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Victor’s not normally nervous before a skate.  If things had turned out differently; if he hadn’t decided to make a comeback just in time for Russian Nationals (which, now he thinks on it, was a completely insane spur-of-the-moment decision to have made), he probably wouldn’t be standing here, at the edge of the boards with butterflies churning in his gut. 

This skate – this duetto – with Yuuri should have just been Victor surprising the audience, and then he was going to fade back into relative obscurity and return his attention to coaching.  Instead, it’s simply a matter of time before the FFKK announces his return, sooner rather than later, and then the pressure will be on to perform for real, and even Victor’s not sure how well that’s going to work out.  The immediate future is going to be complicated; there’s Russian Nationals on at the same time as the Japanese Nationals.  After that, in mid-January, will be the Europeans, followed by the 4CC’s in February, and then Worlds.  Fortunately, he’ll be skating at Europeans, and Yuuri won’t, so that should give him some breathing room to coach Yuuri, help him perfect his programs. 

No, Victor’s not worried about Yuuri skating; he’s beautiful on the ice, and practice will only make him more confident in both his short and free programs as the season progresses.  Victor’s worried about his own future, because this might be the world’s shortest comeback ever if he bombs the Russian Nationals later this month.  He has to face the fact that he’s not at the top of his game, not while he’s been concentrating on coaching Yuuri.  He’s been getting in practice, sure, but he hasn’t put together new programs or music because he didn’t expect to be competing.  He’s going to have comb through his repertoire of past programs, maybe change a couple of them up a little, and use those to claw back his titles this year. 

He promised Yuuri he’d skate for a year competitively with him, and in reality, that means he can start next season properly - fresh.  The rest of this season will just be a placeholder, and it starts… it starts in 10 days with Russian Nationals.  Victor swallows around a throat gone dry at the thought.


Victor turns to look over his shoulder.  Yuuri’s standing there, in his warm up jacket, the blue of his costume just visible beneath the collar.  He’s been skating his exhibition programs so far in the blue and gold outfit reminiscent of his free skate one, but for their duet, they’ve changed to matching costumes.  Victor is wearing a costume similar to his original free skate outfit for Stay Close to Me, but it’s now purple with a black shirt underneath, while Yuuri is complimentary in a blue one.  He looks understated and remarkably sexy in that outfit, the somber black shirt only making his skin glow more.  He looks ethereal, something just out of reach that Victor wants to constantly grasp for, to hold in his hands.

“Are you okay?”  Yuuri looks a little worried as he reaches out to twine his fingers with Victor’s while they wait for their starting cue.

“I’m fine.”  Victor clears his throat.  He’s not sure if Yuuri has really grasped all the ramifications and complications of what they have ahead of them for the rest of this season.  They’ll definitely need to talk about it, but that can wait for the time being.  “Just thinking, that’s all, love,” Victor adds. Yuuri flushes and a pleased grin crosses his face when Victor calls him love.  “Where’s Koji?”

“Ah, Koji’s gone to his seat.  He said he wants to watch this with the rest of audience, be surprised along with them. He says he loves you and can’t wait to see you later.”

Now it’s Victor’s turn to blush a little.  He still can’t believe he managed to bag both of these wonderful, sexy men, and that he’ll have the rest of his life to be with them.  “He already knows that I’m skating with you,” Victor says.  “How is that a surprise?”

Yuuri laughs.  “Yes, but he’s not really seen the program.  He’s only seen us messing around occasionally trying to do lifts with each other.”

“Hmm.” Victor grins, feeling a little easier with himself now Yuuri’s here by his side.  “He’s really only seen us fall over a lot.  I bet he’s probably got bets placed with Minako and Mari that we’ll tank on the ice.”

“Koji? Never.”  Yuuri smirks back and winks, making Victor laugh.

“Although you’ve seemed to pick up the pair skate thing pretty quickly,” Victor adds, squeezing Yuuri’s hand.

Yuuri flushes, like he’s been caught out.  “Ballet helps with that,” he says eventually.  “Core strength, using the body to move, to fly.  And practice.”

“You’ve been practicing a lot?” Victor raises an eyebrow. 

Yuuri turns redder – if that’s possible – and then the announcer calls his name for the exhibition skate.  Victor’s never seen anyone unzip a jacket faster; he’s almost convinced at this point that the Japanese skate team have perfected the art and hold classes on how to do it professionally and look cool at the same time. “I’ll see you on the ice in about…ah… a minute and a half?” Yuuri says, leaning in for a kiss.  “Try to stay hidden in the meantime.”

“What, me?” Victor holds his hand over his heart and sighs dramatically.  “I would never steal your thunder, love.  Go out and show them how it’s done.”

“Hai.”  Yuuri pulls off his skate guards, just as Victor slinks back into the shadows to avoid the spotlights. 

Yuuri steps onto the ice to thunderous applause; so loud, it’s deafening.  He skates to center ice, arms out to receive his due from the crowd, chin tilted up slightly as if he can see every person in the stadium, and is acknowledging them.  When Yuuri stops in the middle and takes up his starting pose, the audience settle down with a collective sigh, clearly looking forward to watching.

Boy, are they in for a surprise, Victor thinks.  Only two other men have done an exhibition skate as a pair – Stephane Lambiel and Daisuke Takahashi – and that was outside the scope of an official competition.  Victor hopes that he and Yuuri can awe the crowd just as much. 

Yuuri moves through the opening jumps of Stay Close to Me, his movements like silk; languid yet precise.  He’s throwing all the quads in, not holding back, and the crowd is excited.  By now they will have noticed his change of costume, and will be wondering what prompted it.  Victor counts the beats and unzips his jacket, passing it to Chris, who’s hanging back after his skate.  He’s probably doing it on purpose, Victor thinks, knowing that Victor’s up to something.

“Break a leg, Victor,” Chris calls as he catches the jacket, raising an eyebrow at Victor’s costume.

“I’d rather not, but thanks,” Victor replies with a wide grin.  His nerves have disappeared: one of the men he loves is on the ice, calling out to him with the music, his body.  The other is in the crowd, doing the same, but in a different fashion. 

Stay close to me, and never leave.

Victor takes off his skate guards and in the darkness, he steps onto the ice, weaves through the spotlights so he is an invisible figure in the blackness.  When the soprano joins the tenor, Yuuri turns, suddenly it appears to the crowd as if Victor has appeared from nowhere, arms held out, and he weaves his fingers with Yuuri’s, moving through the steps they’ve practiced.  Yuuri is a warm, welcoming weight in his arms, against his body, sliding through his grip as they twist and turn.  They make love to each other on the ice, their movements simply a substitute for the act itself, the pause and retreat, but never too far out of reach until they are intertwined with each other.  Victor slides to his knees at the end, Yuuri wrapped within his arms, and the crowd goes nuts. 

The sound of applause is deafening, the standing ovation joyous.  The ice is littered in seconds with flowers and stuffed toys, and with Yuuri in his arms, Victor feels suddenly like he’s come home. 

Nothing will ever top this moment, he thinks, other than the moment when he marries both Yuuri and Koji.

He never wants this to end, or for this feeling to go away.


It’s a little weird, Koji thinks, attending the GPF banquet as himself.  Sure, he did it last year while pretending to be Yuuri, and he remembers nothing really other than the first couple of glasses of champagne, spurred on by Ciao Ciao to ‘loosen up, Yuuri!!! Have some pizza?! Some champagne!! Mingle a little!!’ …Yeah, that had gone swimmingly

Koji’s determined not to make the same mistakes this time; he and Yuuri already have a pact to get pleasantly tipsy and nothing more.  Well, that’s the general idea, anyway.  They’ve already got a head start on things, because dinner had been the usual staid affair, peppered with never-ending speeches, toasts congratulating everyone, and some kind of roast chicken thingy that tasted like cardboard. Everyone’s been drinking the table wine in an effort to pass the time during the speeches, but now some well-meaning soul has finally bought out the champagne, and now the real fun can start.  After the months of competition leading up to the final, everyone’s ready to let loose and judging by the frisson of excitement in the air, it’s going to be one hell of a party.

Surprisingly, Otabek’s taken over the DJ booth, and looks all serious business about getting organized.  For the moment, Yurio’s hanging around him, trying to act as casual as he can without actually holding up a giant sign that reads ‘LOOK I HAVE A NEW FRIEND!’.  The rest of the Russian Contingent (as Koji’s named them) have finally broken free from Yakov and the other assorted assistant coaches.  Yakov’s made a beeline straight for the vodka and Celestino, no doubt to while away at least part of the evening talking shop.  Phichit’s deep in conversation with Chris at the next table over; he’s got his phone out and is pointing at something and then looking over at the twins.  Koji catches his eye, and Phichit flushes guiltily, shrugging his shoulders.  Chris says something, bellows with laughter, and then with a wink at Koji slips from the banquet room. 

“Okay, Chris is up to something,” Koji says, leaning into Yuuri.  “He’s working with Phichit, he looks guilty as hell.”

“Really?”  Yuuri puts down the glass of shitty wine he’s been nursing and turns to look at Phichit.  Phichit waves, and then takes his time wandering over, snagging another drink on the way.

“Boys,” Phichit says with a grin, sitting down.

“What are you up to?” Koji says.  “I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“Good job we are not pair skating, then.” Phichit observes.  “It’s nothing you need to worry about right now.”  He sips his wine and tries to look innocent, which predictably, fails immediately.  “You two look cozy, although your third is missing.  What did you do with him?”

Koji swivels around to look for Victor; he’s stuck in the crowd with the Russian contingent, trapped on the way back from the champagne table.  He’s looks desperate to break free, but can only make sad faces in their direction.  “We could rescue him, I suppose,” Koji suggests.

“We could,” Yuuri muses.  He stops a waiter carrying a tray of champagne, snags a glass, and then passes one to Phichit, and another to Koji.  All three contemplate each other seriously for a moment, and then, as one, drain their glasses.  Yuuri does the honors and loads everyone up with another full glass before the waiter can protest.

“Ah, I needed that,” Phichit says, winking at both twins.  “So, when is the wedding and can I be your best man?”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me,” Koji says, holding up a finger.  “I was going to kill your ass dead for announcing that on Instagram.” He feels remarkably relaxed now that the alcohol is kicking in finally.  He feels a little buzzed, but it’s pleasant, just a background hum that makes his body loose. 

“Seconded!”  Yuuri grins like a shark and pulls at his tie, loosening the knot a little. He’s also looking a lot more relaxed too, Koji notes, now that he’s away from the spotlight and the media, and with people he knows.

“But... but Koji-kuuun,” Phichit whines, “You like my ass!”

“No, you like mine if I seem to remember,” Koji points out.

“Wow, that champagne is really starting to make your tongue loose, Koji,” Yuuri deadpans.  “Maybe we should find Victor and drag him back to the room now and have our wicked way with him.”

Phichit’s mouth drops open, then he snaps it shut.  “Oh no.  Neither one of you is leaving until I’ve seen the dance-battle.  Yurio was going to destroy you, Yuuri, I seem to remember.” 

“I’m looking forward to him trying,” Koji says gleefully.  “It’s going to be awesome.”

“Clearly word of Yuuri’s unbeaten dance-battle streak in Detroit has yet to reach Russia.”  Phichit stands up and heads for the drinks table.  He pauses when he realizes Yuuri and Koji aren’t following.  “What? You think that glass is going to last you through the next hour?!” He snorts incredulously.  “You guys do remember the college years?”

“That was only last year,” Yuuri points out, standing up and stretching.  He pulls off his jacket and throws it over the chair, then tugs at his tie again.  “Wow, it’s getting warm in here.”

“Nope,” Phichit says, throwing an arm across Yuuri’s shoulder.  “That’s the alcohol.  Woot!”

Suddenly, Koji and Yuuri’s phones both ding with a notification.  Koji pulls his phone out of his pocket to look at the same time Yuuri does, then bursts into laughter, prompting Phichit to glance curiously at Koji’s phone screen.

Help me Koji-Wan, you’re my only hope

All three of them shift just enough to view the Russian contingent.  Victor’s standing in the middle, making puppy-eyes at Koji and Yuuri from across the room, phone in hand.  Georgi’s in a heated debate with Mickey Crispino of all people (when did he arrive?), and Mila is doing what is clearly a fantastic job of winding Yurio up until he’s practically vibrating with rage, while Sara and Emil watch from the sidelines. 

“You want to take this one?” Koji asks Yuuri, gesturing with his phone.

“Nope, this one is all yours,” Yuuri grins.

Hold onto your buns, Princess, Koji types.  The Rebel Alliance is prepping for a dance-battle

He makes sure to add a couple of champagne glass emoji’s at the end, just to hammer home the point, and hits send.  It takes Victor a couple of seconds to receive the message, and then he starts laughing.  Mila grabs his wrist so she can see the screen, and then says something to Yurio, who immediately grimaces at Koji.  Even from across the room it’s a powerful glare, and Koji laughs harder.

For some reason, Koji can’t help but wind up Yurio; it’s been that way since they first met, months ago in Hasetsu.  It seems like years have passed, so much has happened since April, and there’s so much more to come.  Koji’s looking forward to it, that’s for sure.

Yuuri leans past Koji and snatches another glass of champagne from the table.  “What?” he says. “It’s for Vitya; he’s looking a little harassed over there.  We should go rescue him, it’s only fair.”

Victor is looking a little flustered, Koji thinks, trying not to laugh.  He dutifully follows Yuuri across the room, Phichit in the rear, and they join the main group. Victor looks pleased to see them finally, and leans into the twins space, brushing his fingers across Yuuri’s hand and then Koji’s in greeting.  He winks at Phichit who just grins back.

Mila’s talking a mile a minute, barely pausing as she gestures with one hand.

“--you were no doubt in your room, getting dicked by the twins, Victor, and – oh, hey!! Yuuri, Koji! Phichit!” Mila gushes. 

Mila slips between Georgi and drapes herself over the nearest twin (which happens to be Yuuri), to the surprise of Koji and Victor. 

“Japanese Yuuri!” she coos, having randomly picked the correct twin to the shock of everyone.  Koji watches his twin freeze, and then relax slightly, although he’s blushing at the sudden attention. 

“Mila,” Yuuri says, buckling slightly as she drops her weight over him.  “Congratulations on winning gold in the women’s skate today.”

“You are such a sweetheart,” she replies, gesturing with her free hand and almost sloshing wine everywhere.  “Victor, you don’t deserve him.”

Victor’s about to say something but Mila doesn’t pause long enough.  “Other Yuuri!” she squeals at Koji.  “We haven’t actually been formally introduced.  I absolutely need to meet you.”

“Um.” Koji can feel himself honest-to-god blushing, and he’s not sure why.  Mila’s a bit of a force of nature, he decides, and the only other person he knows like that is Mari-nee, and maybe Minako-sensei.

“You are just as adorable as Japanese Yuuri.  Right, Georgi?”  She raises an eyebrow.

Koji can’t look at either Victor or Yuuri; it’s too embarrassing.  Yuuri looks like he’s biting the inside of his lip, and he’s staring off toward the DJ booth in intense concentration, trying not to laugh.  No help there, then, he thinks.  Victor is just grinning, and Koji knows if he makes eye-contact with either of them it’s all over; he’s going to start laughing.

Mila’s not to be dissuaded, however.  “Other Yuuri, do you skate as well?”

Victor makes a small snorting sound.  “Mila, Other Yuuri has a name.  Mila Babicheva, meet Katsuki Koji, my fiancé.”

Mila squees quietly, finally releasing Yuuri, who flops into Victor’s side with what looks like relief.  “So, do you skate?”

Koji for the life of him can’t figure out why everyone is so hung up on this question in particular.  First Victor back in the inn months ago, then Chris, and now Mila.  Maybe its simply an occupational thing for competitive skaters, he thinks. “Ah, I can’t figure skate, only hockey,” Koji replies.

Mila huffs.  “Ugh, hockey.”

“You don’t like hockey?” Koji sips his champagne; the glass is almost empty, and he wonders if he can snag another the next time a waiter comes by. 

“The old hag hates hockey players,” Yurio interjects with a scowl, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his dress pants.  “She dated one over the summer.”

“Oh!” Koji snaps his fingers and grins suddenly.  “Are you the skater who sucker punched that Russian hockey player?  That was awesome!”

Mila smirks and nudges Yuuri with her shoulder. “Yuuri? Can I keep Koji? He is a beautiful, beautiful human being.” She sighs, and flutters her eyes at Koji.

“Oh, urgh,” Yurio snaps out.  “That’s disgusting.”

“Mila, you should finish the story you were telling,” Georgi interjects, sipping his martini and ignoring Yurio. “You were just getting to the good part.”

“Koji, Yuuri, I was just filling Victor in on what happened last night while you were all getting your beauty sleep.” She manages to make the words sound both highly suggestive and filthy.  She’s also not far off the mark, Koji thinks with a private grin that has the complete opposite effect, because Mila looks like she might explode with glee, while Mickey looks like he might throw up in his mouth a little.

“Yuri was on a quest to find his new friend Otabek,” Georgi explains.  “In the process, he got thrown out of a club for being underaged, and we found him on the street, weeping in frustration.”

“I was not weeping, you asshole,” Yurio spits.

“But you were forcibly removed from the establishment,” Georgi confirms.  Koji is beginning to suspect that not only does Georgi have a ridiculous flair for the dramatic, but that he also has a sarcastic sense of humor so dry that most people just don’t appreciate it. 

Koji leans into Yuuri, sliding his arm around his twin’s waist, leaning on him for comfort. Yuuri leans back, a little looser than usual, a bit heavier.  He’s relaxed, Koji realizes, the alcohol making him warm and soft.  Sexy.  Judging by the searching look Victor’s giving them both, licking his lips, he’s noticed too.  Koji offers Victor a soft smile and a raised eyebrow, as if to say, interested?

“Oh my god,” Yurio whines suddenly.  “Will you three stop eye-fucking each other in public? It’s so… embarrassing.”

“It’s only embarrassing because you want in,” Koji says casually.  The result is instantaneous: the conversation grinds to a halt, Emil does a spit-take with his drink, and Victor flushes a glorious shade of pale pink across his cheekbones.  Koji wants to drag him off and fuck him somewhere now, or maybe suck Victor’s cock, but he realizes that’s probably the alcohol talking at this point.

“So…yes,” Mila continues smoothly, patting Georgi on the arm like the whole conversation never happened, “Yuri got himself kicked out of the club, and we spent the rest of the evening trying to track down Otabek, because someone didn’t get his number like normal friends do.”

“I didn’t think about it, okay?” Yurio mutters.  “I wanted to change up my program, and I needed Otabek to help.”

For the moment, Koji can appreciate how Yurio must feel.  Stuck in an unfamiliar city, dropped by your peers who are old enough to party when you aren’t, and feeling restless.  It would suck.

“So, you found Otabek finally?” Yuuri prompts.  He gives Koji a squeeze around the waist, letting him know silently that he’s there, sharing comfort in the crowd. 

“Yeah, that’s where we got my awesome song for the exhibition skate from.”  Yurio grins. “I wasn’t going to skate to that crap that Lilia choreographed for me.  It was boring. I wanted to express myself properly, not with more tedious ballet.”

“Don’t you think Lilia worked hard on that for you, Yurio?” Victor says gently.  “It’s not nice to brush off all her hard work just because you don’t agree with her.”

“She’s old and doesn’t understand me,” Yurio snarls, turning on Victor.  “None of you assholes understand me.”

“Ohhh, I get it,” Koji says.  “And you picked ‘Welcome to the Madness’ to express your displeasure with your lot in life?”

“It expresses my inner turmoil and rage perfectly,” Yurio growls. “I’m a fucking teenager, in case you hadn’t noticed.  And I wanted to look cool.  And then I got fucking upstaged anyway by Katsudon and The Forehead doing the pair skate.”

Koji can feel that familiar sense of not giving any fucks starting to surface.  It always happens around Yurio, he simply can’t help himself.  He ignores Yuuri giving him the eyeball, silently willing him to back down.  Nope, Koji thinks, zero fucks, especially after a few glasses of champagne. 

“You know, Kitten,” he begins, ignoring the snickers from Mila’s direction, “Sometimes you should learn to be simply… happy.  You won gold yesterday.  You could at least be graceful about it and to the other competitors, those who gave you a run for your money, those who made your fight worthwhile and meaningful.   Instead…” Koji pauses for dramatics, watching out of the corner of his eye as Victor takes a sip of his champagne and tries not to grin.  “Instead, you bust out onto the ice looking like the survivor of a fight between two 80’s hair bands, and proceed to toss your sunglasses across the rink like you’re throwing a tantrum.  You could have taken someone’s eye out.”

“Fuck you, Oyakodon,” Yurio bellows.  “That outfit was so cool and you know it!”

“That outfit died in the 80’s,” Koji flips back with a grin.  He pulls out his phone and pulls up his contacts.  

“What are you doing?” Yurio leans closer to Koji despite himself, enough that Yuuri has to step backward out of the way.

“Changing your contact info from Kitten to Edgelord,” Koji responds.  “Is that okay?”

Before Yurio can respond (actually, Koji thinks, Yurio’s making choking noises again, so it’s likely he couldn’t come up with a cutting response at the moment, even if he wanted to), the boring background music cuts out and a steady bass dance beat sweeps through the room, pausing all conversation.  After a few seconds someone laughs, and the conversation resumes, although a little louder due to the volume of the music.  Otabek seems to have gotten a start on the evening at last, Koji thinks. 

“Yessss,” Yurio hisses out, glancing toward Otabek.  Then he turns to Yuuri with an unholy fire in his eyes.  He points at Yuuri dramatically.  “It’s time to give it up, Katsudon,” Yurio says with a grin.  “I challenge you to a dance-battle!”

Far from looking worried, Yuuri smiles enigmatically, passes his glasses to Victor and leans in for a kiss. “Could you look after these, please,” he says, also passing over his glass of champagne. 

“Oh my,” Mila says approvingly, as Yuuri slicks his hair back off his forehead and fixes Yurio with a look. 

Koji knows that look; it the same as the expression he gives people when he’s got a secret that surprising, and he’s about to reveal it.  Yurio has no idea what’s about to hit him.  It’s going to be awesome, Koji thinks.   

As soon as Yuuri pulls out Eros, Yurio turns a rather interesting shade of red that nobody in the room can fail to miss, but he’s raring to go, needing to prove himself, and hasn’t grasped the fact he’s probably just outed his crush to everyone.

“Bring it, Yurio,” Yuuri purrs, and even Koji has a hard time keeping it together.  Phichit’s grinning like an imbecile, and everyone else, including Victor, looks a little wide-eyed. 

“Let’s dance.”


Victor, along with everyone in the room, is pretty much mesmerized.  At last year’s banquet, the dance-off had been pretty much a spontaneous thing.  Victor will admit he had his eye on the prize – on who he thought was Katsuki Yuuri – right from the start, but it had taken him a few minutes to realize what was going on and break off his conversation to make his way to the dance floor.  Yuuri – Koji – was already half way through systematically destroying Yurio in their unscripted dance-battle, so he’d missed all the fun that had lead up to it.  Not so this time, and oh my god, thinks Victor delightedly, this is hilarious.

Yurio’s backing onto the dance floor, staring intently at Yuuri, refusing to release eye contact while Yuuri stalks after him.  It’s like watching a lazy big cat on the prowl, scenting the air and trying to decide whether to humour the kitten in front of it or bat it with a paw and put it in its place.  For now, Yuuri’s playing with Yurio, letting him have the limelight, while he slowly circles him.  Yurio shrugs his jacket off his shoulder and throws it to the side.  Mila catches it with a squeal, and Victor grins. Koji’s next to Victor, practically vibrating with silent laughter, while Phichit looks like shit just got real and he’s not sure what to do next.  Yuuri pulls at the knot of his tie, and slides it from his shoulder in a whisper of silk, throwing it to Victor without looking.  Then he slowly undoes the buttons of his shirt; just the first couple, and shrugs his shoulders, waiting.

“Whenever you’re ready, kitten,” Yuuri says with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh fuck,” Koji snickers, “He called him kitten.  Shit is going to hit the fan, hard.”

“I was afraid of this,” Victor replies.  “I can’t say I’m sorry, though.”

Yurio drags his eyes from Yuuri’s just long enough to signal to Otabek, who nods.  The dance music currently playing fades out gracefully (because apparently Otabek is just too professional to simply cut the music) and then a fast, hectic beat kicks in, followed seconds later by a heavy baseline.  Victor feels the music immediately go straight to his dick; it’s heavy, grinding music, the type you frot to against a hard, sweaty body, twisting in the dark.  It’s fucking on the dance floor, it’s dirty, and it’s perfect.  Yurio’s actually got pretty good taste in music (when he’s not skating), because as both he and Yuuri circle each other, the music flows fast then slow, allowing them to swap out.  Neither one of them come close to each other, but flow across each side of the floor, swapping out dance styles in order to try to get one up on each other.  Yurio’s faster, throwing himself into the music, but Yuuri bends it to his will, he flows with it, even when he’s breakdancing.  Victor’s missed this, and he’s doing the same as last year, snapping pictures like a man possessed, trying to catch a sliver of smooth, muscled flesh on camera when Yuuri’s shirt rides up.

“Whoa, slow down cowboy,” Koji teases, sipping at his champagne.

“What?” Victor pouts.  “I have a lot of pictures of you doing this; now I have the matching set.”

As the song draws to a close, Yurio slides across the dancefloor on one hand, stretched out, a hectic grin on his face.  In response, Yuuri simply laughs, takes a running jump toward the sliding Yurio, and vaults into the air.  He twists, clearing Yurio easily, dropping to his knees and sliding forward in a direct copy of the way Yurio slid across the ice during his exhibition skate.  The crowd, predictably, goes insane.  Yuuri hammers his point home by twisting sideways and finishing gracefully, standing up, chest heaving with exertion.  His hair is plastered to his head, he's sweaty, dishevelled, and Victor feels his heart hammering with matching excitement.  He realizes after a moment that Koji’s gripping his hand tightly, palm warm in his, eyes alight with both desire and elation. 

“OH MY GOD!” Mila screams.  She actually screams.  Georgi simply rolls his eyes but he looks impressed.

Yuuri takes a bow, and with a startled look, Yurio does the same.  He knows he’s beaten, but he seems exhilarated rather than pissed off, and doesn’t take offence when Victor claps and holds out a glass of champagne.  “Yurio, I think you deserve this, yes?” he says with a grin.

Yurio snatches it out of Victor’s hand.  “Thanks,” he actually manages, without sounding too annoyed about it, and slugs half of it down like it’s water.

Victor raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything.  Yurio’s got to learn the hard way that the morning after a heavy drinking session isn’t so great.  It’s not something you can explain to someone, and well, he thinks, Yurio did win gold.  He’s allowed some leeway. 

Yurio puts his glass down and grimaces at Koji.  “You,” he bites out.  “You’re next.”

“Me?” Koji glances at Victor and then at Yuuri, who’s sauntering back from the dance floor, loose limbed and relaxed after his win.  “Why do I have to? You told me the other night I ‘don’t count’.

“I changed my mind, asshole,” Yurio grumbles.  “Dance with me, Oyakodon.”

Koji shrugs.  “Only if I pick the music.”

“Fine.” Yurio’s staring at Koji like he’s gonna kick serious ass.  Victor wants to point out he lost last year to Koji, but hey, lessons not learned and all that.

“I’ll be back.”  Koji slips off his jacket and marches across the dance floor towards Otabek.  Victor slips his hand into Yuuri’s and nuzzles into his neck, breathing in his scent.  Yuuri shivers, laughs against Victor’s neck, one hand resting on Victor’s bicep, squeezing gently.

It’s then that the music cuts in, and Yuuri pulls away in surprise, a rich peal of laughter pouring from his throat.  Victor can’t help it either, as Koji beckons Yurio back onto the dance floor, he’s wearing an unholy grin.  Me too is playing, light and poppy, and completely different than the last song.

Who's that sexy thang I see over there? That's me, standin' in the mirror… What's that icy thang hangin' 'round my neck? That's gold, show me some respect

“Oh fuck you, Oyakodon,” Yurio bites out, but he’s not going to back down on the dance-battle. 

“I thought it might light a fire under your ass,” Koji teases, gesturing Yurio forward.

If I was you, I'd wanna be me too, I'd wanna be me too

The underlying sentiment behind the song will be lost on most of the crowd, Victor thinks, but it’s still hilarious.  He’s goading Yurio, reminding him that he can’t have Yuuri, that Koji is not only Yuuri’s twin, but has his time and his love.  It’s a little underhanded, but it is making Yurio work for the win on the dance-floor.  It’s hard to concentrate when you’re vibrating with rage, after all.

Yuuri has his phone out, snapping photos, completely oblivious to the sub-context playing out right in front of him.  “I missed this last year,” he explains, leaning into Victor.  “This is so much fun.”

“Only with you here,” Victor responds, kissing the top of Yuuri’s head.  “And Koji makes three,” he adds with a wink.

“Were you talking about me but not watching?”  Koji, now a hot, sweaty mess, returns from the dance-floor, sliding his arm around Yuuri and leaning closer.

“Did you win?” Yuuri asks. 

Koji shrugs.  “I wasn’t really trying.  I was just hammering a point home.”

“You still suck.”  Yurio tosses out the barb as he walks by, but he doesn’t look particularly angry.  Maybe it’s the adrenaline, maybe the alcohol, or god forbid, Victor thinks, the kid is actually having a good time.

“Aren’t you three lovebirds going to say hi to Uncle Chris?”

“Chris!” Yuuri says with a smile.  “Where did you go to?”

“I had an errand to run,” Chris grins.  He winks and tips his head to the side.  Victor follows his gaze, sipping at his champagne, and almost spit-takes when he sees the brass pole set up to one side.

“You brought a stripper pole?” Yuuri shrieks, clapping both hands over his face with embarrassment.  “Oh my god, Chris.”

“Well,” Chris says with a long-suffering sigh, “Like Yurio, I intend to challenge you this year.  You don’t get off that easily, Yuuri.”

“Wow, Yuuri!” Victor exclaims.  He can’t help it; this is the most fun he’s had in ages.  “You are the man of the moment.  Everyone wants a piece of you tonight.”

Yuuri fixes Victor with a hot, intense look; Eros through and through.  “Hmm, there’s only two people who get to do that,” he whispers into Victor’s ear.  “Save it for later, yes?”

“Okay.” Victor swallows, lets Yuuri pull away slowly, still looking at him like he’s dinner.  Oh god, Victor wants to be dinner, so badly.  Maybe the filling in a twin-sandwich. He doesn’t care; he’ll take it all. 

“Dammit Victor.” Chris stares at Yuuri, then Koji, and then back at Victor.  “You are thirsty as fuck.  Like a man in a desert with no hope of survival thirsty.”  He snaps his fingers. “We all need more champagne.”

Chris doesn’t bother with the niceties; he simply returns with two bottles of full champagne and starts refilling glasses.  Meantime, Otabek has gone back to spinning older dance hits, and the floor fills with half-drunk skaters and their partners, enjoying the evening.  Yurio’s gravitated back to the DJ booth, drink still in hand, and appears to be shouting at Otabek, trying to hold a conversation over the music.

Victor lets time flow around him for a little while; he’s content to people watch, to stand here, drink in hand, and absorb the evening.  Phichit’s talking up a storm with the twins, while Yuuri and Koji snuggle into each other, Koji leaning his chin on Yuuri’s shoulder, watching while Phichit gestures rapidly about something.  Both twins are in various states of undress, shirts undone; Yuuri’s tie is missing, and his hair is still slicked back.  While it’s usually unruly, it’s decided to cooperate this evening and has stayed slicked back, even after the dance-battle.  Yuuri looks effortlessly sexy, and Koji is no exception either, although he looks more innocent, even without his glasses.  Victor knows that’s a lie; both twins are the devil incarnate when they get on a roll, but it appears they’re taking it easy with the drinks this evening, sticking to just enough to get by on a happy buzz.  Victor’s the same way, pleasantly tipsy, content to watch and to enjoy.

Koji glances toward Victor and then squeezes Yuuri, coming to stand next to Victor.  “Having a good time, Vitya?” he asks.

“Of course.”  Victor brushes a strand of hair behind Koji’s ear, tucking it back.  “Enjoying the viewing party.”

Koji laughs, soft and seductive.  “You make it sound like we should be blossom watching, not standing in the middle of a crowded room with a bunch of inebriated skaters.”

“Well… when you put it like that…” Victor pauses, tilts his head to the side a little to observe Koji better.  “Are you comparing this to last year’s banquet at all?”  Victor leans into Koji’s space, whispering in his ear.  His voice is soft, a little suggestive, because he enjoys winding the twins up, and wants to, just to watch one or both of them squirm. 

Koji turns just enough that he’s in Victor’s space.  Next to him, Yuuri notices, and breaks off the conversation with Phichit long enough to lean in so he can hear the conversation.  “A little.”  Koji pouts, puts a hesitant note in his voice and Victor leans in closer, despite himself.  “I was just thinking maybe I shouldn’t have drunk so much last year…” Koji continues with a whimsical sigh.  “Because… well, I could have seduced you properly, dragged you upstairs to my room, and then surprised you with a mostly naked Yuuri.  Such a shame.”

Victor makes a small choking sound and flushes.  “I suppose I deserved that, don’t I?” Victor replies with a grin, aware he’s blushing like a teenager.

Chris appears again and throws a hand over Victor’s shoulder, effectively breaking the mood.  Victor’s low-level arousal banks for the moment, but he feels a little more wound up than before.  Both twins looks amused, also a little flushed, because it’s clear they like playing with Victor as much as he does them.

“Ready to kick it up a notch?” Chris asks, glancing at Koji and then Yuuri.  “Unless you want a turn at the pole, Victor?”

“I’m not going anywhere near your pole, Chris,” Victor says with a filthy grin.

“Oh, are we pole-dancing again, Chris?”  Koji’s eyes light up with unholy glee.  He throws back the rest of his glass of champagne (which Chris tops up, along with Yuuri’s), and starts unbuttoning his shirt. 

“Hell yes,” Chris bites out, starting to strip too.  “It’s after eleven, ladies and gentlemen, let’s get to the real fun.”

Victor changes his mind on his earlier assessment; it seems the twins have probably had more to drink than he initially thought.  Although, Koji’s a bit of an exhibitionist anyway, and is a little more outgoing than Yuuri… but Yuuri’s also got a hint of the devil about him right now too.  Victor eyes his champagne and downs the rest of it, because he has a feeling that what happens next is going to be gold.

It only takes Otabek half a minute to cue up something sexy and pole-dance worthy, before Chris is half naked along with Koji, and then they’re dancing.  Just like last year.  Yuuri slips his arm around Victor and laughs, watching Koji flip himself almost upside on the pole, hanging by one hand.  Chris, in just those damn shorty shorts, takes a running leap at the pole and vaults above Koji, spinning like a crazy man.  Mila lets out a shriek, grabs hold of Sara, who is also screaming with glee, while Georgi actually smirks.  The world is ending, Victor thinks.

Chris is doing some kind of complicated thing, hanging off the side off the pole, while someone in the crowd has passed Koji another bottle of champagne.  Koji gives it a hearty shake, and the bottle explodes in a fizz, soaking the crowd (and himself and Chris in the process) and now it’s apparently a pole-dancing wet underpants contest. 

“Oh my god,” Yuuri stutters, turning to Victor.  “Koji’s going to be covered in champagne when we get back the room.”

“We’ll have to help him clean up.” Victor bites his lip and exchanges a meaningful look with Yuuri.

“Yeah.” Yuuri swallows, eyes flickering back to the display his twin is putting on.  Koji’s laughing, working his way around the pole, and Chris (who is hanging upside down again) and then he catches Victor’s eye and winks.  It’s a filthy wink, laden with innuendo, and Victor feels Yuuri tense against his side.  “Oh god,” Yuuri moans a little, and Victor’s banked desire stutters back to life.  This is going to be yet another evening where both twins manage to kill him, he thinks.  He’s so up for it.

“Aren’t you going to join in, sweetheart?”  Victor knows he sounds overeager, but god, he’d pay a serious amount of money right now just to see both twins going at it around a stripper pole.  Most of the people in the room probably would, too.

“Hmmm.”  Yuuri makes a hesitant face, but Victor can tell it’s just for show.  He’s winding Victor up on purpose, he realizes.  “Would you like to see that, Vitya?” he asks innocently.

It’s a TKO for Victor; a double sucker-punch. Yuuri pulling out Eros – score one – and then asking Victor if he’d like him to dance around a stripper pole.  Victor can’t even get a word out in response.

His face must be enough, because Yuuri smirks at him, sips at his glass of champagne.  “I guess I’ll just have to show you something better, then,” he says, handing Victor his empty glass. 

Victor watches as Yuuri saunters off toward the DJ booth, only distracted when he’s suddenly attacked by a very-wet, champagne covered Koji, breathing heavily with exertion, eyes lit up with excitement.  “Wow,” Victor manages to say, pressing Koji closer.  Champagne or not, he’s not going to let Koji get away now. 

“Did you like that?” Koji asks.  “You should join in next time, Vitya.  Where’s Nii-san?”

“He’s gone to select music,” Victor explains.  “Said he had something to show me.”

“Did he?” Koji quirks his eyebrow, thinking hard, and then he blushes.  “Ohhhh. Oh wow.”

“Oh wow?” Victor repeats slowly.

“This is going to be exciting,” Koji adds, without further elaboration. 

“Yuuri can pole-dance, I take it?” Victor asks, pulling Koji closer and wrapping his arms around him.  He feels Koji slide a hand down his back, to the small of his back, a heavy, suggestive weight. 

“Oh yes, but this is way better.”

“You’re not going to tell me?” Now Victor is interested.  Scratch that, beyond interested.

Koji grins.  “Oh, you’ll need to watch. Telling you won’t do it justice.”

Just then Victor spots Yuuri walking back across the dance floor, weaving between those still dancing.  Someone else has opened another bottle of champagne, and is spraying it across the dancefloor.  The party is starting to resemble a bacchanalian feast of epic proportions, although it’s going to have to wind down soon.  It must be close to midnight, Victor guesses.  Yuuri’s unbuttoning his shirt as he walks, slipping it from his shoulders.  Some of the dancers are taking notice again, slowing to watch as he heads toward the pole.  Chris spots Yuuri and slides down, bowing gracefully despite being half naked.  He gives Yuuri a thumbs up and Yuuri gives him a shit eating grin, just as he slides his shirt off and reveals acres of muscled, smooth skin and abs.

Then the music kicks in.

Victor has to admit, he wasn’t expecting Candy Shop by 50 Cent to start playing, because it’s not really a good song to pole-dance to.  Then it all makes sense when Yuuri reaches for the pole, grips it above his head, and swings around it in a full arc.  He doesn’t leave the floor, simply uses it for balance, and then winks at Victor and Koji, sliding his belt from his pants and throwing it to the side.  Gravity takes over and Yuuri’s dress pants slide down just enough to settle low at his hips, revealing a good deal of his hipbones and a sliver of the band of his underwear beneath. 

Holy fuck, Victor thinks, is Yuuri going to do a strip tease? There’s no way in hell his Yuuri would – and then he remembers Koji from last year.  Oh shit, it’s entirely possible he’s going to, after all.

Yuuri swings around the pole again, matching the beat, and all intelligent thought vanishes from Victor’s head like so much smoke when Yuuri dips low to the side, snaps his body back up in a graceful arc, and shimmers his hips suggestively. 

Yuuri is belly dancing.

Holy crap.

If anyone had asked Victor, previous to this moment, if it would be possible to get turned on by seeing a guy belly dancing in dress pants, Victor would have probably scoffed.  Now, as Yuuri flips his head to the side and cocks his hip with a filthy grin on his face, raising his arms above his head like Eros incarnate, Victor is more than convinced the answer is a resounding yes.

The music is perfect, slow and hot, and Yuuri rolls his hips, turning slowly on the spot. Every muscle in his stomach ripples from the effort of movement, and Victor’s mouth drops open.  At some point, Yuuri’s shed his shoes and socks, and he looks delectably undressed, almost naked, and he rolls his hips again, running his hands through his hair and fixing Victor with a heated look like he’s the only person in the room.  Victor’s always said Yuuri makes music with his body, and this is absolutely no exception.  The music only drives Victor’s desire higher, every flick of Yuuri’s hips an invitation, every shimmer of his body a call to the wild part of Victor’s animal instinct. 

Victor’s vaguely aware of the other people in the crowd cat-calling, some of them moving to the music, but Victor’s vision is a pinpoint with Yuuri at the centre.  Koji’s pressed against him, grinding slowly to the music, whispering words in his ear that he can’t hear, only process the tone.  Koji’s not even aware he’s talking in Japanese, which is sexy in itself, but it’s a constant litany of filthy suggestion no doubt, and Victor finds himself clutching Koji’s shirt, like an anchor.

Yuuri dips low to the side, reaches up to run his hands through his hair again, gripping the pole and swinging around it as his body warms to the movements.  He struts, swinging to the side, and rolls his hips again, and the crowd goes wild.  Victor wants this to never end, and to end as quickly as possible, just so he can grab hold of this beautiful, seductive creature, and his twin, and take them upstairs, and… get nasty. 

The next three minutes are hell on Victor’s libido, a pleasurable torture he never wants to end, and if Yuuri keeps looking at him and Koji like he is, Victor’s not going to make it upstairs.  As the music closes, Yuuri smooths his hands down his torso, undulating his hips, sensual and slow, his meaning very clear. He leans back, balance perfect despite the champagne, still swinging his hips in a mesmerizing dance, until he’s almost laid back in a perfect arch, hands almost grazing the floor.  It’s reminiscent of the laid-back Ina Bauer he performs in his free skate.  The movement isn’t lost on the crowd; the cheers grow louder, until Yuuri snaps his body back up in a quick movement, swings around the pole a final time, and then bows with a flourish just as the song ends.  Koji makes an honest-to-god whimper in the back of his throat, and Victor nearly loses it.

Fortunately, Chris is the splash of cold water he needs. “I need to up my game, clearly,” Chris says with a rueful chuckle.  “You two are lucky bastards, I might hate you.”

“You can hate me later over breakfast tomorrow, Chris,” Victor says, never taking his eyes off Yuuri, who is walking toward him and Koji, predator and prey all rolled into one neat package as he steps off the dance floor.  Yuuri snags his shirt and discarded belt from the floor, and licks his lips as he approaches Victor. “We have to go.”

Chris laughs.  “Have fun.  I’ll make your excuses to everyone, although I’m pretty sure at least half the audience wants to be in your shoes right now.”

Victor grins filthily.  “Sucks to be everyone else then.”

Chris smacks Victor on the back.  “Get to it, Nikiforov.  You have the twins to deal with.”

Otabek is spinning something sensual again, getting people back onto the dance floor, and it takes a moment for Victor to realize he’s playing Closer.  Victor grins, and Otabek gives Victor a stoic thumbs up in response, while Yurio mimes gagging. 

Yuuri reaches Victor just in time to mouth I want to fuck you like an animal to the song lyrics, and Victor grabs his hands.  “Your wish is my command,” he purrs, and pulls Koji and Yuuri toward the door, not looking back.


Yuuri stumbles through the door to the hotel room.  Koji’s giggling, high on champagne and desire, but Victor’s quiet, all his energy focused on getting both of the twins into the room together so he can do nasty things to and with them.  Yuuri doesn’t need to understand Russian to know what Victor wants, what he’s been whispering in the twins ears on the elevator ride; Victor’s wound tighter than a spring, ready to uncoil and let go.

Yuuri’s surfing a high too; one born of lust, pure and simple.  The knowledge that between them – Koji with the pole-dancing, and then Yuuri with his belly dancing – has pushed Victor right to the edge.  Yuuri’s body is relaxed and loose, his to command, and he knows Victor will give them whatever they want.  Yuuri struts toward Victor, who’s still standing in the doorway, breathing heavy, cheeks flushed.  Yuuri takes his hand, moving backward toward the bed, never breaking eye contact.  Together he and Koji divest Victor of his shirt, and then unbuckle his pants.  Yuuri flicks open Victor’s button on his pants. 

“What do you want, Vitya?” he asks, fingers skimming the waistband of Victor’s pants. His voice is low, laced with desire, sensual.  He feels like he could do a million things right now, drunk off Victor’s lust.

“Everything,” Victor growls.  Even in his state, wound up and wanting, Yuuri recognizes that Victor hasn’t asked for anything, which would be the easy way out, he wants everything. All that Yuuri has, that Koji has.  Yuuri’s fingers tighten over Victor’s pants, and then he pulls, shoving Victor’s pants and underwear down and off.  Victor kicks them to the side, and works on divesting Koji of his clothes, kissing his way down Koji’s neck.  Koji arches into Victor, fingers digging into his shoulders, and breathes out a soft moan.

“You are both beautiful,” Yuuri says.  “I want to watch you.” Koji moans then, turns enough to watch his twin, and Yuuri sinks onto the edge of the bed, sliding his pants off, palming himself through his underwear. 

Both of them are breathing heavily, hands grasping at skin, leaving marks.  Yuuri loves to watch; he doesn’t get to do it very often, but holy shit, it’s incredible to watch.  Victor pulls Koji in for a deep, searching kiss, hand tangling in his hair, and Koji melts into Victor’s embrace.  Koji’s usually fairly dominant, and Yuuri thinks it’s in incredible turn-on to watch his twin go pliant beneath Victor’s touch, soft and sensual. 

Victor pushes Koji to his knees, and Koji doesn’t hesitate; he wraps a hand around the base of Victor’s cock and kisses his way up from Victor’s balls to the tip before swallowing him down.  It’s too much and not enough; Yuuri pushes his underwear off and spits into his palm, wrapping it around his cock and stroking it in time with Koji’s movements.  Yuuri loves to suck cock; craves it, but watching is almost better.  He watches his twin swallow Victor down to the root, slide slowly back up, eyes closing as he moans.  Victor pushes his hips forward; it’s almost involuntary, his fingers sliding through Koji’s hair, gripping tightly.  Yuuri watches as Victor directs Koji; controls his movements, dictating how he wants it, how fast, how deep.  Victor’s watching Yuuri intently, and Yuuri adjusts his strokes over his own cock, making a show of jerking off, spreading his legs, all the while watching his twin take Victor in as much as he can.  He knows Victor’s close when his eyes slide shut and he starts rocking his hips in time with Koji’s movements. 

Yuuri’s not a dirty talker, that’s usually Koji’s thing, but there’s something about the power he’s found this evening – he can’t help himself.  “You like that, Vitya?” he hears himself ask.  His voice is rough and sensual, like honey mixed with whiskey.  Victor’s eye’s flutter, the blue barely visible as he fights to focus on Yuuri past the sensation of Koji blowing him.  “You like fucking Koji’s mouth? Is he nice and tight? Or do you want to fuck us both?”

“Jesus,” Victor breathes out, tugging on Koji’s hair, almost forcibly pulling him off his cock.  Koji whines, a sound that goes straight to Yuuri’s dick, and he squeezes the base of his cock, staving off his impending orgasm. 

“Nii-san, that was evil,” Koji pouts.  Still on his knees, he shifts, crawling toward Yuuri across the floor, to the bed, until he’s nestled between Yuuri’s legs, resting his chin on Yuuri’s knee.  Yuuri pulls Koji up, falling backward onto the bed, until he can roll so Koji is underneath him.  He kisses Koji like it’s the last thing on earth, hot and deep, tangling fingers in his hair, tugging him closer.  He feels Victor slide up behind him, pressing his dick against Yuuri’s ass like a hot brand, rolling his hips.  Yuuri’s eyes slide closed; there are hands on his body, stroking against his skin, digging in and leaving marks. He has no idea whose hands are whose; he doesn’t care.  He feels fingers sliding across his jaw, turning his head, lips on his, firm.  He melts into Victor and Koji, simply feels, lets them lead. 

He’s pushed onto his back, one of them is kissing him, the other moving down, licking across his nipple and making him arch with the intense sensation.  More kisses across his torso; a wet mouth against his hip bone, fingers holding him down while the other ruts against his hip, hard and wet.  Sweat collects in the dip of Yuuri’s spine as his body reacts; at the nape of his neck.  His lips are bruised but he wants more; he wants it all.  A mouth around his cock, the tight clench as that person swallows around him.  Yuuri’s got his fingers tangled in hair, pushing them down onto his cock; they moan, a sound that makes Yuuri’s cock twitch, makes him roll his hips into that warm, wanting mouth.

The room fills with the sound of moans, a litany of filthy spoken words and encouragement; Yuuri can’t breathe, he can’t focus, it all rolls into one continuous spike of building pleasure.  The mouth around his cock is gone, replaced with firm fingers jacking him off; slick fingers slide into his unresisting ass, and he rolls down on those fingers, pushing deeper, fucking himself between them.  His breath comes in short, sharp gasps, his hands reaching for purchase on slick skin and cool sheets, he’s arching his back, rocking his hips, searching for that sweet spot. 

His gasps and moans are swallowed by an eager tongue; he can feel another mouth against his throat, sucking a hard lovebite into the skin, making it throb with a heady mix of pain-pleasure.  Yuuri moans into the hard kiss; he wants this, wants to be taken apart hard and fast.  He’s getting the hard part, but both Koji and Victor are drawing it out, using what they know of his body against him.  Yuuri is wound tight, but he’s teetering on the edge without actually coming.

“Please,” Yuuri begs, reduced to nothing more than basic need. 

“Finally,” one of them says, and there’s fingers tangling in his hair, exposing his throat, another hard kiss against his Adam’s apple, along his collarbone.  The fingers in his ass thrust deeper, the hand on his cock tightens, and Yuuri comes with a shout, body tight and aching, throat raw from the sounds he makes. 

Yuuri goes pliant, relaxed beneath both bodies; lets them use his lax body to fuck against, grind into.  He’s lost track again of who is kissing him, needy and desperate as they move against him.  Koji’s whispering filthy words into his ear, Victor’s hands are everywhere.  Yuuri feels Koji tighten, his hips stuttering as he gets close to orgasm.  He can feel the warm splash of come against his hip as Koji’s hands pull at his body, curling inward. 

Victor’s not nearly as inebriated as either one of them, for once it works in his favour.  As soon as Koji comes, Victor flips Yuuri over, slides his cock between Yuuri’s cheeks, and fucks into the crease of his ass.  Koji pulls Yuuri into a hot kiss, hands roaming over Yuuri’s body as Victor moves, sweat and pre-com easing the way as he grinds against Yuuri’s ass, fingers digging into his hipbones enough to leave little bruises.  Yuuri’s half hard again from being manhandled; he likes losing control, having it wrested from him.  Victor fucks against him like a wave, powerful and unending, breath hot against Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri pushes into Koji’s mouth, his moan swallowed by his twin. 

“Fuck,” Victor mutters.  “Both of you…” The rest of his comment is lost to the moment as he curses, pulls back enough to jerk himself off rapidly.  Yuuri can feel him come, the hot splash of his spend across his ass cheeks and lower back.  Yuuri rolls his hips, pushing his ass upward, some part of him loving being marked by Victor. 

“Yours,” Yuuri moans out.  It’s completely unscripted, said in the heat of the moment, and Victor curses again, mouth pressing hot kisses into the back of Yuuri’s neck as he comes down.

Victor collapses to the side, and for a moment Yuuri simply can’t move.  He’s exhausted; high on endorphins and lust, still half-hard, body wrecked from the exhibition skate and a long day, then the banquet. 

Koji pushes Yuuri onto his back and grins.  “Hey, Nii-san,” he says with a grin.  “I think we killed Vitya.”

Victor mutters, stroking a hand languidly down Yuuri’s side.  “Almost,” he admits.  “Although I think I’m getting better at keeping up with both of you.”

Koji laughs then, and Yuuri can’t help but grin too.  “You wish, Vitya,” he says.  His thoughts get derailed effectively when Koji slides his hand down Yuuri’s stomach, stroking over his cock. 

“Someone’s still raring to go,” Koji breathes into Yuuri’s neck, giving Yuuri a firm stroke.  Yuuri arches his hips upward, into his twin’s touch and rolls his hips.

Victor smirks, nestling into Yuuri’s shoulder and placing a kiss against his skin.  “Don’t let me stop you both,” he says.  “I do like to watch, after all.”

Yuuri moans; it’s a sound of surrender and they all know it.  He’s no more able to resist Koji’s touch than Victor’s.  Victor might be sated for the moment, but Koji’s got Yuuri’s stamina.

It’s going to be a long night.