already convenient enough for him to do so.

Having long since kissed his pride goodbye, he wouldn’t even have minded going again, but with Yakov keeping a close eye and the Eurasian Senior Championships approaching, he knew full well that he couldn’t go.

That made it all the more shocking when he discovered that… he didn’t have to. He was standing in the lobby, half-listening to Yakov about something or other, when he spotted Yuuri across from him.

For one, long, stupid moment he allowed himself to think that maybe Yuuri had come to watch him… until he spotted Yuuri’s coach next to him.

So, he had come to compete. That was… he could work with that.

He didn’t miss the way Yuuri flashed his key, and thus his room number, to Victor as they passed and disappeared.

He couldn’t help the stupid smile that spread on his face – Yuuri was here, and he wanted to see Victor.

“Victor? Victor! I’m talking to you!” His coach snarled.

He sighed – that tone almost certainly meant evening drills.

Indeed, he didn’t get a chance to go see Yuuri until after the short. Evidently, Yakov was determined not to give him a minute of free time during the competition. When he finally COULD get away, his nerves were already raw with anticipation.

Having… well, having not known where they stood, it had taken its toll on him. He needed to feel Yuuri, more so than usual.

That meant… after a moment’s consideration, he decided to throw caution in the wind and to ask for what he needed. Competition be damned, he wanted Yuuri in him, needed it, even if he’d be a little worn out the next day.

Yuuri obliged him, like always.

Right on the floor of the hotel room.

Victor could feel the cheap rug scraping and burning over his knees and palms as Yuuri had him – and he couldn’t have cared less. The slight burn did nothing to take away from the pleasure – if anything, it made him feel things that much more intensely.

By the time Yuuri finished with him – damn that man’s stamina – Victor collapsed to the floor, half-curious if Yuuri would pass out on the floor this time… but no. As he gently pushed himself up on all fours, Yuuri had disappeared in the bathroom – the lock clicked shut with a rather… final sound.

Shame burning in him, Yuuri’s essence dripping down his thighs, he got dressed and returned to his room – he wasn’t keen on how Yuuri passed out after sex, but as it turned out, being simply left alone on the floor of a hotel room was… worse.

Much worse.

He knew he would mess up before he stepped on the ice for his free.

Victor was aware it was his own fault – he had been the one to ask Yuuri to take him… but then, he’d also thought he could handle it.

He had been wrong.

He fell twice during his performance, didn’t even try his third quad.

One of the worst performances of his life – he came in fourth. Perhaps the only good thing that came of it was that Yuuri got a podium spot because of it – the other man deserved it.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t angry and disappointed with himself though. Yakov – his coach only made it worse. He’d expected yelling, criticism, but all the other man did was shoot him a disappointed, knowing look.

He could practically hear the other man ask if it was worth it.

He… wasn’t sure anymore.

When he was back in his room – hiding, he was willing to admit it – he knew it was only a question of time before Yakov would come to drag him back out.

He wasn’t wrong – it felt like mere minutes after his skate finished that there was a knock on the door.

He opened, fully prepared to tell Yakov to fuck off… only to come face to face with Yuuri Katsuki.

His heart clenched, like it always did when he saw the other man – but not in joy, in shame. He had… well, he knew Yuuri was his fan. He knew the other loved his skating. He’d disappointed them both.

But if Yuuri had come, that meant…

Well, he was hardly in the mood, but he wouldn’t turn the other down either.

When Yuuri stepped inside silently, he bent to kiss him immediately – maybe for the first time, he had no desire whatsoever to hear the other man speak. He didn’t know what Yuuri thought of his performance, but then… did it matter? He had failed.

When Yuuri’s hand settled on his mouth, stopping him from kissing the other, he felt almost betrayed.

He felt it coming, even before the words left Yuuri’s mouth.

He should have known – Yuuri had wanted him when he was at the top, when he had been something to chase after.

Now… now he wasn’t anymore.

He felt tears on his cheeks, unable to say anything… at first.

All he wanted was to leave… and Yuuri stopped him.

He nearly laughed when Yuuri asked to talk – NOW he wanted to talk? When he’d rejected Victor’s attempts to talk at every turn?

No.

Only when it became obvious that Yuuri was serious, that he wouldn’t be able to escape this time, did he give in.

“Let’s talk, then.” Yuuri said, with a kind of confidence Victor wished he had.

Chapter Text

Yuuri watched as Victor sat on the bed, his face filled with… apprehension?

Fidgeting, he stood opposite of the man, trying to find a way to say what he needed to.

“It’s… obvious that we’re awful for each other. We should… we should stop. It’s my fault that you didn’t win.” He eventually offered, a little surprised when Victor scoffed.

“That’s a bit selfish isn’t it? I failed because of the decisions I made. If you recall I begged for you to fuck me.”

He felt himself blushing scarlet – the other man wasn’t wrong, but… but!

“S-Still. I don’t ever want to be responsible for that. I… don’t want to hurt you.”

He fixed his gaze on his fingers, twisting into the hem of his sweater.

Yuuri could feel tears stinging in his eyes.

OBVIOUSLY he didn’t want to hurt Victor. He… loved the other skater. Probably. Who wouldn’t?

Watching Yuuri fidget before him, Victor wanted nothing more than to console Yuuri.

He resisted the urge – he was in the middle of being dumped after all.

And… and he didn’t know if he wanted to talk Yuuri out of it or to just get it over with.

“Do you really think we’re that… bad for each other?” He eventually asked, immediately regretting it when Yuuri shot him a surprised look.

“I… I mean I didn’t? I was… I like what we’ve been doing. Even if I don’t understand it. But now… Victor, I made you cry. I made… I hurt you. You came in fourth because of me. Aren’t you… mad?”

Mad?

He thought about it for a second.

“No, I’m not mad.” The Russian replied, much to Yuuri’s surprise.

He really had thought he would be.

“I’m HURT.” Victor continued a moment later, and wasn’t that just worse?

He clenched his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out – what else could he say?

Victor chuckled.

“Sorry? I guess I am too. I thought… No, doesn’t matter.” Yuuri felt himself flinching under Victor’s bitter tone.

“I never meant to hurt you. I just… I guess I never really understood what you were doing with me at all, and now…”

Victor felt floored. Yuuri didn’t know what he wanted with him?

What sort of a joke was that?

Resolutely, he stood.

“Well, you’ve certainly made it clear what you want with me.”

He knew he wasn’t being very nice to Yuuri, but then, who could blame him?

“W-What do you mean?” Yuuri had the nerve to ask.

He shrugged.

“You know it well enough. Sex, you’re up for. Talking? Not so much.”

To his shock, Yuuri looked absolutely floored. What had he said that was so shocking?

The Japanese man shook his head.

“WHAT? I’m not up for talking? YOU are the one that keeps kissing me when I try to talk to you!”

Victor scoffed at him – sure, once or twice, but he was the one that usually tried to talk to Yuuri!

…Wasn’t he?

“YOU are the one who dragged me around after ignoring me. You never once tried to contact me. And when we did meet… well, you passed out directly afterwards.”

Yuuri felt himself blushing beet red.

“Yes, well, I… I get tired. And WHEN have I ever ignored you?”

Victor laughed, almost sarcastically, pacing the room.

“After the Grand Prix Final? After Worlds… after every other time we met?”

Yuuri reared back – they’d never even spoken at the GPF, had they? Yuuri couldn’t recall, at least, and surely he WOULD have?

“I… how was I supposed to contact you? You didn’t give me your number.”

Victor laughed again, this time sounding angry.

Good, anger Yuuri could understand.

“Yes, because it’s SO hard to contact me on SNS.” The Russian hissed.

Yuuri tilted his head.

“I don’t have any.”

He vaguely felt himself falling backwards onto the bed behind him.

The idea that Yuuri… didn’t have any social media to contact him on had never occurred to him. Who, below the age of 60 didn’t? Even Yakov had Facebook, even if he only used it to like everything Lilia did on there.

“You… don’t have SNS.” He weakly repeated, hoping something about the sentence would change.

Yuuri gave a small nod.

Still… he shook his head.

“That doesn’t explain why you basically pretended we’d never met half the time!”

The Japanese man flinched.

“Well, I mean… the first time it happened, we HADN’T met before? I was just… I felt really self-conscious that I dragged you away. Even if you didn’t seem to mind.”

He winked at Yuuri.

“Well, I did just as much dragging as you did, or we’d have never gotten there. You were pretty drunk at first.”

Yuuri gave him a disbelieving look.

“You think I DRINK at events?”

Victor snorted.

“I mean I watched you have at LEAST eight glasses of champagne. I call that drinking.”

It took him a long moment to figure out what Victor was talking about.

“That… that was the banquet though. Of the GPF.”

“Obviously.” Victor confirmed.

“I was talking about the first time we had sex.” He clarified.

Apparently without much success.

“So was I.” Victor replied a few seconds later.

It clicked for Yuuri first.

A moment later, the door to the bathroom slammed shut behind him and he sank to his knees, his anxiety taking over.

Victor wasn’t sure what was happening when Yuuri practically teleported into the bathroom.

It was obviously something he’d said – but when, even after he gently knocked on the bathroom door the other man didn’t say anything, Victor started to worry.

He knew Yuuri had anxiety – the other man had told him the second time he’d gotten hammered and sought Victor out.

Unsure what to do, he decided to just… wait.

It took maybe five minutes until the bathroom door unlocked again and a much paler looking Yuuri stepped back out.

It didn’t look like he’d cried – Victor was relieved.

He didn’t know how to deal with that, he hardly knew what to do with his OWN tears.

“Yuuri? Are you ok?”

The other man shook his head, but it didn’t seem like a no per se.

Walking back out of that bathroom was one of the most embarrassing things he’d ever had to do.

The fact that Victor looked so… honestly concerned didn’t help either.

Still, he’d had time to think while he was trying not to throw up from his nerves.

“V-Victor… I need you to do me a favour?”

The other man nodded, no hesitation.

“Can you… can you tell me, in detail please, how we met?”

“Uh… why?”

“Just… please? Tell me what you remember.”

Confused by the request, Victor nevertheless did. He left nothing out – not about how Yuuri had saved his evening, how he’d loved talking to Yuuri, how the other had ravaged him, nothing.

If he enjoyed talking about what Yuuri had done to him a little TOO much, he rather thought Yuuri would forgive him.

The other skater looked more like he might dash into the bathroom again any moment though.

Which was… odd.

Even for their standards.

“And then, when I woke up in the morning, you were gone.”

“Gone… where?”

Victor shrugged.

“Don’t know. I assumed you had an early flight or something.”

“Right…” Yuuri half-whispered.

“Victor… uh… let me tell you how *I* remember our first meeting.”

The other man nodded patiently.

“We were giving an interview in the same room and you, uh, propositioned me. I kinda freaked out, dragged you away and when I asked for an explanation, instead you kind of… blew me. And then! Afterwards, you weren’t making any sense either, and I just… I don’t even remember going back to my room. And then the next day, you come back, still not making any sense, and we have sex again.”

He explained, watching as the colour slowly drained from Victor’s face.

“You… don’t remember the GPF banquet.” Victor whispered.

“N-No. I get… when I drink a lot, I black out.”

“So you… and… you don’t remember.” Victor repeated.

He nodded, more embarrassed and miserable than he could ever remember being.

“And, uh, the skating camp?”

“What about it?” Then Yuuri remembered – he’d come home with… well, a lot of marks. “Uh… the… scratches on my back?”

Victor nodded.

“So you at least remember that.”

He’d been wrong about never having been more embarrassed, it turned out.

Hiding his face in his hands he shook his head.

“No. I don’t. I mean… I saw the marks the next day and I REALLY hoped that it had been you, but… I didn’t remember the night at all.”

Victor felt like nothing in his life made any sense anymore.

If what Yuuri was saying was true – and he didn’t doubt it, then they had experienced the last half year completely differently… and to Yuuri, he was just some whack-job that hit on him then disappeared. A lot.

That was… wow.

“What, uh, what happened at the camp? That night?” Yuuri asked after a long silence.

“Ah, you got drunk, apparently. Danced with me. Dragged me to your room, we had sex, and… yeah. I left because I thought that was what you wanted.”

Yuuri snorted – he looked up, only to find the other man shaking his head.

“I’m sorry you thought WHAT?”

“Well… you either fall asleep right after or leave. What was I supposed to think, Yuuri?”

The Japanese skater huffed.

“Victor, there are posters of you in my bedroom. In what universe would I want you gone?”

That was… new information.

Wow.

“Well… I…”

He made a frustrated noise – he had no idea what to say, no idea what the other man wanted to hear.

“So all this time, we’ve been… living two completely different stories?” Yuuri asked the other man eventually, still struggling to believe that sort of misunderstanding was even possible. “And we both thought the other was just… in it for the sex, no talking required?”

Victor shrugged and nodded.

That… actually raised a new question – if that WASN’T what Victor had been after… then what in the world HAD he wanted?

Before he could voice the question, the Russian stood and crossed the room.

For a moment he thought the other man would kiss him again, his heart skipping a beat, but then Victor stopped just outside of, well, kissing distance.

Having those blue eyes trained on him so directly was… he squirmed.

“You, Yuuri Katsuki, OWE ME.” Victor said.

Yuuri found himself nodding miserably. He owed the other man a LOT, not the least of which was several apologies.

Before he could even think about where to start though, Victor was moving away, grabbing his coat.

“Good, because I’m going to collect on that. Tonight. Come on.”

He put up no resistance when Victor yanked him along, out of the room, into the elevator.

Out of the hotel.

What in the world…?

Yuuri put up surprisingly little resistance when he dragged him down and into a cab. He knew the address he wanted to go to by heart – he’d looked up possible date spots in advance, just… well, just in case he could somehow convince the other man to go out with him after all.

He’d done so in practically every city they’d been in together, never mind the fact that it had never worked out that way.

Unwilling to discuss their situation in front of the cabbie, they spent the ten-minute ride to the restaurant in silence.

Victor’s heart, however, was racing. He was still processing what he’d learned, and what that meant.

The most obvious thing was the fact that… well, that Yuuri evidently DIDN’T want just sex, and he thus had… a chance. A small one maybe, but he was damn good at making small chances work in his favour.

Fighting a stupid smile, he stared out the window.

He was going to sweep Yuuri off his feet.

The last place he’d expected to find himself was a restaurant.

Did Victor… want him to buy them dinner?

He could think of worse ways to make it up to the other man - but surely he'd want more than that?

Or so he thought, until he saw the prices on the menu.

Paying for that was going to be… expensive.

But still… it was Victor.

Yuuri looked a little uncomfortable as they sat down – he’d chosen an Italian restaurant since he’d figured Yuuri would probably like Italian.

“Don’t you like it here?” He eventually asked.

Yuuri looked surprised.

“I… well, no that’s not it. It just… I’m not used to such expensive places.”

Victor chuckled.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve been waiting like six months to take you on this date. My treat.”

“Right…” Yuuri mumbled before a frown stole across his features, followed by another expression of horrified realisation.

“You!” The Japanese skater practically shouted, drawing the attention of a few of the other patrons.

“Me?”

“You… you paid for Celestino! Didn’t you? I never found out who did… it had to have been you, right?”

He chuckled.

“Well, of course. You know, you never did say thank you for that.”

“How did you KNOW?” Yuuri hissed at him, now much quieter.

“Ah, you told me. After we had sex the second time you got drunk.” He winced – he wasn’t the type to sleep with drunk people… yet, he’d overestimated Yuuri’s tolerance more than once. He wasn’t very impressed with himself.

Yuuri gave him a determined look.

“You won’t let me pay you back, will you?”

Victor chuckled.

“Nope.”

“Then I’m buying us dinner.” The other declared. It was adorable.

“If you insist.”

The majority of the dinner was spent in silence – only after they’d had their desserts did Yuuri carefully initiate conversation again.

He steered clear of all mentions of what he’d forgotten – or what they’d been doing.

There were enough other things to talk about. He knew next to nothing about Victor. That… didn’t sit right with him.

So he asked, things he’d wanted to know since he’d been a child.

It was an incredibly backwards first date, but it was also fun. Especially when Yuuri realised that Victor looked so… happy as they spoke.

None of those occasional sad or angry looks he’d seen from the other during or after their… trysts.

He realised somewhere on the way back, that maybe Victor was a little in love with him too.

Finding himself in front of his room again after the world’s best first date, Victor felt a little like a teenager – a little giddy, very excited, and confused about where they were headed, exactly.

“Yuuri…” He began, reaching out to take his hand. It was the first time they’d touched since he’d dragged the other man to dinner.

Yuuri didn’t resist.

“Hm?”

“Do you… are you still wanting to end things? Between us?” It was a question Victor had wanted to ask all night… but now he needed to ask it.

He’d managed to put it out of his mind for a while, but ultimately it was the most important thing about the evening now.

Yuuri squeezed his fingers.

“That… depends.”

“On?” He knew his voice sounded a little off, but really, it wasn’t like Yuuri to tease him like that.

Suddenly, he found himself unable to speak.

Instead, he leaned up almost close enough to kiss Victor.

The other man didn’t disappoint – he almost immediately closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together.

Yuuri knew how these things usually went. Someone would tear at the other’s clothes and then…

But it wasn’t how he wanted it to go this time.

Wrapping his hands around Victor’s neck, Yuuri put everything he felt for the other man into his kiss.

He hoped that Victor’s answer would tell him what he needed to know.

It did.

Everything and more.

Victor’s kiss was sweeter, gentler and somehow more than the kisses they had shared before.

When he pulled back, eventually, the hallway was spinning around him, and he was holding on to the Russian for balance.

He’d never really considered the possibility of… of Yuuri feeling the same as him.

Not really.

Affection he’d hoped for. That Yuuri cared.

But the kiss…

He shuddered, blindly reaching behind himself in order to open the door.

He managed, somehow, stumbling inside with Yuuri.

He didn’t need to ask again. Yuuri’s kiss had been answer enough.

He hadn’t lost him after all.

Somehow… he’d get to hold on to him.

Hugging Yuuri close to himself, he stumbled backwards, further into the room.

When he released the other man, Yuuri looked up at him, his eyes sparkling, shining. Breath hitching, he was thrown back to their first meeting, when Yuuri had just caught hold of him, moments before asking him to dance.

“I love you.”

He hadn’t expected to hear those words from Victor. Not…. Not really.

He’d figured out that Victor had feelings for him, of course, but love was a big word… especially so soon.

Yuuri gulped.

Then again, it wasn’t that soon for Victor, was it?

And for him? For him, it had been even longer.

“I love you too.” He whispered back, because he’d been at least a little bit in love with Victor since he was 11.

His answer was a happy laugh, and then the room tilted.

Victor had pushed him – onto the bed.

He knew all too well where they were headed – the same place they always ended up.

Victor found himself strangely unwilling to go there.

So, instead of stripping either of them, he wrapped himself tightly around Yuuri and simply… held him.

Something in his chest eased as soon as Yuuri returned the embrace, just as tightly, just as eager.

He allowed himself a deep breath, consciously relaxing his body as he did.

Yuuri could feel the tension drain from Victor as they held each other – he was still too… worked up to allow himself to relax.

Still, he squirmed lower until he could look at Victor properly.

“We… suck at talking.” He observed.

Victor snickered quietly and nodded.

“We should really… practice that. Talking. If we… want to keep seeing each other.” He offered, hoping Victor wouldn’t turn him down.

“That… sounds perfect. We have a LOT of catching up to do. There are a lot of things I want to learn about you, Yuuuuri….” Victor mumbled, hiding a slight blush against Yuuri’s chest.

“Y…Yeah. Me too. About you, I mean.”

Victor felt… happy, for the first time in a while.

Sure, they’d gotten off to a pretty awful start, but things really looked like they could work out now.

“Victor?”

“Hm?”

“I really… am sorry about the competition.”

He chuckled again.

“I don’t care. Genuinely. I mean… not only was the sex worth it, competing isn’t… it hasn’t meant much to me for a while.”

Yuuri gasped quietly, his arms tightening around Victor.

“That… I’m sorry to hear that. Are you going to retire?”

He hummed.

“I… don’t know. I’ve been thinking about it. I’ve won everything, set records… what else could I skate for?”

Yuuri shuffled above him a little – clearly, he wanted to… say something.

“What is it?” He prompted gently when Yuuri said nothing.

“There’s… a daydream I used to have. I think… you might like it.” He eventually offered, pleased when Victor smiled up at him.

“Okay?”

“Well… it’s of us. Both of us, on the podium. Me… well, me in first place, you in second. And after the ceremony, you reach up and pull me down by my medal. And… and we kiss. Right there on the podium.”

Looking down at the Russian, he delighted in the pink flush that spread across his cheeks, darkening with each word.

“Oh…” Victor eventually breathed.

“That… is quite the fantasy.” The Russian added a few moments later.

“Yes, well…”

“No, it’s okay. I like it. A lot. But… what if I’m on top of the podium?”

He didn’t miss the teasing tone in Victor’s voice – it seemed he really did like the idea.

“Well… I think I was quite specific, wasn’t I? If I’m not the one on top, we’d just have to keep competing until I am.”

Victor smirked.

“That… sounds fair. On one condition.”

“Mh?”

“If I am, in fact, the one on top, I get a kiss as well. No fair if it’s only you.”

Yuuri ran a hand through Victor’s hair, enjoying the feel of the strands between his fingers.

“I can probably be convinced.”

“Oh…?”

Yuuri suddenly found himself flipped to his back, Victor leaning above him.

“And how, pray tell, can I convince you?”

Yuuri brushed his fingers along Victor’s cheek.

“I’ll tell you… at the next competition we share a podium at.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Victor’s smirk gentled into a more sincere smile, and after a moment of hesitation, he leaned down and pressed their lips together in a shy, chaste kiss.

It felt like a promise, for both of them.