anyone who argues that one sided pining is better than mutual pining is a FOOL. i want fics that all or nothing babey they’re both stupid and in love and unable to see that the other is just as smitten as them. that’s where the good stuff is.
im also here for all their friends wringing their hands just watching the two of them so obliviously in love and pining over each other
anyone who argues that one sided pining is better than mutual pining is a FOOL. i want fics that all or nothing babey they’re both stupid and in love and unable to see that the other is just as smitten as them. that’s where the good stuff is.
im also here for all their friends wringing their hands just watching the two of them so obliviously in love and pining over each other
i asked my friend for advice on asking my crush out and she said “just make her a mixtape isnt that what all artsy gays do” and
college au where viktor, music major and radio dj, flirts with Cute Mysterious Dance Major yuuri by making him a really gay playlist
does this result in literally everyone knowing that Viktor is Super Gay™ for Yuuri because he never shuts up about his “dancing beauty” on his show and keeps dedicating songs to a certain “gorgeous Japanese man who loves dogs and could kill me with his thighs-“
meanwhile, Yuuri’s listening to Viktor’s show while he warms up and wistfully wishing he could be Viktor’s anonymous love interest
babe. u know i had to.
“He’s always walking around with earbuds in, so I know he must love music!”
Yuuri tunes into the Stammi Vicino radio show hour just in time to catch the tail end of Viktor gushing about his crush.
Yuuri leans down and stretches out his legs, letting the soft melody wash over him. Yuuri has been listening to the Stammi Vicino show since freshman year, when he accidentally stumbled on it while surfing channels during a late night study session. It’s become a tradition to tune in while he stretches before dance practice.
He has the studio to himself today. The sun is starting to set, letting in soft golden light in through the studio’s floor to ceiling windows. Yuuri’s in his last year of his program, which means he gets to use the nice studios for solo practice. The view across campus is incredible.
Viktor Nikiforov–– music major, student council member and Yuuri’s crush since an embarrassing party in sophomore year which Yuuri refuses to talk about–– Viktor Nikiforov, host of Yuuri’s favorite radio show, has it bad for some dark-haired beauty. He’s been gushing about him on air for almost a month now.
“I hope my Mystery Boy liked that last one. I wonder if he’s a fan of the show….”
Yuuri sighs and switches stretching positions. He hopes Viktor’s mystery boy takes the hint and asks Viktor out. Viktor deserves to be happy, even if Yuuri wishes it was him that Viktor was fawning over.
“It looks like we have a caller! Hello! What’s your name?”
“My name is Evan. I wanted to request something to help me get through my psychology essay.”
“Ooh, psychology! You know, I have psych with my Mystery Boy. Anyway, here’s My My My by Troye Sivan!”
Yuuri’s head snaps up. He has psych with Viktor! Yuuri wracks his brain, trying to remember if Viktor showed any interest in anyone in their class. Now that he thinks about it, he might have seen Viktor looking back a couple of times. And the guy who sits directly behind Yuuri is pretty cute. Yuuri frowns. He’ll have to keep a look out in psych.
Yuuri straightens up and looks through the windows out over the campus as the song starts to wind down. The radio station building is directly across from him, all the way on the other side of the main quad. Yuuri imagines Viktor is in an office somewhere in that building, leaning back in his chair. Yuuri wonders if he has a window in the recording booth. Probably not. It’s a shame, Viktor’s silver hair would look beautiful with the light of the setting sun.
He turns up the volume on the radio and starts to dance.
I… I was originally gonna wait until I stopped laughing to reblog so my tags weren’t just “ABSKHDJDFSILOVEYOU” but then,, this happened,,,,, um
…
Yuuri arches into his rising sun stretch with a sigh. His fingers twitch, still jittery with nerves despite that Yuuri’s been stretching them away for the past half hour. Leo’s show plays on Yuuri’s laptop set up by the window, despite that its seven minutes into Viktor’s show hour, and Yuuri can’t tell if he’s relieved or so nervous he wants to twist himself into a pretzel.
Yuuri forces himself to take a deep breath. “He’ll come on soon, I can do this,” he mutters under his breath as he sticks his leg behind his head and looks out the studio window for the cute poodle that sometimes plays in the courtyard fountain bellow.
Viktor’s voice filters through his studio while Yuuri moves to pirouettes.
“Hellooooo listeners!” Viktor greets cheerfully. Then a dramatic huff. “You want to know what’s rude? Oblivious beautiful boys who wear leggings to class. And even ruder are the professors who yell at innocent little gays like me for being distracted during class, despite that there’s a literal god in *leggings* in class. God, it’s not *my* fault I couldn’t think in circumstances like that, I’m only human.”
Yuuri snorts at that. Viktor’s more likely a fae that got lost on the way to some eternal party and decided to stick around the more minor version of hell for some goddamn reason than human. His mystery man must be really something if he holds such thrall over Viktor.
“Anyways,” Viktor continues cheerfully. “I’m too gay to function right now, but here’s for him. by Troye Sivan. I’ll take callers after I’ve had a few minutes or sixty to compose myself.”
The song fills the golden lit room and Yuuri frowns at his laptop. Mystery Boy must’ve looked something spectacular today if Viktor’s so rattled he’s replaying songs from the previous week’s shows. The nerves that had chewed him all day have miraculously disappeared to be replaced with furious determination.
By the time the song is done, Yuuri has his phone primed and ready. His ears pick up Viktor’s wistful sigh despite the ringing by his ear (it really is pathetic how easily he gravites to Viktor).
“You can never go wrong with Troye Sivan, I hope- oooh, we have a caller already! Hello there! What’s your name?”
Yuuri moves closer to the studio window, staring out as though he could stare across the quad and all those layers of concrete and stare right into Viktor’s eyes as he speaks to him. “Katsuki Yuuri.”
A yelp and crash follow – echoing oddly as his phone picks up the crash over the radio and loops it back – and Yuuri frowns at his computer and back to the radio station.
“Yuuuuuuuri,” breathes Viktor, sultry and lovely.
…he can’t do this. Fuck, fuck, FUCK, what was he thinking, calling his crush on the radio station?!
“Hi,” Viktor says sweetly, breathlessly. “How are you?”
God, how Mystery Boy didn’t swoon into Viktor’s arms Yuuri will never know, he wants to swoon into Viktor’s arms just at his “hello.”
“Yuuri?”
Right fuck, he’s on right now. “Hi!” Yuuri says too loudly, wincing immediately. Suddenly he’s glad there’s all those layers of concrete and distance separating them. “Hi,” he says again, a tad too quiet.
“Hello!” Yuuri wants to cry at how awkward he’s being and how gracious Viktor is at mitigating his humiliation. God this was such a stupid idea.
“Why have you decided to call me tonight, Yuuri?”
Yuuri coughs. “I called because of your Mystery Boy, actually.”
Viktor’s breath hitches. “Ooh?”
Why must he sound so wistful and lovely? Yuuri shakes off his wobbly knees and his grip tightens around his phone. “Yes! I just wanted to say that I hope he’s listening to your show, right now. I hope he knows how sweet a-and…” Yuuri slides into a sideways split to calm himself, oblivious to Viktor’s choking. “I hope he knows how lucky he’d be to have a guy like you!”
Viktor’s stunned silent for a full thirty seconds, something Yuuri’s never seen happen before. “Yuuri!”
Yuuri hangs up with a yelp and flings his phone across the room, before promptly burying his burning face into his hands. “Why did I do that?!” he yells into the empty studio.
Viktor trails off and Yuuri contemplates flinging himself out the window. He wanted to reassure Viktor, make sure he knew Mystery Boy is a fool for not returning his affections. The last thing he wanted was to embarrass him!
Yuuri really should’ve known better, why’d he even think this would turn out differently?
Viktor’s radio show is still playing on his laptop. Yuuri needs to turn that off the instant he’s done dying.
“Well-I-um,” Viktor says shakily. Yuuri’s face burns brighter and he futily wishes himself out of existence. “That was. Really, sweet and, ah… Here’s a long song by someone, I don’t care, I gotta goenjoybye!!”
Yuuri shuts off the station and starts googling plane tickets to Antarctica.
Summary: It is tough negotiating with the yakuzas,
Victor knows. What is even tougher, though, is negotiating with one in
particular, one he can’t help but desire, one he can’t help but fall for – even
though everything in their world advises him not to.
for clarification, Yuuri is a yakuza here, and for story purposes he uses another name, Tanaka Yuu, which is the one Victor knows him by)
The beat is mesmerizing. He can feel the
excitement, the smell of sweat, the deep-rumble of the music almost all the way
to his bones. After one flicker of his wrist, another drink appears on his
table. The woman serving him is scantily dressed and bites her lip while
staring at him. With a smirk, he slips another note into her back pocket, and
she goes back to the bar while swinging her hips.
On stage, several figures are moving sensually.
In accordance with his personal tastes, women and men mingle, passing, barely
touching each other, sending whiffs of delicious smells on the crowd gathered
around them. A low tingling of arousal sits lightly on his stomach – that is
his territory, his own little paradise on Earth. His favourite, shameful enjoyment
– seeing others lose themselves to the night.
“Make sure they are given access tonight, Murata.
If they do come.”
“Yes, boss Tanaka.”
He relaxes in his extra-comfy velvet seat and
contemplates his favourite dancers. A few months ago, he would have taken one
(or more) of them back to his turf. A few months ago, he would have enjoyed the
night without any care, drinking from their pliant bodies, snickering at their
urge to please him and taking, taking without thinking.
A flash of silver catches his eyes, and the
arousal that just has been fluttering about suddenly is thicker, headier. The
time seems to slow as three well-dressed men enter, drawing enough attention
that some raise their eyebrows at the foreign newcomers in interest. Others
seem to sense the danger and burrow into their drinks – low-classed yakuzas or
local footpads, not ready yet for an important brawl.
“So you’ve come. Courageous of you, Nikiforov.”
The silver-haired man who has walked to his
alcove smiles, flanked by two of his bodyguards. Yuuri is no fool; he knows
more of them linger around in the club, maybe even more than his own.
“Greetings, Tanaka-san.” said Nikiforov
answers. “I see you’re in no charming company tonight.”
Yuuri grins at that. Last time Nikiforov showed
up at his home turf, he had been rather…engrossed into living up to his
reputation of playboy. Or so it seemed. He likes to think this had maybe
displeased the other man.
“Do you wish to remedy the situation?” he
teases. “Want me to call one of my personal…performers?”
“And what if I said ‘go on’?” Nikiforov
challenges in his heavily-accented English, sitting next to him, his demure
guards remaining aloof and standing behind him.
“Don’t try to fool me, Nikiforov,” Yuuri
chuckles. “I don’t think there is a living soul in Russia – or in Fukuoka, for
that matter – who doesn’t know of your antipathy for women.”
“Touché.”
Yuuri takes a moment to settle further into his
situation. Nikiforov smells heavenly, as always. He inhales strongly, almost
tasting him on his tongue. His hands unconsciously clench in restrain. ‘No, you’re not allowed to,’ he thinks urgently.
‘Keep it professional.”
“So how is your evening going, Takana-san?”
Nikiforov asks, eyeing the number of empty glasses on the table warily. “Having
fun?”
Yuuri isn’t desperate enough to tell the truth –
that he has been waiting for the other man to come since the beginning of this
pathetic attempt of a private party. That he had thought of nothing more than
seeing his gorgeous blue eyes glinting at him under the psychotic lights of the
club.
“Always,” he croons instead, extending a hand
to stroke at the thighs of a passing server. “Even though I suspect you did not
come all this way only to ask me about my levels of fun-having. Come to the point,
Nikiforov – what brings you from your gilded tower?”
Victor straightens, and he swallows. Tanaka is
such an attractive man – even more so when he slips into his hardest persona. ‘Focus,” he tells himself. ‘Focus.”
“I’m sure you’ve heard of it already. The cargo
is set to pass next Friday – we just want to make sure there will be no problem
with your surveillance watchers.”
“Next Friday, uh,” Tanaka comments while
swirling his drink in his glass. “Seems like business is picking up. Wasn’t the
last pass less than a month ago?”
Victor does not answer, only sending him a
mysterious smile. He is pretty sure Tanaka knows the records as well as he
himself does. They are not here to discuss the well-going of the Bratva
informal commerce with China.
“All right,” Tanaka sighs, “I will make sure
nothing comes into your way. You know our prices, though.”
“We know them well”, Victor grits out.
“Now now, lighten up, Nikiforov. This could be
worse. At least you get to share a drink with me from time to time, and no man
suffers from it.”
Victor hates to admit it, but Tanaka is right.
Even if the Bratva is not happy with the generous commission the yakuzas always
end up taking on their exchanges, it still is
better than the first brawl they had over the transportation of the merchandise
in Japanese seas.
He knows he is supposed to use these meetings
with Tanaka to negotiate a better “custom fee” and that his guards watch him
closely, supposedly ensuring he does just that. Even before entering the club,
he had rehearsed it; how he would come in front of Tanaka, set his eyes on
anything but his gorgeous face, and demand negotiations – and win them.
But, of course, nothing of the sort had
happened. As soon as he had caught sight of Tanaka, the same swirl of desire
slash desperation had taken over his mind, and he finds himself gazing at the
man next to him, all words of duress forgotten. The dimmed lights of the club
create dangerous shadows on the other man’s face; his dark and pursed lips seem
inviting, almost welcoming.
“I’m sick of sitting there already,” Tanaka
suddenly announces. “You sure took your sweet time coming in tonight.”
“I…well…”
“I’d say you owe me a dance for my troubles”, the
yakuza suggests, a smirk on his lips while extending his hand to Victor.
He can feel the disapproving glare of his men
on his back, but his heart jumps in his throat when the cold fingers close around
his, and he lets himself be led to a secluded part of the dancefloor. Once
there, his partner sets his hands on his hips, and finally lets his body surrender
to the beat.
Tanaka is mesmerizing, as always. Victor has
seen him fighting, with his fists or his words. He has seen him clad in a suit,
his back as straight as a rod, during official meetings. He has seen him dishevelled;
his eyes screwed up in pleasure, a litany of swear words falling from his lips
as he allowed Victor to take advantage of his body during one of their
desperate and short encounters.
And yet, once again, the other man manages to
knock the air out of him, as they end up almost grinding against each other,
their breaths mingling, and their scents slowly but surely thickening the air
between them. The music is not even that good – a heavy beat with no meaning,
just enough of a rhythm to justify their moving. The atmosphere is rather
gaudy, no one apparently bothering with scent-blockers, and definitely dirty.
He finds himself wanting, wanting, wanting. His hands slide down, over the
ass of his partner, and he is not rebuffed in the least. If anything, Tanaka
shuffles even closer, gasping against his neck, his fingers clenching in Victor’s
hair.
It’s too much. Victor lets a moan out and
brings him flush against him. Against his better judgement, he starts nibbling
on his ear, dangerously close to his scent gland, and is rewarded with a low snarl.
“Come with me,” Tanaka orders, detaching
himself from Victor.
Helplessly, Victor follows him to a back-door
which opens on a private lodge. He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t…
“You have your own room there?” he asks,
already removing his shirt.
“I own this place”, Tanaka answers carelessly, divesting
himself of his pants, underwear and shoes. “If I wanted to fuck on the
dancefloor, they’d just have to clear it for me.”
“Fuck,” Victor swears, a hot weight of arousal
in his stomach materializing at the mental image Tanaka induced in him. “Fuck,
fuck…”
Yuuri quickly loses his patience over the other’s
blundering words and moves on him, pushing his pants to his ankles and kneeling
before him. He is already hard, of course
he is. Foreigners really have no stamina.
Yuuri’s mind is cloudy with want as he rubs his
cheek against Nikiforov’s dick. He starts kissing him on his thighs, enjoying
the powerful musk there as the other man loses control of his scent. This sends
him into a frenzy and he gets up again, seizing the shoulders of his partner
and forcing him to face the wall of the lodge. With one hand he strips him of
his briefs and starts stroking his cock, while sinking his teeth into his nape.
Nikiforov answers with a loud moan and cants
his hips towards him, desperate for friction. What a sweet picture.
“I’m gonna fuck your thighs, Nikiforov. Stands
pretty for me,” Yuuri growls, sliding his knee between the other man’s legs,
which part obediently for him.
And to think Nikiforov is an Alpha. A
supposedly strong-headed, authoritative, malicious Bratva Alpha, second to no
one in the art of negotiation and threatening. An Alpha who turns into a submissive
lover between his hands, completely at his mercy. Yuuri feels powerful and strong,
exhilarated by the forbidden quality of their encounter. As always, they can’t
help it.
He licks his hand and sneaks it between
Nikiforov’s thighs, brushing against his balls and his sensitive scent-glands. The
other literally keens at this, thrusting into Yuuri’s fist even more insistently.
He can’t wait anymore, he needs to have him.
Yuuri wishes they had more time. Yuuri wishes
he could love him better, maybe even take him for good, and leave him with his
scent on his skin for days after.
Instead, he slides between his thighs, and
starts fucking him in earnest, groaning between his pale blades, lavishing him
with kisses and nips. Nikiforov braces himself on the wall and takes it,
tightening his legs, encouraging him with high pitched mewls and meeting each
of his thrusts with one of his own.
“So good…so good for me, pretty boy, pretty
boy,” Yuuri hums in Japanese, feeling his control slips. “Will you come for me,
pretty boy?”
Nikiforov has obviously no idea of what he is
saying but his tone does not let much space for interpretation, and he responds
well to him, his breath quickening while he shudders, his cheek pressed against
the wall, his lips glistening as he moans.
“That’s it, that’s it, come on,” Yuuri urges,
thrusting even harder against him.
Nikiforov tenses and a strangled moan escapes
his lips as he messily comes all over Yuuri’s fist, his knuckles whitening as
he seeks support from the wall against the waves of pleasure undertaking him.
Yuuri swears and slams into him with abandon, using his hands to keep his
thighs closed tightly around him, as he seeks his own pleasure. The smell from
his partner is overwhelming, so mouth-watering, and he ends up coming while
burrowing his nose against the other man’s neck scent gland, whimpering in his sweaty
and delicious skin.
They stay like that for a moment, breathing
into each other, until Nikiforov sloppily comments:
“You don’t smell that much like an Alpha, huh?”
Yuuri can feel his blood slowly freeze in his
veins, and the post-coital haze in which he was indulging quickly dissolves. He
disengages himself from the Russian man, and picks up his clothes, getting
dressed without looking at him.
“In Japan, it is not appropriate to let your
scent all over the place,” he answers curtly.
Nikiforov chuckles in answer, recovering some
tissues from his pants and dabbing himself with them.
“That must be why everyone here tonight had
heavy scent-blockers, right?” he teases, feeling light and careless, as he
always does when he indulges into his attraction to the yakuza.
Said yakuza shrugs, already clad again in his
tasteful ensemble. The warmth between them is already dissolving, and Victor
feels his stomach churning. He knows what is coming.
“As always, Nikiforov. Not a word of this, to
anyone that matters. And tries keeping
the mouth of your mutts closed.”
Tanaka leaves him on these words, slipping back
to the loud main area of the club, and Victor is left alone with his beating
heart and his watery eyes.
‘If only’,
he thinks, finishing dressing himself sadly. ‘If only…’
Yuuri goes back to his seat, controlling the
dance floor and ordering another glass of sake, the last of the evening. His
chest hurts, and each breath fills him with the scent that lingers on his skin.
‘If only…’
he ruminates, torn and yearning for something that can’t be. ‘If only…’
They sat in the dining-area of the inn,
lingering after a well-deserved dinner and dessert. This was a regular
occurrence for them in summer, when everyone was finally able to catch a break
from their everyday, hectic lives.
“Tell me, have I ever told you the story of the
Seducer and his fair, fair Lady?”
There were a few chuckles and a prominent sigh.
“Yes, Papa, you did. You’ve told us a thousand
times already!” a rather grumpy and childish voice complained.
“Shh Natyusha shh! I wanted to hear it again!”
“Now now.”
Another voice came, definitely more adult and more
placating than the last.
“I’m pretty sure Papa can compromise for you
two” it declared.
“Mmh, maybe so, Otou-san.”
“When will you two ever stop flirting. That’s
becoming utterly ridiculous, I mean, how ol-“
“Hopefully never~!” – “Yura-oji, stop, they’re
in love!”
Some grumbles originated from said-Yura-oji, but
then silence settled again.
“Otou-san is right. I do have another story I’m pretty sure you’ve never heard before, my
loves.”
“But Papa, I wanted to hear the Seducer’s story…”
“Well, Masha, have you ever wondered what
happened to the Seducer after the end of his story?”
“Yes, of course! He and the Fair Lady got
M-A-R-R-I-E-D!”
“Oh? What makes you think so?”
“Papa,” answered the first voice. “You always
end that story with the gift of that “glorious and victorious gold relic”. That
is not hard to guess.”
“…”
“You grow up too quickly.”
“And thus Victor did realize he was getting,
indeed, so ooool-“
“Stop teasing, Yura…”
The deep voice was altogether commanding and
amused.
“Beka-oji is right. Let Papa go on.”
“Thank you so much for your support, solnyshko”
came the dramatic answer.
There is a brief moment when the two men just
smile at each other, before the oldest turns back to his audience. Five
beautiful people are – with more or less success – settling in to listen to him
speak. The remnants of their dinner are still sitting on the low table near
them – it would be cleared up later. All of the adults, minus one, whose arms
and lap are already heavily occupied, are now nursing hot cups of tea.
Delicious smells drift from the kitchens, where late meals are getting fixed
for unexpected guests. The noises from the TV are lulled, almost non-existent,
and the nightly song of the crickets is reaching them through the opened
double-doors at the other end of the room.
Victor knows, objectively, that he must have
had better, more exciting nights in his life. But his chest, gorged with
affection, refuses to let him think otherwise; he has never felt happier than
in this quiet moment with his family. He knows that he has told himself this
exact same thing the day prior, and that he will probably be thinking this
tomorrow as well.
As an arm slides behind his back, and he leans
into the warmth besides him, he can’t help but smile as he opens his mouth.
Tonight, he wants to tell a story on which he had been prettily busily working
on.
“Once the
Seducer had secured the eternal love of his Fair Lady through the gold gift,
people started to whisper. Of course, they said, the Seducer would soon drop
his title, right? After all, what need had the world of a Seducer who could not
even fill his role, for he was so obviously bound to another?
“But oh, how wrong was
the world. The Seducer had fallen prey to his own traps, but his Lady would not
settle for him to lose his colours. If anything, she felt even more besotted-“
“What’s besotted Papa?”
“It means “very in love”, dear”, her Otou-san
answered hastily.
“Right so. So, the Lady felt even more “very in
love” with her Seducer, seeing how beautiful, how breath-taking, how incredible–“
“Come on, come on, we get it old man!”
“Be nice, Yura.”
“- how absolutely marvellous his – I mean, her –
Seducer was being in his dances. She felt inspired by him. She wanted to meet
him where he was.”
“That’s so romantic, Papa.”
“Isn’t it?”
“What did the Lady do then, Papa?”
“Well, you see, the Lady had also been a great
dancer, once upon a time. And, as much as she fell for every show of seduction
from her fiancé, she knew that she, too, could seduce him.”
“So…she started dancing with a bunch of women
too?”
The sceptic question from his oldest made
Victor smile.
“Something like that” he said while grinning
even more largely. “She tried to capture the hearts of her audience, and, of
course, most importantly, the one of her Seducer –“
“- aaand, she failed.”
“I wouldn’t exactly call a bronze at Worlds “failing”,
Yura, but whatever”, he icily answered his protégé who retaliated by sticking
his tongue out.
“He’s messing with you, Vitya, he doesn’t mean
it” Yuuri appeased him with a playful lilt to his voice.
“Yeah, don’t listen to Yura-oji, Papa, continue
your story!”
“At least some
people in this house do love me!” he fake-cried, before resuming his narrative.
“The
Seducer and the Lady had a lot of fun trying to keep seducing each other,
dances after dances. However, since they constantly had to dance their way
through the world, this life they had chosen for themselves was very tiring.
After a year, they were both so tired that they were worried the flame they had
carried between them all this time would fade away…”
“Oh, no, no, that’s terrible!”
“Beka-oji is right, Papa! How could they let
that happen?!”
“Well,” Victor chuckled, “of course they were
not going to let that happen. Listen.”
“For the
longest time, the Lady had dreamt of meeting the perfect person for her. Years
had passed and her dreams of love and family were, well, still nothing but
dreams. But when her Seducer had burst into her life, he had lit a new hope in
her. That’s why she decided, after this tiring year, to move from her palace to
his own, and she resolved to teach others to dance in her place.”
“What did the Seducer do then, Papa?”
“Hmm… It was a bit harder for the Seducer for,
you see, he has been thoroughly (that means “very”, dear) seduced by his Lady as
well.
“He was
very sad to see her settle for not dancing anymore, but as long as his Lady
promised to dance with him every now and then, and most of all every summer, he
would keep smiling, too. They would even invite their friends to dance at their
palace!
“And so they kept
their waltz of seduction for several more years, until, one day…”
“What happened? Did one of them die?” a rather
upset-looking little girl interrupted him.
“What? No, no god of course not, Masha! It’s a happy story, no one dies there, what the…”
“I think I can finish Papa’s story” Yuuri
intervened quickly.
“One day,
the Lady admitted she felt rather lonely in that big palace of hers. Her love
had been employed for seduction for so long! And now it yearned to be used for
something else. So she talked it out endlessly with her Seducer until, finally,
three little dancers came to live with them in their home. One of them would,
surprisingly, love dancing in the same way her parents did – the other two had
their unique, beautiful and promising way of doing it. The heart of the Seducer
had never felt so full, and so he, too, decided to stop dancing, except for
friends, arts, and his beautiful children.”
“Did he ever regret it?”
Yuuri shuffled closer to his husband, his eyes
fixed on the face of their oldest child. Of course, she was starting to realise
just how big, exactly, her parents had been in the athletic world. In a few
years, it would hit even harder for Masha, who was the one involved in skating.
“Never,” he asserted strongly. “Even if he had
taken a long time to understand it, this life filled with love and family is what
made sense to him.”
Satisfied, the children were soon coaxed into
going to bed. Yuuri did not know who moaned the more about it between Victor or
his actual children (and he would have to have a word with him about it,
again), but in the end he had Natyusha and Masha’s hands in his and were
leading them to the two beds set in his old room, while Otabek followed them,
carrying an already snoozing Hideyoshi to Mari’s room.
He had no idea why Hide-chan had taken such a
liking to the small and serious man, but he wasn’t complaining. Despite his
name, the kid could be a handful, especially since he was in this glorious
phase of childhood in which every action prompted a heart-wrenching “no!” from
him.
Well, not that either Victor or he would be
moved. They had already survived two of them, after all.
“You always take Victor’s stories so seriously,
Beka,” Yuuri tease while the made their way downstairs, where Victor and Yuuri
would surely been helping Mari and her friend clearing the aftermath of a busy
night at the onsen.
“He has a way of telling them. Also, Hide-chan
always gets so into it…”
“If I remember well, you already did that
before he came in, though.”
“Then, Masha.”
Otabek blushed a little, before closing his
mouth for good. Yuuri smiled privately but did not comment on it. After all, if
he had any say in the matter himself, these stories were pretty good.
They entered the dining-room, where Yuri was,
predictably enough, sprawled out after clearing the table, halfway to sleep
already. Yuuri could hear Victor’s voice in the kitchens, probably chatting
with his sister-in-law.
“Another kid to put to bed?”
“Fuck you, Beka. The old ass did not drill you almost to the bone for hours today.
So much for ‘come to vacations in Hasetsu it’ll be fun and the kids miss you.’ ”
Yuri grumbled in return.
“You know how he gets” Yuuri amended. “Summer
does not mean slacking up, especially not with him.”
“Easy for you to say, everyone knows you just
had to flaunt your ass to get him to bed if you wanted to catch a break-“
Yuuri should be past embarrassment at this
point. So what if it was a well-known fact in the skating world that he liked
to bed his husband to escape anxiety and utter tiredness?
As Victor’s arm came creeping around him and
Yuri’s poor face slowly turned to a rosy-colour, he realised he probably should
not have said that aloud. Even more so when Otabek and Mari, who was standing
in the kitchen entryway, simultaneously commented “TMI!” – “But you were always
stressed out.”.
Victor’s boisterous laugh warmed his neck, and
suddenly, it didn’t matter anymore.
“Let’s get to bed, you” his husband suggested,
well-aware of the lack of Yuuri’s filter when tired.
After bidding everyone goodnight, and checking –
“One last time, I promise” – on their slumbering children – “Hide-chan sleeps just
like you, have you ever noticed that?” –, they made their way to their room,
where they got ready for the night.
He knew Victor would most likely fall asleep
almost immediately, and they both knew Yuuri would probably keep browsing the
Internet for at least an hour instead of sleeping, but that did not deter them
from crawling under their thin covers and cuddling, as much as the summer
night-air allowed them.
“So…no regret, right?” Victor mumbled against
Yuuri’s naked chest.
“No regret,” he confirmed.
And as Victor easily fell into sleep, Yuuri
slowly closed his eyes and kissed his husband’s thinning hair.
“How could I ever regret this life with you,
silly,” he fondly murmured in Japanese.
They had been looking forward to it for a while. Between tiring training sessions and meetings with sponsors, the little time they got to spend together enjoying each other’s company narrowed down to cuddling before sleep.
Of course, the first weeks after Yuuri had arrived in St. Petersburg were enjoyed to its fullest—sightseeing and dining out like The Guide For Couples Who Are Deeply In Love demanded. The weather, however, hadn’t been the nicest to enjoy the outdoor activities like they wanted to, with the cold winds more than once demanding them to stay at home watching movies.
It was a pleasure nonetheless, but Yuuri knew how excited Victor was to show him around, take him to the places he used to go to alone and look at them with fresh eyes, holding Yuuri’s hand and taking pictures to eternize those treasured moments.
Yuuri was excited as well. Spring was coming and with it the promise of pleasant days and a less packed agenda that would allow them to go on short trips and spend time together outdoors. The thought of walking through the woods, enjoying the fresh breeze and setting a picnic at the foot of a tall tree brought a smile to his face.
But when that day finally came, Yuuri didn’t have the energy to get out of bed. As attractive as the idea was, as excited as he was to see Victor smiling as they drove to the park, Yuuri couldn’t muster the strength to move a muscle.
“Morning, babe,” Victor chirped, drawing the blinds and letting the sunlight bathe the room. Yuuri flinched, hiding his face in the pillow. “Still sleepy?”
Still? Had Yuuri already asked for five minutes? Hadn’t he just woken up?
Not waiting for an answer, Victor bounced on the bed, wrapping Yuuri tightly in his arms.
“Breakfast is ready and waiting for you,” he continued, trailing a path of kisses up Yuuri’s spine. “I’ve taken Makkachin for a walk and now we’re just waiting for you. If you have anything else to add to our basket just let me know and I’ll put it in. I think I’ve added everything we need…”
“Five minutes,” Yuuri grunted, the shivers running through his body feeling almost painful.
Victor chuckled, pulling the duvet Yuuri tried to use to cover himself.
“I gave you twenty minutes already, love. We’re going to be late. I wonder if I should try a more direct approach?” He asked, cold hands skating down Yuuri’s sides making him shiver.
“No,” Yuuri rolled away from Victor’s hands, pulling the duvet up in an attempt to get warm again.
He felt Victor’s hand on his forehead, cold as if he’d been playing with snow while he waited for Yuuri to get up. A light in his brain lit up, but he was too tired to make sense of it.
“Yuuri…” There was a tinge of worry in the way Victor called his name.
“I just wanna sleep, Vitya.”
Yuuri’s tone had been grumpy, one that he immediately regretted using. Victor went silence, his fingers brushing Yuuri’s hair away from his forehead tenderly. Before he could apologize he realized how heavy his eyelids, and how Victor’s gentle touches were lulling him to sleep.
“Get some rest, babe,” he heard Victor mutter, followed by the soft press of lips on his temple and the mattress’s movement as Victor got up.
In the distance, Yuuri faintly registered the sound of cabinets being closed and Victor shuffling through drawers. He felt tired, incredibly so—his whole body felt like jelly, hurting as if he’d had intense training the day before. Five more minutes wouldn’t get them super late for the picnic, Yuuri reasoned, snuggling the duvet and letting his consciousness drift into sleep.
The grogginess only abandoned him as Yuuri heard the sound of the front door being shut. Almost immediately his thoughts jumped to “I’ve upset him. I was rude and now Victor is sad”, which he knew it was irrational, but guilt was stronger than logic.
Yuuri knew how excited Victor was for their first spring picnic in St. Petersburg—he has been planning it for weeks, counting days for their moment of freedom where they could enjoy sunlight together after months of hard work. Telling Victor he preferred to sleep instead of going out with him was incredibly insensitive.
He dragged his body out of bed to put on some warm clothes—his old sweatpants and Victor’s red sweater—and headed to the bathroom in search of his glasses. The app on his phone lied about the temperature—no way on Earth it was 20ºC. Yuuri’s fingers clutching at the duvet draped over his shoulders felt cold as icicles.
“Vitya?” He called, hoping that the sound of the door being shut had been just his imagination. Instead, his only answer was Makkachin bonding towards him with a wagging tail, asking for scratches.
On the top of the counter, right next to his glasses, Yuuri found their first-aid pouch—open and searched through, with the item Yuuri didn’t really know he was looking for peeking through. Grabbing the thermometer, he padded to the kitchen where their picnic basket sat with a lilac towel wrapped around it. The sight made Yuuri worry his lower lip.
“Where is papa?” Yuuri asked Makkachin, who in return licked his hand.
Yuuri served his breakfast as he tried to think of an apology. The way was gorgeous—the sun was shining, there was no wind and just a few clouds peppering the blue skies. It would be a real waste to spend their free day at home.
He sat on the couch, put the thermometer under his arm and ate his cereal, looking at his phone as he rehearsed what words to say. Victor hadn’t left too long ago, but the fact that he’d left without saying where he was going worried Yuuri a bit.
I’m sorry I yelled at you, Yuuri sent the message as he curled up on the sofa, patting the spot next to him as to call Makkachin for cuddling.
Not even a minute later Makkachin perked up, looking at the door and wagging his tail excitedly. Victor opened the door right after, with bags in his hands and a relieved expression as he saw Yuuri on the couch.
“Hi, love,” he smiled as Yuuri got up.
Without saying a word, Yuuri shortened the distance between them, wrapping Victor in his arms. His jacked felt cool under Yuuri’s chin, and he’d stayed like that all day if it wasn’t for the beeping under his arm.
“I think I’m brewing a cold,” Yuuri said as the beeping continued.
“Yeah, I thought so,” Victor kissed his forehead. “You were hot as if you had walked out of a sauna when I went to wake you up. We ran out of medicine so I went out to grab some.”
Gently, Victor guided him back to the sofa, removing the thermometer and checking Yuuri’s temperature. With his coach-like precision, Victor provided his medicine with some warm tea and wrapped him in a hug as they waited for it to take effect.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri sighed, tucking his head under Victor’s chin. “I was rude to you. I blew our picnic plans.”
“Don’t be,” he felt Victor’s cheek move in a smile. “I love taking care of you.”
“It was supposed to be a fun day,” Yuuri protested.
“Who says it can’t be? Have you taken a look at what I brought you?”
“No?”
Victor’s lips brushed on his forehead for a minute before he settled on the perfect place for a kiss.
“I figured that since we can’t go out for our picnic we could make a pillow fortress and have it in the living room. And so I bought a few more blankets. And that video game you were looking forward playing with me.”
Yuuri sat up, a delighted smile curling the corners of his lips.
“Really?”
Victor nodded.
“Do you want to help me build our pillow fortress?”
anon you know summer of mutual pining is my weakness!!
(I’d write a ficlet for this but I couldn’t decide which pov would sound better, so…)
The first time Victor offers to massage him after training, Yuuri refuses. It happens a couple of days after Onsen!!! On Ice, where Yuuri is just getting used to having Victor as his (now official) coach, and while he is getting used to seeing Victor in Hasetsu Ice Castle he can’t help but be shocked when he meets Victor in the corridors still.
He wonders if he’ll ever get used to it, and wonders if getting used to it would be a good thing.
Anyway… He feels kind of bad for refusing Victor’s offer? Not because Victor looks disappointed (in fact, I think Victor shrugs it off and understand Yuuri’s skittishness) but because he knows Victor is just trying his best to be a good coach. I mean, there’s nothing weird about a coach offering a quick massage after a particularly tiring day of training, focused on jumps and footwork. But at the same time… it’s the Victor Nikiforov. His childhood idol, his celebrity crush. It’s kind of intimidating.
But Victor is not one to give up easily, oh no. He lets it pass, then casually suggests massaging Yuuri’s legs again when he knows training was rough and notices Yuuri tripping over his own feet as they walk back home. This time Yuuri is more malleable and says something along the lines of “you don’t have to” but hey. Yuuri is getting increasingly confident around Victor, and he’s been more comfortable with the idea of spending time together doing simple things with him. They’re working on opening up. Yuuri eventually accepts it.
And let me tell you: Victor has the hands of an angel. He works Yuuri’s sore muscles with expertise—he starts by his feet, and you can bet Yuuri is ticklish so it takes a while for him to control himself and not kick Victor in the face—”is this why you refused the massage that first time? Because you’re too ticklish?” and Yuuri squirms and laughs as Victor runs a finger up the sole of his foot).
It’s fun times. After Victor works through Yuuri’s ticklishness it gets easier to knead Yuuri’s muscles. He works his way up, massaging his calf, and Victor has a hard time not looking at Yuuri’s content face. You can bet Yuuri is making an inhuman effort not to groan and trying to keep it limited to “right there, there’s where it hurts” when Victor finds a sore spot. Victor kind of hopes Yuuri relaxes, and when he moves to massage the muscles on Yuuri’s thigh, Yuuri lets out the tiniest groan and oh.
Victor’s whole blood flushes to his face. It’s his turn to be the embarrassed one, but Yuuri is blushing equally as hard and tries to change the focus by saying “I’m ticklish there so maybe… don’t” and Victor immediately moves to the other leg and apologizes. Yuuri is mortified he let out that noise. Victor is dying and feels just as embarrassed about it as Yuuri feels. They’re a hilarious mess but hey—Yuuri finally relaxes, and Victor focuses on massaging his other leg and when he finally looks back at Yuuri he finds him dozing off.
Victor jokes and asks if Yuuri is feeling more relaxed and my dudes… That’s when he learns… That’s when he learns the power of sleepy Yuuri (not sleepy in the morning Yuuri, that one is slightly intimidating) and he has this one huge gay moment that makes his heart ache because Yuuri thanks him and smiles with his heavy-lidded eyes and god Victor has to clutch at his heart because he’s too beautiful.
Yuuri snores like a freight train that night. Victor can hear it from his bedroom. The next morning Yuuri comments it’s one of the best sleep he’s ever had and massaging Yuuri’s legs after soaking in the onsen becomes a part of their routine. They put on a series they’re watching together on Yuuri’s laptop and more often than not Yuuri falls asleep on Victor’s couch as he’s massaging him. Sometimes Victor wakes him up with a gentle nudge and Yuuri goes to his bedroom to catch that sleep, but after a while… Yuuri just stays there. Victor covers him and lets Yuuri take a nap while Victor finishes watching the episode.
Anyway, these boys are pining hard and I love them very much fjlksdjkflsd
It got ingrained in their routine. After the off-ice training, they would go home, soak in the onsen, have dinner and retreat to Victor’s bedroom to relax together watching movies and lazy massages. More recently, kissing and cuddling had been added to the repertoire, which was invigorating as it was relaxing.
Yuuri was grateful for that routine. The more things he got to do with Victor and Makkachin, the less time he had to cultivate paranoid thoughts.
He’d massaged Victor’s shoulders and back, working the tense muscles soft after a strenuous day, placing soft and timid kisses on the crook of his neck that made Victor giggle. Then, as it had become their habit, Yuuri laid back on the couch waiting for his turn. Sometimes it wasn’t so much the massage he expected for as he laid back, comfortable and vulnerable with Victor slotted between his thighs—it was Victor’s kisses, his arms wrapped around him, the comforting and grounding weight of his lover close to him.
Victor kissed the top of his foot with warm, silky lips, eyes locked on Yuuri’s with a devoted expression that made Yuuri feel butterflies in his stomach. Pouring some lavender scented cream on the palm of his hand, Victor got started with his massage, making small talk about the episode playing on Yuuri’s laptop. Later, he trailed up, kneading the muscles of his calf, sometimes curving his neck to trail a path of kisses that led nowhere and made Yuuri shiver pleasantly.
“Vitya…” Yuuri called, drawing Victor’s attention back to him, to his face, as Victor poured more cream and prepared to massage his other leg. “I… I’ve lied to you.”
Victor paused, a puzzled look on his face that made Yuuri want to laugh.
“I’m sorry, I made it sound more serious than it is,” Yuuri chuckled.
“You scared me for a second there,” Victor sighed, following along Yuuri’s chuckle as he relaxed. “Well, then. Explain yourself. You’ve been lying to your coach? To your boyfriend?” He teased.
Boyfriend. He was still getting used to it. It sounded so nice when Victor said it.
“It’s a tiny little lie,” Yuuri used his fingers to illustrate, making Victor hold back a smile. “But… You remember that first day you massaged me after training?”
Victor nodded. Of course he would remember—that was a redundant question.
“Let me guess,” Victor started, trailing his finger down Yuuri’s shin. “You’ve lied about being ticklish. You wanted to kick me for being rough on you in that training and…”
“Vitya, of course not!” Yuuri laughed. “I haven’t lied about it. Well, not really. I lied about my thighs being ticklish because…”
Victor raised his eyebrows, expecting Yuuri to finish his thought but caught the meaning quick enough.
“You were embarrassed,” he offered, earning a nod from Yuuri. “I understand. I was a bit embarrassed myself too—I mean, it’s not every day you get to massage a cute guy’s strong legs. Except that it’s literally my life now,” he winked playfully, making Yuuri smile back.
“I just wanted to say…” Yuuri felt his cheeks get hot. “If you want to… You can do it from now on. My thighs get sore when we focus training my jumps, but I never… I was too embarrassed to tell you that I don’t mind it anymore.”
Victor smiled.
“Thank you for telling me. Can I?”
Yuuri nodded, bearing Victor’s gaze and feeling his cheeks get hot. With care, Victor poured a little more cream on his hand and massaged Yuuri’s thigh—front first, pressing and rubbing gently and Yuuri’s jaw dropped in a silent gasp. Victor had gone exactly where it hurt, his fingers working down the length of his sore muscle, and Yuuri rolled his eyes. It hurt, good, and he caught Victor’s pleased smile from the corner of his eye.
“Found it?” Victor asked with a chuckle. Yuuri nodded again. He didn’t trust his throat to speak. “Should I keep going?”
“Yeah,” Yuuri sighed.
“OK, then. But you’re too tense now—I can see you digging your nails into the palm of your hand. Try to relax.”
Taking a deep breath, Yuuri closed his eyes and focused on releasing the tension from his body. Victor’s hand moved to the muscles above his knee, which made him jerk his leg and laugh but it helped him feel relaxed. Victor’s fingers were agile, and the scent of lavender was faint and comforting. Soon enough Yuuri was boneless, sprawled on the couch.
The sensation was so good that the world narrowed to Victor’s hands that slid down and rubbed the sides of his thighs. It felt good, good enough to make a silly smile spread on Yuuri’s lips and his eyelids feel heavy. He couldn’t believe he had been missing on that for so long. He needed to repay Victor somehow.
It was as Victor found the sore spot on the back of his thigh that it happened. A slip. A betrayal of his throat and face as Yuuri was happily relaxed, enjoying his boyfriend’s excellent massage.
Yuuri moaned a curse under his breath. On top of that, his brow furrowed, rendering any redemption in form of a joke completely useless. Almost immediately, Yuuri perked up and looked at Victor, his heart hammering in his chest.
“Wow! Yuuri! That’s right, don’t hold back,” Victor chuckled, blushing at the tip of his ears.
“I—I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” Yuuri mumbled, dying of embarrassment and covering his mouth.
“Feels good?”
“Y-yeah,” Yuuri felt too hot. His moan replayed over and over inside his head and he wanted to disappear. Thankfully, Victor took it lightly, but the way he kept massaging Yuuri’s thigh was making it difficult for Yuuri to hold back.
“Alright. Should I move on to the other leg?” Victor smiled that lovely, dorky smile at Yuuri as he placed his leg back down. It amazed Yuuri how he had handled the accident so naturally, and a shy smile spread on his lips.
“It’s fine, I’m good,” Yuuri sat up straight, earning a confused frown from his boyfriend.
“Yuuuuuuri!” Victor protested. “Your other leg will be sore tomorrow.”
“I know but I’m…” Victor waited patiently, looking at Yuuri with expectant eyes. “Embarrassed, still.”
“Yuuri, babe,” Victor smiled, reaching out and holding his hand. “It’s OK. Thank you for letting me massage you. I want you to feel comfortable—“
“I am, I am, I swear,” Yuuri nodded, watching Victor kiss his knuckles lightly and feeling his heart do flips in his chest. “It’s just… I’m… Loud? I don’t want Mari to hear us and think we’re doing something else.”
“You’re perfect,” Victor hummed, peppering kisses on the back of Yuuri’s hand. “We can always yell ‘we are doing a massage session now’ so she knows.”
“Vitya that’s such a dumb idea,” Yuuri chuckled. They laughed.
Plume de Lynx 