Yuuri isn’t sure what he expected when he decided to make his request, but it’s not this.
Victor stares at him with an oddly blank expression, the light that normally fills his blue eyes somehow non-existent. His mouth is kind-of twisted, not quite a grimace but definitely not a smile. “What?” he finally asks.
Yuuri’s cheeks go aflame. Surely, this should have resulted in an immediate yes. Surely, he’s not that...not special. “I asked you to have sex with me.”
Victor’s expression doesn’t change. “I thought it was an auditory hallucination.”
Yuuri makes a noise, lifting up his glasses and shoving his palm into one of his eyes. “Why are you making this so difficult? It’s a yes or no question.”
His glasses fall to the bridge of his nose where they belong, and Victor comes into focus. He clears his throat a few times. “I admit, I don’t follow the rationale.”
Yuuri sighs. “Because every time I watch the video of my “Eros” skate, it still feels like something’s not quite there. And how can it be when I...you know.”
It’s subtle, but Victor’s demeanor changes, like his jaw locks. “Oh. You want to sleep with me for your skating.”
“Well,” Yuuri begins, because that does make it sound like he’s using Victor. That’s not okay, and he would never. “You’re also really handsome?” he tries.
“True,” Victor replies, his tone of voice indicating that he is---at least somewhat---appeased.
The direct approach isn’t working so Yuuri decides to try something else. He wishes Victor understood better how hard it was for him to even insinuate this, that it’s kept him up the last four nights, that the blow to his pride is almost enough for a KO. Especially since it’s occurring to him now that if Victor wants him, he’d do something without prompting, something serious unlike all that teasing when he first got here.
“I don’t have time to date,” Yuuri says. “And I’d rather the first time be with someone who knows how it works instead of me muddling through. And you’re incredibly good looking, you’re here, and I trust you.”
Now Victor lights up. “You trust me,” he says with a little wonder.
“Yeah,” Yuuri offers with a half-smile. “Just about more than anyone, if I’m being honest.”
It’s not said to butter him up, it’s the truth. Yuuri’s never trusted anyone the way he trusts Victor. Phichit comes close, but it’s a different kind of trust. Phichit he trusts like family. Victor’s family in a manner of speaking, but Yuuri wouldn’t ask this of Phichit.
He wouldn’t even think to, no offense to him.
He thinks to with Victor because he knows Victor will be there for him. He also knows Victor only does casual, so they won’t have to worry about the other facets of their relationship getting messy. Yuuri’s been in the competitive skating world for a while so he knows about Victor’s romantic life---the ice dancer throwing a drink in his face after a competition is fairly legendary, and there was that thing with Chris Giacometti last year at Worlds.
Victor’s still staring at Yuuri though, and Yuuri sighs. “Fine, forget it. I never asked, we never---”
Victor grabs his wrist before he can go. His touch is gentle, his hand warm. “I’m not saying no,” Victor explains. “You just surprised me, Yuuri.”
His thumb caresses Yuuri’s pulse point, and Yuuri swallows, his body warming a degree at the intimacy of the gesture. “So you will, then?” Yuuri asks. His voice perks up with hope.
Victor starts to move closer, but just as he does Mari passes by on her way to the storage room. He doesn’t drop Yuuri’s wrist, but he stays his distance which Yuuri laments. “Yes.” Victor nods as if the word didn’t get his message across. “Yes, I'll help you.”
Yuuri breathes, a heavy sigh of relief that makes his shoulders unwind. “Ah...good. That’s good.”
Yuuri’s mother passes that time, and she gives the two of them a bright smile.
Victor turns more serious. “When would you like to?”
Something in Yuuri warms that Victor is giving him this control instead of just dragging him off or dictating the terms. Victor’s eyes are like blue dwarf stars, they’re full of shimmering heat, and Yuuri feels powerful in that instant in a way he hasn’t before.
Yuuri moves his hand so his palm slides against Victor’s. He doesn’t miss the way Victor’s breath catches at the gesture.
“Does tonight work?”
Tonight does work which is how Yuuri finds himself in Victor’s room when the onsen settles down, and his parents have gone to bed.
Their room is on the other side of the inn, which is good, he figures.
This idea made a lot more sense before the reality of it came to be, Yuuri thinks as he paces around Victor’s room. Makkachin watches him with curiosity, back and forth and around but pointedly a foot from the bed.
Victor tilts his head to one side, clad in the green robes he wears after taking a bath. Yuuri’s in a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. He lets Yuuri pace non-stop for fifteen minutes before saying, “Something tells me you’re nervous.”
Yuuri laughs, but it’s high-pitched like he’s manic. “Me? No. No, I passed nervous about forty minutes ago.” It’s true, he beat Victor here...he tried to hide under the bed, but it’s too low to the ground. Plus Makkachin probably would have sold him out for a treat.
Victor stands, blocking Yuuri’s path but also close enough to touch him. “We don’t have to, you know.”
Yuuri rubs his eyes under his glasses with both fists. He could put it off until tomorrow, a week from now---
He’ll keep making excuses.
Yuuri takes two steps towards Victor. Then he takes one back. Then he goes forward again. Victor does touch him then, but it’s just a reassuring hand on his shoulder.
“No. It has to be tonight.”
Understanding passes through Victor’s features, like he gets it without having to be told. His eyes are so soft when Yuuri looks in them.
An expression Yuuri learned in Detroit comes to mind as he takes the last step, about taking a bull by its horns. He closes the distance, angles his head up, and kisses Victor on the mouth.
Yuuri reaches up to run his hands through Victor’s hair, and it’s like something snaps. Victor comes to life, wrapping his hands around Yuuri’s waist and returning the kiss. He doesn’t deepen it, but he returns the pressure of Yuuri’s lips, and Yuuri parts them in an invitation.
Victor hesitates but takes it, his tongue painstakingly sliding into Yuuri’s mouth. The nerves start to subside because Victor, as Yuuri expected, is as good at kissing as he is skating. Yuuri sighs into the kiss, his grip in Victor’s hair tightening as the anxious butterflies begin to give way to anticipatory ones.
Victor turns them, Yuuri following his lead, so that Victor’s back is to the foot of the bed. He sits on it, pulling Yuuri down with him. Yuuri ends up half-falling into a straddle of Victor’s hips, one of Victor’s hands landing on the inside of his thigh, his other resting up the back of his t-shirt. Victor drifts his mouth from Yuuri’s lips to his jaw, then down his throat. He nips at his Adam’s apple, careful not to leave a mark.
Yuuri feels hot. He feels hot, and he feels a kind of buzzing beneath his skin, something that makes his palms itch and his stomach warm. He also regrets wearing the jeans, because his cock is getting interested, and the zipper is pressing against him in a not great way.
Victor’s hands move to Yuuri’s face, and they pluck off his glasses. Yuuri barely notices, to be honest, because Victor licks up his throat to his ear before kissing it. Yuuri would be embarrassed by the sound that comes out of him when Victor’s tongue starts caressing it, but he really can’t be bothered.
Okay, he’s a little bothered, but not enough to put an end to it.
Yuuri grabs Victor’s shoulders, clawing at the fabric on them. “Do you need something, lapochka?”
The request makes Yuuri unable to speak properly, his anxiety coming back. It’s why they’re there, he tells himself. Just say it. “Clothes,” he begins. “Off.”
“Why rush?” Victor asks. “It’s early. We’ve got all night---tomorrow’s your rest day.”
Yuuri makes a frustrated noise. He’s lost the ability to English, and Victor doesn’t know the right Japanese for this situation. Yuuri uses it anyways. “Zurui.”
Victor laughs, because apparently the tone of voice Yuuri used got the message across. Victor grips Yuuri’s waist and twists so he lands on his back on the bed. Victor unties his robe, Yuuri leaning up so he can pull off his shirt. Then he undoes and slides off his jeans, dropping all his clothes to the floor. He’s just in a pair of boxers now, Victor in the green pants that go with the robe.
Victor kneels on the bed in-between Yuuri’s thighs, propping himself up on one arm. Yuuri looks up into his face as Victor’s eyes trace the lines of his clavicle, the shape of his pecs, the planes of his stomach. It’s like he’s memorizing Yuuri even though they see each other naked every day. Yuuri can’t stop the flush from spreading at his attention.
If this is how Victor is with his partners, no wonder they all get mad when it’s over.
Yuuri puts them out of his mind. He clears his throat, the ability to speak in English having returned. He thinks back to what he’s heard people do in movies and on television. “Like what you see?” he asks, though his voice wavers a bit, not quite cracking.
Victor smiles, leaning down to kiss Yuuri. His fringe tickles Yuuri’s eyelashes, and Yuuri loses himself in the kiss. It’s a little bit like falling off a ledge, having the full attention of Victor Nikiforov, but Yuuri knows he’ll catch him before impact.
Victor’s hands travel down Yuuri’s sides with just the slightest bit of his nails scratching. They drive back up his torso, his thumbs caressing Yuuri’s nipples, making him arch off the bed with a gasp. Victor bends down again, kissing a mark onto Yuuri’s collarbone. Yuuri doesn’t know what to do with his hands so he fists one in Victor’s hair, the other digging into his shoulder.
He’ll probably leave marks, but so is Victor and fair is fair.
Victor’s hands drop to the waistband of Yuuri’s boxers. “There’s so much I want to do for you. Will you let me?” he whispers against Yuuri’s skin.
It’s...sweet, Yuuri realizes, but it’s unnecessary. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
Victor chuckles, a not unpleasant sensation against Yuuri’s skin. “Okay.”
He pulls the waistband of the boxers down, and Yuuri lifts his hips to aid him. They get dropped to the floor with the rest of their clothing, and Victor stares openly at him. “Krasivyi,” Victor whispers with reverence.
It’s a compliment, but Yuuri doesn’t ask for the translation. “Thanks,” he says. “You too.”
Victor’s eyes dart back up to Yuuri’s face. He smiles, then licks his hand. He grabs Yuuri’s erection, stroking it up and down once. Yuuri groans, but grabs Victor’s wrist. “That---” his voice is oddly choked. “I know how that feels.”
Victor’s demeanor shifts in a way Yuuri can’t read. “You’ve---”
Yuuri sighs, mortified redness filling his face. “It’s not like I’ve never jerked off, Victor. Just...not all the time. I need to do things I can’t do alone because of the whole seducing someone else thing---”
Somehow Victor relaxes at this, even though nothing on him visibly changes, and his eyes darken, almost black in the one lamp he has on as he groans a little.
“Let me watch you do that once,” Victor pleads, still stroking Yuuri’s cock. His hand moves slow, Yuuri’s hips giving answering thrusts, trying to get more, though more what he’s not sure. More everything, he guesses.
“What like...right now?” Yuuri asks. He’s about to object because that’s a bit much, but Victor shakes his head.
“No, another time,” Victor clarifies. “For tonight, I plan to do all the work.”
Oh. Oh good, because Yuuri has zero clue how to reciprocate. Kissing he understands, he knows how to do that because of college and this game called Seven Minutes in Heaven Phichit dragged him into more than once. Everything else though---he understands in theory how it works, but in practice---
“Yuuri, where are you?” Victor asks, his eyes focused on Yuuri’s face.
“Hm?” Victor does something with his wrist that weakens Yuuri’s knees. “I’m right here.”
“I mean---” Victor’s free hand points at Yuuri’s temple. “Where are you?”
“I was just, ah---” Victor just used the barest hint of his nails, and it feels amazing. “Thinking about how little of this stuff I’ve done.”
Victor nods, bending down to kiss him again. This kiss is hotter than the others, more insistent, and Yuuri loses himself in the plushness of Victor’s lips, the katsudon on his breath, the feel of his hand against his cheek. His brain shuts up for good.
Victor makes him come with his hand, murmuring something about wanting to watch him fall apart, Yuuri’s orgasm shutting out space and time, everything but his own pleasure. He falls against the bed boneless, not quite gasping for breath. When he opens his eyes, Victor wipes his hand clean with a tissue. He stretches out on the bed next to Yuuri, his eyes slowly roving across his face. “You look gorgeous like this,” Victor breathes.
Yuuri’s face reddens. He covers it with his hands.
“No, don’t do that!” Victor gently pries them away, pushing them down. “You should be happy. I’m complimenting you.”
“Thanks,” Yuuri says. “But...what about you?”
“What about me?” Victor asks.
Yuuri’s eyebrows knit together, and he makes a what do you mean, what about me? gesture.
“Ah,” Victor says. “I can wait.”
Yuuri stares at him.
Victor shrugs. “It’s no big deal, really. I’d rather get mine when you’re ready again, that’s all.”
That makes sense. Yuuri nods, and he reaches out, pulling Victor close. He needs this right now, and Victor is all too-happy to oblige. Victor’s face gets buried in Yuuri’s neck, and they hold each other. They don’t speak, though Yuuri feels like maybe they should, but the warm puff of Victor’s breath where his shoulder and neck meet is enough.
After a while, Yuuri can’t say how long, Victor pulls back and brushes Yuuri’s fringe off his face. He searches his eyes before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. Yuuri closes his eyes, his hands gripping Victor tighter of almost their own volition. Victor deepens the kiss, draping himself between Yuuri’s legs, and Yuuri can feel Victor’s interest in their current activity.
It’s not that it’s only just occurred to him that Victor could find him attractive, it’s more like the extent of it has set in. Victor wants him here, wants to please him, and it makes Yuuri lightheaded. He gives as good as he gets in the kiss, sliding one of his hands down from Victor’s back to his ass, using it to leverage him closer. He’s still wearing pants, but Yuuri knows there’s nothing underneath, and he takes some initiative, pulling so Victor’s groin lines up with his. His own cock stirs, coming back to life, and he moans into Victor’s mouth.
Victor breaks the kiss to pant, his eyes going from shimmery to glassy. The look he gives Yuuri is equal parts perplexed and naked want.
Truthfully, it makes Yuuri feel like a god.
Victor smiles at him, regaining his footing. “You seem impatient.”
Yuuri swallows. “I said ‘let’s have sex,’ not ‘Victor, give me a hand job’.”
“As you wish,” Victor replies. His hands caress the insides of Yuuri’s thighs, Yuuri dropping his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes. His fingers rake across Victor’s back, leaving scratches that he will try to remember to clean up later.
Victor pulls down the green pants, throwing them across the room, and he falls back in between Yuuri’s legs, his cock rubbing against Yuuri’s and causing his brain to short out. The words that escape Yuuri’s mouth aren’t fit for polite company, but it’s okay because he says them in Japanese. Victor is clueless.
Victor grabs one of Yuuri’s hands, pushing it down into the mattress. He laces their fingers together as he begins to move, rolling his hips so their cocks slide against each other. Yuuri’s head dips forward into the crook of Victor’s neck, and he bites down on him to stifle the sounds he makes
“I want to hear you,” Victor says.
“The whole house will,” Yuuri counters. God, it feels good. He hooks his leg behind Victor’s thighs, drawing him down further like he’s the moon.
Victor’s grip tightens on his fingers. “Just don’t shriek, lapochka, and everything will be fine.” He grabs Yuuri’s face so they can trade sloppy kisses, Yuuri’s cries muffled by Victor’s mouth.
It’s all a little overwhelming, Yuuri decides. It’s a bit like sensory overload---Victor is everywhere, above and around and inside, and Yuuri can't think, he can't focus on anything but how good it feels, the light he chases to completion. It’s close, barely out of reach, and Yuuri whines low in his throat.
“Go on,” Victor whispers into his lips. “I'm not too far behind.”
It's all Yuuri needs as his grip tightens on Victor’s hand and back hard enough to hurt. He can't stifle his shout, his vision going white as his breath stops. It takes him a while to return to reality as his body trembles from little aftershocks.
When Yuuri comes back to himself, he's aware Victor has stopped. He's also aware that he's covered in both of their come from his stomach to his chest.
He doesn't mind.
Victor has collapsed halfway on top of him, though his weight feels nice. It's warm and comfortable, though Yuuri still trembles. He pulls him close again, not sure how to explain or that he even can.
Victor kisses his cheek, and he calms. He kisses the bridge of Yuuri’s nose, and his heart slows its racing. He kisses the corner of Yuuri's lips, and Yuuri finally relaxes.
Victor brushes the sweaty hair off his face, doing the same for Yuuri. His smile is so soft, it makes Yuuri's heart constrict. What does it mean, he wonders, when Victor’s gaze is so full at him?
Before he can ask, he yawns. Victor turns off the lamp, gathers him into his arms, and they sleep.
Yuuri’s alarm goes off at 6:45.
He grumbles, squinting at his phone in the dark, and turns it off. During the night he rolled over onto his side, one of Victor’s arms wrapped around him from behind. “Ignore it,” Victor rasps.
“I am,” Yuuri replies as he settles back into position. It’s tempting to just go back to sleep, but the more prudent part of Yuuri thinks he should sneak back to his room so no one catches him. He’s heard it called the Walk of Shame by his friends in Detroit, and he even caught Phichit doing it once as he underestimated when Yuuri got up on his rest day to make breakfast.
Though, Yuuri supposes, you have to be ashamed be on a walk of one, and Phichit absolutely was not. Yuuri realizes he’s not either. Oh sure it’d be awkward and embarrassing, but he feels no shame about sleeping with Victor.
It feels pretty great, all told.
Yuuri settles back down, his eyes closing again. Since it’s his rest day, he doesn’t have to be at the rink at all. He’ll still go for a run, do stretches, maybe visit Minako for a bit at her studio, but he won’t be skating today.
Victor seems to have a different idea.
He kisses the back of Yuuri’s neck first, seemingly innocent. Then between his shoulder blades, and that one’s not innocent judging from the fact it’s open-mouthed. Yuuri groans. “Victor,” he complains.
“We’re awake,” Victor says into his skin. “In my bed. It’d be a waste.”
Yuuri can’t really dispute the logic---even though part of him wants to go back to sleep another part of him is definitely interested in Victor’s plans. He always imagined he’d have more baggage around having sex since he finds a way to have baggage about lots of things, but it turns out sex feels great and is fun. Especially with Victor.
And this is likely his last shot since Victor doesn’t do repeats so why the hell not, right?
Yuuri rolls so he faces Victor, squinting to see him clearly. Victor notices and gets close, though a little too so because Yuuri goes cross-eyed. He laughs, taking one hand and shoving him a little bit away. “Jerk.”
“Mmm...no,” Victor says.
“Yes,” Yuuri counters with another laugh.
“No, I’m not,” Victor replies.
“Yes, you are,” Yuuri says.
“If I was a jerk I wouldn’t do this,” Victor says before disappearing under the sheets.
Yuuri blinks, not following the train of thought until Victor’s tongue dips into his navel. He covers his mouth with a hand to stifle the sound of his moans. “This doesn’t change my opinion,” he says around a gasp.
Victor doesn’t speak, but his next move is to take the tip of Yuuri’s cock into his mouth, and Yuuri is now preoccupied with not shoving it down Victor’s throat. He knows enough to not be rude, at least.
Victor blows Yuuri as precisely and elegantly as he skates, Yuuri barely able to last during it. He doesn’t watch lest he lose it like a teenager, but his mind fills in some blanks. The point being, Victor is basically on his knees for him, and that alone is enough to get him there.
It’s over much too soon, Victor managing to swallow every drop, and Yuuri removes his hands from his own hair. “Wow,” he says when he’s regained the power of speech.
Victor slides back up to him with a smile. He strokes Yuuri’s cheek with the back of his hand. Yuuri figures he ought to reciprocate, even though he’s never done it before. He hesitates, butterflies hitting him, but he does what Victor did and slides down under the sheets. He comes face to face first with Victor’s chest, which he presses kisses to, then he works his way down his stomach to the very enthusiastic erection Victor has.
“You don’t have to---” Victor begins. His words turn into Russian cursing as Yuuri experiments by licking up his shaft. Yuuri returns the favor by imitating what Victor did for him, adding a slight nibble of teeth here, hollowing his cheeks there. It’s enough to get Victor off, but he doesn’t warn Yuuri quick enough who is...shocked to say the least when his come spurts into his mouth.
With all his heart Yuuri wishes he was more graceful about it, but he nearly chokes as some of it spatters his chin. It’s not that it tastes offensive or anything, he just didn’t have preparation. Next time he does this, he’ll be better.
Yuuri wipes his face with his hand and pushes himself back up the sheets. Victor is flushed, a pretty contrast to his eyes and hair, and his breathing is heavy. “Oh lapochka,” he says. “You’re a mess, I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Yuuri replies. It is, it’s not a big deal. He’s surprised when Victor leans in and kisses him, though. He can taste his own release on Victor’s breath, and it’s not altogether unpleasant. It’d be better if they’d brushed their teeth first, he thinks.
He doesn’t stop the kiss.
The bed dips with an added weight, and Yuuri opens one eye to see Makkachin is next to Victor with a smile. He paws at Victor’s back once, and Victor laughs. “Do you need to go out?” he asks his dog as he turns over onto his back. Makkachin whines and wags his tail, and Victor’s smile brightens. “It is about that time, I believe.”
Yuuri’s disappointed, but he doesn’t let it show. “Okay, I’ll get out of your hair.”
He gets dressed, Victor doing the same, and as Victor opens his bedroom door, he pauses as Makkachin runs out ahead. He grabs Yuuri’s hands, pressing kisses to his knuckles with bright eyes. Yuuri bites his bottom lip, though he’d sooner die than admit the gesture makes him flustered.
Victor heads outside, Yuuri walking down the hall to his bedroom. He’s definitely a huge mess, so he decides to take a bath before the onsen officially opens so as to not scandalize anyone. He’s alone in the changing room, hosing himself off quickly with a shower, and he steps out to the bath.
Yuuri soaks in the spring water, the heat contrasting with the early air making the minerals smell particularly potent. He sinks into the water, and he slicks his hair back with his wet hands.
He’s not a virgin anymore. He’s---more or less---seduced someone.
This is where Yuuri panics because he knows his family will be able to tell, as it’s got to be written all over his face. They’ll know the second they see him, he feels it in his gut. How could they not know? They’ll know. They’ll have to know. They’ll know.
Trying to calm the erratic beat of his heart, he submerges himself. Maybe if he drowns no one will suspect. No, he can’t...he wants to win the Grand Prix Final.
Most importantly, Victor will probably blame himself.
Yuuri comes out of the water when his lungs give out, turning around so his chest presses against the rocks. He rests his head on his forearms and tries to figure out how he can hide it from his folks. Deciding that he can’t, he gets out of the water, towels off, and changes back into his clothes.
Maybe some friendly advice can help.
Since he found out Phichit is back in Bangkok for a bit, they’ve been texting more. Yuuri grabs his phone---he’s two hours ahead of Phichit, but it’s going on nine in Hasetsu. He should be up. He selects Phichit in his contacts and hits the button to FaceTime him.
It rings twice and then there is Phichit in a cap and warm up jacket. “Yuuri, hey!”
“Hi, Phichit,” Yuuri says with a smile. “Pĕn xỳāngrị b̂āng?”
“Dī k̄hxbkhuṇ! Læ̂w khuṇ l̀a?” Phichit replies.
“I’m good,” Yuuri answers, switching back to English. “Phichit…” he starts, trailing off. “Um, well...I did a thing, and I’m not sure what’ll happen if my parents know.”
Phichit turns to give Yuuri the side eye. He steeples his hands in front of his face for a moment like some kind of evil mastermind or maybe like he’s thanking God for something. “What kind of thing?”
Yuuri looks and makes sure his door is closed. “An ‘I slept with someone’ thing.”
Phichit is definitely praying. He reaches over to his computer and pushes something. Music starts playing in English. Finally! You’ve come along! The way I feel about you just can’t be wrong! If you only knew the way I feel about you---I just can’t describe it, oh no no! Finally, it’s happened to me, right in front of my face---and I just cannot hide it! Finally---
All Phichit can see is the top of Yuuri’s head because he’s slammed it into his desk. “You seriously have a song cued up for this?”
“I’ve just waited so long for this day!” Is Phichit choked up? Yuuri’s imagining this, he has to be. “I’m so proud. My son is a man.”
“I’m three years older than you,” comes Yuuri’s muffled rejoinder.
“I know, but you can be a bit on the...what’s the phrase? Oh right. Straight-laced! You can be a bit straight-laced.” Phichit runs out of frame, Yuuri hearing him opening cabinets and moving things around. He runs back into view with a bag of prawn crackers and a bottle that says Chang on it. He does the thing where he looks like he’s in prayer again. Then he lets loose a loud exhale. “Tell me everything.”
“No.” Yuuri turns his face to the side, glasses going askew, as he glares at his best friend.
“Oh come on! You know stuff about me.” Phichit is whining. It’s very unattractive.
“That I didn’t ask for,” Yuuri points out.
“But you didn’t tell me to stop, either,” Phichit retorts.
Yuuri can’t argue, it’s the truth. “I don’t want to go into detail, because Victor probably won’t---”
Phichit, who had been eating some of the crackers with rapt attention, spits them across his floor. He coughs a bunch of times. “Victor. Victor Nikiforov. You slept with Victor Nikiforov, your coach, Victor Nikiforov, the five time Grand Prix Final champion and Russian Living Legend, Victor Nikiforov.”
“I don’t know any other Victors,” Yuuri says with a sigh. He rubs his eyes under his glasses.
“Dude, go big or go home,” Phichit responds.
He’s not entirely wrong, Yuuri decides. “I just---”
“Your giant decade long crush,” Phichit says with a sage nod. “Can’t say I wouldn’t if I were in your shoes. He’s right there, you know? And he’s always been supernaturally hot. I wouldn’t kick him out of bed for leaving crumbs in it.”
Yuuri feels something in his heart, like the taste of rotten eggs filling his soul. He involuntarily cracks his knuckles.
Phichit raises an eyebrow proving it hasn’t been missed. “Or...not.”
“It’s fine,” Yuuri says with a fake smile. “It’s not like anything else happened. He doesn’t do dating or anything. It was just a one time thing, and I’m aware of that. Have at him when we meet up in Beijing.”
Phichit leans back in his chair with his arms crossed and his eyes narrowed. “You’re a bad liar.”
“I’m not lying,” Yuuri protests.
“You just did it again,” Phichit says. He softens, his eyes turning kind. “Look, Yuuri, it’s pretty normal to get attached to the first person you sleep with. It happens all the time to lots of people. It even happened to me. Just...you know...understand that it’ll fade in a few days. They’re not real feelings. And try not to let it get in the way of him coaching you or make things awkward.”
Yuuri stares at Phichit. Attached? He’s not attached. “I’m not attached, like I said I knew what it was going into it. It’s the entire reason I asked him in the first place.”
Phichit nods and smiles. “Okay.”
Yuuri thinks he’s being patronized, but he can’t prove it. He rubs his eyes again.
Phichit leans in while munching on more chips. “It was good, wasn’t it? Everyone says he’s good.”
“I don’t have a basis for comparison,” Yuuri answers, though his cheeks turn red. “But...yeah.”
Phichit whoops. “I’m so glad! I would have been sad if it sucked. Or even if it was just okay. You deserve better than just okay.”
Yuuri half-smiles. That’s oddly touching. “Phichit---”
“Hey, I’m telling the truth.” Phichit sips his soda water. “I’d yell at him if he was selfish, or not into it, or using you. You know I would.”
He knows. “Yeah,” Yuuri answers, then he remembers the reason he called. “So um...is it obvious?”
Phichit leans in so close to the phone all Yuuri can see is his left eye. He moves back into a more normal position. “Well, you seem happy so people might ask about your good mood, but there’s no sign above your head that proclaims you’re not a virgin anymore, no.”
“Okay,” Yuuri says with a reassured smile. “Thanks.”
“Of course,” Phichit replies. He checks his watch. “Look, Yuuri, I gotta go, I’m late for heading to the rink. Good talk though! We’ll catch up more some other time.”
“Sure, Phichit,” Yuuri says. “Khuy kạn h̄ım̀!”
“Bāy!” Phichit says with a wide grin as he hangs up.
That’s a load off. Yuuri puts a pair of earbuds in the headphone jack on his phone, changing into a pair of track pants and his warm up. He sets his glasses down on his desk, and he walks out of his room into the main area of the onsen.
Victor is at a table talking to his mom.
Yuuri’s steps slow before stopping. He stares at them for a creepy amount of time, long enough they notice. “Good morning, Yuuri!” his mother says.
“Yes, good morning,” Victor adds with a smile. He sips his tea.
Yuuri can feel the flush on his face. “Hi,” he stammers.
His mom immediately grows concerned. “Are you feeling alright? Your face is red. You’re not sick, are you?”
Yuuri clears his throat. “Ah no, I’m fine. It’s nothing.”
He ducks out before the questioning can escalate, but he doesn’t miss the look of satisfaction in Victor’s eyes.
Or the proud smile.