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Yuri isn't sure of the exact moment or how it happened, but when he gets home—just a few minutes after popping out to grab a popsicle for himself and Victor; the summer heat almost unbearable for their bodies so used to the chill of the ice rink—he finds Victor practically naked on his bed. It doesn't seem like the Russian is trying to make him uncomfortable; he's simply at ease with being nude, something he's shown time and again. Even so, Yuri can't help but tense up when he sees the beads of sweat tracing the lines of his toned abs.
"You're back!" Victor exclaims with an almost childlike enthusiasm that would seem ridiculous on anyone else—anyone but him, that is. "I thought I was going to melt. We don't get weather like this back home."
Yuri doesn't reply, his mind a little fuzzy from the sudden heat. He simply hands Victor his popsicle, not wanting to say anything, then sits down beside him on the bed and puts his own in his mouth, hoping to cool off.
"Delicious!" Victor cheers, as if a simple lemon popsicle was the height of culinary achievement, licking it from top to bottom. Yuri's brown eyes follow the suggestive motion of his tongue for so long that his own starts to drip between his fingers, prompting a soft curse from his lips.
Victor chuckles, though Yuri can't tell if he's laughing at the situation or at him. It doesn't really matter, though, because just then Victor takes his hand and starts licking the melting ice cream from between his fingers. Yuri loses all train of thought; his brain seems to short-circuit in that instant, and he feels himself getting an instant—and intense—erection. He wonders if the other has noticed, but he can't seem to think straight.
He tries to get his shit together, to push aside the heat that's making his blood boiling hot so he can figure out what just happened. But before he can, Victor shoves him back onto the bed and climbs on top of him. The popsicle slips from his grasp and falls to the floor, where it begins to form a sticky puddle. Yuri couldn't care less, though, because he's too aware of the other man's hardness pressing against his stomach.
"Wh-what...?" he tries to ask, but his mouth opens and closes a few times without any other sound coming out.
"I've seen your posters, Yuri. Every single one," Victor says. Yuri isn't sure if that's a valid explanation, but he can't help but think about all those lonely afternoons in his room, staring at those pictures of Victor and taking care of himself.
Having his teenage crush on top of him, just as turned on as he is, isn't helping him regain his composure. Before he knows what's happening, Yuri is moving his hips to grind against Victor, a mufled soft moan escaping his lips. His parents are home, after all, and he hasn't completely lost his mind—not yet, anyway. Victor matches his movements, pressing his weight down on him, his blue eyes clouded with lust, his mouth open in a soft sigh. Strands of his silvery hair fall over his face. Yuri can't believe they're in this situation and that his coach can still look so innocent.
They're both sweating heavily now, but they can't stop moving, the friction taking them higher and higher. Finally, Victor seems to have had enough.
"I'm going to take your pants off," he says, not really asking for permission, but Yuri nods anyway, allowing him to move away slightly so he can yank his pants off.
This would be the perfect moment to run, to pretend nothing happened. But Yuri has never been this horny in his life, and he knows he can't stop, that it's too late. He's been waiting—fantasizing, really—for something like this for so long. So he does nothing to stop him, just pushes his bangs out of his eyes.
He feels a little shy when Victor finally sees him naked. He's seen the Russian without clothes plenty of times, but this is different. He feels exposed, ready to burst like a ripe tomato. The feel of Victor's soft hands on his thighs makes his skin tingle, and when Victor opens his legs to slide between them, Yuri thinks he might actually die right there.
"You don't have to do it" he manages to say, but he barely gets the words out before Victor's mouth is on his cock, warm and velvety. The pleasure is so intense it almost doesn't feel real.
He can't hold back any longer, grabbing fistfuls of Victor's gray hair as if his life depends on it, just to feel that this is real, that it's actually happening and not just another one of his wet dreams gone too far. He's never had anyone go down on him before, and he doesn't know if it's normal to feel like he can barely breathe, every sense overwhelmed by pleasure. His body moves on its own, his hips instinctively trying to get closer to that amazing mouth. But Victor holds him in place, his head moving up and down at a steady rhythm.
A thousand thoughts and sensations are swirling through his mind, but one question rises above them all: why? But does it even matter when one of his fantasies is coming true right now? Victor's blue eyes lock onto his for a few seconds, and that's it. Yuri can't hold back any longer, his climax hitting him with a muffled groan. He can't warn him, can't do anything but shudder as the spasms wrack his body.
Victor doesn't say anything, just smiles and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, making a deliberately obscene sound as he swallows. Yuri can't stop watching him, not sure what to do or say next.
"Do you want...?" he asks hesitantly, reaching out to touch Victor's erection, just barely brushing it with his fingers. Victor sighs, his eyes filled with obvious desire, and Yuri starts to stroke his cock, surprised by how hard he is, how hot he feels. His own heart is pounding as the rhythm picks up, Victor's breathing growing heavier.
"Yuri..." Victor moans, his voice loud, as if he doesn't care who hears him. And Yuri doesn't care either, because no one has ever said his name like that, like it's a mantra, over and over again, until Victor comes in his hand.
And just like that, it's over. Victor takes Yuri's hand and licks his own cum off his fingers, then pulls him into a kiss, gripping his shoulders so he can't pull away. Yuri wants to think it's gross, but he can't fool himself. He eagerly returns the kiss, Victor's lips on his like water in the desert. The taste of him is warm and thick, better than anything he's ever had. This moment, this kiss, feels more intimate than what they just did on his bed.
They break apart, Yuri's breathing ragged, like a horse that's been running wild. Victor is as calm as ever, a smile on his face.
"Come on, Yuri," he says. "Time for practice."