Chapter Text
Yuuri wasn’t one to put any stock by stereotypes. Despite his general shyness, he considered himself fairly open to the ways of the world. He had lived abroad for the last five years, and both school and skating events had given him ample opportunity to meet people from all walks of life. He knew a boy from Montana who couldn’t stand the outdoors, a girl from New York who made the best Rendang curry he’d ever tasted, and he would never have assumed for a moment that just because Victor was Russian, he would be a big drinker.
But regardless of stereotypes or Yuuri’s open-minded attitude, the fact remained that the man drank like a fish. It was honestly astounding. He never let it interfere with his skating, not that Yuuri had ever noticed anyway. Although come to think of it, Yuuri mused to himself, he might be more disposed to relax and drink more now that he wasn’t skating competitively. It didn’t seem to bother his family either, even if Drunk Victor was a bit hands-on with their son. And so Yuuri kept his comments to himself, taking the late nights in stride, and tried to put out of his mind how most nights now, a very drunk Victor would drape himself over the younger skater. His alcohol-loosened tongue would lead him to whisper lewd suggestions that Yuuri shouldn’t have heard, while Victor’s hands roamed where they ought not to have been. Yuuri knew it was just Victor’s way, and that he shouldn’t take seriously the things drunk Victor did.
At least, that’s what Yuuri told himself. He would lie awake at night after pouring a compliant Victor into his own bed down the hall, replaying those moments when the Russian skater’s wandering hands would brush against him, drifting under his clothes to touch him where no one else had touched him before. He would recall Victor’s words, how his sake-sweetened breath would ghost across his cheek, his low voice and colourful phrases causing the blood to rush to Yuuri’s face and…other places.
As he replayed tonight’s offer, promises to keep warm between Victor’s sheets in breathtaking detail, he knew he was blushing again. Covering his face with his hands, he tried desperately to think about something else, anything else, but it was too late. The now familiar jolt in his groin made him groan, and he rolled over, mortified, pressing his face into his pillow to stifle the unexpected sound.
He lay still, hardly daring to breathe as he strained his ears for any indication that he may have disturbed someone. He was painfully aware of how thin the walls were, although he counted himself lucky he only really shared one of those walls. But behind one of them was the corridor, and just meters away was Victor’s room.
He remained on his front, his growing erection pressed almost painfully into the mattress. It was completely still outside. He couldn’t have been as loud as he thought, it was just paranoia in the still and quiet night. Rolling back over and breathing a sigh of relief, he stared across his room. In the gloom and without his glasses, everything was blurry. His eye was drawn to one of the larger of his posters. Although he couldn’t make out the features from this distance, he didn’t need to. He closed his eyes and saw Victor perfectly. He had memorized his face long before he had ever met him in person. He felt another tug in his groin, this one causing his semi-hard dick to twitch, and without thinking he brushed his hand over his erection.
The gentle pressure through the sheets sent a jolt of pleasure through him, and he immediately felt a wave of shame. Yuuri opened his eyes guiltily, his hands now clenched in fists at his sides. But he was still alone in the dark. No one could see him. No one would ever know if he touched himself again. His eyes were already drifting closed, picturing Victor again from this evening, remembering the feeling of his broad chest pressing into Yuuri’s shoulder. Victor's hot breath was in his ear, and Yuuri pressed his hand down again over the sheet. He was so hard already. He rubbed himself through the sheet, and he could hear Victor’s voice again, low and full of desire, offering him obscene things in the dark.
He wished it was Victor stroking his firm length. He smoothed his hand up the hard plane of his cock, and froze when he felt the tell-tale damp spot where he had leaked through the sheet. He drew his hands under the covers and reached down, letting his fingers travel over his stomach and towards his groin. Slowly he wrapped his fingers around his fully erect cock, squeezing it at the base and giving it one slow, languorous pump. He felt his pleasure building, felt as warm as drunk Victor had promised him he would. He curled onto his side, drawing his knees up as he gave himself another slow pump, this time letting go and dragging his fingers along the length to the tip. He pinched the foreskin, rolling in gently between his fingers. He gasped at the new feeling this created, and he slapped his free hand to his mouth to stifle the sound.
Even alone in the dark he could still feel himself blushing. His lips parted beneath his hand, and he inserted two fingers, sucking and licking them even as his other hand continued to stroke below the sheet. He tried to ignore the feeling of shame that was burning in his chest. He reached for himself with his now-wet fingers, pulling back the foreskin to expose the leaking bulb beneath. Yuuri traced his wet fingers around the head as he rubbed the length, imagining it was Victor’s hand touching the velvety soft skin. He gripped himself again, and another jolt of pleasure caused him to buck into his cupped hand. He swore softly in English, a habit he had picked up at University. He released his hold, rolling out of bed to stalk over to his sports bag.
His thoughts were a jumbled mess of guilt and desire. He already knew he was going to go through with it, and he didn’t have the necessary supplies, but he could make do. With a bit of fumbling in the dark, he managed to produce an almost empty pack of tissues and moisturizer. His face was generating so much heat he was surprised he wasn’t glowing in the dark. He climbed back under the covers quickly; his throbbing dick was begging to be touched again. With shaking hands, he popped open the cap and squeezed a generous amount of the cream into his palm. The scent reminded him of after-practice showers, and his mind conjured up another image of Victor. This one was standing in the locker room shower, his naked back to Yuuri, water cascading over his beautiful form.
Flicking the cap closed, he shoved the bottle under his pillow, sinking back and carefully cupping the cream in his hand, careful not to spill it as he reached down to touch himself again. As the cool cream made contact, he let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. Smoothing the cream quickly over his shaft, Yuuri curled in on himself again, still picturing Victor in the shower but now turning to face Yuuri, sinking to his knees, taking Yuuri’s cock into his warm, wet mouth. Yuuri gasped as his imagination and reality merged and melded together. With one hand firmly wrapped around his dick, the other cradling the head, he began to pump into his fist. He screwed his eyes shut, his breaths becoming faster, shallower, as he began to move his hips. His dream Victor was looking up at him through soft silver hair, eyes half-lidded with desire. He moaned softly in pleasure as he gyrated, his thumb rubbing over the head of his slick cock, believing it to be Victor’s supple lips teasing him as he sucked him off. In the dead of night the wet, slick sound of skin on skin sounded deafeningly loud, but as his strokes picked up Yuuri cared less and less.
He turned his face into his pillow and moaned again, louder this time, as he felt the familiar tightening feeling in his balls that signalled he was close. Dream Victor still had his lips wrapped around Yuuri’s cock, and he felt an involuntary whimper escape his throat as he pictured him again, those ocean blue eyes watching him, dark with desire. An impossible tightness gripped him and his movements became erratic as he went over the edge. Pistoning into his hand, he released his load in three bursts, the soft cry of pleasure that tore from him stifled by his pillow.
He lay still for a moment, body trembling as he felt the pleasure receding to leave him feeling limp and weak. With unsteady hands he pulled the tissues from the pack, quickly wiping up his bodily fluids and shoving the soiled tissues back into the empty plastic wrapper. He pushed the rubbish between the mattress and the wall to hide it; he would have to get up early to bathe first and dispose of the evidence properly. But for now sleep was overtaking him, and he felt more relaxed than he had felt in days. His eyes drifted closed again, and a smile played on his lips as he was lulled to sleep on the high of his orgasm, Victor’s smiling face the last thing he thought of as sleep gently overtook him.