When Yuuri Katsuki wins bronze in Oberstdorf, Christophe knows the time is right. He's had his eye on Yuuri for a while now but they haven't met at many competitions since juniors. Christophe has had other distractions in the meantime.
And every fruit ripens at a different time.
They're at practice for the evening gala, the air around them on the ice chilly but relaxed, nothing like the high strung moments before the competition.
Christophe feels almost lazy as he eases through his exhibition routine, slow and sexy. It will be the first time performing it this season, so he should really pay more attention to his choreography. But right now he's paying attention to Yuuri.
Yuuri, who stands by himself in every waiting room, in every hallway, looking through anyone who passes by with a blank stare Christophe takes as a personal challenge. Yuuri, whose ass is so near perfection, Christophe is almost – almost – concerned it's better than his own. Yuuri, who is rotating in a parallel spin, free leg beautifully extended and a furrow between his brows that Christophe wants to smooth away with his thumb.
After they leave the ice, Christophe lingers while Yuuri checks his phone, frowning and swiping something away. He catches Yuuri up in the hallway, moving in front of him so they both have to stop. "Yuuri," Christophe says and Yuuri looks up.
The furrow is still there, just a hint, like Yuuri is puzzled by the sound of his own name. But he doesn't stare past Christophe. "Hi, Chris," he says and nothing more.
Christophe has been planning this moment since they were standing next to each other on the podium and he wants it to last a little longer. So he looks down at Yuuri, not saying anything, until that furrow deepens and Yuuri drops his eyes.
Now it's time to speak. "You're skating well," he says.
"Thank you," Yuuri says. His hand goes to push his glasses up his nose. "So are you."
It's clearly just a formality, but Christophe preens anyhow, like it's a gushing compliment from Lambiel (this season, for sure), and leans one hand against the wall. "That means a lot," he says. "From you."
Yuuri's eyes flick up again, not quite to Christophe's eyes, but he's seeing Christophe now as more than an obstacle in his path. His mouth is softening, his shoulders are relaxing.
It sends a tiny ping of satisfaction through Christophe, a smaller version of what he feels when he lands a jump and the audience cheers, when he stretches out his arm and feels his sensuality reaching them.
It's a calculated move, definitely, but regardless of his goal, Christophe loves the way he can find just the right thing to say, just the right look as he says it, to make someone else feel like they are the bright centre of his world, whether it's a cashier at the grocery store or a lover in his bed.
"There's something I can help you with," Christophe says. He leans down just a little and pauses to give Yuuri time to hear what he's just said. "Your makeup." He touches Yuuri's face, one finger sliding down Yuuri's cheekbone, then away.
Yuuri looks disconcerted but he doesn't pull away. "Make-up?"
"For performance. It just needs a little refinement," Christophe says. "I'll show you my secrets." He wants to touch Yuuri again but he can tell that would be a mistake. So he drops his arm and moves out of Yuuri's way. "What's your room number?"
The question hangs in the air for a moment and Christophe is already thinking about his next move when Yuuri answers.
"504," he says, the furrow deepening a little.
"I'll drop by in an hour." Christophe lets his mouth curve into an easy smile. "And see if you're free."
Then he walks ahead, pulling his equipment case behind him, giving his glutes just that extra bit of attention as he goes.
An hour later, Christophe knocks on Yuuri's door, train case in hand. He's freshly showered, hair not too styled, black t-shirt and soft pants low on his hips. A relaxed casual guy on a relaxed casual visit.
The door opens so quickly, Christophe knows Yuuri has been waiting there for him. And there is Yuuri, fresh and clean, nearly identically dressed with his hair combed back. Pushing up his glasses and standing in the doorway, neither relaxed nor casual.
"If you want to rest instead," Christophe says. He puts his free hand on the door frame. "I'll go. I could use a nap myself."
But Yuuri steps back to let Christophe in.
The room is the same as Christophe's, just reversed: desk below a large mirror, TV, a single bed, a single armchair. Yuuri's suitcase and equipment case lined up by the armchair. Cream walls and a framed print so inoffensive, it's the exact opposite of art. When Christophe starts winning bigger, he's going to splash out on better rooms, better views from the balcony. A bigger bed to tumble Yuuri into.
"Do you want something to drink?" Yuuri asks. He lets go of the door and it swings shut with a gentle click. He stays where he is, watching Christophe.
"Just mineral water," Christophe says, to give Yuuri something to do.
He sets down the train case on the desk and watches Yuuri bending into the minibar, all Christophe can do to not grab a handful right away.
With most people, Christophe would just show up with a proposition and a saucy grin. But for Yuuri, a slow seduction is the better choice. And he's still not quite sure they're going to get there. "Sit down," he says, one hand on the back of the desk chair.
Yuuri sets down the bottle of water. "There's only one clean glass."
"We can share." Christophe waits while Yuuri pours out and hands him the glass. He touches it to his lips, hardly wetting them, and sets it down. He flips open the clasps on the train case. "Where's your makeup?"
The bag Yuuri hands over is even smaller than Christophe was expecting: foundation, an eye palette, a single eyeliner pencil in a shade that might as well be called "midnight raven black", and some chapstick. For a moment, Christophe nearly forgets he's got more than one reason to be here.
"I might be able to make some recommendations." Christophe pats the back of the chair again and Yuuri sits down. "Let me have a look," Christophe says and tips Yuuri's face up, two fingers under his chin.
"What are you looking for?" Yuuri asks.
Christophe slowly eases Yuuri's glasses off and sets them down. "Your skin is lovely."
Yuuri doesn't say anything, but he looks to the side, blinking, away from Christophe.
"Close your eyes." Christophe warms some skin cream between his fingers, then takes Yuuri's face in both hands. Yuuri's skin really is lovely, clear and soft. Christophe starts massaging Yuuri's temples. "This will help stimulate your skin." Christophe moves his fingers to Yuuri's forehead and finally gets to stroke between his brows, teasing away the furrow that's not there right now.
Yuuri's breath seems careful and when Christophe glances down, Yuuri's hands are spread out, palms down, over his thighs. His fingertips are curling in, like he's thinking about where his hands are. And maybe where he would like them to be.
Christophe is thinking about where his own hands are. The warmth of Yuuri's face against his fingers. The way just touching Yuuri's skin is winding Christophe up, sooner than he was expecting. He presses his fingertips into Yuuri's cheeks, making slow circles up and out.
And he can't help it, he catches the corner of Yuuri's mouth with his thumb, just barely too lingering to be accidental. When Yuuri's fingers press harder into his legs, Christophe draws his hands along Yuuri's jawbone, then away.
Yuuri opens his eyes and Christophe looks down at him for a few moments before he turns to reach into his train case. He doesn't want to rush this. Too much too soon and Yuuri might spook.
And Christophe likes to tease. He wants to tease Yuuri until there's no question any more. And he likes to tease himself, to take a little time for him to wind up tight and tighter.
So he takes a tube of primer from the train case and squeezes some onto the back of his hand. "You should do your skincare first," he says. "And shave as late as you can. Look up."
Yuuri looks up, eyes still sliding away, and instead of kissing his lovely mouth, Christophe dots the primer over Yuuri's face and smooths it in with his fingertips.
"You only need a little," he says. "To keep everything in place."
"I had some," Yuuri says, "But I left it in Brussels."
"We leave pieces of ourselves everywhere we go," Christophe says. "But you can buy new primer anywhere."
Yuuri's mouth turns up at that. "It's a bother."
"You're not a bother," Christophe says, even though he knows that's not what Yuuri meant.
Yuuri's lips part, then close, like he's going to correct Christophe, but it's not worth the trouble.
Christophe picks up Yuuri's bottle of foundation and smears a patch onto his jaw, angling Yuuri's head to catch the light better. "This shade is fine but you need to buff it more." He adds some to a sponge and starts working it into Yuuri's face. He doesn't need to but he can't help steadying Yuuri's head with his other hand.
And this is starting to be a bother, a lot sooner than Christophe was anticipating. Because with all the relaxed casual atmosphere in this relaxed casual hotel room, all the relaxed casual touching and stroking and fingers catching back into Yuuri's hair, Christophe's relaxed casual dick is starting to be as subtle as Yuuri's "Hi, I'm a goth!" eyeliner. And they're still four steps from Christophe's move.
He tries to concentrate on getting the foundation even. And not on Yuuri's minty breath on his face. Yuuri's fingers digging even harder into his own thighs.
Christophe doesn't trust himself with the eyelash curler right now, so he looks in his case for a liner with a softer shade, more "I'm sexy but not actually a vampire".
When he turns back, Yuuri looks away. A flash of heat runs over Christophe's skin and he is about the least relaxed and casual he's been all weekend.
"Um," Christophe says. "If you use a waterproof liner, it won't run when you sweat." He tips Yuuri's face up again. Yuuri closes his eyes and Christophe just stares at him, at his cheekbones and mouth and t-shirt and hands.
Relaxed casual fuck.
Why didn't Christophe just show up with a bottle? Or corner Yuuri in the locker room? Or anything that doesn't have as many steps or require as much precision as proper makeup application while sporting a semi.
"Hold still," he says. He bites his lip and holds his breath. He starts drawing along Yuuri's eyelid, short, even strokes out to the corner.
"Chris," Yuuri says.
Christophe's hand jerks and smears the liner up and out, a wavering line of Forever Cobalt over Yuuri's temple. "Damn." He drops the liner on the desk and reaches into the train case for a wipe.
"Chris," Yuuri says again.
Christophe turns and looks at Yuuri. For three breaths, they stare at each other, the tension so thick Christophe can hardly pull the air into his lungs. Then he snatches Yuuri off the chair, takes two steps across the tiny room, and throws him on the bed. One more look and he climbs on after.
Yuuri's arms go up around Christophe's neck and they kiss, awkward and hungry, one good crack of the teeth to start them off. Christophe slides over, back against the wall, pulling Yuuri up close. Hand up the back of Yuuri's shirt on his lovely warm skin. Yuuri grabs at Christophe's shoulders and face. Swipes his tongue along Christophe's lip.
They kiss and kiss, less awkward, just as needy, rolling against each other as much as the narrow bed will allow. Christophe grabs Yuuri's near-perfect ass and pulls their hips together, grinding his cock up against Yuuri's and smiling into Yuuri's neck at Yuuri's groan.
"I thought you'd take more convincing," Christophe says, hands on the hem of Yuuri's shirt.
Yuuri doesn't answer but he lifts his arms and lets the shirt go. Christophe tosses his own after it and slides his hands over Yuuri's bare chest. He leans down and kisses his way down Yuuri's throat and chest and belly while Yuuri arches his back and puts his hands on Christophe's head.
"Want me to blow you?" Christophe says and licks a long stripe just above Yuuri's waistband.
Yuuri doesn't exactly answer but he groans and pushes Christophe's head further down, raising his hips in a "yes, Christophe, yes" sort of way.
"Has anyone done this to you before?" Christophe rubs his cheek against Yuuri's cock through his stretching sweatpants and feels it jerk up against him. "What do you like?" He reaches in and hooks his hands in Yuuri's underwear, tugging everything down and off together.
Yuuri is on his back on the bed, looking just past Christophe with glassy eyes, reaching up to his face for glasses that aren't there. Naked and stretched out, his lovely cock standing just for Christophe. He turns his head to the side.
"If you don't like it, just tell me," Christophe says. He slides one hand up the inside of Yuuri's thigh and smiles when Yuuri shivers. "But I think you'll love it."
He pushes Yuuri's hips and Yuuri slides up the bed until he's half sitting. Then Christophe lies down, Yuuri's legs over his shoulders, and goes down on him. First a few slow licks, until Yuuri throws his arm across his eyes, then Christophe opens up and takes it all in, as much as he can at this angle, and then he moves, still slowly, giving Yuuri's cock that same focus he loves to shine on people. It's you, it's only you.
And he watches Yuuri's face as he works his dick, the almost-frown and the sucked-in lip, the damp hair sticking to his forehead. The line of Forever Cobalt still decorating his temple.
Christophe's neck is hardly sore when Yuuri shakes a little, thighs trembling, and Christophe has just enough time to move his head away and watch Yuuri come hard all over his belly, cock jerking, face squeezing, the only thing in the world right now.
Christophe grabs a handful of tissues while Yuuri puts both hands to his face. Thinking about someone at home? Christophe wonders but he wants Yuuri to only think about him. He swabs at Yuuri's stomach and tosses the tissues on the floor.
Then he crawls up alongside Yuuri, arm across his chest and cock tight against his hip, moving slowly while he waits for Yuuri to open his eyes. "Was it good?" he murmurs in Yuuri's ear. "Was I good to you?"
Christophe runs his hand down Yuuri's body and strokes Yuuri's thigh, still pressing in with his cock, enough to keep him going, not enough to start the finish.
Yuuri takes his hands off his face. His eyes are still closed, but he turns to Christophe and kisses him, pretty seriously for someone who just had one of Christophe's blowjobs, and Christophe is just a tiny bit offended.
But Yuuri slides his arm around Christophe's back and pulls him down so Christophe's weight is full on Yuuri, his cock pushing hard against Yuuri's hipbone as they kiss.
When Yuuri grabs Christophe's ass in both hands, Christophe stops worrying about his technique and just relishes Yuuri still moving in his arms, touching him everywhere he can reach. It's so much right now, so much more than Christophe was expecting.
He moves a hand back down Yuuri's leg, stroking up and down. He kneads at the muscle and it flexes under his hand. "I really want to fuck your thighs," he says, mouth against Yuuri's throat. "They're so strong, you'd press me so tight."
Yuuri's neck arches back and he turns his head away. But his fingers tighten on Christophe's back and his whole body presses up so Christophe can feel the yes, yes, yes rushing through him.
It's hard to even roll away for a few seconds and he hates the way Yuuri's hands slip off his shoulders, but Christophe gets up and reaches into the very bottom of the train case for lubricant. When he turns back, he stops for a moment just to look.
Yuuri is lying on his back, lovely thighs sprawling apart, arms dropped wide on the narrow bed. Half a smile on his face and his drugstore brand foundation coming off onto the sheets.
He opens his eyes and looks at Christophe and Christophe half wants to just stand there and jack it while they stare at each other, just fix this image in his head, Yuuri shifting against the sheets and closing his eyes again, like it's too much for him.
But the other half pulls him back to the bed, back on top of Yuuri, sliding his cock through Yuuri's squeezing thighs. Yuuri cranes his neck up and they kiss again, so well now, they've found each other's rhythm.
It's only been a few minutes, but Yuuri's dick is already getting hard again, pressing against Christophe every time he moves down, he can't get enough of Christophe.
So Christophe moves and they resettle, Christophe spooning up behind Yuuri. "You're so good," Christophe says. "So good for me." He runs his tongue along the curve of Yuuri's ear and feels Yuuri's shudder through his whole body. Then he thrusts again, Yuuri's thighs tensing around his cock.
He wraps his hand around Yuuri's cock and Yuuri presses it against his palm. It's for Christophe, all for Christophe. "Put your hand over mine," he says.
Yuuri holds his breath for a few seconds, his ribs stilling against Christophe's chest. Then Yuuri's fingers slide around his own and they jack Yuuri's cock together.
"So good," Christophe says, over and over, against Yuuri's hair. "You're so good." He thrusts with his hips and strokes with his hand. Yuuri breaths roughly on every beat, mouth open, and the bed creaks along with them.
A chime sounds. Yuuri's whole body turns towards it: his phone lighting up on the table beside the bed.
A pang goes through Christophe but he's already coming, one last push through Yuuri's thighs, and he's shaking with it, a surge of pleasure and a mess on the bedsheets.
It's a few moments before he starts to breathe again, to blink and feel Yuuri's body still curled back against him. Both their hands around Yuuri's cock.
Christophe moves his hand again and it takes a few strokes but Yuuri's hand tightens again. "You make me feel so good," Christophe says. "So good. I'll make you feel good too." The screen on Yuuri's phone goes dark again and Christophe throws his leg over top of Yuuri's thigh.
Yuuri sighs, one long "hah" of breath that's nearly a groan, and comes, shuddering under the cage of Christophe's leg and arm. Christophe wants to keep him there, see how long it is until he gets it up again. But it's only half a minute before Yuuri shifts and Christophe knows enough to roll away.
"Look," Christophe says and pulls Yuuri so they're both sitting, both looking across at the mirror over the desk. Their eyes meet and Yuuri looks down. Christophe runs his finger over Yuuri's cheek. "Here," he says. "The way your face flushes during sex. That's how you know where to put on blush." Christophe's move, the one he didn't even get to use, because they were already in bed together. He touches the blue streak on Yuuri's temple, then presses a kiss there.
Yuuri rubs at the eyeliner but, unlike his foundation, it doesn't smear. "Um," he says. "Is this going to come off?"
Christophe disengages himself and cleans up a little. He doesn't think staying for a shower is a good option this time. He can still feel Yuuri's attention stretching towards his phone, the invisible words on the blank screen. He takes a couple packets of wipes out of his case and drops them on the desk. "Use these."
Then he pulls his clothes back on, always the saddest part of any encounter. Yuuri is still naked in the bed, a corner of the sheet pulled over his lap. "My glasses," he says.
Christophe passes them over, then snaps his train case closed. "Give me your phone number."
Yuuri waits longer than Christophe is happy with, but he tells Christophe the digits and Christophe taps them into his phone.
There are no more excuses to stay so Christophe just turns and smiles at Yuuri, keeping his distance. "See you at the rink." Then he leaves the room, a relaxed casual guy after some relaxed casual sex.
When he gets back to his own room, he texts Yuuri: You were wonderful. Nothing more and he doesn't expect a reply, but when he gets out of the shower, there's a single smiley face emoji that makes him smile back.
Christophe doesn't speak to Yuuri when they're warming up with the other skaters but when they're waiting to go on, Christophe leans against the wall beside him, relaxed and casual. Yuuri glances at him and then away again, a flush on his cheeks that's not from any powder or cream and his eyes outlined like he's Yuuri Katsuki, Creature of the Night. Christophe can still see a faint line of blue on Yuuri's temple, like a vein showing through his skin.
"Yuuri," he says and when Yuuri looks back, Christophe pulls the neck of his costume aside just enough to show the purple suck mark he made no effort whatsoever to cover with makeup.
Yuuri blushes deeper but he doesn't look away, not quite.
"I'm in room 632," Christophe says. "If you're free later."
They call Yuuri's name and he turns to go. After a few steps, he looks back over his shoulder. "I'll text you," he says.
Christophe watches him go, more eager than he wants to be, and hopes that Yuuri means "yes, Christophe, yes".