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There were several ways Yuuri liked to relax after a long day skating. Soaking in the onsen. Sneaking in a few mouthfuls of beer, despite what the empty calories did to his diet plan. Scrolling through his favorite animal Instagram accounts. However, getting his ass enthusiastically eaten out by Victor Nikiforov would top that list any day.

Yuuri whimpered into a pillow, teeth ripping at the fabric in a weak attempt to muffle his pleading, whining moans as Victor’s tongue absolutely wrecked him.

He had not been prepared. He had not been expecting it. All he had done was flop down on Victor’s bed, with intent only to rest for a few minutes after their sore muscles had been soothed by the hot spring water. Yuuri had hugged a pillow to his chest, propping his elbows up as he checked a couple of photos Victor had uploaded that day. Makkachin running on the bridge. Fresh ice at the rink. One of Yuuri, looking unjustifiably beautiful mid-flight, light gleaming off his skates.

Yuuri had not noticed that he had had his tush in the air, hips rocking comfortably back and forth as he settled into the plush blankets. Victor, however, had noticed. His hands had pushed up the fabric of Yuuri’s yukata until it bunched at his waist, pads of his thumbs spreading Yuuri’s cheeks so he could bury his face between them.

Victor’s tongue plunged inside, making Yuuri clutch at the pillow with such force he was afraid that feathers would burst from it. Though, it was difficult to truly worry when he had the assault of Victor’s mouth on his flesh, reducing him to a series of shivers and soft moans of, “Victor, ahhh, nghhh…”

Victor worked him open, eager and sloppy. Saliva dripped down the backs of his thighs, making Yuuri squirm when Victor’s fingers pushed up, thumb pulling on his pulsing rim.

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice was rough, like sandpaper on his tongue even though his tongue was hot and sleek inside of Yuuri. “ Can I-... Yuuri, can we….”

Yuuri wanted to plead out, yes, yes, we can, anything, because anything that Victor wanted to give him, wanted to take from him, Yuuri was ready and willing for, aching for, “...t-tomorrow…”

“We’re due for a break.” The need was thick on Victor’s accent, sitting like a weight of sudden desperation.

If sticking his ass in the air was all that Yuuri needed to do in exchange for a bargained day off, he would have to bookmark that knowledge and attempt not to abuse it. However, if Victor was offering…

The days spent back at his parents’ inn had meant the opportunities for carnal exploration had been restricted. Yuuri could only take so many days of seeing the gorgeous expanse of Victor’s naked body at the hot springs before he would not longer be able to resist licking the minerals straight off his hip line. It was reassuring, knowing that he was not the only one who had been teetering on that edge.

“Yes, yes, please,” Yuuri whined, rocking his hips back onto the teasing of Victor’s fingers. A complaint pitched high in his throat when Victor swore and abandoned him, rooting around the drawer of his bedside table. Yuuri struggled out of his yukata, shoving it to the side of the bed, body pitched forward the next moment.

Slick and warm, Victor’s fingers found their way inside him, curling instantly. The pillow caught Yuuri’s cry of distraught pleasure, his gasping moans muffled into the fabric as Victor abused his prostate, pressing in with singular-driven purpose. “Ahh, fuck, Victor, Vitya, don’t— nghhh.” Yuuri’s thoughts fell apart with the plunge of Victor’s tongue back inside him, keeping the lube wet and the stretching of Victor’s fingers inside him so heated that Yuuri was ready to melt through the bed, his cock already dripping under the persistency of Victor’s hands and mouth.

“Don’t?” Victor stilled, wet mouth leaving a trail across the back of Yuuri’s thighs. “Want me to stop?”

“No,” Yuuri groaned, head dropped against the pillow, breathing shallow. “Don’t stop.

That did the trick. Swearing, Victor seized hold of Yuuri’s buttocks, mouth bruising the back of his neck as he sunk his cock inside, bottoming out with a hard snap of his hips. The headboard of the bed rapped against the wall.

Yuuri grasped the pillow to himself, teeth in the fabric, muffling his blissed out moans. He would be sore the next day and Victor would dote on him, whispering rough apologies against his ear, spending the whole day with his hand gently caressing the small of Yuuri’s back. The thought had Yuuri choking out Victor’s name more, knowing he would still be able to feel the force of Victor inside him the next morning.

“Ahhh, I—” Victor’s mouth was open between Yuuri’s shoulder blades, exhaling labored heat. “Fuck, you’re so good, I’m not gonna— I’m gonna come, Yuuri, can I come?”

“Nghh, a little more,” Yuuri groaned, pulling in his spread legs, clenching around the push of Victor’s girth. “Do it… how you know I like it…”

Another curse rolled against his skin and Victor’s hand splayed over his lower back. He pushed Yuuri down into the mattress, collecting a sweet moan of response, grip of his other hand remaining firm on Yuuri’s hip. He kneaded the plump roundness of Yuuri’s ass and drove in hard, sinking his cock right against the spot that had Yuuri mewling.

“Yes, ahh, onegai,” Yuuri broke, giving himself over to Victor entirely. He fumbled down his own body, palming himself, his dick made slick by precum dripping from the tip. He smeared it, shaking, stroking down on himself as his moans mixed with Victor’s strained breaths. “You-... you can come, please, Vitusha, come—”

Three loud, forceful strikes rapped against the door. Yuuri shut his mouth and froze. Victor stopped thrusting.

“There’s guests downstairs and we can hear the bed banging! Can’t you at least have the common decency to wait until everyone’s asleep?!”

Yuuri felt Victor tense at the rapidfire Japanese. Yuuri was certain that his heart dropped straight out of his chest. Scrambling to lift himself up enough that he could shout back to his sister, Yuuri’s previously flushed face turned a stark white of horror.

We’re— we’re, uhhh, not— we’re moving furniture!” Yuuri yelled. Except the adjusted arch of the new position meant that he accidentally pushed back onto Victor. The head of whose cock grazed Yuuri’s prostate. There was no concealing the whimpering moan which slipped in consequence.

“Victor Nikiforov, get your dick out of my brother!” Mari yelled in sharply accented English, her fist rattling the door frame.

Not saying anything, Victor Nikiforov got his dick out of her brother.

The clock on the nightstand ticked by a breathless minute. Nobody moved. Yuuri felt his own dick twitch, waning.

There was a huff from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps fading away. Victor’s shoulders dropped. Yuuri screamed, flipping over to beat his hands against Victor’s chest. “They heard us! They heard us!”

“It appears they did.”

Muffling a different sort of whine into the pillow, Yuuri kicked his legs. They had two choices. Hide away in shame forever, or head downstairs to pretend like nothing had been going on. Except that Victor was gorgeously disheveled, obviously by sex. With Yuuri. Who was pretty sure that his neck was littered by marks from Victor’s teeth. His buttocks and thighs definitely were. He could still feel the imprints there. He kinda liked it.

Yuuri really did not want to go and greet guests that very likely heard him getting his ass railed by Victor. What if they heard him moaning? Yuuri could hear the lewd, implicative jokes now. Hope your coach isn’t too hard on you, Katsuki-senshu. Although, sounds like you might enjoy that kinda thing, eh?

Hiding was the only option. Except that hiding meant it was very possible everyone would be imagining that he and Victor had simply carried on. Perhaps moved to banging against the wall. Or bent over the desk. Or just actually moved furniture, namely the bed, so that Victor could continue pounding into him without the bed pounding into the wall.


“I want to die.”

“Not before Worlds.”

Choking out a few sobs, Yuuri opened his eyes and gazed up at Victor, who was smiling so unfairly that Yuuri felt he needed to recite his own eulogy. “You’re okay with this? With… with that ?!”

“Oh. No. I’m terrified,” Victor answered, holding a hand out in offer to Yuuri. When Yuuri took it, he tugged him up, grabbing tissues for them to clean the lube and precum off themselves. There was no finishing the act, under the circumstances. Orgasm had been scared out of them. “That really is not how I want your parents looking at me.”

If Yuuri were a cat, he would have run out of lives. He collapsed onto the bed, crawling under the messed up blankets to cocoon himself inside them. Hide. That was the only option. Hide forever. Or move, to a land far far away. All the online speculation of his and Victor’s bedroom dynamics that had emerged after the drunken photos in China were nothing compared to this. What if someone had recorded audio? What if someone had recorded audio?!

How many hits would a video of the inn ceiling shaking as Yuuri’s echoing voice begged for filthy things get?

Yuuri sunk into the mattress, sprawled out in defeat. His ass twinged. He ignored it. “We can never show our faces in this house again.”

“Give it a day and it’ll be fine,” Victor said, his tone uncertain in a way that did nothing to calm Yuuri’s fears. “It’ll be a fun joke before long.”

That’s exactly what Yuuri was afraid of.

The problem with being the equivalent of celebrities in a close knit city was that word got around. At least, Yuuri was convinced that it did.

At breakfast the following morning, while Yuuri was indeed feeling how rough and deep Victor had gotten inside him, an elderly regular of the inn came over and bowed to Yuuri twice. He gushed in respectful Japanese about the beauty of Yuuri’s skating in Barcelona, then clapped his hands over Victor’s, shaking them profusely. In badly broken English, he recited a line of thanks to Victor for banging Katsuki-kun into shape.

Part of Yuuri was certain it was a badly timed translation. Part of him saw his soul escape his body and vanish into the rafters up above.

When they finished skating together at the rink—with Yuuri banned from anything strenuous—Yuuri stopped on a toe pick, having slid between Victor’s legs. His head tipped up to collect a kiss.

Takeshi’s shouts skidded across the ice and perched between them. “Girls are still here, keep it PG!

Blush heavy on his cheeks, Yuuri skated away. He did not risk kissing Victor again, even when they got to the privacy of the locker room.

The next day, a trip to the market for groceries ended abruptly when Yuuri noticed a couple of schoolgirls stalking him and Victor around the aisles, giggling behind their hands. Browsing abandoned, Yuuri tossed the bare essentials into a cart and hurled it at the register.

Midway through the week, on an afternoon run on the beach with Makkachin, Yuuri and Victor passed by the owner of the little restaurant across from the inn. She was walking with her mother, who saw their rings and cooed, asking if she’d missed the wedding and what they were going to do about kids.

Yuuri barricaded himself in his room after their evening dip in the onsen, during which a couple tipsy salarymen made remarks about the rosy color of Victor’s nipples and asked Yuuri if they still tasted the same.

Yuuri didn’t know, he had only ever tasted Victor’s…

“Yuuri? Can I come in?” The accent in Victor’s English was more pronounced when combined with that tone of concern. The same as when Victor had rasped good morning into Yuuri’s shoulder, fingertips playing patterns on Yuuri’s hip, asking him if he was fine to move after the unfinished treatment Victor had given him in bed at the start of the week.


There was a bigger problem on Yuuri’s thoughts than the apparent citywide knowledge that Yuuri Katsuki like to be railed by his coach. And the problem was that Yuuri Katsuki really wanted to be railed by his coach.

The entire week had been complete and utter torture. Because Victor had come down to that breakfast in his workout outfit, in the sleek black that hugged his waist and hips, with the tshirt sleeves that showed off his perfectly sculpted arms. Yuuri had dropped a slice of rolled egg into his lap, because Victor’s biceps flexed when he ate with chopsticks, how was that even possible, and all that Yuuri could think about was how good those arms would look holding Yuuri’s weight up off the floor and against a wall as Victor thrust into him.

And watching Victor skate was a constant reminder of the sheer beauty that existed in the world, graceful sweeping steps transitioning into flawless jumps. The sun had caught the gleam of Victor’s hair, illuminating him like an angel on the ice. Yuuri had spent so many years admiring through the screen of his television, through magazines, through fan sites, through illegal Russian streams, and now the real thing was all for him. How was he supposed to resist wanting to claim a dream turned reality right before him?

Even something as simple as a trip to the market had Yuuri fluttering, enamored with Victor’s habit of filling his arms with far too many things despite having a basket right beside him. Yuuri looked at that twinkle in blue eyes, in how Victor took joy in the regularities of life, in how Yuuri had never seen such a genuine smile on Victor’s lips on any news report or in any photoshoot.

On the beach, Victor had sparkled more than the ocean at sunset, and in the onsen… Water itself seemed unworthy to sit on the perfection of Victor’s skin.

Yuuri was hopelessly in love and hopelessly in want. Because he had spent the week afraid to so much as brush against Victor in any way that might cause friction. And Yuuri really wanted to cause some friction.

The mattress dipped and Yuuri grumbled, scrunching his nose and tipping his face away when Victor leaned down to swipe a kiss. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” Victor asked, eyebrows arched.

“Don’t,” Yuuri repeated. Victor was in the forest green inn jinbei, the ties loose, revealing far too much of his milky skin. If Yuuri tilted his face half a degree back, he would have been able to catch a glimpse of one of his rosy nipples. Instead, he hid his face in the bedding. “If you kiss me now, I’m not going to be able to stop myself. So don’t.”

“Oh.” Victor’s tone perked up at that. Like his perky nipples. Yuuri whined in frustration, attempting to shake his head clear. It didn’t work. Especially since when he looked up, Victor was leaning back on his hands, jinbei more open than before. “Are you still worried about that?”

“Has Mari stopped making snarky comments to you?”

Victor tapped a finger against his lips and shook his head. “Does bitto gaggu mean what I think it does?”

“We can never have sex again,” Yuuri declared, flopping over onto his back. “I’m sorry, Victor. This is where our passion dies. In my family’s inn.”

Laughing, Victor nudged an elbow against Yuuri’s hip. “I will be honest with you… I agree.”

Yuuri slapped his hands over his face, rubbing at his cheeks. “It was fun while it lasted. You showed me the world. Thank you for being my coach. I’ll never forget you.”

“What, are you breaking up with me just because we can’t have sex?” Victor grabbed Yuuri’s hips, fingertips digging into the bit of softness above their curve. “Take that back!”

Laughing, Yuuri shifted away from the tickles, rolling onto his side, closer to his fiancé. He dropped his forehead against Victor’s thigh. “How far we’ve fallen. From penthouses to this. Living in fear of kissing.”

“I’m not the one with the volume control problem.”

Yuuri groped around the bed until he found a pillow. He smacked Victor in the face with it. “Urusai.

“I know that one. Not nice.”

There it was again. The teasing tone that had Yuuri’s heart beating as fast as it did in competition, anxious and wanting. Reminding exactly how deeply Victor had burrowed into his heart, a settled presence that Yuuri never wanted to let escape. Yuuri was not good with words. Not in English, not in Japanese. But what he was good at was expressing his emotions with his body, through his skating, through his dancing, through their love-making.

What he wanted now was to show Victor that, to communicate that love. And that lust. Because Victor’s nipples were still winking at him from inside the folds of the jinbei and Yuuri had been on edge ever since he had been so roughly yanked away from it. It should not be a crime or a heavily-laden guilt to want his fiancé.

Yuuri peeked up at Victor. Amusement curled the corners of his soft lips, shimmered in the blue of his eyes. His hair was still damp from the baths, flawless expanse of his collar and neck begging to be marked by Yuuri’s teeth. Yuuri groaned. “I hate you…”

“Also not nice.”

“That’s because I really want you right now! Why do you have to be such a temptation?” Yuuri muttered the words, directing them into fabric, too embarrassed to say them straight out.

No response came back. A minute passed. Yuuri grew worried.

Victor was sitting on the edge of the bed, his legs crossed. His eyes were down on Yuuri, but the focus wasn’t there. He wore the look of contemplation, the far-off gaze he adopted any time an idea was spinning into existence inside his brilliant mind. Yuuri pushed up on his elbows in expectation. “Victor?”

“...Get dressed.”

“Huh?!” Yuuri did not get a follow-up question. Victor was already up and at the door, headed down the hall. Yuuri scrambled to chase after, hastily jumping into the nearest pair of clean pants and racking a comb through his hair before tossing a sweatshirt over his head. He had his arm caught in the sleeve as he stumbled out, asking himself what kind of superpowers Victor had obtained to already be standing in the hallway, dressed prim and proper.

Victor had his phone in hand, fingers tapping away. Whatever he was looking for, he found, if the smirk on his face was any indication. Yuuri took a deep breath and prepared himself for a signature Nikiforov surprise. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” Victor flashed a media ready smile and Yuuri accepted his defeat. Victor whisked him downstairs and dipped behind the front counter to grab the keys to the family car. He had, of course, been long granted free permission to use it. Yuuri’s dad had added him to the insurance policy after Onsen on Ice, when it was clear that Victor intended to stay for good.

Where are you going?” Mari droned from behind the desk, unlit cigarette between her lips, chin in her elbow.

“Ummm…” Yuuri honestly had nothing to say.

Never mind. Don’t get arrested.

Yuuri wondered when it was that his reputation had changed. Probably the day his idol turned up naked at his family’s place of business. Winking at Mari, Victor all but carried Yuuri out the door.

Victor drove them past the beach and pulled the car up next to a building covered in penguin motifs.

“Oh my god, Victor, no,” Yuuri breathed, eyes blown.

“I did always wonder what this place was,” Victor replied, smile plastered wide as he drove them inside, under the large overhead sign bearing the name of the hotel. More penguins greeted them around the privacy walls, Welcome written in thickly painted block letters. “Ohhh, this is different from Tokyo. How does this work?”

If Yuuri’s face got any hotter, it would start to steam. The open lot at the center of the surrounding hotel rooms was illuminated in multi-colored lights from overhead. Pinks and greens set a mood that was less like place built for sex and more like…

“It looks like a discotheque!” Victor chirped excitedly, car moving slowly along the stretch of individual garages. “Do we park anywhere?”

Yuuri dearly wished that he had put on a hat and worn a mask. Graciously, no other cars were driving in the lot but several of the garages were occupied. Which meant the rooms were occupied. “Ummm, see the signs on the walls? You need to find one that says, open.”

Victor turned his head side to side and then turned the car, backing into a center spot at the far wall. Yuuri tapped his fingers against his knees, counting his breaths to calm the jitters shooting through him when Victor set the gear into park. His idol, his coach, his fiancé, had just brought them to Hasetsu’s beachside love hotel. The one that had somehow determined that penguins were a good sex symbol. Yuuri guessed their mating rituals could be kind of cute, if National Geographic programs were anything to go by.

“We can leave if you’re not comfortable,” Victor said, glancing over. “But if you wanted me—”

Yuuri grabbed him by the collar and crashed their mouths together, kissing Victor until they were both breathless. When they broke away, it was only to put a millimeter between them, smiling against each other’s lips. “I want you.”

Victor slid a hand over the center console, squeezing at one of Yuuri’s thighs. “Come get me then.”

Yuuri slammed the car door shut with a bit too much enthusiasm, grabbing Victor’s hand as soon as he was within reach, tugging him for the door. Inside, Yuuri forced himself out of another kiss so he could go enter how long they wanted to stay into the room system, and froze. Victor went solid beside him as well.

“Ohmygod.” Yuuri blinked, hoping to correct his vision.

“This is amazing!” Victor declared, pulling his hand out of Yuuri’s so he could grab his phone instead. “We should send this to Yurio!”

“No, we are not sending this to Yurio!” Yuuri yelped, slapping Victor’s hands. The walls, the ceiling, the bedspread, everything was in cheetah print. Subtle yellows encompassed the room, from the lamps to the sofa, which had cheetah spotted cushions decorating each end.

Victor snapped photos anyway, delighted. “I have a documentary series going on Instagram now, Yuuri, are you going to make me stop?”

Yuuri decided to go take the most effective route possible. He set his palms on Victor’s chest and tipped up on his toes, kissing him sweetly. That caught Victor’s attention. Yuuri kept it by shoving him onto the bed, climbing into his lap, fingers fisting in his hair. “How about a choice? Photos or me?”

“Can I have both?” Victor asked, hands sliding down Yuuri’s sides. “Photos of you?”

“Get me off first,” Yuuri said, grinding down against Victor’s groin. If they were going to stay at a love hotel located in his hometown, decorated to the brim with cheetah, because the thought of engaging similar activities back at the inn filled Yuuri with unparalleled horror, then he was going to take full advantage.

There were several ways Yuuri liked to relax after a long day skating. A few rounds of his favorite smartphone game. Rolling around the tatami floors with Makkachin padding happily after him. Slipping into bed with freshly washed sheets beneath him. However, making out with Victor Nikiforov would top that list any day.

Victor’s mouth moved sweet against his own, teeth tugging on his bottom lip, tempting out his tongue. Yuuri sighed relief, whimper catching at the back of his throat when Victor’s hands kneaded at his ass. He dropped his own from Victor’s hair to between them, undoing the fastening of Victor’s pants.

Yuuri’s sweatshirt got discarded, shirt falling on the floor after it. He pulled off Victor’s, dipping his head down to lap at those rosy nipples, scraping his teeth against one in a bout of possessiveness. Victor arched into it and grasped firm at Yuuri’s hips, flipping them.

Laughing as Victor stripped him of his pants and then the comforter off the bed, Yuuri laid back, holding his arms open in invitation. Victor settled straight into them, collecting another kiss.

“Mmmm, you look good surrounded in gold,” Victor praised, smiling before shifting to kiss down Yuuri’s neck.

“Hmmm?” Yuuri glanced over. Cheetah comforter gone, the sheets bunched beneath him were colored gold. They did look good, casting the same rich tone across his skin. “Oh. Something to aim for. A good goal for me to have.”

Chuckling, Victor slid further down the line of Yuuri’s body, kissing at each millimeter of skin he passed. The thoughts Yuuri had had of pinning Victor down were swept from him the moment Victor’s head settled between his thighs and the tip of his wet tongue ran circles around the head of Yuuri’s cock.

A moan strangled in his throat, and Yuuri’s hands flew to wind into Victor’s hair. Taking him in, Victor hummed around him, pleased as always in his ability to draw such reactions. Yuuri watched how Victor’s fingertips left welts in his thighs, holding him firm and steady as he began to bob his head. The sight of his cock disappearing between Victor’s glistening lips had Yuuri reciting silent blessings, loving how this Victor was reserved for him.

Victor dug his nails into Yuuri’s skin, keeping him from bucking as he sucked hard before pulling off. His parted lips skimmed down to the base, dropping kisses and licks at random, teasing until Yuuri had to bite back groans. The sharpness of heated blue flickered up at him through silver lashes, Victor’s mouth curling into a smirk against his already straining cock. “One of the benefits of a place like this is being able to be loud, Yuuri.”

“Then stop teasing,” Yuuri answered, fingers tightening in silver, tugging for good measure. “I’ve been waiting to finish all week.”

“Are you going to keep pulling on my hair?”

“Are you going to make me stop?” Yuuri challenged.

What he was not expecting was for Victor to sit up and grab his wrists, pinning them back against the pillows. Yuuri’s breath hitched as Victor pulled his black coach’s tie from his back pocket and looped it around Yuuri’s wrists. “Can I?”

Yuuri nodded, not daring to breathe as Victor carefully wound the tie and threaded it through the top rail of the headboard. The silk was tight around Yuuri’s wrists, but his heart beat in excitement. “Did you bring that here just for that?”

“No,” Victor responded, testing the bond with a smirk, adjusting the pillows at Yuuri’s back so he would be comfortable. “Actually, I had brought it to your room, thinking I’d get down on my knees by your bed and have you bite it as I sucked you off. But this works too.”

The panicked thought of where Victor had gotten the idea was gone as quick as it came, because Victor went down again and swallowed Yuuri to the back of his throat. He worked him over with the same expertise in anything that Victor did, natural talent mixed with practiced precision that had Yuuri arching, hands pulling at his bonds, moaning out the fond variations of Victor’s name.

Yuuri supposed it was only fair, since during their last trip to a love hotel, it was Yuuri who had Victor withering under him. Victor made him tremble as he sunk down, cheeks hollowed, lips red around Yuuri. Then his eyes were back on Yuuri’s face, tearing him apart with how his hands slid under his thighs to hold them open.

Yuuri knew what Victor wanted and he was trying to resist, biting on his own lower lip to keep his voice restricted only because he wanted to drive Victor to the brink. He lasted until Victor moved off him, letting out a complaint, begging him to continue. As always, Victor listened, after he slicked his fingers with the complimentary lube placed at the bedside table.

The moan that rolled off Yuuri’s tongue when Victor’s fingers sunk inside him was unrestrained, shaking apart as Victor stretched him open. He was eager, on edge from the very start, rocking against Victor’s hand like it wasn’t enough. Because it wasn’t.

“Let me hear you,” Victor muttered against Yuuri’s skin, beckoning.

“Make me,” Yuuri gasped as Victor rubbed his prostate, milking quivering mewls. “I said… I want you. Inside. Fuck me, Vitusha.”

Victor did not swear often, and when he did, it was always in bed. The Russian curse was crude and beautiful in his accent. Yuuri yelped when Victor flipped him once more, pushing Yuuri onto his knees and nudging his legs apart. Like he knew Yuuri liked.

“Ahhh!” There was no pillow in reach for Yuuri to bite into, so he let his voice free when Victor fucked inside him. With his wrists elevated, Yuuri’s spine curved, hips angled into Victor’s caressing hands.

Yuuri melted back against him, whimper after moan flooding from him as Victor thrust to the rapid beat of his heart. Victor filled him like Yuuri had been craving for all week, pace stuttered and desperate, and Yuuri pushed his ass back against it. “Ahh, nghh, more, Victor…” His cock pulled at Yuuri’s rim and slammed back in, and if Yuuri’s hands weren’t held up by the tie, he would have fallen, pleading for Victor.

Victor bent over him, mouth hot between Yuuri’s shoulder blades, tracing praise across his skin. Russian melded into English, making Yuuri shiver. He was in love with how Victor gave him everything he wanted, gasping when Victor steadied his hands on the headboard, leveraging himself hard and deep, driving straight where Yuuri needed him. His lips ghosted the shell of Yuuri’s ear, exhaling rough encouragements, breath hot and lighting him beyond the point of blazing into fireworks.

Yuuri came with Victor’s name on his lips, trembling, body clenching around the heat inside him, please after please begging for Victor to join him. Victor’s arms slid around his chest and buried his face in the crook of Yuuri’s neck as he spilled inside, dotting kisses of affection across his skin.

They stayed, leaning into each other, for a moment. Yuuri smiled when he felt Victor’s brushing along his jaw, teasingly wiggling his ass to get another groan from Victor and a playful slap across his cheeks. “Feeling better?” Victor purred, mouth skimming the nape of his neck.

“Much,” Yuuri exhaled, glancing over his shoulder as Victor pulled away. The tremors flooding him subsided and he hummed, arching his back once more in a fluid stretch. Victor kissed the center of his spine, causing his smile to spread. Yuuri wanted to turn, craning his neck around to seek another to his lips. Victor granted it to him before leaning over to undo the tie around his wrists.

“You okay?”

“It’s a bit tight,” Yuuri admitted, dropping his head between his shoulders as he waited. Now that the rush of pleasure had dissipated, the soreness in his wrists was beginning to become evident. “It’s fine though. We’re lucky I’m not a tennis player.”

Victor’s chuckle was like a balm as his fingers worked at the fabric holding him in place. Tugging, plucking, pulling. It did not loosen. Yuuri looked up. Victor’s brows were furrowed, his nails chipping off the fabric every time he tried to dig in. Yuuri’s shoulders grew tired, knees tingling. “Victor…”

“I think we need to flip you over, love,” Victor said, offering a smile. “Let me help you.”

Yuuri relaxed in the guidance of Victor’s arms, laughing when the touch tickled his waist, helping him onto his back. Yuuri collapsed onto the mattress and whined, the position putting more strain on his shoulders as his wrists remained tied high. “I can go a second round if you really want, but I’d like to get you tied up this time,” he teased as Victor returned to untying the tie.

For once, Victor did not answer with a remark of his own. One minute. Two. Three. Yuuri was trying not to panic.

“I can’t undo it,” Victor conceded.

“Very funny.” Yuuri tried, hanging onto a hint of hope. Because giving it up meant admitting to the reality that he was tied to a love hotel bed, adorned in cheetah print, and unable to get out. Yuuri really did not want to admit that. Victor did not look like he was laughing. “Victor!”

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t think I had done it so tight! You should be flattered that you got me so flustered!”

“I’ll be flattered when you get me out,” Yuuri scowled, tugging on the binds. His hands did not budge. “Can you cut it?”

Victor gasped. “It’s Gucci!”

“I think you ruined it when you tied me so tight I can’t get out!” Yuuri said, kicking a leg at Victor. His fiancé caught his ankle and kissed the sole of his foot.

“I’m not the type to carry a knife, love.”

“How about the lube?”

Victor tried the lube. It resulted in Yuuri’s hands and arms getting slicker and stickier than they had any business being, and no closer to getting out of the knot. Victor huffed, his bangs flicking into the air. “This is suddenly a lot less sexy.”

“It was sexy,” Yuuri said, still deciding whether the proper reaction was laughter or tears at that point. Any flickering thought of making loud love throughout the night was gone. “Until you messed it up!”

“You hurt me, Yuuri.”

“Not as much as I’m hurting now!” Yuuri whined, helplessly pulling on the unrelenting tie. He would praise Gucci for the integrity of the fabric, truth be told. It had not come loose whatsoever, no matter how much Yuuri strained and wriggled. “Victor…”

“I can see if the staff have scissors?”

That was better than the option of staying there until either the fabric disintegrated or Yuuri’s shoulders dislocated. “Please.”

Victor found the phone across the room, managing to put it on speaker with Yuuri’s called out help. When it was answered in rapid, formal Japanese, Victor blinked. Yuuri muffled his giggles. Victor’s skills had gotten good enough for basic conversation, but he was used to the simple language and carefully articulated syllables used by everyone around the inn, just for him.

Ano, ore no… patona ha…” Yuuri could see the train wreck headed from the broken bridge already. “Tai kara nigerarenain desu.

The giggles escaped as Victor confidently told the staff on the other end of the line in very carefully selected words that his partner was not able to run away from a tie. Which, admittedly, since Yuuri was aware of the situation, did kind of make sense. Though the way Victor pronounced tai ended up like he was talking about the fish and not the formalwear.

Kagami wo—

Hasami!” Yuuri yelled in correction.

Hasami wo… ruumu ni… motsu…. motsu… motsu… koto?

Yuuri wished he had control of his hands so he could face palm. Instead, he cleared his throat and put on his most professional tone. The one he reserved for the press conferences when he wasn’t shouting his declarations of love for Victor. “I apologize for asking, but we have a difficult situation at the moment and would like to request a pair of scissors brought to the room, if possible.

Onegaishimasu,” Victor added in punctuation.

The phone was quiet for a moment, but a “kashikomarimashita” preceded the click of Victor hanging up the phone. Graciously, Victor came back to drape covers across Yuuri’s lower half, his smile sheepish.

“Your Japanese is very adorable,” Yuuri said, loving how such simple compliments could light up Victor’s expression. Exalted praise of Victor’s skating yielded few effects, but a comment of how his pronunciation sounded spot on in a sentence or a hum of delight about his cooking would leave Victor running high for hours. And leave Yuuri clutching at his chest for the cuteness of it.

“Next time we do this, without the tie, we’ll have to try it where I only speak in Japanese and you in Russian,” Victor said.

The only Russian that Yuuri knew was a few key phrases that he had memorized from Victor’s interviews, and how to say good, please, and thank you. He supposed those last three could be used in bed.

A knock at the door took Victor from his side, who slipped outside to maintain some of Yuuri’s dignity, foot keeping the door propped open. Yuuri’s ears strained to listen, hearing the muffle of polite Japanese and Victor’s charmingly stinted responses.

He could not quite make out the conversation, but it all seemed fine, until one collocation caught his attention. Katsuki-senshu.

They had recognized his voice. Well, more likely, they recognized Victor. Yuuri could not even hide his face in embarrassment, sentenced to die of it while covered in lube, tied to the bed of a love hotel in a room themed in cheetah print. If Heaven was a thing, Elvis Presley might shake his hand in thanks for overtaking him in embarrassing death circumstances. Yuuri just hoped it was not his sister who was tasked in writing the obituary.

The door shut, Victor slipped back inside the room. He paused, holding a pair of scissors in one hand, perplexed expression on his face.


“If I understood correctly, and I’m definitely not saying that I did but…” Victor paused, either for effect or in contemplation. Yuuri waited. Because he couldn’t do anything else. “I think that was the owner? And he… offered you a sponsorship?”

Yuuri counted to ten and waited for the world to end. It didn’t. Why didn’t it?

“That’s it… We have to leave. We have to move,” Yuuri muttered, his eyes set dull and dead ahead in absolute resolution. “Far, far away.”

“To where?” Victor asked, carefully cutting Yuuri loose of the tie, kissing his wrists in apology when they finally came free.

Yuuri knew exactly where. “Saint Petersburg.”

v-nikiforov Look at what Yuuri and I stumbled into! Who knew Hasetsu had such wonderful surprises still left for me? #hasetsu #ripmyguccitie #worthit #someonetellyuuripenguinscanbesexy

View all 206 comments
minako-okukawa I’m shocked it took the two of you so long to find it. The Yutopia guests will be pleased.
christophe-gc Is this an addition a certain series that a certain skater won’t let you tag anymore?
yuri-plisetsky IN HASETSU?! WHERE, TELL ME!
hotelbaronjp 当社の提供についてご検討ください!