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Oh My God, Finally

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Christophe looked up just in time to see Yuuri in the process of throwing himself into Christophe's lap but not in time to save his drink. Or, he told himself, in time to actually stop Yuuri from throwing his arms around Christophe's neck and smashing his drunken mouth up against Christophe's reasonably tipsy one.

Though, if he had to be honest with himself, there probably was enough time not to kiss Yuuri back or settle himself into position for the lap dance Yuuri was beginning to provide. Just maybe not a lot of motivation.

"Yuu-ri!" Victor staggered up (by Christophe's practiced eye, less drunk than Yuuri but definitely more than Christophe) and got his arm around Yuuri's chest. He pulled and cajoled and coaxed and hauled and eventually pried Yuuri away. The momentum carried them both backward and they tumbled onto the bed. Christophe's bed.

It was traditional for Christophe to host the Grand Prix Final after-party so he usually upgraded his room to a suite but there'd been a mix-up with the reservations and so upward of two dozen skaters and hangers-on were crammed into a stifling economy room, drinking, laughing, making plans to hook up, and working the air conditioning to a high-pitched frenzy.

Right now, though, everyone was staring at Yuuri and Victor. Not because of their combined skating prowess, which was, of course, considerable, or their combined attractiveness, which was also significant, but because they were sloppily making out on Christophe's bed. Also pawing clumsily at each other. Victor was giggling.

A flash went off beside Christophe. "Hey!" He turned to Phichit. "You were supposed to leave your phone in the bowl by the door."

"I won't upload it." Phichit examined the screen critically, then took another photo. "It's just for archival purposes."

Christophe doubted that but it wasn't his problem. He looked back at the bed. Yuuri was pulling at Victor's clothes while Victor repeated Yuu-ri~ Yuu-ri~ over and over and over a-fucking-gain. "Just video the whole nauseating spectacle and send it to me. I'll watch it whenever my coach tells me I should swear off sex for the season and I don't think I can make it."

Phichit laughed. Victor and Yuuri rolled right off the bed. Victor looked up, dazed, but a bit more sober, and dragged Yuuri to his feet. "You're in room 407," Phichit supplied helpfully and they lurched their way to the door, Yuuri's hand actually down the back of Victor's trousers.

"Oh my god, finally!" said a voice in the crowd and the door swung shut behind them.

"I hope they're both so hungover they puke," Christophe said.

"I almost puked myself," Phichit said, "and I have a pretty high tolerance for shenanigans."

"The banquet was bad enough," Christophe said. "All that feeding each other bites of food."

"And drinking from each other's glasses," Phichit said. "And kissing between every single sip. 'Oh, Yuuri!' 'Oh, Victor!'"

"It was more like, 'Oh, Yuuri!'" Christophe held up his hands and wiggled his ass.

"And then they-- wait, I'll be Yuuri," Phichit said. "No, you be Yuuri. No, I will." He undid all his shirt buttons and ruffled up his hair. "'Victor!'" He grabbed Christophe around the neck.

"Yuu-ri!" Christophe clasped Phichit in his arms and gazed down at him.

"Your voice is too deep," Phichit said. "Make it squeakier."

People were crowding around and laughing. Christophe warmed to his role as the most disgustingly sappy man alive. "Yuu-ri!" he squeaked. "I love you even more than I love being handsome and famous and not as cool as I actually think I am."

"Viiiiictooooor!" Phichit managed to fit in about six syllables and also did a pretty great whiny Yuuri voice. "When are you going to marry me?"

"I'll marry you right here under this table," Christophe said. "Let's drink to our love!" He held out his hand and someone put a bottle of beer into it. He pressed it to Phichit's mouth and Phichit chugged the beer, then slid his lips over the bottle, fellating it -- expertly, Christophe noticed -- while staring up into Christophe's eyes.

People clapped and laughed. Christophe put down the bottle and Phichit jumped right up onto Christophe, wrapping his arms around Christophe's neck and locking his legs around Christophe's waist while Christophe staggered to get his balance.

"Kiss the groom!" Phichit yelled and crushed his mouth against Christophe's. Christophe leaned his ass on the desk, to take some of the weight off, and crushed back, getting into the spirit of things.

"As your coach," he said between kisses, "I have some notes on your jump combinations."

Phichit bit Christophe's earlobe, then nuzzled at his neck. "As your husband, shut up."

Christophe got his hands under Phichit's ass and hoisted him higher while Phichit teased at Christophe's lips, making Christophe crane his neck for his kisses. Then they were full-on messy kissing, grabbing at each other, mouths open, Phichit using his tongue in a truly enjoyable manoeuvre.

People were still laughing but they were also muttering in a way that sounded familiar and Christophe realised they'd somehow gone from pretending to be Yuuri and Victor drunkenly making out for an audience, to just being Christophe and Phichit drunkenly making out. Well, Christophe was definitely fairly drunk. He wasn't completely sure about Phichit's alcohol status but there was no doubt about his make-out status.

Phichit pulled back and they stared at each other for a few seconds. "Um," Phichit said. "My room?"

"Good idea." Christophe gave Phichit's ass one last squeeze and let him down. Phichit grabbed Christophe's arm and they pushed through the crowd.

"Oh my god, finally!" someone said just as the door was closing.

"I hope they know that's my room," Christophe said.

"I'm in 405." Phichit pulled Christophe into the elevator.

Christophe trapped him up against the elevator wall and they kissed a little to keep the momentum going. "Next door to the lovebirds?"

"I have earplugs." They tumbled out on the fourth floor and Phichit fished in his pockets for his keycard. "They don't completely help." He got the door open on the third try. Phichit's room looked a lot like Christophe's room, except it wasn't full of people and empty bottles. "Before we get started--" He held up his phone.

Christophe leaned in and they kissed for the camera. "Make sure you tag me."

Phichit rolled his eyes. "Come on." He pulled Christophe down and they kissed on the bed for a while, shrugging out of their shirts and laughing when Christophe got stuck in his.

"I'm usually very graceful," Christophe said. "So, do you want me to give you the Victor Special?"

"It's not going to make me cry, is it?"

Christophe undid Phichit's trousers and Phichit raised his hips so Christophe could slide them off. Christophe stripped the rest of his own clothes. "It never made me cry." He grinned. "But I'm better at it than he is, so you might."

Phichit grabbed a tissue from the box on the night stand. "Ready to cry," he said, "so get on with it."

"Bossy," Christophe said. He spread Phichit's legs and settled between them. Then he went down on him. Nothing fancy, just that slip-slide rhythm that always got results, with a thumb following on the underside. The other hand on Phichit's quite lovely thigh and as much eye contact as possible.

Phichit started out smiling but as Christophe worked him, his face changed and his hips squirmed and his mouth dropped open as he sucked in air. If there was time for a round in the morning, Christophe thought, he was going to push those legs back and settle in and rim Phichit until he really was crying.

When Phichit's thigh tensed under Christophe's hand, Christophe pulled back and watched Phichit come onto his belly, the tissue shredding in his hand, and gasping something which Christophe assumed meant My god, Chris, you're the king! in Thai.

Christophe sat up and stretched out his neck and jaw. "Did you cry?"

"No, but I bit my tongue." Phichit took a deep breath, then swabbed his stomach with a handful of tissues. "Do you want the Yuuri Special? Though from what I've heard through the wall, the Yuuri Special might have changed."

"Oh!" Christophe said. "So you two had a thing? How was he?"

"Just a few fun times." Phichit sat up against the headboard and spread his legs. "Scoot up and turn around."

Christophe scooted. He settled back against Phichit's chest and rested his hands on Phichit's thighs, rubbing at the muscles with his thumbs. Phichit stretched behind him and Christophe heard the click of the drawer. Then Phichit reached around and took Christophe's cock in a slicked-up hand.

"I see you're ready for anything," Christophe said. He leaned his head back further and turned so he could just catch Phichit's cheek with his mouth. "That's good to know."

"From what I hear, you're ready for everything," Phichit said. He wrapped his other arm around Christophe's chest, thumbing his nipple. Then he moved his hand on Christophe's cock, fingers a little loose at first, then taking a firmer grip as Christophe got fully hard and making a swirl across the tip with every up-stroke.

Christophe closed his eyes. He still wanted to experience that bottle technique but this was definitely in the top half of hand jobs he'd received over the years. Maybe top third. "My flight's not until tomorrow evening," he said. "In case you're in the mood for everything."

"You never do give up sex for the season, do you?"

"I tried once," Christophe said. "But my performance suffered." He moved his head back and Phichit moved his forward and they kissed, a few hot licks, a little hard on Christophe's neck, but he was mostly all dick at this point, all rising, pulling, heating.

And just at that point, when Phichit's wrist was twisting, and Christophe's hips were jerking and his fingers were clenching, there was a noise like a moan that didn't come from either of their throats.

From the far side of the other bed, two heads rose, and Christophe found himself staring into the bleary eyes of Victor Nikiforov as he came all over Phichit's hand.

The air filled with jumbled expletives in three languages. "Hi Chris!" Yuuri called.

"I forgot I gave him a keycard," Phichit said.

Christophe laughed. "Victor," he said. "Do you want to swap for the next round?"