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Red Carnation : My heart aches for you, Admiration
Glitter, lights, the roar of the crowd. He could feel it, hear it. The sounds embraced him, made him jump higher and higher until he could fly. Blades on ice, hands moving and skater winking at the roaring audience. They clapped their hands, cheering him over and over until they became akin to a choir of fateful believers.The skater was like an angel, gliding on the ice, graceful as a swan. He could clearly remember it. How the lights would follow the skater on the ice, how glistening his costume was, how focused and beautiful he was. He was but a child at the time, siting alone among those believers. Cheering for the skater. He was but a little boy, living in Saint-Petersburg, but he was already dreaming of glory, convinced that one day, he would be the one gliding on the ice like a prince, and the one the whole country would acclaim.
Slowly, the scenery changed. He was the one on the ice. Grown up, but still a boy deep inside. He was now called Saint-Petersburg's angel. He was at the centre of the ice rink. Eyeing the crowd. Women, men, children, critics, artists, professionals...they were all here for him and only him. His hair was neatly tied up, his blue eyes sparkling with delight. It was a big competition, he couldn't afford to lose, but he knew that he wouldn't. He couldn't. He was Saint-Petersburg's angel after all. They all believed in him and came here to support him. So many skaters were older, more experienced than him, he was scared to death...but still, he smiled.
But then, he remembered that day.
How he fell after trying a jump harder than what he was used to. He had practised it, but he still fell. In front of hundreds of people. In front of cameras, illuminated by the lights. The whole world had seen him fall. He stood up and continued his routine, but he knew he wouldn't win. His footworks were lacking finesse. He failed two landings. His combination spins were passable. He was panicking the whole time. He wanted to cry and hug his dog. He didn't want to be on the ice anymore. The music ended, the violin's sweet sound vanished, and that was left was the crowd's applause.
But he didn't want to hear it. He didn't even collect the roses that were thrown at him. He didn't even hear the commentators' words. He went straight home that day. His mother hadn't been able to come to the competition, so she was still at home, making diner and taking care of his dog. He came back home, didn't even bother greeting his mother and went straight for his room. It was as if it was yesterday. He was crying on his pillow. His dog came inside his bedroom at some point and licked his cheek, desperate to comfort his master.
He lost and it hurt so much. He knew that tomorrow, all the channels would talk about is how he didn't do his best, how he failed. But they would cheer for him as soon as he won another competition. Simply because behind all the glitter there was blood and behind the grace there was pain.
'You know- I didn't realise it could be so hard to lose – I don't want to do it anymore. I don't want to-' he kept sobbing, hugging tightly his dog. Competitions were hard, no matter how talented you are. He knew that, so he should have been prepared to lose just as much as he should have been prepared to win. Winning was hard. He should have realised that sooner.
Perhaps he truly hadn't been good enough.
Perhaps, just like Icarus, he had flown too close to the sun, burning his wings in the process and fell into the sea. His whole body was in pain.
And so, he wept again and again.
And so, he screamed again and again.
He could clearly remember that day. He came to practise the next day, determined to win, no matter the cost. Even if it meant devoting his self, body and soul, to the cause. He was ready to do anything.
Victor woke up abruptly. He was sweating, his breath ragged. Makkachin wasn't next to him, so he assumed he was sleeping with Yuri. He tried to calm down, but to no effect. He liked to think he wasn't one to dwell on the past, yet still dreamed of a day that happened more than a decade ago. This was the last thing he wanted to think about. This was the boy he used to be, not the man he was now. Now, he was a legend. He was the one every single young figure skater en herbe looked up to. He was Victor Nikiforov, the Russian legend, Saint-Petersburg's angel. He found himself pathetic, sweating and panicking because of a simple dream, a decade old memory. He stood up, feeling more irritated than ever, and went to his bathroom.
There was not a single sound outside, which made him glad. He didn't know how he would have reacted if Yuri had come by for an impromptu visit. Looking at himself in the mirror, he could only come to one conclusion. He looked absolutely exhausted and tired, his eyes were red from crying, his hair was a mess, and he looked like he had just run a bloody marathon. He splashed some cold water on his face. He looked at himself once again. Every time he looked at his face in a mirror, it's as if he looked at a different person. His reflection on the mirror showed a confident, dazzling, healthy man. It did not show dark circles upon pale skin, nor red eyes 'It's an illusion. It's only an illusion. I'm just tired. I have to sleep or else, Yuri will be worried. The only person he should worry about is himself.'
Just thinking about the other man made him feel giddy. In the middle of the night, with the sky as his only witness, he could let his mind wander freely through images of his beautiful muse. The way Yuri skated was beautiful beyond measure. Of course, it was not devoid of errors and mistakes, but his passion could be felt within every single step. He was shy. He was not confident enough. He stuttered from time to time, but on the ice, his body conveyed feelings that cannot be expressed through words alone. Whenever he was on the ice, he wore his heart on his sleeve.
He smiled at the thought. He found it hard to believe that he has inspired Yuri so much. He truly loved him, in a way that couldn't be explained. Words and all the finest poetry in the world wouldn't be enough to express how he felt. He wishes he could tell Yuri how he truly felt. No matter how many times he tells Yuri he loves him, it's not enough.
But the way Yuri skates...it's overflowing with love.
It’s this overflowing, pure love that makes you feel like you can achieve anything. You think you might as well become king of the world. It’s a love so beautiful you can barely believe it. It goes beyond romantic love, there’s no adjective to describe this love. It’s simply Love in all its glory. Love is what you can only feel deep within your heart, your soul, your body. The way Yuri’s body moves on the ice tells Victor everything he needs to know. It’s a silent song that says more, speaks more, tells more than simple words ever could. It is poetry of the finest quality. Just by the way Yuri skates, he can tell his state of mind. Such honesty, such beauty, blinds him and makes him want to thank God for being born in the same world as Yuri.
'I should stop thinking too much, or else I'll never sleep.Yuri needs me more than ever now.'
As he laid on his bed, he suddenly heard a faint sound, drawing nearer. Before he could say anything, Makkachin jumped on the bed, curling up closer to him. Victor couldn't help but tightly hug his dear companion. Makkachin had always been there for him. Some would say that it's just a dog, but Makkachin was most all his friend. His beloved dog had seen him cry, laugh, supported him when he would lose and licked his face when he won. He had no idea what his life would have been if he hadn't had Makkachin by his side.
Under the warm covers of his bed, embracing his dear dog, Victor let out a yawn as Morpheus finally came to him, enveloping him in an ocean of stars, ice and wonderful – oh so sweet – dreams, letting him sleep peacefully at last.
Dreams of Yuri smiling as brightly as the stars themselves...
They started their training later than usual. While Yuri was working on his footworks, Victor observed him intensely. Despite being as nervous as always, Yuri's face was peaceful. He glided and moved like a swan. Fragile would be a good way to describe how he looked at this very moment. He was starting slowing but surely to gain more confidence. He wished Yuri would soon realise how much of an impact he has on others. There are young children and adults who look up to him with so much love and respect, admiring him for his determination, for never giving up. Victor could say without hesitation that he was one of those people, moved by Yuri's skating.
He might not be grand, he was no genius, but he had so much love to give and he gave it through his moves. Each jump was a confession and each step was a kiss. Victor wanted nothing more than to join him on the ice and kiss him. But the love he felt for the man was beyond a lover's kiss or a fevered touch. It was a love he couldn't express. A passion he dared not to show. He embraced Yuri every chance he got, he showered him with affection...yet, was it ever enough?
Victor wanted to show his Agape, Yuri wanted to show his Eros. Both were unable to express what the other could, and just like this, they found themselves in a never-ending dance from which they couldn't escape. They wanted to say so much more than an I love you.
A simple training session. Him gliding on the ice, his long hair untamed. He was holding Yuri in his arms, throwing him in the air. A perfect landing under the limelights. They were both like princes dancing a waltz, in perfect harmony. They were younger, wiser, actually knowing how to convey Love in all its glory. Holding hands tightly as Yuri circled around him in a perfect death spiral. Glitter once again. The lights of Heaven itself blessing them. The music was but a faint whisper in the background. Swan Lake's last notes echoing in the distance as they kept on dancing, even when the music ended.
This was absolute perfection.
“Victor, are you okay? Did I make a mistake?” Yuri's clear voice put him out of his reverie. Swan Lake kept on playing.
“ I am fine Yuri, no need to worry about me. Let's call it a day, shall we?” Victor knew Yuri was surprised at such a decision, but the way he was now, he knew he wouldn't be of any use to Yuri. He wasn't focused, he let his mind wander more and more. Since he had that dream, he kept on day-dreaming the whole day. How could a dream make him so tired? It was a simple memory, one even he had thought long lost and forgotten. He considered himself blessed to have had such a grand career, nevertheless we all have fragments of our past that we would rather forget. Victor was no exception.
While Yuri headed to the baths, Victor decided to walk. His scarf tightly wrapped around his neck, he let his mind expand and wander through an ocean of thoughts. A sea of memories. 'Everyone has forgotten about my failures. Mom never did, but she isn't here anymore to remind me of them. Now, even as my career is ending, I will only be remembered as a legend.' There were days when Victor wished he could forget about his failures, but then again, he realised that it was because of them that he became a legend.
He walked and walked and walked...
Blood. Cuts. He had just come back from the ice rink. First place once again. He was in his bathroom taking care of his feet. It hurt so much, but it never was enough. If he wanted to keep on being the best, he had to train harder and harder. It never was enough. He skated and skated and skated...until his feet bled, until his soul was tired, his body aching. Some times, he wondered why he was still skating. He loved it. He knew he did. But he had also lost this spark that young children have when they look at him. They look at him like he was a legend, a god, someone they aspire to be like one day.
When did he lose this?
When did he lose the most important thing there is? Was it when his mother died? Was it was he started to focus only on his training? Constructing his routine with divine precision, from the choreography to choosing the appropriate music? He couldn't remember. He wished he could find this passion, this...
Love that he lacked.
Oh, he knew he was loved. Even now, as he took care of his damaged feet, he could still hear the screams of women, men and children cheering him, clapping their hands every time he nailed a jump. The photographers assaulting him to get but a glimpse of his face. Fans singing his praises, dozens of roses thrown at him, journalists desperate to get the tiniest of information on him. He felt like a old, beautiful painting everyone admired behind a glass case. You admire its beauty, yet you know you'll never be able to touch it, reach it. As you desire it, you idealise it. He felt like a perfect, beautiful painting. Always skating, always training. But he lost a part of his love, a fragment of his passion.
This was why his performances were so sorrowful. A tired, melancholic expression on his face, graceful.
He was the small boy from Saint-Petersburg, trying to find love. He couldn't say it aloud, so he used his body to say it. Just like one of his rink mates skated to express her happiness after fighting against an illness, he skated to ask questions to which he could find no answer. And his feet hurt. His body ached. As he skated, he started to wonder if this was love felt like. Was love his mother's hugs? Was love painful, yet the finest of wines, addicting? He skated and skated, until his whole body bled. He was spinning and spinning and spinning, until all that was left on the ice was a tattered costume and all that could be heard was a boy's cries.
Upon finally reaching the beach, snowflakes started to fall on his coat. On his hair, and even his nose. Some were like tiny stars falling from the sky. Now, Victor wasn't in Hasetsu, nor within Yuri's heart. He was up there in the sea of memories and the ocean of thoughts, drowning with the stars. His eyes closed and mind open. And so, he let himself dream, if only for a little while...
He imagined himself skating on the star themselves. The ice being a perfect reflection of the night sky. No lights other than the moon, quietly watching. No one was there, except for his beloved muse. Yuri was not skating, for this performance was for him. The first notes. The violin, the piano, the orchestra. Frantic and passionate. A hint of sadness, of cold winters spent crying in Saint-Petersburg. Of feet bleeding after practice, of his dog licking his face, of his mother's death and Yuri desperately trying to convey his love for him on the ice. He wanted to express this with so much more than his body.
Victor jumped, almost flying. No one was at the beach, the water was his only witness. When did the night come? He didn't know. He didn't care. He danced on his own, lost in his own world. A world where he wasn't Victor Nikiforov. A world where he was no Russian legend, but a man in love with another. A love so powerful, nothing would ever be enough to express it but his bare soul. Were there a way to convey your very soul through your body?
One jump, one spin. Perfect landing, in tandem with the music. Now, as he danced to a Sarabande, he felt no more like a king. He was a simple lover lost in a sea of memories, an ocean of thoughts. There he was, younger. His mother clapping her hands in the audience. On that day, he skated for her. For her health and her smile. He was the young prince entertaining his queen. He could her in the audience, affectionally calling him Vitya and clapping her hands.
He could almost picture her in his arms. He wiped a tear. Kept on dancing. The sound of waves mingling with the music. The faint kiss of snowflakes on his body. Complete silence. The wind sang, the waves cried for the poor, lonely dancer. One step, three steps, seven steps and he was once again lost in his own world. How many times did he dance like this, on his own? How long has it been since he last did it? A dance was a language of its own. In every step there were emotions and feelings of all kinds, what the finest poetry couldn't express, the body could.
This dance was so unlike his routines. They were perfection itself, each step is calculated and executed with divine precision. This one was unpredictable. Flawed. Charming in its own way.
He held Yuri in his arms under the stars. Beautiful, fragile, passionate Yuri. They didn't need to say anything to each other. But the moon left to let the sun rise in all its glory. The faint smell of flowers. Yuri's body against his, the music. Everything was perfect. They laughed, they smiled, giddy with happiness. Victor couldn't take his eyes off of him. If he was the one who gave Yuri confidence, then Yuri gave him wings. When he held Yuri in the air, it was as if Victor was the one being lifted up. Yuri was his angel, his king. He knew Yuri admired him greatly, considered him to be a god on the ice, but couldn't Yuri realise how divine he was?
Yuri made him feel like a boy again.
Yuri was the Love he had lost.
He had tried for so long to find love, and he found Love instead. The one that can conquer all obstacles, the one beyond that of a father, a brother, a friend or a lover. It was the love God felt for you, and that you felt for him. Victor didn't see himself as a god, but Yuri had the potential to be one.
'When I saw Yuri's video that day, I knew that I had found it. This passion, this Love, this grace. I loved him before I even knew what love meant. I smiled, I flirted, but I wanted to get on my knees for him. Love hurts when you don't know how to express it.'
As he almost fell, he felt two arms catch him. Looking up he saw Yuri, flustered from running, with Makkachin following suit. Without a second thought, he embraced Victor. He returned the sweet embrace, unable to think of anything to say.
“Victor...you've been away for hours. I started to get worried.” One of Yuri's hands gently smoothed Victor's hair, a sign of quiet support. In a whisper, he poured a fragment of his heart to Victor. “You meet me where I am, so I'll meet you where you are too, Victor.” My beloved Victor. He gently touched Victor's hair, as if trying to reassure a child. Victor let himself be held for minutes that seemed like hours. He felt so small, as if he had become this scared, insecure boy once again. Yuri did not complain. He embraced Victor for as long as he wanted, Makkachin rubbing its head on its master's leg as a sign of his affection.
Yuri, who was usually so reluctant to make the first step, had slowly started to initiate hugs and comforting touches. Victor couldn't be more grateful to him now. He tightened his embrace – was such a thing even possible? - he felt safe in his beloved's arms. His body felt so weak. He fell on his knees, dragging Yuri with him, startling his dog.
“Victor?!” Yuri kept him steady, as best as he could. He knew he was no knight in shining armour, but now more than ever, he had to be strong. Victor helped him gain the confidence he never had, so now, it was his turn to help him. “Tell me what you need. Whatever it is, I'll give it to you.”
“Yuri.” His body betrayed his tone. Whereas his voice was strong, his body was like a sand castle, ready to crumble however solid it seemed. “Please, can we stay like this for a while?” He could hear his voice breaking. The snowflakes kept on falling, yet less numerous. The sky was almost pitch black, hundreds – no thousands – of stars scattered like diamonds on an evening gown.
“Anything Victor. Anything.” He was surprised by Victor's attitude, for the man was always bright and almost goofy. But he knew, ever since Victor woke up this morning, that today was simply a day for melancholy. A day for sadness. He admired Victor, he loved him beyond what words could express, so he skated with all his love. What he felt cannot be understood. What they felt for each other was so strong, it stung like an open wound. “It's okay if you don't want to say anything. I am here. I'm not going anywhere.”
'I just don't know how to say that I love you Yuri. I can kiss you, I can hug you and tell you how much I love you.'
“I lost my mother a few years ago.” He didn't know what pushed him to start speaking about it. Those things he had never said to anyone. “My parents divorced when I was a child, and I lived with her. She came to see all my training sessions, all my competitions. I was so happy then, Yuri. But when I lost her, I started to focus only on my training and nothing else. They all called me Saint-Petersburg's Angel, wanted to take pictures with me, and told me how my skating was perfect. ”
“Victor...” Yuri was at a loss, it's as if the man he was holding now was the true Victor. The one behind the strict coach, the beautiful idol, the goofy man. “You don't have to continue, if-”
“Let me finish, please. I lost my passion. I never thought I would find it again.” He pulled back from Yuri, facing him now. “Until I saw your video.” Yuri blushed terribly, embarrassed to be reminded of that, spouting incoherent nonsense. Victor let out a light chuckle at that.
“You were clumsy and almost missed a jump, but this was the most beautiful performance I had seen in years. You saved me Yuri. Your Love is stronger than anything I've seen before.” Yuri stopped his fumbling, taking a good look at Victor. They were both on their knees in a beach, on a cold winter night, but when Yuri looked at Victor's face...he might as well be looking at God. Victor's nose was red from the cold, and his eyes were glassy – did he want to cry – but his smile, oh his smile made Yuri melt right on the spot. It was so different from his usual, lady-killer smile.
“You are my angel, Yuri.”
There, on the verge of crying his eyes out with a sweet smile, Victor was beyond handsome.
'He's just like an angel...please Victor don't cry, you know that I love you more than what words can say.' He didn't know why Victor was like this today. He looked tired as if for the last few days he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep, and it hurt terribly to see him like this. He gently cupped Victor's face in his hands and Victor did the same. They didn't need to kiss for now, for this simple, gentle touch was all they needed. Simply to be reminded that as long as the other was here, everything would be okay.
As he kissed Victor's tears away, expressing his love through small, shy but bold touches. He helped Victor stand up, danced with him until they feet hurt from the moves and mouths from the laugher. Victor admired Yuri in more ways that words could say, and though it hurt not to be able to convey what you exactly feel, he could do it step by step.
“No matter what, Victor, I love you the way you love me.”
And poor Victor's heart still ached, but now, it was the sweet pain of a love expressed and the knowledge that it was mutual.
Stock : Bonds of Affection; Promptness; You'll Always Be Beautiful to Me
Yuri slept with Victor that night, Makkachin at their feet. Victor hadn't let go of him, hugging like a child would hug his favourite pillow. He had tried to act calm and collected for Victor, but deep down he was melting. He loved Victor and Victor knew it, but they both hadn't realised how it could hurt not to be able to express the full extend of your feelings. It's as if no matter what, there'll always be something missing. That every time they would hug, kiss or more, there would always be something missing. That something was beyond words. So they use their bodies to say it. On their way home, Victor told him everything. His dreams, how he lost his motivation, his very passion for figure skating. His parents' divorce, his mother's death, the loneliness, the pain behind all the smiles and glitter.
At the end of the day, figure skating was all about speaking with your body, but desperately trying to hide the pain and hard training behind your performance.
Oh, it was not the case for everyone. Some felt it more than others. Victor constantly seemed to be the very image of perfection. Perfect career, perfect body, perfect manners. But talking to him that night, Yuri saw another side of the man he loved and admired. He also learnt what love meant, what it was about. When he skated, when he became more and more impatient and missed his jumps, and hit his head on the wall, and bled and was engulfed in a happiness so intoxicating he couldn't stop moving. Such a level of closeness wasThat was love for him and that was his love for Victor. And thus, as he gently touched Victor's hair, he fell asleep.
Victor fell asleep at the same time, as if their very souls were one.
Victor and Yuri were holding hands on the ice. All the spotlights, the glitter, the screams, the cheers and the thundering applause. But also the dirt covering the proud colours. The condescending smirks and the faint, almost unnoticeable hatred hiding behind love. Their grip on the other's hand tightened, their smiles became brighter – like the Heavens themselves decided to grace this day – and God, of course they were scared. They had never done this before. They were showing their love to the world, a Love which meaning cannot be said. Cannot be understood save for those who feel it. Yuri knew he was the only one who understood Victor's love, who could surprise him again and again. The entire world could turn its back on him, he wouldn't care. He revelled in the jealousy, the hatred, the envy.
Let the world envy me, let it hate me.
Bold.
Ineffable.
His love was pure ambrosia.
Victor's head was resting on Yuri's chest, his beating heart calming him, making sure that no nightmare would plague his rest.
Victor's costume was made of hundred stars and the night sky itself. The music was perfect. It was their song, the one that brought them together in the first place. They trusted each other, they loved each other, and...Love wins. It always does, even as you find yourself in the midst of despair. They saved each other. The bond between them was unbreakable. When he saw Yuri on this ice, when Yuri was in his arms, Victor knew. He knew that whatever happens, no matter how melancholic he was. Even if he remembered the past, if he was ashamed of his failures, for Yuri he'll always be beautiful. No matter what. Higher and higher! The choir of applause – the fever, the love, the hatred, the clapping of hands, the screams – they were kings of the world. Gods on the ice, they were worshipped, hated. Victor held Yuri's hand in a death spiral. Faster – a never-ending dance – and the judges were smitten, conquered. Some people wept – men , women, children of all horizons – this frenzy , their feet in pain, the glitter and the stars – the whole place was more alive than ever.
Yuri smiled in his sleep, finding peace in his beloved's arms, tightening his embrace. The night was so quiet, and in a sweet breath, Yuri realised that he had found Love.
''Ah, so this is love.''
Christmas Rose : Tranquillise my anxiety, Anxiety.
It was the same before every competition. The fear, the tears, the heart beating so fast he thought that it would explode any moment. Eros. Could he truly pull it off, could he charm Victor just the way Victor had charmed him? Him, the little boy growing up admiring a Russian legend, before said legend took him under his wing after a series of failures. Now, he knew he couldn't afford to lose. For Victor, but most of all for himself. He knew that. Yet, as he took a seat near the rink – hair pushed back and black, glistening costume underneath his jogging, the very image of sensuality – he was more anxious than ever. He truly thought his heart was about to explode. He felt unable to breathe. It's as if the whole world was trying to strangle him. As if he was a fish drowning.
It made no sense, but for him it did. He should be nervous, but not so much. He didn't look up when Victor came to sit next to him. His coach, his father figure, his brother, his friend, his lover. His everything. He said nothing as Yuri was desperately trying to breathe correctly. Yuri's face was in his hands. He was trembling, on the verge of sobbing, his throat hurt. Victor said nothing. He simply wrapped an arm around Yuri's shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and rubbing it slowly. A simple touch. One, simple comforting touch. He almost felt ashamed of himself, he had started to gain more and more confidence. But now, he was a wreck and Victor was the one that kept him from crumbling down.
“You're going to be okay, Yuri.” He had said those words in a whisper, hoping for Yuri to calm down. When Yuri said nothing, Victor started to grow worried by the minute. “Yuri, please look at me.” For a minute, he didn't move, before turning his face to see Victor. He was scared, tears were running down his cheeks, he was trembling and – oh Victor's heart broke at such a sight – his expression was that of a lost boy. “Listen to me carefully. You are divine on the ice. You create music like no one else, you can do it. You've done it before.” He planted a kiss on Yuri's forehead, before hugging him.
“Seduce me again, Yuri. Seduce the audience, the whole world. You're not that lost boy anymore.” Yuri didn't know what to say. When Victor first came to him, he had been a mess. He was completely broken, but Victor helped him put the pieces back together again, one by one. Thanks to Victor, he didn't crumble. But he learned that even his idol had a few cracks of his own. He had tried to hide them, but whenever he had a nightmare – a worrisome thought, a forgotten memory surfacing again – the cracks couldn't be hidden anymore.
As they held each other, Yuri noticed how Victor trembled. He knew that for all his confidence as a skater and a coach, Victor was just as worried as he was.
Without a second thought, he cupped Victor's face and kissed him.
He never was one to take initiatives, but Victor had changed him, made him bolder. Victor held him, embracing him tightly as he returned the kiss. Sweet and slow, sweet and slow. There was no burning passion. Only comfort and love. At some point, Victor's tongue briefly licked Yuri's lips, Yuri returned the favour. It was almost intoxicating. Tongues meeting, cheeks as red as roses, bodies faintly trembling. He didn't want to let go of Victor, yet he had to. They broke the kiss, Yuri still flushed and Victor's cheeks still pink. He kissed his forehead again. Held Yuri's head in his hands, and as their eyes met, it was as if they were discovering each other again.
It was as if the universe existed within a simple look.
In an ocean made of blue and brown, was the stars, the ice that linked them and the love that bound them.
Yuri felt like he was drowning in Victor's love. Victor felt like he was drowning in Yuri's love. For him, Yuri was akin to a flower blooming, finally letting the whole world discover its beauty. He was an immortal flower, his beauty was enough to bring a man to his knees is he wished so.
And as he embraced Yuri one last time before letting him go on the ice, Victor felt more nervous than ever. Yet Yuri entwined their fingers, only looked at him and thought of him on the ice, and such a reassuring thought was enough. It was enough to make his fears vanish. It was enough.
White Dittany : Love and Passion
Their impatience, the thrill of a victory, their love in full bloom. How Yuri had grown, how his charm had matured.
Hundreds, thousands of stars blessing them' poor, desperate men that they were. The violin, the piano...the the fever. They could faintly hear it. There Yuri was, chest bare for him to see, black enveloping his legs. But wasn't it also the same for Victor. He was on the rink, yet holding onto the rail. Victor was right behind him, his chest to Yuri's back. A hand on the chest, a hand on a thigh. Victor could feel Yuri's warmth, the soft skin under his fingertips. He was mapping his beloved's skin. Yuri had turned his head so that Victor could gain access easily to his neck, planting a sweet kiss on the pale canvas. Victor 's grip on his thigh tightened. He leaned against him.
Before skating away from him.
Their first time. He knew Yuri would be just as nervous. He kissed him, slowly letting the kiss become more and more and more frantic. It was the taste of passion and innocence, so sweet to hear, to feel, to taste with all his senses. He felt like a beast now, more than ever. He wanted to ravish his love. As Yuri held onto him, their flesh touching, Victor thought that he might as well go mad. Yuri was more intoxicating than the scent of jasmines. Their clothes were scattered on the floor. Victor would be lying if he said that he wasn't nervous. He didn't want to hurt Yuri and he knew Yuri didn't want to hurt him. Their kisses were passion itself, slow and sweet, intoxicating and feverish. He kissed and bit and licked, until red roses bloomed. He knew that Yuri left marks of his own, on his neck, on his back.
Victor's gaze followed him, puzzled. Then he was this smile. The faint, almost unnoticeable mischief behind a mask of innocence. The moonlight blessed Yuri. He wondered if this was how Apollo had felt when he first Hyacinth. To witness such a sight...Victor truly felt blessed by the heavens. Yuri wanted to dance, and Victor would always indulge him. He slid. When he got to Yuri, he kneeled to kiss his hand and guided him through the dance. They were both thinking about the first time they held each other. The first time they made love. Yet were they done making love yet? Never. Making love was more than the union of bodies, of sweet moans and ragged breaths.
It was them, dancing with each other.
He kissed Yuri's body, all of it. His scars, his legs, his lips. Yuri bit his lips, he returned the favour. He licked and teased his chest. Their fingers entwined, always. A moan escaped Yuri's lips. Victor thought that he was going to lose it. He felt like a madman, wanting more, desiring more. As roses bloomed on Yuri's chest, Victor thanked God above for letting him meet Yuri. For letting him find love and hold this man in his arms. His mouth reached Yuri's thighs. Perfection. He was ravishing perfection itself, and soon it would be his turn to be pleasured into oblivion.
He took Yuri's member in his mouth. How sweet was the sound he made. The grip on Victor's hair. The man taking him in, sucking, licking.
'Harder'
'Never stop'
A loud 'take me' playing over and over in his head. Oh, he couldn't wait to be the one to say those words. To give and be given pleasure in return. He knew that his fingers would leave marks on Yuri's thighs and hips tomorrow. But Yuri didn't care. He told him this much, repeating again and again not to stop. He was the most beautiful man in this entire world. He knew that Yuri was close, but it couldn't end so soon. They wanted to drown in each other's presence.
'I love you, I love you so much, Yuri'
'I love you Victor, I love more than anything'
He revelled in how exquisite Yuri was.
Yuri lifted him up, he carried him like a bride as he spun on the ice. They laughed and laughed, giddy with happiness. Each movement, each touch. The frantic violin got louder. Yuri planted a kiss on his shoulder before putting him down. Holding hands, spinning, it was as if they became the dance itself. Footworks, each step in sync with the violin. They found each other again. A smile before a death spiral. A spark of pleasure as they held each other on the ice. He didn't want to hurt Yuri as he held his hand on the ice. A spin could be so dangerous, yet fascinating, intoxicating. He threw Yuri in the air, watching in awe as he landed perfectly on the ice. A drop of sweat. Messy hair. The moonlight on his skin. God was standing in front of him, he wanted to kneel. He felt blessed beyond words, beyond what mankind could say, beyond what poets could convey.
Victor was laying on his back, the soft sheets warm against his back. Yuri kissed him, slow and tender, but there was this spark of impatience and passion that left him become a moaning mess. He wondered who taught Yuri how to render a man breathless. That was him. He had been a good coach. Yuri was careful not to hurt Victor, he was slow. They already had gotten the lube and condom out of the drawer, but Yuri was taking his time. He kissed Victor's hands, held one of his legs – divine, absolutely perfect – and planted dozens of kisses. He loved Victor oh so much – so much he could feel his heart beat faster, faster and faster – and in this moment they were more beautiful than any orchestra. No music could be compared to two bodies' duet.
They stopped skating. The memory of a passionate night making them dizzy with happiness. Drunk on love and passion.
'Take me Yuri'
They danced on the ice, as if this was their wedding day. A laugh. An echo.
He was more cautious than ever. Victor briefly cupped his cheek. Spread his legs, letting Yuri settle between them as he made his hole lose. Fingers, lube, Yuri's ragged breaths and Victor's moans. He tightened his grip on the sheets. Yuri was teasing him, taking his time. To feel Yuri's fingers inside of him, the pleasure was addicting.
'Kiss me'
Sweet, sloppy, passionate. He was a loss, he couldn't find the words anymore. Was there a language capable of conveying his feelings? Tongue on tongue, lips on lips, they kissed as Yuri was getting him prepared. He broke the in an 'I love you so much Victor'. His name felt like a song when Yuri said it. He put a condom on. Victor wrapped his legs around Yuri's waist, whose heart was about to burst. He pushed back Victor's bangs, planting a kiss on his forehead.
He held Yuri's hands in his, kissing them both. “You're the light of my life, Yuri”. Yuri's radiant smile and pink cheeks filled him with warmth. His soulmate, his beloved, his friend, his student, his - everything.
Yuri was inside of him. He started to move, wanting to give Victor the same pleasure he had given him. He didn't want to hurt Victor, whose voice – lost in pleasure, in passion, in love itself – was a sweet melody to his ears. He said his name over and over, as he started to move, revelling in Victor's beauty. Their sang a duet as their bodies melted together. Their faces red with pleasure. Their lips forming a smile, their voices in unison.
'Victor!'
'Yuri!'
The laugher, the warmth, the inexplicable feeling beyond love – faster, faster – they didn't want this to end. But they were close to their climax, to the song's coda.
His world. Yuri was his world. He kneeled at Yuri's feet. He blinded him. He kissed his love's hand. Yuri seemed a bit surprised, letting out a gasp when he saw Victor holding a small, velvet box.
'Yuri'
Soon, the magical moment would end, but so many others were to come. Their fingers entwined as they came, their sweet almost boyish laugh.
A silver ring, a simple question. Only one answer. Their tears.
And an eternal vow found in a “yes Victor”.