It is the movement caused by Victor getting out of bed that stirs Yuuri awake. The room is still barely illuminated thanks to the curtains covering the window, but Yuuri instinctively knows it must be early in the morning. Probably around 4:30 am, he thinks to himself as he blearily watches Victor get dressed. Grey sweatpants and long sleeves, since he is heading out jogging in the chilly spring air of Saint Petersburg.
The mere thought of leaving the bed this early in the morning makes Yuuri shudder involuntarily, and yet Victor manages the feat every day except for the weekends. It isn’t natural, he concludes as he buries deeper beneath the warm protection of their blankets. It’s his fault, he knows, that his fiancé has to subject himself to it. Even though it’s undeniable that Victor is a morning person through and through, he can’t help but feel bad about it. The only reason for the early endeavour is so that he can get some of his own practice done before he has to coach Yuuri, and no matter how many times Victor assures him that doesn’t mind it, fact remains that he is basically working the same amount as two people.
Professional skating is exhausting in itself; Yuuri can’t even begin to imagine how he would have managed if he had to coach someone as well.
Victor is moving silently through the bedroom, intent surely on not waking Yuuri up. He knows better than anyone how important sleep is when you put your body through what they do everyday, and Yuuri stayed up late last night. The thought brings a guilty smile to his face. In actuality, he stays up late most nights. It’s the way he has always been, and no matter how painfully aware he is of the consequences, he just can’t bring himself to change. Victor accepts that, though it took some time for him to get to that point. He will still sometimes encourage him to go to bed at a reasonable time, but he never gets mad if he doesn’t. Yuuri is grateful, as it takes away some of the pressure surrounding the topic.
After a few more minutes of watching Victor struggle to get ready in the dark, Yuuri turns to lay on his back instead of hiding beneath the blankets. The sound alerts Victor that he is awake, and he gives up the pretense of being quiet. “Sorry,” he whispers, and smiles sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to wake you. Give me a minute and I’ll be gone.”
“It’s okay,” he replies quickly to reassure the other. It’s a little ridiculous: Victor standing there with only one sock on, apologising for getting dressed when the reason behind it leads to Yuuri getting to sleep a little longer. “Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go jogging?” he asks, referring to the cold Victor caught a few days ago. He’s still a little congested, Yuuri can tell from his voice.
“Absolutely!” Victor says, although that probably isn’t very telling. He had insisted on going to practice even with the small fever he’d had the first few days, which had ended in being forcibly sent home by Yakov after a dizzy spell. Yuuri had felt pretty helpless through it all, watching Victor work himself into the ground and refusing to listen to what anyone else had to say about it.
If there was one thing Yuuri had come to realize during his first months of living in Russia, it was that Victor wasn’t the best for nothing; he was a product of fierce determination and dedication to the sport. It was inspiring to watch first-hand, but the single-mindedness of it all also turned out to be an entirely new source of worry for Yuuri, as well as everyone else that happened to be nearby.
“If you’re sure then…” Yuuri mutters to himself, knowing full well that Victor won’t listen to him about this anyway.
Victor finishes getting dressed and runs a hands through his hair. He sits down at the edge of the bed so that he can lean down to kiss Yuuri’s forehead. His lips are warm, and it instantly makes Yuuri feel a little better. “Go back to sleep, love. I’ll see you at the rink.”
Yuuri sighs and closes his eyes. He can do that.
“You’re putting your weight wrong again!” Victor yells as Yuuri brushes his knees free of ice-chips after a failed jump.
He is right, of course, but it does nothing to hinder the growing frustration he can feel simmering beneath the surface. As a professional skater, he is used to the ache that comes from landing hard on the ice, even more so because he can’t seem to get anything right lately no matter how hard he tries. It’s getting annoying, but Victor only seems to want to practice the things he can’t land perfectly today.
“Victor, this isn’t working!” Yuuri complains after yet another failed jump. He doesn’t bother brushing the ice off this time, and instead skates over to where Victor is currently standing at the rinkside, observing him.
“You almost got it that last time.”
“What? No, they were all just as bad! Don’t lie to make me feel better.”
Victor usually doesn’t. He is generous with praise when it is earned, but he definitely knows how to give criticism. Yuuri often finds himself wondering just how much of his coaching style is actually his own, and how much is borrowed from Yakov. At least Victor doesn’t yell the same way, he supposes, and finds his attention turned towards where Yakov is currently standing shaking an angry finger at Georgi. Georgi himself is nodding enthusiastically in agreement to whatever he is being told.
“I’m not lyi-,” Victor begins, but the sentence ends in a sigh. “Go have lunch,” he ends up saying instead. “It’s about that time anyway.”
The smile Yuuri receives is strained.
“Alright. Will you come with me, then?” Yuuri asks as he steps off the ice to put his skate-guards on.
Victor looks over to Yakov before replying. “No, I need to go over a few things for my own short program.”
“You have to eat sometime, might as well do it now,” Yuuri tries, already knowing how this conversation will end.
“Go have lunch, Yuuri. I’ll eat later.”
Victor smiles that weird smile again and gives him a quick hug before heading out on the ice. Yuuri twists the ring on his finger a couple times, a nervous habit at this point.
He should head on over to the cafeteria, he knows, but he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. Now that he isn’t moving anymore, he can feel the cold of the rink creep under his clothes. There is a lot more space to practice here compared to what he is used to from Japan, and Yuuri is grateful for the opportunity to skate with the other Russian skaters. He can’t help but feel somewhat out of place, though. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to be here if it wasn’t for Victor; he isn’t as skilled as most of the other skaters, doesn’t have the same natural gift for it as they do.
It had taken a while to get used to it all. The first few weeks had been the worst, as they hadn’t yet managed to figure out a functioning schedule that would allow both Victor and himself to get a reasonable amount of practice in. At the end of the day, they’d both be too exhausted to do anything else other than go to bed, and it had left him feeling more empty than not.
In the end, Victor had figured out how to juggle being both a coach and a professional skater simultaneously, and as much as Yuuri admires him for it, it also makes him nervous knowing that he will be the cause of it if Victor’s career fails miserably. He has come to realise that Victor isn’t the untouchable god he’d once thought him to be; he’s so much more than that, and Yuuri wouldn’t have him any other way. It does make the chances of falling from whatever utopia they have built between them far greater, though, which is scary to think about.
Victor, on the other hand, is fully committed to making this work, and so far he seems to have done it. The very least Yuuri can do is do as he’s told.
“Hey, Katsudon, you’re in my way,” Yuri Plisetsky informs helpfully from behind him, rolling his eyes. “Come on, you’re having lunch, right? Might as well follow me so you don’t get lost like an idiot again.”
Yuuri complies, knowing that he’s really asking for company in his own, angry way. “Sure,” he replies cheerfully. “Lead the way, then.”
It’s nice, having someone familiar around.
Grocery shopping in a country where he doesn’t even understand the language is challenging, to say the least.
Usually, it isn’t that big of a problem, since Victor will come with him. Today, however, Victor decided to stay longer at the rink, leaving Yuuri to fend for himself. It’s not like he’s completely helpless, either. He has picked up a fair amount of Russian by now, but reading cyrillic is still another story in itself, which makes finding what he’s looking for difficult when there’s no one there to translate for him. He could always ask someone, he supposes, but the thought of walking up to some random shopper and asking for help makes him nervous.
No, he’ll just have to manage by himself if he wants food in the apartment.
Yuuri systematically picks up the groceries they need, or at least he hopes so. At the checkout, he even manages to stutter out a friendly “hello” and “have a nice day”, which earns him a polite smile in return.
He really should practice his Russian more, he thinks to himself on his walk home to the apartment. After all, he is going to be staying here for a long time, if Victor will let him. Living with Victor has been a dream come true, and he still has trouble believing how well everything has come together for him. This man that used to be his idol is now living under the same roof as him, gives him goodnight kisses more or less everyday, and sits with his feet it Yuuri’s lap while watching TV.
How did he make himself deserving of that? He has no idea.
It isn’t something he’s about to ponder too long about, he does enough overthinking as it is already. Instead, he crosses a street, adjusts his grip on the bag with groceries that he’s holding, and keeps on walking.
He’ll have to walk Makkachin when he gets home.
(Because that’s what this place has become: home.)
Are you still at the rink? It’s getting kinda late…
Yuuri presses send and puts his phone on the table in front of him. The apartment is quiet, except from the faint sound of traffic from outside. Makkachin stretches and wanders over to where Yuuri is sitting on the couch, jumping up to lay across his lap. He’s a little too big to be a lap dog, but right now the weight of him is comforting, and it gives his hands something to do.
“It’s half seven, Makka. Who practises that long? That’s a rhetorical question, of course… Victor does.” Yuuri leans his head back to look at the ceiling.”You know, I’m half convinced he has no sense of self preservation at all! I mean, I know that he has to stay longer than everyone else considering the coaching thing and all, but this is excessive, right?”
Makkachin tilts his head.
“See? At least you agree with me.”
Yuuri sighs, and scratches behind the dog’s ears. He has no right to it, but he can’t help but feel a little abandoned. They don’t see each other nearly as much as he had imagined they would when he first decided to move to Saint Petersburg. Victor has been wonderful, of course, going above and beyond to make Yuuri comfortable, and Yuuri feels better about life than he has in a long time. Still… It’s tough. Practice takes up the majority of their time; Victor’s even more so.
Yuuri loves skating, he always has. It’s fun, he’s objectively good at it, and it gives his competitive side a thrill.
Despite all this…
He loves Victor even more. The way he makes him feel safe and valued, how well they fit together, both on and off the ice, how easy he is to talk to. He wouldn’t let it go for anything, not even skating.
The sound of his phone brings him out of his thoughts.
Heading home now. See you soon <3
I love you.
It’s weird, how just a few words can soothe his worries away as if they were never there in the first place. He smiles, burying his face in Makkachin’s fur for a moment.
I’ll get dinner started then, love you too!
After dinner, they snuggle up on the couch, Yuuri resting his head on Victor’s chest. The TV is on in the background, but neither of them is really paying attention. Victor is absentmindedly stroking his back, and Yuuri would be content to stay like that the rest of the night. Late evening is his favorite time of the day. There’s something about the atmosphere that just makes him feel good. It’s dark outside, and he knows that the majority of the people in the city are in their own homes by now, winding down after the stress that the day tends to bring with it.
Victor clears his throat suddenly, and Yuuri doesn’t fail to notice the slight wince at the end of it.
“Is your throat still sore?” he asks, tilting his head to get a closer look at him.
“No, it’s fine now. Just a little congested still, that’s all.”
Yuuri nods, taking one of Victor’s hands in his own. “Good. Did everything go alright with your short program today?”
Victor hums. “Pretty much, yeah. Still needs to be tweaked some, though.”
“Will you show me?” Yuuri asks, hoping for a positive response. He has always loved watching him skate, that much hasn’t changed, but Victor has been very careful by only practicing it when Yuuri isn’t nearby.
“Not yet. It’s a surprise,” Victor explains, poking Yuuri’s side playfully. “You’ll see it when the rest of the world does.”
Yuuri rolls his eyes, not at all surprised by the answer. “You and your surprises… Should I be worried?”
“Of course not!” Victor assures with a laugh. “It’s a good surprise, I promise.”
A comfortable silence falls over them again, and Victor places a hand on Yuuri’s chin to tilt his head up for a kiss. Yuuri sighs contently into it, licking at his bottom lip.
His inexperience had been embarrassing when they first got together, but now Yuuri is glad that he got to share so many firsts with Victor. Everything had happened at a pace Yuuri had been comfortable with, and he’d never felt unsafe with him. Nervous, yes, plenty of times, but never unsafe. He’d discovered so many new things about himself during it all, and gotten to know himself in a way that he hadn’t previously. Like make-out sessions on the couch? Pretty great, in his opinion.
Victor’s nose bumps with his, and Yuuri loves it.
Victor’s breath is hot against his face, and Yuuri loves it.
Victor’s tongue is sliding against his own, and Yuuri loves it.
“God, I love you,” Victor whispers against his lips, moving his hand down from Yuuri’s back to slide under his shirt instead, palms warm against his skin.
Yuuri shifts a little and rests his hand on Victor’s cheek, stroking softly across his cheekbone. He smells good, musky and something distinctly Victor, and it’s arousing in a way he never knew a smell could be.
They stay like that for a while, content with just enjoying each other’s presence, before Yuuri pulls back slightly to look at him. Victor looks just as aroused as he feels, and the look in his eyes makes Yuuri blush, even now. It makes him feel almost powerful, the fact that he can make Victor lose himself like this. He’s usually so calm and collected, but the man in front of him now is different. He wants.
Yuuri shifts so that he is lying fully on top of the other, feeling his erection press against his own, legs spread around Victor’s hips, and resumes their earlier kiss. The hand that isn’t currently splayed on his back makes its way down to his ass and under his pants, squeezing tightly. Yuuri lets out a breathy moan against his lips in response.
“Grind against me,” Victor says, voice sounding husky. He places both hands on Yuuri’s ass, showing him how.
They get into a rhythm like that, Yuuri moving his hips to create friction between them, causing them both to breathe heavier. It feels good, but the fabric between them makes Yuuri frustrated.
“We should wear less clothes,” he mumbles, hiding his face in Victor’s neck.
“I always tell you to trust you instincts. You have such brilliant ideas.” Victor winks at him, and proceeds to unbutton his pants.
Yuuri moans appreciatively at the skin to skin contact of their cocks finally sliding together, prompting him to start moving his hips again. “Feels good…”.
“Can you come like this?” Victor asks before spitting in his palm and guiding their lengths together in his hand. He starts a slow pace, stroking them together and occasionally rubbing his thumb over the sensitive heads.
“Mhm, keep going,” Yuuri encourages, grabbing onto Victor’s shoulders. The heat is building quickly, but they’re both too tired to move into the bedroom, muscles still tense from skating all day. He presses their mouths together again in a sloppy kiss, not caring about the saliva dropping onto his chin. His skin feels fever hot.
Victor increases the pace when Yuuri starts rutting into his hand, tilting Yuuri’s head to get access to his neck. He sucks eagerly at the soft skin, licking over each spot afterwards almost apologetically at the force. The hot breath against his skin makes Yuuri’s toes curl, and he grabs a handful of Victor’s hair to keep him there.
“I love the taste of you,” Victor says hoarsely, nosing against his pulse. “So delicious.”
He gives a particularly long stroke before spitting into his palm again, making the slide of his hand smoother. Wet sounds start filling the room as he resumes his earlier action, jerking them both off together. Yuuri can feel pleasure radiating up his spine, and moves one hand down to hold over Victor’s, feeling the movement for himself. It’s so good, and he knows he won’t last much longer, every nerve in his body begging for release. He can sense that Victor isn’t far behind him either, breath deep and eyebrows knitted together in concentration.
“You close?” Victor asks, tilting his head back to look at him. He looks deliciously wrecked, lips plump from kissing. Yuuri tightens the grip he has on his hair, making the other man moan deeply, and nods.
Victor’s strokes turn jerky and desperate, and Yuuri can’t help but grind against him again. He needs this release badly, body aching for it. Victor surprises him by coming first, moaning in pleasure and tensing up under him. He looks beautiful like this, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open. His face is flushed as he comes down from it, body relaxing completely, but he keeps moving his wrist until Yuuri follows him over the edge, the additional stickiness of Victor’s semen increasing the friction. Yuuri comes with a gasp, feeling Victor’s eyes on him all the while.
Afterwards, he feels lighter, mind blissfully empty for once. They lie in silence for a while, just catching their breaths. Victor’s clean hand moves lazily up and down his back, tracing his spine, and Yuuri almost feels like purring where he is, head resting on Victor’s strong shoulder. He’s so comfortable that moving seems like some foreign idea.
Victor kisses the top of his head and sighs contently. “You’re my favorite person, you know that? Out of all 7.5 billion in the world, you’re my favorite.”
Yuuri smiles, and allows himself to feel loved. “I’m glad, because out of all the people in the world, I happen to like you the best.”
When Yuuri comes out after his own shower, Victor has sat down again to watch some Russian TV-show. They’ve both changed into comfortable clothing after getting cleaned up, and Victor proceeds to put his bare feet in his lap when Yuuri sits down with him. Yuuri huffs, faking annoyance, but they both know he doesn’t actually mind it. To be completely honest, Yuuri knows deep down that he would probably be sad if one day Victor didn’t put his cold feet on him anymore.
“I’m sorry I’ve been so busy at the rink lately, Yuuri,” Victor says suddenly, looking away from the TV to give him his undivided attention. “It’s just that… It needs to be perfect, because it’s special to me, and…” Victor trails off, seemingly having trouble conveying his thoughts out loud.
“I know,” Yuuri interrupts him, all at once realising that he does in fact know what Victor is trying to say. It just took him awhile to get there. He has watched countless of interviews of this man, desperate to learn more about him. He has analyzed skating routines to the point of being able to copy them for himself. Most important, he has watched him tell stories on the ice for years. Routine after routine, enthralling the audience with his body moving to the music. Yuuri has always known.
Victor is still telling a story, only this time, it’s directed at him.
“You know?” Victor questions, a surprised look on his face.
Yuuri laughs, happiness and relief bubbling in his chest. “Yes, of course. Don’t worry about it.”
This time it’s Victor who laughs. “That sounds so weird coming from you. Don’t worry? Well, I guess I shouldn’t then.” He kicks Yuuri’s thigh softly, an affectionate look in his eyes. “When did you become so carefree, telling me to not worry?” He smiles, tilting his head.
“Oh, I don’t know,” Yuuri begins, feeling slightly embarrassed all of a sudden. “It’s just… Nothing to worry about,” he ends up saying, truthfully. He looks over at Victor, who seems more relaxed than he has in a long time. “I trust you.”
Victor looks down at his ring, the gold reflecting the light of the room brilliantly. “Thank you,” he whispers sincerely, and Yuuri is surprised to hear the strong emotion in his voice.
He takes Victor’s feet in his hands, holding them, trying to get some warmth into them.
They’ll be just fine, he and Victor.