Yuri should know better than to look at his phone when he's at ballet practice. Nothing good ever comes from checking his phone, especially when Victor has a day off when Yuri doesn't -- but Yuri is an idiot, apparently.
The picture is of Victor in bed, with the sheets around his hips. One hand is clearly holding his phone up, but the other one is under the sheet, at an angle that makes it clear that he's touching his dick. There's nothing strictly indecent about the picture, but ... it's a very indecent picture. The text says, "Wish you were here, bunny <3 <3 <3"
Yuri fumbles his phone, almost catches it, fumbles it again, and watches as it slides out of his hands and both Mila and Madame grab for it. Madame catches it, and looks down at the picture.
Yuri can feel himself go red to his scalp.
Madame tilts her head thoughtfully and studies the picture. "Hmm," she says. Mila tries to get a look, eyes bright with curiosity.
"Don't," says Yuri, trying to sink into the ground. "I -"
"Are you going to stand for this, Yuri Katsuki?" says Madame, handing the phone back. "Do you think that Victor Aleksandrovich should be allowed to do such an unbeautiful thing to you?"
No, Yuri is not, and he does not.
Victor is surprised that Yuri agrees to a fancy date night out. Usually he has to be really cute and plead a lot, but Yuri seems inclined to indulge him for once. Victor tries not to ask him very often, because he knows that Yuri doesn't like expensive restaurants full of strangers.
Victor loves them.
Victor loves to walk into a classy restaurant with his beautiful Yuri clinging to his arm. He loves seeing him in clothing worthy of his beauty and feeding him delicious little tidbits of gourmet food from Victor's fork and watching his eyelashes flutter closed in appreciation. He especially loves taking him home and showing him how happy he is that Yuri agreed to do it even though he doesn't particularly care for it, just because Victor does. He loves peeling off every layer of clothing and seeing how much more beautiful Yuri is beneath.
"Sure," says Yuri. "Why not? We haven't been out for a while, have we?" He smiles sweetly up at Victor. "I have a half day, right? If you can get dressed at the rink, I'll meet you there."
In retrospect, Victor should have been more suspicious.
Victor washes up at the rink in a hurry, or as much of a hurry as he can and still look nice. He brought a suit in this morning and he got Yakov's grudging permission to lock his skate bag up in the office safe, so he scrubs down under the stinging, lukewarm spray of the locker room showers and shaves as best he can before the sink. He splashes on aftershave and cologne and carefully does his eyeliner and mascara. He loves making himself look nice for his Yuri.
"You smell like a badger," says little Yuri, banging his locker closed with extra viciousness. He's dressed in his usual punk gear. Mari sent him an Punk Hello Kitty shirt, which he complained about loudly and wears almost constantly. He's wearing it again today, with a hoodie that Victor's Yuri had found for him.
Victor is in too good of a mood to bother teasing little Yuri. "You don't even know what a badger smells like," he says.
"They smell like your nastyass cologne," says little Yuri, irrefutably. "Gross."
Victor's Yuri loves Victor's cologne, so Victor just smiles patronizingly at little Yuri and says, "At least it's not Axe."
Little Yuri, who has a spray can of Axe that he secretly douses himself with every half an hour, turns bright red. He opens his mouth, closes it again, and then says, "I hope he sneezes all over you!" and stomps off again.
Victor finishes dressing, chuckling quietly to himself.
When he comes out from locking his skate bag in the safe, little Yuri is yelling at Victor's Yuri about something. He can't tell what it is, exactly, but Victor's Yuri smiles at little Yuri and hands him Makkachin's leash. Little Yuri flings up the hand not holding the leash and stomps off. Makkachin trots off with him happily.
Yuri is bundled up in one of Victor's long peacoats, but he's wearing a shirt with a high collar, with buttons on the back of his neck, which Victor is already looking forward to undoing, possibly with his mouth. He turns toward Victor and looks him over. "Oh, he says, as Victor approaches. "You're wearing those shoes."
'Those shoes' have a modest stacked heel, but Yuri loves those two extra inches of height on Victor, and Victor knows it. Yuri puts his hand on Victor's sleeve and tilts his head in a silent invitation. Victor gives him two or three -- five or six -- well, maybe ten -- butterfly kisses on his sweet mouth. Yuri is wearing makeup too, and Victor is delighted. Yuri always looks beautiful, but he loves taste of lipgloss on his kisses. He especially loves kissing it off until all he can taste is Yuri.
"You look so nice, bunny!" he says. "You always look so nice."
Yuri blushes a little but smiles up at Victor. "Are you ready?"
"Of course," says Victor, offering Yuri his arm. Yuri takes it and clings close. Yuri smells like Victor's shampoo. Victor steals a kiss from behind his ear and leads him out of the rink.
The restaurant Victor chose is on the waterfront, an older building retrofitted into an elegant place with dark wood fittings and gleaming silver highlights. Victor will have to distract Yuri from the menu prices, but the food is very, very good. Victor loves feeding Yuri good food. Yuri is such a little sensualist, if you give him half an excuse: he just enjoys everything so much. He loves soft fabrics and beautiful music. He loves to dance and he loves to touch and smell. Watching him enjoy something is as good, or better, as enjoying it for yourself.
Yuri turns so Victor can help him slip off the coat -- which is nice of him, usually Yuri doesn't think about letting Victor spoil him in little things like that. The buttons on the back of his shirt are pearl, Victor sees. It must be a very pretty --
The coat slips off Yuri's shoulders, and Victor's mind grinds to a halt. Yuri's shirt is white, and the back is a soft drape of silk voile, shot with metallic threads, that bares his back almost to the waist, where more buttons close the bottom. It's very soft and clinging. As Yuri moves, Victor can see the muscles of his back flex.
For a white-hot second all Victor can see is a vision of Yuri's back against the dark grey of their sheets, framed in that silk voile, skin covered with white streaks of come. Yuri's slender wrists are captive in one of Victor's hands, and he's moaning, low and pleased at his own power over Victor. He's struggling a little, carefully - not to get away, but to make Victor prove that he really wants to keep him there before he goes all sweet and pleased and pliant.
The vision is so vivid that it's a shock when the waiter clears his throat. Victor snaps back to reality, the reality where he's not sucking vivid marks down Yuri's spine, and hands him Yuri's coat mechanically. Equally mechanically he helps Yuri into the booth, and then sits down opposite him.
Yuri props his chin on his hands and smiles coquettishly. His lashes glance down, just once, to kiss the sweet rounded curve of his cheeks. Victor becomes excruciatingly aware of the fact that the eyeshadow Yuri is wearing has some sort of pearlescent gleam to it.
"I messed up, didn't I," says Victor.
"You sure did," says Yuri.
Victor tries to think of what he might have done. Much to Yurio's loudly expressed surprise, Victor is much less of a fuckup of a boyfriend than anyone but Yuri actually expected. (Secretly, Victor thinks Yuri was expecting the worst too, but was too loyal to admit it.) Not even Chris had thought he'd do as well as he has. They're both about the same level of tidiness, and Victor likes folding laundry more than Yuri does. Yuri washes dishes while Victor cooks. Nobody's gotten drunk and naked in public lately, and Yuri usually minds more when he does it than when Victor does it. He hasn't tricked Yuri into calling his parents or Phichit without warning lately.
The only thing Victor can think of is -- "I apologized for sending that text without warning you first," he says cautiously.
"And you promised not to do it again," says Yuri, unfolding his napkin elegantly, "and I know you won't."
Yuri accepts the menu from the waiter and smiles prettily up at him in thanks. The waiter looks slightly stunned. Yuri slants a look at Victor. "You disrupted the sanctity of the ballet studio."
Victor swallows hard.
Yuri smiles at him gently. "As a danseur, I can't forgive you unless you're punished, Victor."
Victor almost bites his tongue in two trying not to whimper in front of the waiter.
Yuri lays the menu down and looks at him from under his lashes. "Why don't you order for me, Vitya?"
Victor is doomed.
Yuri, like Mrs Darling, has a kiss that always sits aggravatingly at the corner of his mouth. At first Victor had thought it must be quite easy to get at, but he discovered very quickly that it hid when Yuri was upset or anxious. Even if it was there, tempting you to steal it, it was impossible to take. You could be nearly almost sure that you'd gotten it this time. You could taste it, sweet and delicious in your mouth, ready to be tucked up into your heart and gloated over and kept. Then you looked again and you realized you had just gotten an entirely different, but equally lovely, kiss instead of that one, and it was there on his lips, waiting for you to try again.
If Victor could just reach over he's sure he could get it this time, but Yuri is sitting on the opposite side of the booth, two feet away that might as well be two thousand kilometers. He thinks Yuri must be aware that the kiss is there, too. Victor's never been quite sure about that. Does Yuri know it's there? Surely if he did he would let Victor have it as sweetly as he does everything else, or at least not be confused by the way Victor tries over and over again to get at it. It's true, though, that right now Yuri's mouth is curved just so to display the kiss, like he's set on taunting Victor with it until they get home.
If Victor had been thinking straight, he would have ordered cheesecake in a box and hustled Yuri back to the apartment. It's just his bad luck that Yuri knows, and Victor knows that Yuri knows, that Victor can no sooner resist ordering Yuri a fancy meal and watching him eat it than a moth can resist a flame.
"We'll have the seasonal tasting menu," says Victor bleakly. "Oysters to start. And he'll have a sugared Cosmo. I'll have vodka on the rocks with a twist of lime."
"Of course, sir," says the waiter.
"Mm," says Yuri. "Actually, I think I want a White Russian." He shoots a flirtatious look at Victor, even though his ears are turning pink. Victor makes eye contact and holds it, even as the waiter disappears and the pink spreads from Yuri's ears to his face before Yuri has to break the eye contact. Yuri bites his lip to keep in an embarrassed giggle. He's so adorable that Victor can't stand it. He wants to cover Yuri's face with kisses, but Yuri wouldn't like that in public. He'll just have to save them up for later.
"Oh, bunny," says Victor. "You were so close!"
Yuri buries his face in his hands. "Don't laugh at me!" he says. "You're so mean!"
Victor isn't laughing at him -- well, he is, but because Yuri is so cute. Victor just loves him so much. He reaches out. Yuri puts his hand in Victor's and allows him to kiss Yuri's ring and then the inside of his wrist where his skin is so soft and tender, and the center of his palm. "You were doing so well," says Victor. "You're so beautiful. I love it when you boss me around."
Yuri pouts at him. "No, you don't." He sighs as Victor nuzzles his palm, and lets his hand linger on Victor's cheek even after Victor relaxes his grip. Victor steals another kiss from the inside of his wrist before Yuri pulls his hand away.
"No," admits Victor. He doesn't, because Victor is bossy, too, and he loves making sure Yuri never makes a decision he doesn't want to make. He does like it when Yuri tells him what he wants, or takes it, for that matter. That's different, and lovely. "I'll apologize to Lilia tomorrow too, all right?"
"You had better," says Yuri. "That was very rude of you."
There's a little silence while they look at each other. Victor could -- and has -- looked at Yuri for hours and hours without getting bored, and Yuri seems to feel the same way. After a minute, Victor says, "Do you want to keep playing, bunny?"
Yuri blushes again. "Didn't I kind of --"
It's not a no, though.
It's torture to sit through the meal, torture to watch Yuri tip an oyster shell up to his mouth and swallow the oyster down, and torture to watch his throat as he swallows. It's torture to offer Yuri the best bite off Victor's own plate and watch him close his eyes in delight. It's torture to watch him get a smudge of something on his wrist and lick it off, his pink tongue flicking out. It's torture to lift up his hand and lick a bit of sauce that Yuri missed and watch Yuri go all pink despite himself. It's torture not to take Yuri's utensils away and feed him every bite.
The worst, though, is when Yuri takes his time deciding over what dessert he wants. Yuri loves dessert, but he's usually so good about watching what he eats that it's an indulgence just to watch him read the dessert list. Is he going to have the chocolate lava cake? The cheesecake with fresh berry compote? The lavender crème brûlée? The Charlotte Russe? Or one of the ice creams or sorbets? Victor holds his breath, waiting, as Yuri ponders the list.
"The coconut sorbet," decides Yuri finally.
The waiter looks at Victor, who shakes his head. "Just coffee for me."
Yuri bites his lip (more torture) and looks uneasy at Victor. "Should I have --" he begins, breaking character again.
"Don't worry about the calories, my Yuri," purrs Victor. "You'll work them off."
Pink seeps up from Yuri's neck up to his cheeks and up to his ears. He frowns at Victor and sits up straighter. It's really just Victor's own fault when Yuri spends twenty minutes enjoying every bite of it, his tongue coming out to lick the coconut cream off the bottom of his spoon.
"This is so good, Vitya," says Yuri, deliberately breathy. "Don't you want a taste?"
Victor goes a little lightheaded as the blood from his head rushes down to his dick and then back up to his face again. He is so terrified he's going to say "Only if you let me lick it off your back" that he just makes an incoherent noise instead.
Yuri smiles, satisfied.
Victor has no clear memory of getting home from the restaurant, just a vague impression that he was allowed to steal a kiss from behind Yuri's ear (his fifth favorite part of Yuri to kiss) as he helped Yuri with his coat, and that Yuri was very sweet and cuddlesome on the taxi ride home.
Victor locks and bolts the door behind them as Yuri steps out of his shoes. "Well," says Yuri, hanging up his coat, his back toward Victor. "That was lovely. I'm going to go --"
Victor stares at Yuri's bare back. He feels ravenous. He's going to suck a kiss on every single knob of Yuri's spine. He's going to --
"Victor?" says Yuri.
Victor makes very deliberate eye contact. He takes a step forward. "I love that blouse," he says. He reaches up and hooks his forefinger carelessly into the knot of his tie, pulling it loose. "I'm looking forward to ruining it."
Yuri's eyes widen. "Wait, Victor," he says. He takes a step back, and Victor follows after him. He holds his hands up and takes another step back as Victor kicks his shoes off and shrugs off his jacket. "Victor, this is a very expensive shirt," he says. "Don't you want to help me take it off?"
"No," says Victor, stalking after him. He can almost hear the music they're dancing to as Yuri drops his eyes and then spins around the couch. It's a tango, he thinks. Yuri is letting him hunt him, being coy, makinng him work for it. Victor's already hard in his pants. He pulls his tie free and begins to unbutton his dress shirt with his other hand.
"Now, Victor --" begins Yuri, and then lets out a laughing shriek as Victor lunges for him. They both skid a little on the polished hardwood floor, but Yuri recovers quickly and runs away from Victor -- straight to their bedroom. Victor chases after him, almost catching him before Yuri slips away from his grasp.
Yuri lets him catch him just inside the bedroom, lets him swing him up in his arms and carry him to the bed. The bed already has a bath sheet on it and there's a bottle of lube suggestively on the bedside table. Yuri had known exactly what was going to happen to him.
"Little coquette," says Victor, appreciatively. He tumbles Yuri down on the bed, on his stomach, and holds him down through Yuri's giggling struggles while he loops his tie through the rails of the headboard and wraps the ends around Yuri's wrists, pressing the fabric against the palms of Yuri's hands. "Let go of that and we'll stop, all right?"
"All right," says Yuri breathlessly. He takes firm hold of the silk and darts a smoky glance at Victor. "It was so expensive though," he complains, as Victor kneels over his hips and stares covetously at Yuri's back. Victor bends down and puts his teeth on Yuri's shoulderblade, and Yuri says, "Ah - oh - Victor."
"I'll buy you another one," says Victor, drunk on the taste of Yuri's skin. He sucks a mark in the center of Yuri's shoulders while he fumbles with his belt. He will. He'll buy another blouse in wine red or midnight blue, shot with gold, lace shoulders, and - "I'll ruin them too. God." He bites at the line of Yuri's spine and then bends down to lick up from the small of Yuri's back and then scrapes his teeth back down. He somehow manages to get his belt open, and loses the button of his slacks trying to open them. God knows what he does to his zipper. The pants are going to be a dead loss, just like the blouse, and Victor's underwear. He pulls his cock free with a hiss of relief. "Fuck, I wanted you in that restaurant. Wanted to put you on the table and - and eat you up."
He crowds up close to Yuri, letting him feel his hard cock against his back. Yuri's skin feels so soft against him. He reaches over for the lube and pumps a lavish amount in his hand. He doesn't even let it warm up before he starts jerking off. Yuri is pulling against the tie, trying to grind up against Victor. He's making such delicious sounds. "I'm going to mark you up," Victor tells him, and Yuri shivers, his skin pebbling under Victor's hand. He drags his fingers from Yuri's shoulder to his waist, not hard enough to scratch but enough to leave red marks. Yuri arches into it and then suddenly goes lax. Victor glances up but his hands are still wrapped firmly around Victor's tie -- and his glasses are crushed up against the pillow. Victor lets go long enough to grab his glasses and flail them toward the bedstand. He gasps, "Ah, sorry, bunny," before he starts jerking off again.
Yuri giggles and stretches luxuriously under Victor. He's such a lovely canvas. Victor's going to paint him up and then he's going to smear that blouse up with lube and his own come until God Themselves couldn't save it. Then he's going to - he's going to -- Everything goes blank and hot and Victor watches Yuri arch into the streaks of semen shooting over his back and can hardly hear Yuri's satisfied little croon over the ringing of blood in his ears.
The next morning Victor leaves before Yuri does, partly because Victor is training with Yakov, and partly because Yuri has to either find a turtleneck and a balaclava hat to wear or else put an entire tube of concealer on his neck. Also he's deliciously sore and Victor had not helped matters by kissing him awake and then feeding him breakfast by hand. Yuri feels good all over as he enters the ballet studio.
He's immediately confronted by the sight of Victor prostrated before Lilia and apologizing dramatically. "I will never send a text like that to Yuri without checking beforehand, ever again," he says, banging his head against the hardwood of the studio floor a few times for good measure. It probably won't hurt him. Victor's head is rocklike, in more ways than one. "Please forgive me, Madame!"
"Hmmph," says Lilia.
Yuri covers his face in his hands.