Viktor hadn’t seen Chris since the Worlds earlier that year, but at the Cup of China Viktor was unsurprised to find that the man had changed little. Chris was probably the only skater around who could divert attention away from Viktor when entering a room: everyone, from the press to the competitors and their families, coaches, and ISU organisers adored the man. He liked Chris too: the two of them had over ten years of history between them, and those years had been… ah, colourful, to say the least. Chris was like a mischievous adopted brother to him now, ten years on.
Chris sauntered around the stadium at the Cup of China like he owned the place, winking at fan girls and boys – the silver Chris had won at the Worlds had clearly gone to his head. Viktor was used to Chris’s flirtatious ways and the slightly inappropriate touching that came with it, and he knew Chris was like that with everyone. The man would have chatted up a lamppost if given the chance (and the lamppost probably would have considered itself very lucky, eagerly unzipping itself).
It somehow had escaped Viktor’s attention that Yuuri had known Chris for years, too. He hadn’t thought about it until Chris was there, batting his eyelashes at Yuuri and purring who-knows-what nonsense into the ear of Viktor’s newly acquired boyfriend. Yuuri was mortified when Chris did so, Viktor could tell: Yuuri stuttered and stammered, his cheeks flamed red, even the tips of his ears tinged with embarrassment. Chris clearly found the reaction endearing, purring, “Ah, but Yuuuuuri, we’re old friends, aren’t we? You haven’t forgotten all about me just because you have a hot new coach, have you? Hmm?”
Viktor thought of the banquet a year earlier, with Chris and Yuuri practically naked and dancing away at the pole. Of course Yuuri was embarrassed that Chris was there, reminding him of their drunken antics. Yuuri seemed to have made a point never to even mention the banquet, so Viktor wasn’t going to tease Yuuri about it. Chris was different.
And at first Viktor was completely fine about it all: Chris pouting at him for having retired, bemoaning a lack of motivation (drama queen), Chris being touchy and wiggling his eyebrows, saying that Phichit’s Instagram certainly made coaching look like hard work.
(Viktor did not mind in the slightest that he was on social media, shirtless, wrapped around Yuuri. Let them speculate: they were right, if it was any consolation.)
(Viktor was, truth be told, rather proud of his conquest and more than willing to show Yuuri off.)
So at first he was fine with it.
But the more Chris hovered around Yuuri, the less fine Viktor got.
“When you want to change for a younger model, Yuuri,” Chris said teasingly after practice on the first day, “remember my room is just down the hall.” Chris winked, Yuuri’s eyes nearly popped out of his head, and Chris brightly laughed.
And Viktor did not like it.
Viktor knew, of course, that the man travelling with Chris – Philippe – was Chris’s boyfriend, and who was also Chris’s first serious long-term partner if Viktor wasn’t much mistaken, but this appeared not to have made Chris any less flirtatious with other people.
Upon reflection, the problem probably was that what he had with Yuuri was still fresh and new, and he hadn’t quite figured out how to be Yuuri’s coach and lover at the same time yet. Fine, things had been leading up to this for months now – Viktor was well aware of that – but it wasn’t that long ago that they’d been chatting in Viktor’s bedroom late into the night, lounging on the bed as they often did, and Viktor had kissed Yuuri because it had gotten to the point that he couldn’t stand not kissing him anymore. Yuuri wasn’t completely oblivious: he’d gotten flustered, retreated, flushed. And then he had kissed Viktor back.
It had escalated quickly from there: two nights later, they’d stayed up most of the night making love, months of build-up, frustration and tension pouring out of them, into each other, with every kiss, every touch…
It had been absolutely intoxicating. (Chris’s short program music was called Intoxicated, incidentally.)
Now, Yuuri was facing the season’s first Grand Prix assignment and Viktor needed to be his coach, but somehow he ended up feeling like a jealous boyfriend instead, and that could not be helpful for anyone.
Chris flirting with Yuuri wasn’t a threat.
But he didn’t like it.
“Never mind him,” he said to Yuuri, wrapping an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders as they headed to the locker room. “He’s always like that.”
“I-I know,” Yuuri said, but he seemed nervous. Viktor did not like the idea of Chris making Yuuri nervous.
“Just forget about him,” he said, realising he was genuinely annoyed with Chris. He was usually the one egging Chris on! Hell, even at the banquet he’d been encouraging Chris with his pole-dance performance with Yuuri! Now, he was less sure he wanted a room full of people to see Yuuri that naked – let alone have a drunken Chris Giacometti touching him.
He wanted to be the only one to touch Yuuri like that and wildly hoped that Yuuri felt the same way.
Oh. That… maybe should have been alarming, but instead he only felt stupidly smitten and a bit overly keen on the possessive front.
He realised just then that he appeared to have fallen more in love with Yuuri than he’d realised.
Maybe Chris did have his uses.
* * *
When the practice was done and Yuuri skated over to him, Viktor attempted to remain his usual self. “What did Chris want?” he asked, trying to sound casual.
“Oh, nothing,” Yuuri shrugged.
Viktor pursed his lips. “Nothing?”
Yuuri blushed a little, and Viktor thought of Chris’s tendency to say the most inappropriate and suggestive things. “Ah, he was just, uhm. Congratulating me on, erm.” Yuuri motioned between the two of them, looking embarrassed – not the coaching, then, but…
“Ah,” he said, and then smiled brightly. It’d been about them? “Good!”
Yuuri looked confused.
Chris had a boyfriend and Chris knew Yuuri was dating Viktor. On top of that, Chris would never dare try anything with Yuuri, of course: it’d be completely rude and uncouth, considering Chris and Viktor themselves had… Well, never mind ancient history.
It was just hard to tell if Chris’s boundaries were the same as other people’s, especially when he and Yuuri were still figuring out their boundaries, too.
Viktor had one thing figured out, though: Chris should be on the other side of whatever boundary worked for him and Yuuri. Each to their own, of course, but when he looked at Yuuri, he felt rather fiercely monogamous, and Chris could just take a large, larger, step back.
Just to be on the safe side, Viktor kept being so touchy with Yuuri for the rest of the Cup of China that by the time they left – Yuuri with silver! – even Chris’s cat should have known that Yuuri Katsuki was a taken man, and Viktor’s intentions towards him were most serious.
* * *
Someone should have told him it was a dangerous game, this falling in love business.
Ah, he couldn’t have cared less!
“God, he’s shameless,” he grinned, seeing Chris’s shirtless selfie. He showed it to Yuuri: Chris was pouting at the camera with fake innocent green eyes, chest and eight pack baby oiled by the looks of it. “Did you see this?” he asked, and Yuuri nodded, head on his shoulder. Their legs were entwined, with Makkachin asleep at the foot of the bed. Viktor tutted his tongue. “He’s clearly been working out, though. Should I like it? I’ll like it. Hmm. Should we comment something?”
“Say hi,” Yuuri suggested, but Viktor began to grin wickedly.
“I think I’ll say, ‘Your eros is secondary only to Yuuri’s.’”
“What?!” Yuuri gasped, scandalised, and reached out for his phone. “Don’t write that!”
Viktor deadpanned, lifting his arm up to keep the phone out of Yuuri’s reach. “I’ll write ‘I can’t hear you over the sound of Yuuri’s smouldering eros’.”
“Writing it right now.”
He was only teasing, but Yuuri’s cheeks looked a little red anyway. He grinned at his boyfriend. (Pretty sure they could use that label – they shared the bed every night now. Boyfriends. Definitely boyfriends. What a wonderful stupid little word.)
“I’ll write ‘looking good’ and a winky face, how’s that?” he conceded, lowering the phone so he could type with both thumbs.
“That’s okay,” Yuuri mumbled into his collar bone. Yuuri’s hair was tickling his throat and chin, smelling like citrus fruit, and Viktor just about managed not to bury his face in it. He focused on typing out the comment instead.
“Sent,” he said. “He’ll like that.” He kept scrolling down Instagram, lazily seeing what their friends and acquaintances were up to. “Ah, Yurio’s got new leopard print Vans,” he commented, then wondered why he thought that was news.
“Viktor?” Yuuri asked, rather quietly. He hummed in question. Yuuri appeared to hesitate. “Could I, uhm… ask you a personal… question?”
“Of course,” he said, thumbing the feed icon to show him his most recent likes. Yuuri could ask him anything: he was an open book.
Against his shoulder and into the fabric of his t-shirt, Yuuri mumbled, “HaveyoueversleptwithChris?”
He choked on his breath.
“Errrr…” His mind raced. “A little?” he ventured, cringing even as he said it. Oh, that sounded bad. Right, that definitely had sounded bad.
He inched from under Yuuri to take a better look at him. Yuuri looked embarrassed, and Viktor wondered if this was something he should have told Yuuri already, seeing as they’d seen Chris at the Cup of China. Was it polite or impolite to mention if they met someone Viktor had slept with in the past? What were the rules? He didn’t know – truthfully, he had never gotten this far in a relationship before.
But they hadn’t exactly shared stories of their past conquests yet: Yuuri had never asked about his previous affairs, and although Viktor knew Yuuri had never had a lover per se, Yuuri clearly had some experience. Viktor hadn’t seen the point in digging around more than that when after their first night together Yuuri had whispered, “I didn’t know it could be like that”, all rosy-cheeked, sweat-slicked, wide-eyed and, not to be too blunt, thoroughly ravished.
(No, Viktor wasn’t saying more than that: it was private.)
(But yes, he had been smug about it. He’d been rather delighted.)
Yuuri was still looking at him, clearly waiting for him to go on.
“Aw, Christ,” he sighed, feeling busted. He didn’t want Yuuri to be upset but saw no way out of it. “Yes, um. Yes, we slept together, but it was ages ago.” Yuuri said nothing, and Viktor panicked. “We certainly didn’t date!” he then clarified.
Yuuri shuffled on the bed a little. “No?”
“No! No, no, goodness no.” He sat up, putting the phone away. “It was, uh…” He nervously ran fingers through his hair, trying to think of how to say it. Yuuri blinked up at him, brown eyes questioning. “He was around twenty then, I was a bit older. And we were friendly with each other, you know, more than the other skaters, anyway… I mean that we got on well. And we were young, and… you know, we’d go out clubbing after competitions, uhm… We’d go to gay clubs and act stupid: drinking, dancing, doing shots…” He rolled his eyes, but was mostly trying to estimate if Yuuri was okay hearing this. “And, erm. There were a couple of nights when we, uh…” He made a very vague hand motion. He was pretty sure Yuuri got the gist of it. “We thought it made us kind of edgy, I guess. I don’t know. Seems childish in hindsight.”
Yuuri’s face was one of serious concentration. “And did you do that a lot?”
“Not at all! No, just once or twice. Three times. I don’t remember. I really haven’t even thought of it in years.” He looked at Yuuri carefully – was Yuuri upset? “We were just friends even then. We’re friends now. Nothing’s there, I promise.”
He’d just sent a comment to a guy he’d once banged that he was looking good half-naked, while cuddling in bed with his new boyfriend. When you looked at it like that…
“I guess I get that,” Yuuri then said lithely, and Viktor was surprised. Oh. That was… good. Yuuri gave him a sheepish smile. “There were some rumours back then, you know.”
“Yeah, I know,” he said, cringing again. God, he and Chris had thought they were so cool: the bad boys of figure skating. Angels on ice, devils in the club. He’d grown out of it fast. When he saw Chris now, he hardly even remembered that they’d once had a little bit of sex together. “It was nothing like this,” he then said, reaching down to brush a forefinger against Yuuri’s cheek.
Yuuri smiled up at him, glasses askew, t-shirt riding up his belly, hair still wet from the shower. Oh, he was beautiful. He was so, so beautiful. God, Viktor’s heart ached just looking at him.
No, it had been nothing like this, he thought, as he leaned down to kiss Yuuri. Nothing had ever been like this for him before.
Yuuri gave a shy smile against his lips, and Viktor relaxed. They were okay. Thank god they were okay.
Who even remembered Chris Giacometti when you had this?
(No offense, Chris.)
* * *
Chris found him in the pool of the hotel, and together they soaked in the water, enjoying the champagne Chris had brought.
“So,” Chris asked – but only after Viktor had taken a dozen artful poolside pictures of him for Instagram – “where is Yuuri? You’re not hiding him from me, are you?”
Yuuri didn’t have a problem with Chris and Viktor, but Viktor suddenly remembered that he had a problem with Chris and Yuuri. In Beijing, he hadn’t appreciated Chris’s relentless interest in a certain Japanese figure skater. The playful flirting had irritated him then – now, perhaps less so. Holding hands with Yuuri when they went for walks helped with that, he figured. Waking up together helped with that.
Chris wasn’t actually interested in Yuuri, he reminded himself, it was just Chris being Chris and teasing Viktor about his new romance. He could take it – he would have done the same, except Chris was actually far more discrete with Philippe than Viktor had ever been with Yuuri.
Huh, there was a thought: the one man Chris definitely was banging was the one guy Chris didn’t harass whenever he was in sight. The more Chris flirted with someone, the safer they probably actually were…
“I left him sleeping in our room,” he said, lying on one of the lounge chairs, sipping champagne. Chris was in the pool, elbows resting on the edge.
“Did you tire him out?” Chris winked, and Viktor let himself grin a little. (No, he hadn’t, for the record, but a rather childishly vain part of him enjoyed Chris’s assumption. Yuuri was his to tire, after all, with excessive… ahem. Viktor had been suffering from a case of, ah, wandering hands, as of late. Yuuri wasn’t much better: Viktor loved the shy little kisses Yuuri would give him, a question Yuuri would kiss on his lips, with slightly nervous eyes. A silent ‘do you want to…?’ The answer was yes: Viktor did. God, he did, when Yuuri looked at him like that.)
He now only shrugged, keeping his mouth shut. This seemed to delight Chris.
Chris pressed on: “So, come on, girl to girl here… How’s it going?”
“Pretty well,” he said. Yup. He definitely sounded smug.
Chris blinked at him slowly, a wide smile on his face. In that moment Chris himself looked love-struck, green eyes sparkling. “You should see the look on your face right now! You massive softie, Nikiforov!” Chris grinned at him brightly, and Viktor found it rather hard not to beam from how stupidly happy he was. It was almost ridiculous, sometimes. Chris smirked. “Yuuri Katsuki, eh? Was it the pole dancing? I helped him there, you know.”
He laughed. “I thought he managed that quite well on his own.”
“Point, sure,” Chris hummed and then he waved his hand dismissively. “Ah, I guess I’m not that surprised. He’s the kind of guy you think is a wallflower, but he can surprise you…” Chris drifted off, full of insinuation. Truthfully, Viktor hadn’t really noticed Yuuri until after the Grand Prix final the year earlier. He’d been focused on his own performance and hadn’t had time to familiarise himself with underdog competitors that he was likely to beat. Chris sounded like he’d been much more aware of Yuuri and his charms already then.
“You’ve really caught yourself a sweet mouthful there. Bet he tastes sweeter now than he used to, too. Lucky man.” Chris pushed himself up from the pool, water rippling down his form. “Should we get a move on? Starting to get cold now.”
“Yeah, we probably should,” he agreed. “Come hang out if you like?”
“Ah, now there is an offer I cannot refuse,” Chris grinned and, laughing and talking, they headed inside.
They woke Yuuri up by the looks of it, and his boyfriend was less than pleased by his clammy, cold hands. Instead of offering to warm him up, Yuuri shoved him off.
He pouted a little.
* * *
Yuuri seemed confused by the time zones: he’d slept in the evening and now was wide awake, while Viktor’s body was aware that it was getting to bedtime. He went to brush his teeth, having changed into his pyjamas: simple grey bottoms and a loose, white t-shirt. Yuuri was cross-legged on the bed and on his laptop, browsing social media, and kept talking to him while he brushed his teeth.
He was nearly done when something rather small, something rather petty and insignificant, popped up in his head: Chris in the pool, elbows on the edge, smirk on his lips, green eyes sparkling. Chris had been talking about how Viktor was a lucky man. Chris had grinned and said, “You’ve really caught yourself a sweet mouthful there. Bet he tastes sweeter now than he used to, too.”
Viktor remembered this remark right then, at eleven thirty or so, with a toothbrush in his mouth and foam dripping down his chin. He saw his eyes going wide in the mirror as the cogs turned in his head. Used to? What the hell had that meant?!
He spat foam into the sink hastily. The banquet? No, Viktor would have seen if Yuuri and Chris had… and Chris had already been with Philippe, who had been there too!
How did Chris know anything about how sweet Yuuri tasted, now or in the past?
He wiped his face with one of the hotel hand towels, mind suddenly racing.
Bet he tastes sweeter now…
Chris had only meant that Yuuri had grown, that was all, that was – that was all that meant. Or…
“Hey babe?” he called out, trying to sound casual but his voice cracked on the second word. The bathroom door was still open and he got a questioning hum in response. He looked at himself in the mirror: hand squeezing his toothbrush too hard, five-time world champion, Adam’s apple bobbing on a painful swallow of air, looking rather sickly. It was nothing. It’d meant absolutely nothing! “How long have you known Chris for?”
Yuuri and Chris had been sat talking on the bed earlier, while Viktor had excused himself for a leisurely bath. He’d left them alone, not thinking anything of it: Chris and Yuuri catching up, Chris winking and purring at his boyfriend, Yuuri being chatty and friendly, Viktor soaking in the bath in the meanwhile, Chris sipping his damned coffee while thinking about what Yuuri tasted like?!
“Chris?” Yuuri echoed, sounding unsure. “I’ve known him since I was eighteen, I think. Why?”
Over six years, then. That was six times longer than he’d really known Yuuri!
He breathed in through his nose. “No reason,” he lied, pathetically. Out of all the competitors, Yuuri was only close to Phichit – the only other skater Yuuri had declared was his friend. Six years, and Chris wasn’t a friend? Six years, and Yuuri let Chris cuddle up to him and come hang out in their hotel room and sit on the bed together, but Yuuri didn’t regard Chris as a friend?
Yuuri didn’t let people close easily. You had to earn the right for Yuuri to let you into his personal space: Chris was there and then some.
There was no polite way of asking what he now wanted to ask.
He walked out where Yuuri was still on the bed, laptop on his lap. His black hair was sticking out at odd angles, the t-shirt on Yuuri looked about three sizes too big for him, and his glasses had finger-print smudges on them. Viktor knew Yuuri was anxious about the upcoming final, too. He should not be distracting Yuuri with… things like…
Okay, it was nothing. Chris hadn’t meant anything by it. And since it was nothing, he might as well just ask?
Yuuri was looking at the screen with a dorky little smile on his face. “Viktor, someone on Twitter said my routine at Rostelecom was masterful! Masterful!”
“Did they?” he asked, distracted, even if it was good that some adoring fan’s tweet appeared to be giving Yuuri confidence. He observed Yuuri a little helplessly. Yuuri had asked him this question, so why couldn’t he? It was ridiculous! The answer was no: of course it was a no. He was being paranoid and possessive, qualities that he did not like but it seemed that his feelings for Yuuri were bringing them out in him. Chris had given Yuuri a lingering hug as a goodbye, just a few hours earlier. Why had it lingered?
“Yuuri, I’m sorry if this is a completely odd question,” he burst out, unable to help himself. “But Chris. And you. And you know, have you guys ever – anything, or…?”
Yuuri kept browsing Twitter. “Have we what?”
Yuuri looked up at him with such speed that Viktor was surprised Yuuri didn’t get whiplash. “What?!” Yuuri shrieked, this time not turning red but deathly pale. Yuuri looked so shocked that Viktor could feel his heart relaxing from its anxious, jealous haze. God, he was being ridiculous, he was – “He told you about that?!” Yuuri asked, looking scandalised.
And he blinked.
His brain began to flat-line.
“Oh god, he hasn’t told anyone else, has he? He promised he wouldn’t!” Yuuri looked absolutely mortified, now wringing his hands, the glow of the laptop screen casting an eerie glow on him. “Has he told everyone?!”
“N-No,” he stammered. He. Was stammering. He swallowed, audibly. “He just said something that I thought… sounded like…” Like maybe Chris knew what Yuuri tasted like.
And Chris… did?
Oh god. Oh god! His mind reeled. “So ah. When did this… uh…”
Yuuri shifted on the bed, visibly uncomfortable and practically grimacing. He was bright red now. “Likefouryearsago,” Yuuri mumbled in one breath, avoiding his gaze.
Viktor startled. Maths, maths, ma – Nineteen? When Yuuri was just nineteen?!
He breathed unevenly. Don’t be a jealous freak right now. Don’t be a jealous freak. Don’t be a jealous freak. Don’tbeajealous –
Viktor’s brain wasn’t flat-lining anymore: full alarm bells were going off in his head. “So we’ve both slept with Chris,” he said flatly, tongue thick and mouth dry. Chris’s hands on Yuuri’s hips, Chris’s mouth on Yuuri’s skin, Chris’s lips on Yuuri’s cock, Chris listening to Yuuri’s breathy little moans…
Yuuri was almost squirming. “Yeah, I guess so…”
Was this supposed to be funny? Because suddenly all of those suppressed memories of Chris in bed (“Oh yes, darling, just like that, oh Viktor…”) were very vivid in his head, as were the exact measurements of Chris’s dick (bigger than Viktor’s, he had to admit) and the shape of Chris’s behind and the muscles of his thighs, and Yuuri knew all of those measurements too, and Viktor really didn’t want him to.
Yuuri had been how young?!
“Did it… not occur to you to tell me this when I first told you about me and Chris?”
“Not really,” Yuuri said, and Viktor felt a little mad.
Yuuri looked anguished. “It was years ago, and I was – Viktor, you have to understand how embarrassing it was! Everyone else had – you know, they had experience, everyone had stories, and I had… none.” Yuuri looked distraught. “I just didn’t want to be a virgin anymore, and it was just the one time, and the whole thing was embarrassing for me, so we never told anyone!”
He’d caught ‘years ago’ and ‘just the one time’, both of which were phrases he liked in the current circumstances, but he was quite stuck on the V word that he was pretty sure Yuuri had said.
His mouth dropped open and he almost yelled, “You were a virgin?!”
Yuuri was staring at him, mouth hanging open. “W- But isn’t that wha – Didn’t you –”
“How come you’ve never told me that?!”
“Well, because… because it’s private and embarrassing!”
“I – You. He?!” he asked, wanting to clarify this. “You gave your virginity to Christophe Giacometti?!” Out of all the undeserving figure skating sluts in the world! Yuuri was wincing a little, and Viktor felt winded, like he’d been sucked into an alternate reality. “Did he know that?”
“Of course he did! We’d talked about it,” Yuuri mumbled, and Viktor’s mind reeled: Yuuri and Chris, years earlier, talking about Yuuri’s virginity and the act of Chris taking it. Chris had dared to touch a virginal Yuuri?! That was rich, even for him! That was completely out of line! His hands were in tight fists, he felt like he had a headache coming on, and he was somewhat aware that his breathing was coming out in angry huffs.
“You seem upset,” Yuuri then ventured.
Viktor produced incoherent noise that wasn’t much of anything, but his head appeared to think it was helpful to flash pictures of a naked Christophe Giacometti right then: Viktor knew what Chris’s orgasm face looked like, and not just the one people saw when he did his routines. He did not want to think of that orgasm face anywhere near Yuuri, and he didn’t want Chris to be the first man to pleasure Yuuri either, to hear the little noises of pleasure Yuuri made, to feel the unsteady jerks of Yuuri’s hips when he was close to orgasm.
God, he didn’t want anyone else to know about those things!
But Chris… did?
He sat down on the edge of the hotel bed, defeated. Yuuri had pushed his laptop off his knees, now lowering the screen until it snapped shut. Yuuri looked a little uncertain.
“I’m sorry, I just had no idea,” he managed, trying to bite back the jealousy even a little. He stared at the pristine hotel bedsheets, trying to focus on them rather than the circus of filthy images of Chris and Yuuri in his head, each more explicit than the next. He forced the mental images away. “I had no idea you two had been that close.”
“We weren’t, really,” Yuuri said gingerly.
That made no sense! He laughed, emptily, and in despair. God, how did that make sense?! “But you slept with him. You gave your virginity to him.”
Yuuri stared down at his knees and shrugged. “No one else wanted it,” he said, and Viktor had to do a double take. No one – else. What. Yuuri was blushing again. “Who else has had to ask? He must have thought I was such a loser! I mean, I was! I was a complete loser!”
“That’s insane!” he protested. Could Yuuri be that oblivious to how attractive he was? God, Yuuri could have sold his virginity online for the price of a yacht! (Bad thought – Yuuri definitely should not have done that.) Yuuri couldn’t honestly think no one else would have wanted what he’d offered Chris, could he? Viktor forgot, a lot of the time, how insecure Yuuri could get. No one else had wanted it? Insane! Viktor would fight a thousand men for such a privilege!
Yuuri looked humiliated, and Viktor reached out and placed a hand on Yuuri’s knee. “Honey…” he whispered quietly. “You wanna tell me about it?”
Truthfully, he needed Yuuri to tell him about it. He wouldn’t be able to sleep, to rest…
Yuuri exhaled, shaking his head. “The whole thing was stupid. I mean, I knew he wasn’t in love with me, or anything, although he was so touchy and – and he was always saying nice things to me.”
“That’s just him, though,” he pointed out, thumb rubbing reassuring circles over Yuuri’s knee.
“I know that,” Yuuri said defensively. “I knew that then, too. But, I thought, he must find me a little… attractive, at least. He wouldn’t flirt with me all the time if he thought I was repulsive, would he? And I’d never done more than kiss, and I was nineteen. I mean, I was almost twenty already! And I’d never done things. Sex things.” Yuuri grimaced, but Viktor only waited him out, listening. Yuuri sighed. “Chris and I had the same assignments that year, in Canada first and then in Tokyo, and we stayed in the same hotels too so I saw a lot of him, and I got it in my head to ask him to… to have sex with me. So I would have done it at least, you know? And I’d heard stories about him, that he was quite, uh…” Viktor’s mind filled in the gaps: horny, sexual, slutty… “I thought maybe he wouldn’t mind doing that with me.” Yuuri shrugged. “So I asked him.”
Viktor swallowed – audibly. “Oh.” He knew what Chris’s answer had been. A gorgeous nineteen-year-old, soft brown eyes, jet black hair, a lean, tight body? He knew what Chris’s answer had been and he hated Chris for it. “And then what?”
Yuuri flushed a deeper red. “Viktor..!” he mumbled in protest.
“Can you tell me?” he pressed on. He needed to know, no matter how selfish it was. “Please?”
Yuuri wouldn’t look at him but talked to the hand on his knee. “Well, we… waited for the qualifier to be done. I didn’t qualify for the final, of course. He did though. He got silver that year,” Yuuri said, not at all helpfully. Viktor didn’t care! “But on the night of the exhibition, after he was done with all the press and stuff, we met up in my hotel room. And we… you know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
“We did what people do!” Yuuri said, flustered. “First one way, then the other. You know.”
Chris undressing by the bed, Chris lowering himself on top of Yuuri, Chris pushing Yuuri’s legs apart… And Yuuri, where was he? On the bed, heat high on his cheeks. And then the other way? Chris greedily pulling Yuuri between his spread legs, telling Yuuri to go for it and give it to him as hard as he wanted? Yuuri out of breath, hips snapping, sweat rolling down his forehead…
“And you liked it,” he said, partly in realisation, partly as fact.
“It was nice,” Yuuri conceded, his nose scrunching. “And he promised he’d never tell anyone, and I don’t think he has. I mean, his flirting got even worse after that. He always liked embarrassing me…”
“Right.” He didn’t look at Yuuri. Why did this taste so bitter?
“He was nice about it,” Yuuri said and gave the smallest of shrugs. He sounded a lot younger than twenty-four: he sounded like he was nineteen. “It was nice.”
‘Nice’ seemed to be the operative word.
A sudden realisation crossed his mind: a memory of Yuuri’s alcoholic breath washing against his own face. “Had you been drinking when you asked?”
Yuuri frowned. “No, why would I…?” Their knees were touching: Yuuri was close, was warm, was there with him. “I mean, yes, Chris and I both had a drink to relax a little, but I hadn’t been drinking when I asked him.” Yuuri sounded frustrated. “That’s it: I was nineteen, and a virgin, and I knew I wasn’t good with boys, and I was lonely and kind of sexually frustrated, too. And Chris was… there, and he clearly knew all about that stuff. And I thought it might have been nice with him, maybe.”
“And Chris was… He didn’t try anything, I mean. He didn’t do anything…” Nothing untoward. Nothing obscene. Viktor, feeling stupid even as he said it, clarified, “I mean, did he treat you well?”
Yuuri blinked. “Yes.” Yuuri rubbed the palm of his hand to his head. “I think I liked the cuddling afterwards the best, really.” Viktor jerked a little, and Yuuri rushed out, “Chris said it was important to cuddle, seeing as I’d never…”
Huh, sounded like Chris had taken the task to heart, but at that moment Viktor realised he was more jealous of Chris cuddling with a naked, sweaty, post-orgasmic Yuuri than he was of Chris having had sex with Yuuri. Viktor may have boned Chris too, but they hadn’t cuddled afterwards! And holding Yuuri tight to his chest, whispering little confessions of love in his ear, was Viktor’s job. Chris intruding on that intimacy seemed maddening. He didn’t want Yuuri to have liked cuddling Chris! But it was good that Chris had cuddled him! That had been the gentlemanly thing to do! But he was mad about it!
“Viktor…?” Yuuri asked, hesitating.
“I think anything I say right now is going to be jealous or petty or both,” he admitted with a sigh. He hung his head, feeling angry and bitter – not at Yuuri, not at him at all. He was mad at himself. “God, I feel like an idiot! I should have been there, doing that for you, but of course I wasn’t – We didn’t know each other, so of course, but I – It could have been me, couldn’t it? If we’d been assigned to the same qualifiers, then maybe it would’ve been me.”
He finally met Yuuri’s gaze, and to his surprise Yuuri looked absolutely scandalised. “No! I never would have asked you!”
He blinked. “But. Why not?”
Had Yuuri not had the biggest crush on him? He knew Yuuri had!
“Viktor!” Yuuri’s mouth was hanging open. “What kind of a lunatic would I have been, asking you to sleep with me?!”
Viktor was frowning. “A… hot one…?” he ventured, and Yuuri looked horrified. “But you asked Chris,” he protested, not seeing what the difference was.
“Chris isn’t you,” Yuuri said, almost softly. “I asked him because – because I thought he might say yes. Because I thought he might not mind, with me. I could never have asked you! You didn’t even know I existed!”
“I wish I had,” he said, pitifully.
“Don’t be silly. I was probably awful, anyway,” Yuuri said, but Viktor doubted it. Yuuri had innate sensuality that he was completely oblivious to, but he doubted Chris had been too.
Viktor’s hand was squeezing Yuuri’s knee rather hard. “And you never slept with him again?” he asked, somewhat pathetically.
“It was just to help me get rid of my virginity. We’d agreed on that,” Yuuri mumbled. Viktor tried to imagine what Chris would have thought in such a situation: Yuuri Katsuki offering that to him. “It wasn’t a romantic thing,” Yuuri muttered even as he looked newly embarrassed. “He was just helping me out, since I’d asked. Like a friend. I mean, didn’t you and Chris kind of do the same?”
To be honest, it sounded like he and Chris had put a lot less thought or reasoning to their drunken fumbles.
Yuuri scrunched up his nose, shoulders slumped. “Are you mad?”
“No,” he said at length, finally finding it in himself to smile a little. He was grateful Yuuri had told him when he’d asked. “No, of course not.” How could he be mad? He reached out and gently brushed his knuckles against Yuuri’s cheek. “Just a bit surprised, that’s all.” Viktor’s stomach lurched and his heart thudded rather irregularly in his chest. “God,” he breathed, “how could he sleep with you without falling in love?”
Yuuri blinked at him in surprise, and he captured Yuuri’s mouth in a kiss. Yuuri yelped a little but then kissed back, and Viktor let his hands entwine in the short hairs at the nape of Yuuri’s neck. How lucky was he that Chris Giacometti hadn’t realised how special Yuuri was? So lucky, so incredibly lucky…
“C’mere,” he whispered, pulling Yuuri to lie down with him. Yuuri followed his lead, their mouths sliding together softly.
Viktor found that he had little time to think about Chris at all during what followed. The sheets got tangled as did they, and as the two of them made love, Viktor was relatively sure that the rest of the world, and everyone in it, ceased to exist.
* * *
“What?” he prompted when he saw Yuuri estimating him. He pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s forehead, letting his fingers draw senseless patterns onto Yuuri’s back.
“Were you really jealous?” Yuuri asked, sounding disbelieving and a bit like Viktor had conned him somehow.
He grimaced a little, the previous night flashing through his mind. “Yes.” God, he was an asshole. “Sorry, it wasn’t very fair. Or rational, I mean I’ve slept with him too, but…”
Yuuri flared red and hid his face in Viktor’s bare chest. Viktor blinked at the top of Yuuri’s head in surprise. “Viktor Nikiforov, jealous over me?” Yuuri asked quietly, but now Viktor could hear the smile in Yuuri’s voice.
“Oh, shut up,” he laughed, embarrassed, and when Yuuri looked up at him, brown eyes shining, he was giving Viktor the cheekiest of grins. Viktor faux glared at him. “If there’s any other skater you’ve bedded, Katsuki, now’s the time to fess up. If I like them less than Chris, I’ll probably go beat them up.”
Yuuri met his smirk with one of his own, Yuuri’s arms around his waist tightening. “But I don’t want you to hurt his beautiful face…”
Viktor blinked. His heart clenched up. Wait. Wait. What. “Wh –”
“You,” Yuuri clarified, looking a little disbelieving. “I’m talking about you.”
Yuuri had lifted a sceptical eyebrow at him, as if to ask how thick he was, exactly. Pretty thick by the looks of it. “Oh,” he managed. “Guess I’m fine with that.” The jealous bile that had begun to swell in his gut was dissipating already. He slumped into the mattress, groaning as his eyes closed. He was the worst. “I’m the worst,” he voiced, and Yuuri pressed a kiss to his chest, smiling widely.
“You’re not,” Yuuri said, moving to straddle him on the bed, which – which Viktor did not object to in the slightest. Yuuri smiled at him, a little shyly, and then ducked down and captured his lips in a kiss. He kissed back, arms wrapping around Viktor’s neck, pulling him in. They’d already… But Yuuri kissed him, hard, and it was heady. They really should get up and go to the rink to practise. They really, really, should go. Instead, against Yuuri’s mouth, he whispered, “You wanna…?”
“Uh huh,” Yuuri said, breathlessly.
They ended up being late for practice.
* * *
But he wanted to. God, he really, really wanted to.
They all walked back to the hotel together, him with an arm around Yuuri’s shoulders, Yuuri – his fiancé – snuggled into him. It was hard not to stop random passers-by and enthusiastically ask them if they were aware that this man, Katsuki Yuuri, was to be Viktor’s husband? Because people should know. Everyone should know!
There was a permanent, pleased smile on Chris’s face, and Chris for once in his life had not said a single, teasing word to either of them. Maybe it’d help with the incessant flirting a little, once he and Yuuri were married?
On the lift up to their floor, where Chris was also staying, Chris said, “Well, the two of you will make a very delicious married sandwich.”
Viktor thought that was a rather unusual way of describing their nuptials. But Yuuri just smiled, brightly, and said, “Thank you.”
And Viktor, realising that it was his hand Yuuri was holding, his ring that Yuuri’s ring matched, and his husband Yuuri had vowed to become, suddenly wondered why he’d ever been upset about Chris and Yuuri in the first place. “Thank you,” he also said, meeting Yuuri’s warm gaze and feeling himself smile.
“Ah, c’est tragique,” Chris sighed, “always the best ones that get snatched first.”
But this wasn’t necessarily true, Viktor thought. Chris had certainly beaten them both to it.
The doors opened to their floor, and Philippe was there, looking annoyed, and while Yuuri couldn’t understand the French being spoken, Viktor translated for him that the two had started bickering about Chris not answering his phone, with Chris bemoaning that he’d forgotten to charge it. Chris had then said, “I’ll pay you back in blowjobs, darling.”
That part Viktor did not translate, as he and Yuuri went to their room to get some rest at last.
“Did you really mean it?” Yuuri then asked, eyes meeting his in the mirror, as they stood by the sink brushing their teeth. “About getting married if I win.”
“Yes,” he said, simply.
Yuuri grinned, and in the mirror, Viktor also grinned. Yuuri wiped his mouth to the back of his hand. “Okay then.”
“Okay,” he agreed.
He was lying: he’d marry Yuuri whatever the result.
But, he figured, no harm in motivating him a little. The competition was going to be fierce, after all: with Chris Giacometti and company.