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Holding On and Letting Go

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"We're a viral video, Yuuri!" Viktor exclaims, thrusting his phone in front of him. "Remember the interview from earlier? Want to see?"

"No, definitely not," Yuuri pushes the phone away. He'd accidentally watched it when Phichit texted a link to him and he does not need to see it again. "You're so embarrassing, Viktor."

"I broke a world record and I'm embarrassing?" Viktor raises an eyebrow.

"It was your own record!" Yuuri protests.

Viktor laughs as he pushes Yuuri back onto the bed.

"That just makes it all the more impressive," Viktor says.

"I swear to god, Viktor," Yuuri starts, but he can't help but grin back at him as Viktor straddles his hips.

"If I remember correctly," Viktor says as he leans forward and captures Yuuri's wrists. "I'm supposed to be teaching you something tonight."

"About quads!"

"Hmm," Viktor says. "Is that really what you want to learn about?"

"Viktor," Yuuri says, more quietly this time, as he stares into Viktor's light eyes.

Viktor leans down to kiss him, his soft hair brushing against Yuuri's cheek. Viktor slides his hands up Yuuri's wrists to tangle their fingers together. Yuuri groans as Viktor nudges a thigh between his legs.

Then Viktor releases his hands and sits back up. He thumbs Yuuri's nipples through his worn sleeping shirt, He rubs his hands down Yuuri's sides and slides them underneath him to squeeze his ass through his sweats.

Yuuri groans.

"Yuuri," Viktor breathes, his head falling to Yuuri's shoulder. "You have the most--god."

Yuuri reaches down and feels the shape of Viktor's cock hardening through his track pants. Viktor jerks against him, which gives Yuuri more friction from his thigh.

"Moya lyubov, what do you want?" Viktor asks between heavy breaths. "We can do anything you want."

Viktor sounds more short of breath than Yuuri usually sees him even on the ice. It brings Yuuri back to the moment and he jerks back.

"Yuuri?" Viktor asks. He lets Yuuri go as Yuuri scrambles out from under him.

"We can't do this," Yuuri tells him.

"What?" Viktor's brows are creased with concern.

"Your free skate's tomorrow."


"You're not supposed to have sex the night before a competition!"

Viktor stares for a moment and then laughs. "How do you know that?"

"Everyone knows that," Yuuri says with authority that Viktor could easily contradict. It is Viktor, after all, who's been competing for fifteen years, and winning almost everything for the last five of them.

But Viktor just asks, "Are you going to hold out on me, then? Motivate me tomorrow knowing I can have you afterwards? Or are you only going to let me touch you if I win gold?"

He looks oddly intrigued by the prospect.

"Uh, maybe? I guess?" Yuuri says.

"And if I don't win gold?"

"I hear you're a pretty sure bet."

Viktor's eyes sparkle mischievously. "Well, I have certainly have pleasured myself before competitions, and I don't think you can argue that that's hurt me."

Yuuri bites his lip. He wonders if Viktor's had sex with other partners before competitions, too. He doesn't want to hear the answer if it's 'yes', so he doesn't ask.

"Also, if I don't, I don't think I'll survive the night," Viktor adds. Then smirks. "You're blushing, you know."

"Shut up." Yuuri glares at him because of course he knows. He always knows. But then he hears himself blurt out, "Can--can I watch?"

Viktor's eyes widen.

Yuuri slaps his hands over his face, horrified at himself. "Please pretend I didn't ask that."

"Yuuri, Yuuri," Viktor says, not even bothering to hide the amusement in his voice. He touches Yuuri's hands. "Look at me, solnishko."

Yuuri reluctantly lets Viktor lift his hands off his face. He presses a soft kiss to Yuuri's lips. Yuuri's not crying, but his eyes are wet. Could this get more embarrassing?

But Viktor is just looking down at him now. He gives Yuuri a gentle smile and says, "Here's what you need to know. In bed, I'm going to want anything you want. Anything."

"Viktor--" Yuuri starts.

Viktor's smile turns into more of a smirk as he adds, "Of course, 'in bed' also applies to against a wall, or on a sturdy enough table. Counters are a possibility, too. The floor, also, though rug burn is always a concern."

"Fine." Yuuri pushes up at his shoulders to get him to stop. "Just take your clothes off, then."

Viktor laughs, but follows his command. Yuuri watches as he lifts off his shirt and tosses it across the room. He pushes off his track pants and his underwear in one move and settles back down on the bed as if he has no reason to be self-conscious about his body.

And, well, he doesn't. He really, really doesn't.

Yuuri looks him up and down slowly. This is the second time he's seen him this naked, and, the first time, he was too dazed with orgasm to properly appreciate it.

The pale lines of Viktor's body make a striking contrast to the black duvet. It's not fair that one person can have so much beauty. He not only has the sparkle of pale eyes, the curve of charming lips, the perfect fall of his pretty hair. But he also looks like this when he takes off his clothes.

He's splayed out with one arm behind his head. The other rests on his stomach. His broad shoulders taper to a narrow waist. There's a V of muscle at his hipbones. Shadows from the bedside light define the lean contours of his arms, legs, chest, abs.

His dick, flushed and half-hard, twitches under Yuuri's gaze. Yuuri suddenly wants so much more than just to watch. He wants to know what Viktor tastes like. What it would feel like to take him in his mouth like Viktor had to Yuuri the other night.

Viktor would say yes to whatever he asked for. It would be so easy. Just to lean forward and--

Yuuri suddenly remembers himself and snaps his eyes up to Viktor's.

Viktor's smiling, and he winks at Yuuri, but thankfully doesn't tease him for how long he's been staring.

"So, what are the rules, solnishko?" Viktor asks. He reaches down and gives himself a lazy stroke. Yuuri forces his eyes away. "Am I allowed to touch you?"

"No." Yuuri pauses, thinking. "But I can touch you. I just won't touch your--um--"

"You won't touch my dick?"

"Yes." He tries not to be embarrassed at how hard the word is to say. He might have been a virgin until two days ago, but he's still twenty-three years old. He makes up for it with, "You're supposed to do it. That's what masturbation is, you should know that."

Viktor barks a laugh. "You are a cruel lover, Yurochka. Anything else?"

"Uh, no."

"Okay, well, I have one condition then," Viktor says. He waggles his eyebrows.

"What is it?" Yuuri asks cautiously.

"You have to take off your clothes, too."

"That's what you want?"

"I'm just going to be picturing you naked, anyways," Viktor tells him with a wink. "It'll be less effort for me to just look at you. And you were the one who didn't want me to overexert myself tonight, weren't you?"

"Right." Yuuri reaches for the hem of his shirt. Then hesitates. He tries to remind himself that Viktor knows what he looks like naked now. Knows and it is still his only request. But--

But this is different than a frenzied heated moment in the dark. Or the lazy, sated shower together that followed. This is in the bright white light of the lamp at Viktor's bedside. This is slow and intentional and with nowhere to hide.

"You don't have to," Viktor says more softly. "We can do this, anyways. But you must know by now that I really, really like your body."

Yuuri opens his mouth to protest.

It's easy for Viktor to be unabashedly naked when his body has earned him world records. When his body has earned him barely-dressed billboards over major Russian highways. When his body has earned him his choice of lovers.

But Yuuri's body has earned him... well, he has to admit that his body has somehow earned him being that choice of lover.

Yuuri takes a deep breath. Viktor has his eyes trained on him, arousal and expectation and a little bit of concern in his gaze.

And maybe Yuuri's tired of worrying. Maybe he's tired of not trusting. And, even if the confidence only lasts for a moment, maybe he still wants to know what it feels like to be good enough.

So he gathers his nerve and curves his lips into a smirk.

He teases, "All right, but don't get too excited. I'd like you to last a little while."

Viktor's eyes widen and then he laughs. He sounds delighted when he asks, "You are never going to stop surprising me, are you?"

"I hope not," Yuuri says honestly.

He slides back off the bed and glances at where Viktor is giving his hardening cock a slow, lazy stroke.


Yuuri realizes he's licking his lips and quickly shuts his mouth. Viktor's light eyes are sparkling.

He can feel Viktor watching as he reaches down again and closes his fingers over the hem of his shirt.

This is still harder than it should be. And the rules Yuuri's already regretting making have backed him into a corner where he doesn't have Viktor's reassuring touch.

But maybe Viktor can still be there for him in this.

"Viktor?" he says.

"Yes, moya lyubov?"

The warmth of Viktor's voice curls in his chest and Yuuri says, "Tell me what you want. Tell me what to do."

Viktor stills, his eyes widening. Then he breathes out, "God, yes. Yes, I can do that."

Yuuri can't help the shy smile he gives him back.

"Take off your shirt first," he tells him. Yuuri nods, and lifts it off slowly. If Viktor wants to see him so badly he can make this last, too.

"Perfect," Viktor says. He's looking Yuuri up and down, the muscles of his abs tensing as he squeezes his dick. "Keep going. Please."

"My pants?"


He slides down his pants and tosses them away. He's wearing boxer briefs now, ones he's gotten in the habit of wearing in the States. He toys with the elastic waistband.

"Those, too," Viktor says.

Yuuri slides them off. And then tells Viktor, echoing his words from before his program today, "Don't take your eyes off me."

"Never," Viktor breathes. "Come back here, Yuuri."

Yuuri climbs back onto the bed and lies down next to him. Viktor, true to his promise, doesn't take his eyes away.

"I really, really like your body," Viktor says. He's resumed the lazy strokes of his dick.

"You said that already," Yuuri points out.

"I'll keep saying it until you believe it," Viktor counters seriously.

Yuuri doesn't argue with that, because Viktor's right, he can't really believe it. Maybe Viktor likes some parts of his body. He's heard him compliment his ass and thighs, after all, when he didn't know Yuuri was listening. But Yuuri's not in nearly the shape Viktor is.

"Lie your back, Yuuri," Viktor tells him. He moves to his side and props himself up with an elbow as if to better watch him. Yuuri tries to fight the self-consciousness. He remembers then that he's allowed to touch Viktor, just not the other way around.

So he reaches up to loop an arm around Viktor's back, digging his fingers into the muscle of his shoulder. Viktor lets out a contented sound, and Yuuri feels more centered, more like himself.

"Touch yourself, Yuuri," Viktor tells him in a low voice.

Yuuri hesitates, and says, "This is supposed to be about you. You're supposed to be the one who needs to come."

Viktor lets out a short laugh. "Trust me, Yuuri. That will not be a problem."

Yuuri glances down to where Viktor's holding his cock in a loose grip.

"Um," Yuuri says. "How do you want me to touch myself?"

Viktor hums, and looks him up and down. Yuuri bends his knees up and leans his legs against Viktor's thighs, curling himself into his body.

"Your nipples," Viktor says, as if it took a great amount of deliberation.

Yuuri glances up at him, and Viktor nods. So he moves a hand hesitantly over to one of his nipples. He circles gently over it with his thumb and startles at his own touch, his body already on edge.

"Yes," Viktor breathes out sharply. "Yes, Yuuri. Just like that. Your nipples are so pretty, so sensitive. If I could touch you..."

"What?" Yuuri asks when he doesn't finish his sentence. "What would you do if you could touch me?"

"I would kiss them," he says. Yuuri can feel Viktor start to properly stroke himself again. "I'd suck on them. I'd use my tongue. And my teeth. I'd figure out how you liked it."

Yuuri rubs his thumb over the peaked curve of his nipple as he lets Viktor's words shiver through him.

"I'd like all of it," he says.

"You would, wouldn't you? Pinch yourself for me," Viktor tells him.

Yuuri does, and arches into his own touch. His arm slips down Viktor's back and he wraps it over the side of his neck instead.

"Perfect," Viktor whispers. His breath ghosts over Yuuri's cheek. "Okay, move your hand down. Touch your stomach."

"My... stomach?"

"Yes," Viktor says.

Yuuri hesitantly slides his hand down to rest on his middle. It doesn't round up, not like it would have if he'd been in this position a few weeks ago. But it's not flat, either. It's a little embarrassing, with the definition of Viktor's abs just inches away.

And Viktor says, "I think you don't like your stomach very much."

Yuuri glances up at him.

"That's okay." Viktor gives him a soft smile. "I like it enough for both of us. I like the places you're a little soft. If I could touch you now, I'd kiss it all over."


"Yuuri," Viktor says in a low tone, shifting closer in. "I really, really like your body, remember?"

"Right," Yuuri says. He takes a deep breath, still looking into his eyes. "What else would you do? If you could touch me?"

"Hmm," Viktor murmurs. He shifts position, slowing his own strokes as he looks Yuuri up and down. Yuuri tightens his hold around the back of his neck. He finally looks back up at Yuuri through the white hair that's fallen over his eyes. "So many things to choose from, Yurochka."


"Yes," Viktor says. He's stroking himself again, getting back into a rhythm. "Your ass. Your thighs. Your cock. God, your ass--"

"You said that twice," Yuuri points out, starting to smile.

"I did?" Viktor asks. His lips curve up. "In my defense, you have a very, very nice ass."

"Oh," Yuuri says. He gives Viktor a small smile. "Thank you."

Viktor laughs softly and says, "Oh, moyu solnishko, I want to kiss you so much."

"That would be against the rules," Yuuri reminds him.

"Yes, it would," Viktor says. His eyes sparkle. "Touch your cock, then. Pretend it's me."

"Oh, god."

"Come on, Yurochka," he urges him.

"Okay. Okay," Yuuri says. He reaches down to where his cock is straining up.

He grasps his hand around himself and the air punches out of his lungs. He squeezes his eyes shut, feeling a tear escape the corner of his eyelid.

"Yes," Viktor says softly. Yuuri can feel the movement of him stroking his own cock next to him. "Like that."

Yuuri imagines Viktor's hands on him. The smoothness of his palms, the calluses of his fingers. He'd do anything to feel it for real.

"Please win gold tomorrow," Yuuri says, eyes still shut tight and voice strained as he strokes himself faster. He's vaguely aware of Viktor matching his pace.

"I'm going to skate for you," Viktor promises him softly. "I have a lot of practice skating for you."

Yuuri feels the heat building in his groin.

"I can't last much longer."

"Then don't," Viktor tells him.

Yuuri's eyes flutter open.

"Let go, Yurochka. Let go for me," Viktor says, eyes dark on him. Yuuri takes a shaky breath and clings tighter to Viktor's broad shoulders.

"I want to kiss you when I come," he says desperately. There's no time, heat is tingling up his groin and he needs-- "Will you break the rules? Kiss me back?"

"Yes, god, Yuuri, just do it now," Viktor begs. "Please."

He pulls Viktor down by his shoulders and twists up to touch his lips with his own. Viktor's mouth drops opens for him and Yuuri takes and takes.

Takes everything he needs from him.

When he breaks off, panting for air, Viktor whispers against his lips, "Let go for me."

Yuuri leans up to kiss him again and tugs again at his cock and crashes, crashes down and--

--and Viktor's grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in close. He sucks a kiss into the crook of his neck and groans as Yuuri feels him come over his stomach.

Viktor collapses half on top of him. They're both panting. Viktor's warm hand rubs up and down Yuuri's side and his over-sensitized body tingles in the wake of his touch.

"Viktor," Yuuri breathes. He slides his hands into his hair, runs them through the soft, white strands, damp with sweat.

"Yuuri." Viktor's voice is shaky as he tugs him closer. "I'm sorry, I broke more of your rules. I couldn't stand it."

"I forgive you," Yuuri murmurs.

Viktor hums against his neck, then wraps strong arms around him. Their legs tangle together and Yuuri hugs him back.

"You're so, so good at this, Yuuri," Viktor murmurs, clinging on tight to him. "That was amazing."

"Thank you for letting me do this with you," Yuuri says.

Viktor chokes out a laugh and pulls back to look at him. "Anything. I want to do anything with you."

"I like you," Yuuri says shyly, meeting his eyes. He doesn't even know why he's telling him this right now, but-- "I like this."

"Good," Viktor says firmly. He tightens his hold on him. "Because I want to keep you."

Yuuri knows he doesn't mean forever, but, for as long as Viktor wants him,

"I want to keep you, too," he confesses.