Chapter Text
Chapter One: From Japan To Russia, with Love
“Yuuri! It’s not good to stay cooped up like this. Come and help shovel the snow!” Yuuri woke to the voice of his mother and he sat up, his blankets falling away and pooling around him as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Snow?” He mumbled sleepily, pulling the curtains back and blinking into the bright morning light.
He gazed out at the world-turned-white. A blanket of snow had fallen during the night, sparkling in the sunshine and weighing down the boughs of the cherry tree in full bloom.
This was unusual weather. It was April for crying out loud, why was it snowing? He fumbled for his phone to check the weather report, frowning at the blank screen as he remembered why he had switched it off in the first place. As it flared back to life, a dozen notifications popped up. Ever since the video of his skating Victor Nikiforov’s Stay Close To Me had gone viral, he had been bombarded online with both praise and hate. He quickly closed off the notifications, trying to ignore the comments his eye fell on. An email message in English caught his eye and he opened it, curious as to who it could be from. The top message simply read “See you in Russia”. The forwarded message below was all in Russian, but the attachment had enough English for Yuuri to immediately discern it was a plane ticket. To St. Petersburg.
His eyes scanned the ticket; the flight was in two days, and it covered the entire journey from Hasetsu to St Petersburg. He clicked back to the message. There was no greeting, no signature. Just “See you in Russia”. Who had sent it? He had been fighting butterflies since realising the email was a plane ticket, but he thought he was going to faint when he saw the email address of the sender.
It couldn’t be.
But given present circumstances, who else could it be?
Yuuri sat staring at his phone, dumbfounded. It looked like Victor Nikiforov expected him to travel to Russia in two days’ time. Why? If he wanted to tell him what he thought about the video, surely he could do that online. The realisation hit him and he felt a new wave of nervous tension sweep over him. With shaking hands, he hit “reply” and began to type in English.
Hello,
I have received your message. I’m confused as to why you want me to go to Russia? Waiting for an explanation,
Yuuri
He stared at the words, not happy with the message but unable to think of anything else to say. Was the ticket even real? He should check if the flights existed. But even as all of these thoughts collided, he didn’t really want to check. Proof of this being an elaborate prank would break him. He took a deep breath, hit send, and threw his phone across the bed.
He stared at the door, half expecting his mother to return and demand he get his butt in gear. He was startled by his phone buzzing, and as he reached for it he could see he had a reply already.
Hi!
I heard you don’t have a coach anymore so I thought you would be looking for a new one. You won’t win the Grand Prix unless you train! You’ll love the rink here. Let’s get ready for this season together!
xoxo Victor
This couldn’t be real. Yuuri clicked the power button, sending his phone to sleep. Putting the phone down again, he got up and started to get dressed, deciding that he would go and shovel the snow and think before trying to word a reply.
Outside it was bitterly cold, and Yuuri leant against the shovel as he surveyed the snow-covered yard. He wondered what St Petersburg was like. Was it as cold as Hasetsu? Colder? He looked back at the house guiltily. He had only just returned after a five year absence, and even if it was a joke, he couldn’t deny that he desperately wanted to train in Russia with Victor.
Finishing up with the front path, Yuuri gratefully returned to the warmth of the house. He waved off an offer of breakfast, not catching the look of worry that flitted over his mother’s face as he returned to his room.
His phone was lying where he’d left it, and as he approached it buzzed to life again. Picking it up, he could see he’d received three emails in the last 30 minutes, all from Victor.
Yuuri,
It’s a long flight so don’t forget to pack a book or something. I’ll pick you up at the airport so don’t worry about a thing. See you soon!
xoxo Victor
Yuuri,
Don’t forget to bring your workout gear! Yakov can be a real drill sergeant but I’m sure you’ll enjoy it here!
xoxo Victor
Yuuri,
How come you’re not replying? Are you busy packing?
xoxo Victor
Yuuri quickly read the short emails and hit reply on the latest one, trying to gather his thoughts. This kind of thing didn’t happen to him. It was clearly too good to be true. Deciding that he should just get it over with quickly, he typed and hit send before he could chicken out.
If this is a joke I’m not laughing. I’m sorry about the video, it wasn’t my choice to upload it. I just want to be left alone.
Yuuri held the phone loosely in his hand, letting his gaze travel around his room. The walls were still covered in old posters of Victor. Across the room was the last one he had put up before leaving for Detroit. Victor was dressed casually for training, his jacket tied around his waist and leaning against the rink wall. Yuuri knew that the photo was from Victor’s home rink in St Petersburg. He had never given it much thought, but now he studied the background of the poster, taking in the large windows in the background, the brightly lit arena. His phone buzzed in his hand and he swiped open the new email.
The screen paused to load an image, and then Yuuri was staring at the face of Victor Nikiforov. He was pulling a sad face, but there was amusement sparkling in his eyes. Yuuri could see he was dressed in light grey, and appeared to be reclining on a sofa. The message below read:
Yuuri,
This is not a joke. I truly wish for you to train in Russia for this season. Please accept my invitation.
Victor
No “xoxo” this time. Coupled with the frowny-face, Yuuri was immediately worried that he had offended his idol. Typing as quickly as he could, he apologised.
Victor,
I’m sorry if I upset you, I’ve received a lot of hate over the video and I assumed this was a prank. Thank you for the invitation. I will have to talk to my family. Can I give you an answer tomorrow?
Yuuri
He hit send, but his heart was in his throat. This was genuine. It wasn’t a joke. It was really Victor and he really wanted him to train in Russia. Yuuri was going to compete against Victor in the Grand Prix. Victor’s reply came a moment later.
Yuuri,
You’re going to win the Grand Prix this year.
xoxo Victor
P.S. check SNS
Yuuri felt dazed as he gaped at the reply. He was starting to get the impression that Victor wasn’t used to being told “no”. Opening the app, Yuuri waited for his feed to update. Images popped up one after another and the screen finally settled on Victor’s official account, which of course Yuuri followed. It was a selfie, and showed Victor in the same position and outfit as the photo he had emailed Yuuri, but this time he was smiling as he winked at the camera. Yuuri’s eyes dropped to the caption:
“I’ve got a big surprise planned for this season”
He gripped his phone tightly, adjusted his glasses and stood up. He’d better go and break the news to his family that he wasn’t staying long after all.
-
Victor wasn’t kidding when he said the flight was a long one. Yuuri had travelled all over for competitions before, but the connecting flights between Hasetsu, Fukuoka, god-knows-where-else and finally St Petersburg took more than 18 hours. He had slept during most of the flights but he was still exhausted by the time he approached the immigration counter.
Victor had been overjoyed when Yuuri quickly replied he would be boarding the flight for Russia. He had immediately sent him copies of forms stating that he would be sponsoring his stay in Russia, and Yuuri noticed that the forms (thankfully bilingual in Russian and English) stated a home address for him in St Petersburg. He had been worried about where he would be living, but Victor appeared to have taken care of everything. He had tried to bring up by email the matter of cost, but Victor brushed aside his queries, asking Yuuri instead what Yuuri thought were silly questions like: What was his favourite food? Was he a morning person or a night owl? Did he snore?
Yuuri gave the clerk a hesitant smile as they stamped his passport and handed him back the sheaf of paperwork that gave him permission to live in Russia for the next 12 months.
Stuffing everything back into his bag, Yuuri looked around for the signs that would point him towards the baggage claim area. As he stepped through the gates into the Arrivals hall, he caught sight of an unmistakable silver head amongst the crowd.
“Yuuri!” the melodious way Victor called his name made Yuuri feel weak in the knees, and he waved at the Russian as he moved towards him. To his surprise, Victor crossed the distance in long strides, catching Yuuri in a hug and swooping down to peck a kiss on his cheek.
“Welcome to St Petersburg! How was your flight?”
Yuuri’s heart was racing as he stammered a reply, blinking up at Victor in a daze. Victor had thrown an arm around his shoulders like they were old friends and was manoeuvring them towards the carousel.
“I’m so excited you’re here, Yuuri,” Victor was saying, and Yuuri felt too overwhelmed to trust himself to speak. Instead he focused on the carousel, straining for a glimpse of a familiar bag.
“We’ll go straight to the rink so you can meet everybody!” Victor had continued, and Yuuri was very conscious not only of the attention Victor was attracting, but also of the way Victor’s arm still held him firmly to the taller skater.
“O-ok.” He managed to stammer a response. His heart was hammering in his chest so loud he was sure the people passing by could hear it. Maybe that’s why they were staring. He sighed in relief when he spotted his suitcase, as it gave him an opportunity to move away from Victor for a moment.
He lifted the heavy bag down and turned back to Victor, who in the space of sixty seconds had been mobbed by a small group begging for autographs.
Victor smiled and indulged his fans, signing the fans airline ticket stubs and shaking their hands. Yuuri moved closer only when the group had moved on.
Before he could say anything, Victor took the suitcase from him and directed them towards the exit.
A sleek black sedan was waiting outside the double doors, and the driver sprang from the front seat at the sight of Victor. The luggage was quickly stowed in the boot and soon Victor and Yuuri were seated in the back seat and on their way to the rink.
In the silence, Yuuri struggled to say something. There was so much he wanted to say, but he was having trouble finding the right way to say it. He decided in the end that he’d better start with thank you.
“Uh, Victor,” he began hesitantly, and faltered again when Victor turned his charming smile on him full force.
“Thank you for bringing me here. I mean, for the plane, and picking me up.” Yuuri blushed as he heard his awkward words, but Victor smiled kindly at him.
“Thank you for accepting.” He replied, and winked at him.
“I hadn’t considered you might think it was a joke. I’m glad you’re here.” Yuuri didn’t know what to make of the look Victor was giving him. It made him feel nervous and excited at the same time.
Victor peppered him with more questions as they drove, although to Yuuri’s relief they were more along the lines of what he would expect from a rinkmate. Things like what jumps he could do, did he choreograph his own routines etc. It seemed that Victor had dug up the videos from his last season and he was giving him a thorough critique on where he’d gone wrong. Yuuri nodded mutely, agreeing with him but feeling rather despondent all the same.
Almost an hour later they were finally at the rink. Victor told Yuuri that they wouldn’t be training today (“You must be exhausted after that long flight”), but they would go in and meet everybody and show Yuuri the facility.
“So you can leave your things here in the car! Just bring yourself.”
Yuuri waited by the car, fiddling with his phone as Victor gave instructions to the driver, along with a set of keys.
It suddenly hit Yuuri that he was really here. He had never made snap decisions before, always deliberating over choices as simple as what to have for dinner, and here he was in Russia less than 72 hours after deciding to accept Victor’s offer. The familiar feeling of anxiety settled in his chest as Victor lead him in to the huge, gleaming white building.
The introductions were a blur. He recognised faces from last year’s disastrous Grand Prix, the most intimidating of which was the young Russian Yuri, a surly blond who glared daggers at him until the coach Yakov shouted at him to concentrate.
To Yuuri’s relief, almost everyone else was if not friendly, than at least not openly hostile. Most were curious about him, which strangely made Yuuri feel a little less nervous. If Victor’s motives weren’t widely known, than at least Yuuri wasn’t the only one who was in the dark.
Victor left him in the company of a younger skater named Mila while he discussed something with Yakov. Mila was 18 and had been on the international circuit for long enough to speak confident English, even if her accent occasionally was hard to follow.
They fell silent watching Victor and Yakov’s discussion. Yakov wasn’t shouting but his words were loud and rapid, and his face was turning red. Victor though was looking calm and collected, gesturing in a what-can-you-do kind of a way and laughing. Mila frowned momentarily, but shook it off when Yuuri tried to question her.
Victor returned soon after, announcing that he would give Yuuri a tour and dragging Yuuri away from the rink. The tour took almost an hour, and by the end of it Yuuri was in awe. This was worlds away from his tiny home rink Ice Castle Hasetsu.
This place was a complete training facility. Besides the world-class rink, there were fully equipped green rooms for national competitions. Victor showed him the locker and shower rooms, there was also an indoor gym, a sauna, and even
“A hot tub!” Victor gestured to the raised hot tub, currently silent and empty. “There is nothing more relaxing after a long day of training than soaking in the hot tub.”
Yuuri, feeling more at ease now it was just him and Victor again, told him about Yu-topia and the natural hot springs at his home. He enjoyed watching the emotions flitting over his face as Victor lamented missing the opportunity to soak in a natural hot spring.
“I almost came to get you too!” He cried, and Yuuri smiled fondly, telling him that he was welcome anytime to visit.
Victor enthusiastically accepted the invitation, and assured him that one day he would definitely be visiting.
“But we’ve got a long year ahead of us, Yuuri. Lets go get you settled in to your new home!” Victor retrieved a set of keys from the reception area of the rink, and Yuuri followed Victor down to the garage. The sleek black sedan that had dropped them off was parked in the shadows. Victor unlocked it with the press of a button and urged Yuuri to take a seat. Victor climbed into the driver’s side and the engine roared to life. Smoothly reversing, Victor drove them out into the bright light of the afternoon, pausing at the turnoff to lean across Yuuri for a moment. He retrieved a pair of sunglasses from the glove box, flicking them open and sliding them on one handed. Yuuri stared at him like he was a rock star.
Grinning like a fool, Victor drove confidently and they were soon speeding down the highway. Yuuri watched the buildings and signs as they sped past. The strange Cyrillic script was incomprehensible to him, and he felt very far from home.
After only 10 minutes they took a highway exit that swung them back around and soon they were cruising down a quiet road. The neighbourhood looked less CBD, more residential. Soon, Victor slowed down and they swung into a narrow driveway. Victor lowered his window to wave a card at a control box and the tall gate cranked slowly open. Watching in awe, they drove down into another underground car park.
Victor parked and slid the sunglasses from his face, returning them to the glove box and winking at Yuuri.
“Come on, let’s get you settled in!”
Feeling nervous again, Yuuri slowly took off his seatbelt and let the strap slide through his fingers as it retracted. He was so slow, Victor had walked around the car and opened his door for him.
“Come on, Yuuri, you’ll love it, I promise.”
Taking a deep breath, offered Victor a smile before climbing out of the low car.
Crossing to an elevator, Victor again waved a card at the panel, and selected the floor. They rode an elevator up to the 22nd floor, Yuuri noted it was the top floor of the building, and the doors opened silently onto what looked like a living room. There were two long sofas, low tables with lamps and a few books and a floor to ceiling window. Yuuri gasped softly as he approached the window; the view of the city was spectacular. Beyond the buildings he could even see the grey ocean blending with the sky.
Victor came up to stand behind him and Yuuri breathed in as his scent enveloped him. The last few days had been surreal. The flight over had been long and tiring and his afternoon had been a blur of introductions and surprises. Meeting the man he had admired and looked up to for so long was always going to be a whirlwind of emotion for Yuuri, but today he had surprised himself. Ever since he had been greeted by Victor at the airport, instead of being excited about training with Victor and taking his skills to the next level, all he could think about was how good Victor smelled, and how incredibly turned on it made him feel.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Victor voice was low as he spoke directly into Yuuri’s ear. Yuuri agreed absently, his eyes screwed shut as he fought to get his racing heart under control.
Victor chuckled, and announced that he would show Yuuri to his apartment. Yuuri opened his eyes and quickly noticed two things. One, his face was flushed with a blush that glowed across his cheeks. And two, he knew this because he could see his reflection in the glass. No wonder Victor was amused. He spun around, expecting Victor to call him out, but he was merely waiting a few steps away for Yuuri to join him.
The lounge area was almost like a wide hallway, the elevator in the middle opening out to two doors on either side of the hall.
Victor lead Yuuri to one of them, handed him a card and gestured at the smooth silver panel set by the door.
Raising the card to the panel, a soft light briefly illuminated the edges of the panel and a click indicated that the door was unlocked. Victor smiled and pushed the door open for him, waiting for Yuuri to enter first.
Taking a few hesitant steps in Yuuri watched as the lights came to life, illuminating a modern and spacious apartment. It was open plan and tastefully decorated. He could see a small kitchen with a breakfast bar, a sleek wall mounted TV and double doors that he assumed lead to the bedroom.
He turned around to face Victor to protest.
“I can’t stay here Victor, this place must cost a fortune!” He waved his hands as he tried to put into words that he was grateful but it was too much. Victor waved away his words with one elegant hand.
“Nonsense, Yuuri. It’s not costing a thing. This side was empty after all.”
Yuuri gaped at him, unable to process his statement.
“Make yourself at home. If you need anything I’m just across the hall. If you want to freshen up please do. I’d like to invite you over for dinner. From my side you can see the palace. It’s quite spectacular at night.”
Victor departed, softly closing the door behind him and leaving Yuuri standing in the middle of his half of a penthouse, feeling incredibly overwhelmed.
The sun was setting and it made the city glow like gold. Yuuri stood at his window, taking in the magnificent views. He had quickly explored the apartment. Large picture windows framed the outside walls, the kitchen was stocked with a few staples although the refrigerator had that unmistakeable brand-new smell. The bedroom he saved for last. The room was huge, taking up almost a third of the floor space, although the ensuite meant that wasn’t entirely bedroom per se. The ensuite alone was magnificent. A deep corner tub with a long window for gazing out at the city lights dominated one corner. The fixtures were gold and gleamed in the soft lighting. A walk-in wardrobe completed the modern look, and Yurri continued to explore the bedroom itself.
His suitcase and bag had been left just inside the door. Centred in the room was the large kingsize bed; he lay across the comforter at the foot of the bed and wiggled to test the springs. Very comfortable. Rolling off the bed he prowled around to the bedside table. Opening each small drawer, he noted they were all empty. Sitting back on the mattress Yuuri let his gaze wander the length of the room again, and he noticed in the shadows another door. On the opposite wall to the ensuite, a door blended into the wall. Yuuri approached it, feeling the seam of the door and a slight puff of air through the crack. There was no handle.
To the left of the door was another smooth panel, much like the one Yuuri had used to unlock the front door. Fumbling for the keychain Victor had given him, he raised his card to the panel.
Nothing happened.
Letting out the breath he had been holding, he tucked the card back into his pocket and began to unpack his clothes. He made a mental note to ask Victor about the unlockable door later.
-
About an hour later Yuuri had showered and changed. He felt much more like himself, even if he was still reeling from the shock of his new situation.
He closed the door to his apartment carefully behind him, lightly touching the card now in his jacket pocket as he did so to check it was still there. He crossed to the door on the other side of the hall, reaching up to tentatively knock. There was a scratching at the door, and he took a step backwards as the door swung open.
He was immediately bowled over by a large, brown ball of fluff. Yuuri was flat on his back with two giant paws on his chest and a wet nose snuffling at his face. He laughed and patted the dog who looked so much like his own poodle Vicchan. Overhead, Victor was laughing and apologising, pulling Makkachin off him and introducing them cheerfully. Yuuri straightened his glasses, sitting up on his elbows and taking in the sight before him. Victor was wearing a ridiculous apron and a huge grin, holding Makkachin back and speaking to them both in a mix of English and Russian. Gesturing him inside, Yuuri could smell the rich savoury smell of soy sauce wafting from the kitchen as he climbed to his feet.
Victor returned to the kitchen, and Yuuri followed more slowly, hindered by Makkachin trying to sniff every inch of him. He stopped to pat her, scratching her behind the ears and laughing as she collapsed to the floor to beg for more pats. Looking around, he could see that Victor’s apartment was basically a mirror image of his side. He took a seat at the bar at Victor’s insistence as he took in the chaos happening in the kitchen, with Makkachin following close behind and sitting by him, waiting patiently for more attention or possible food scraps.
Victor kept up a stream of conversation as he flitted about the small kitchen. There was an electric deep fryer bubbling away on the counter and next to it a rice cooker emitting puffs of steam. Everything combined was giving Yuuri a very comforting sense of home.
Victor was gesturing around the kitchen at the various parts of their meal in progress, explaining that he had been practicing how to make katsudon and he was pretty sure he was getting good at it now.
Yuuri felt a wave of affection for the man before him as he watched Victor carefully lower a breaded pork fillet into the hot oil. Yuuri hadn’t been sure what Victor was planning, what his motivation for bringing Yuuri all the way to Russia might be, but as he watched Victor carefully timing the pork fillet, eyes narrowed in concentration, he realised that he didn’t care. So what if Victor had an ulterior motive? He had found out and taught himself how to make Yuuri’s favourite food. He doubted he meant him harm.
He offered to assist, and Victor cheerfully informed him he could grab them both a drink. Not wanting to disappoint his host, Yuuri poured two glasses of the vodka already on the breakfast bar, Victor’s slightly more generous than his own.
Victor lifted the golden pork from the oil and set it to rest while assembling the rest of the bowls. He only had to tell Makkachin once not to touch anything. With only one look of longing towards the pork cutlet, she turned and loped towards her own food bowl. Within minutes Victor was placing a steaming bowl in front of Yuuri and taking a seat next to him. He raised his glass and Yuuri blinked at it for a second, then cottoned on that it was a toast. He raised his own drink, barely sipped at, and clinked it together with Victor’s half-drunk glass.
“To Yuuri in Russia,” Victor proposed, and Yuuri smiled at him.
“To Victor’s katsudon,” Yuuri replied, and clinked his glass against Victor’s again before he had time to react.
They both drank, Yuuri quite a bit more deeply than he had intended, although not nearly as deep as Victor who drained his glass.
Yuuri immediately refilled his glass in a habit formed from spending too much time with his ballet teacher, who drank like a fish. Victor laughed, a relaxed and utterly beautiful sound, before urging Yuuri to eat.
They ate mostly in silence, although Yuuri paused several time to tell Victor how delicious it was. Victor hadn’t been wrong about the view. In the distance, the setting sun illuminated the palace rooftop with a fiery light, and as the last of the sunset faded into velvet black, the lights of the city burst into life.
Yuuri had felt the first few sips of his vodka burn all the way from his throat to his stomach, but coupled with the food it was going down much easier. He had drained his first glass and was starting on his second by the time they had finished their meal.
Leading him to the living area, Victor urged Yuuri to make himself at home, and Yuuri decided that third-vodka Victor might be more forthcoming with some answers.
“Victor,” Yuuri began, looking over at the grey haired enigma. Victor was watching him closely, and with a jolt Yuuri realised that Victor was sitting exactly where he had been sitting when he had taken those photos only days ago.
He tried to begin again.
“Why am I here?”
Victor regarded him for a moment before turning his gaze to the remaining vodka in his glass. With a heavy sigh, he drained the glass in one go. Yuuri waited as Victor seemed to gather his thoughts. The hand that held his empty glass was pressed against his lips.
“You’re here,” Victor began, leaning forward and placing the glass on the coffee table between them, “Because I want you to be.” His eyes pierced Yuuri and for a moment he looked almost predatory.
“And I always get what I want.”
A jolt shot through Yuuri. As quickly as the moment had come it had gone. Victor was once again smiling, asking if he wanted anything, the perfect host. But Yuuri remembered the look he had given him. Far from cold, the narrow eyes that had fixed him in place had been dark and smouldering. Yuuri was fast realising that a lifetime of hero-worshipping had taught him nothing about the man himself. Victor in real life was a puzzle that Yuuri desperately wanted to put together, no matter what the finished picture looked like. He wanted Victor to look at him like that again.
Yuuri realised that the butterflies in his stomach he had been feeling since the airport might not be nerves after all. As he gazed across the room at his childhood idol in the flesh, it occurred to him that what he was feeling might be good old-fashioned lust.
He was startled from these thoughts as Makkachin wandered over to Victor, jumping up on to the sofa with him and settling down at the end. Yuuri hadn’t known what to say in response to Victor’s declaration, but the silence that had fallen didn’t feel uncomfortable. He watched Victor with Makkachin and felt a wave of nostalgia for Vicchan. He had missed the soothing presence of a pet these last 5 years in Detroit.
Feeling brave, Yuuri got up and went over to Makkachin, sitting back on his heels and reaching out to stroke her soft fur. He spoke to her softly in English, telling her how beautiful she was and that she reminded him of his own poodle. Victor was still reclined, but he turned to face Yuuri as he questioned him.
“You have a poodle, too?”
Yuuri gulped and nodded once, blinking back the tears that suddenly welled up.
“Yeah, I had a poodle for years. He…” Yuuri trailed off for a moment, and deliberately looked away as he got his emotions under control.
“He passed away last year.”
A rustle indicated Victor had sat up, and Yuuri felt a warm hand rest on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry Yuuri, that must have been terrible.”
He nodded, and forced himself to smile as he turned to face Victor.
His smile faltered when he saw how close Victor was, and he felt his words die on his lips. Victor’s gaze was intense, and Yuuri felt like he was drowning in it and at the same time being brought back to life. He struggled to think of something intelligent to say.
“It’s, uh, it’s getting late,” Yes Yuuri, he mentally berated himself. Very intelligent.
“We should go to bed.”
Yuuri froze as Victor’s words reached him, and he slowly felt his face start to heat up with a blush.
Victor gazed evenly back at him, apparently unaware of the double meaning of his words. Yuuri quickly shot to his feet, startling Makkachin and nearly spilling the contents of his glass.
“Yes! I mean-“ Yuuri put his unfinished drink down on the coffee table
“I should go to bed! Goodnight!” Yuuri hurried towards the door, pausing and looking back over his shoulder. Victor was watching him with amusement.
Taking a deep breath, Yuuri turned to face Victor once more.
“Thankyou Victor. For dinner and,” he ran his hand absently through his hair, “and everything.” He finished lamely. Victor’s easy smile melted his heart.
“You’re welcome Yuuri. Goodnight.”
Yuuri bowed quickly and fled from the room, dashing across the hall and into his apartment without looking back.
Victor watched him go before turning to Makkachin and speaking to her in Russian.
“So that was Papa’s new boyfriend, Makkachin. What did you think?” He scratched her behind the ears and continued his monologue.
“No, he doesn’t realise it yet, but he is.”
In his own room across the hall Yuuri slept deeply, wrapped in the soft blankets that covered his bed. He dreamt that Victor was watching him through lust-darkened eyes again. It made him feel hot all over. Victor’s gaze was piercing; it was impossible to look away from. The stormy blue was just a ring of colour around wide blown pupils as he eyed Yuuri. A jolt a desire ran through him, causing his half-hard cock to twitch against the smooth skin of his thigh.
Desire and heat were consuming him, and as he clawed his way to the surface of his dream, he reflected that drinking half a bottle of vodka after a long and dehydrating flight was probably not one of his more sensible ideas. Blinking his eyes in the gloom, the room swam murkily into vision. A soft click drew his attention, but without his glasses he had no hope of locating the source of the sound. Now more or less awake, the insistent need to relieve the pressure building in his lower half caused him to sit up. Reaching for his phone, he noted it was 5:30am and that he might as well get up for the day.
Rolling out from under the covers, he stood and let the blankets fall back to the bed. He felt his cock once again twitch as the soft fabric brushed against him. He stared down at his body, his sleep-clouded mind trying to remember going to be the night before. He didn’t usually sleep naked, but then again, he didn’t usually go to bed half-drunk in Russia either. He shrugged and padded over to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. The tile floor was cold to the touch, but he quickly climbed into the shower and the warm cascade soon took the chill from the room.
Palms flat on the smooth tiles and head bowed, Yuuri let the water hit his back and drip down his thighs. He watched the water pooling at his feet, swirling away down the drain. The warmth of the water was soaking into him and he closed his eyes, remembering how yesterday Victor had stood so close behind him, recreating the image in his mind and adding details. Victor pressing up against him, his arms coming around he hold Yuuri to him tightly. Yuuri straighten up, the water drenching his hair and falling in rivulets that wound around his muscles and dripped down to his fully erect cock.
Eyes still closed, Yuuri was lost in his fantasy as his memories of Real Victor from yesterday and Dream Victor from last night melded and merged. He leant forward again, shifting his weight as he rested his head against his left forearm. Reaching down with his right hand gave the shaft a squeeze, then slowly stroked. His mouth fell open in a soft gasp as the water pounded against his lower back. He bit his lip to stifle a moan as his imagination supplied image after image of Victor pleasuring him as he stroked himself. It didn’t take long for his ministrations to send him over the edge. His strokes became less measured, more frantic as he approached his limit until with a soft cry he spilled his seed. Leaning back into the stream he let the pressure of the water wash away the evidence. For the first time since his arrival yesterday he felt peaceful and relaxed. He reached for the shower gel to wash when the sound of movement beyond the door caused his newly relaxed body to tense again.
“Good morning Yuuri!” Victor’s voice called cheerfully though the door.
“I came to get you up but I see you’re already awake!” His voice was muffled through the door as Yuuri stood frozen in fear staring at it. He hadn’t locked the door.
“Yes, I’m awake!” He shouted over the sound of the shower, adding “I won’t be long!”
“Take your time! Come over for breakfast when you’re ready.”
He waited with baited breath for the sound of retreating footsteps. When he heard the bedroom doors close he relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief and dispensing a blob of shower gel into his palm. His first morning in Russia and already he’d nearly been caught wanking in the shower. He shook his head as he started to wash and thought to himself: It’s going to be a long season.
The drive to the rink was filled with Victor’s bright babbling about the plans he had for training now that Yuuri was here. Yuuri listened silently, his eyes turned towards the buildings flying past as Victor outlined the intense program he had crafted to get Yuuri back into peak physical form. Sinking into the soft upholstery of the seat, Yuuri mentally face palmed. Of course Victor had noticed he’d got a bit soft. It was only to be expected after all. It wasn’t like he’d planned on competing again. He sat up straighter as the thought occurred to him. That was right: he had thought his skating career was over. But now…
He stole a glance over at Victor, who was gesturing as he animatedly spoke of how Yuuri was the most promising skater he’d seen in a long time and he couldn’t wait to get him in the rink.
Yuuri felt his chest grow tight and tears prick at his eyes. He couldn’t believe he had almost let this feeling go. What had he been thinking? He loved skating. Thank god Victor had decided to pull him out of this slump he’d sunk himself into.
Soon they arrived and with a feeling of determination Yuuri grabbed his bag and followed Victor towards the locker rooms. Now that he was here, he was determined to prove himself. He was going to work harder than he’d ever worked before this year.
He greeted Coach Yakov and was given his first assignment officially: loose the weight and report back in 5 days.
Yuuri cringed at the harsh verdict but really he had expected something like this. Victor had laughed and got him set up in the gym. He had been popping in constantly to check on him all morning. By lunchtime Victor wandered in for the umpteenth time, announced it was time for a break and took Yuuri to the cafeteria. Yuuri lined up with Victor, sliding a damp tray on the rail in front of him and eyeing the strange looking cuisine with caution. He was actually relieved when Victor laid down some dieting rules that forbid anything more complicated than a salad. At least he could recognise lettuce.
They were joined at the long table by several other skaters, including Unfriendly Yuri. The other skaters all spoke to Victor in Russian. Yuuri wasn’t bothered; they were in Russia after all. He could tell that they weren’t talking about him, or at least not saying anything bad anyway. The tone was light and friendly. Mila came and sat down next to Yuuri and began to ask him in her beautifully accented English about Japan. She had been to Tokyo and Fukuoka for competitions and longed to be able to explore more. Mila was just explaining that she had learnt a little Japanese, and was carefully pronouncing her practiced self-intro when Yuuri looked up and caught Victor watching him.
Yuuri quickly averted his eyes, focusing again on Mila and praising her short speech, but from the corner of his eye he could see that Victor was still watching them.
The rest of the day flew by in a blur. Yuuri was mostly left to his own devices; Victor visited much less as Yakov was fed up with his star constantly disappearing every time he turned his back and made the entire team his spies to keep Victor on the ice. Yuuri didn’t mind being left alone; it gave him time to think as he worked out. He did want to get outside if possible though. He made a mental note to ask Victor about a safe place to jog outside.
Yuuri wasn’t sure if the training was tougher than Detroit, or if he was just seriously out of shape, but he ached. By the late afternoon he was exhausted and had all but crawled into Victor’s car to go home. The hot showers in the gym had washed him clean but he knew that tonight he needed to soak in the bath or tomorrow he would be a cripple. Victor didn’t pester him on the drive home. He cast a few worried glances at the younger skater but refrained from commenting. It wasn’t until they were in the elevator that Victor started to question him about his day.
Even though it had been physically gruelling, Yuuri could honestly tell him he was happy to be here. He was in a strange place where he didn’t speak the language, he didn’t know why Victor had brought him here but even so, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. He had been about to give up skating and he would forever be grateful to Victor for snapping him out of his funk.
He tried to put some of his less-complicated feelings into words, and the warm smile Victor gave him in return caused him to smile back, his first genuinely happy smile since he arrived. Victor insisted that Yuuri come back to his apartment to relax and Yuuri accepted, pleased to be able to spend more time with his idol.
Makkachin greeted them at the door, wildly jumping first on Victor then Yuuri and demanding attention. Victor laughed, assured her that he would take her for a run soon, and ushered Yuuri into the living room. Yuuri collapsed facedown on the sofa, but turned his face towards Victor to ask.
“Do you take Makkachin out for walks?”
Victor nodded, “Yes, usually every morning and afternoon. You’re welcome to join us Yuuri.”
Yuuri smiled and rolled over on the sofa, his head resting against the arm rest and his feet dangling in the air. Every muscle protested against movement.
“Thanks, I think I will in the future.” He grimaced as he pointed and flexed his toes. “Just not today.”
“I’m sorry I can’t make you katsudon again tonight Yuuri,” Victor apologized as he poured two sparkling waters. He held one out to Yuuri. Makkachin had wandered over to Yuuri and her head was in his lap as he was scratched her behind her ears absently.
Sitting up a bit to accept the cool glass Yuuri replied, “That’s okay, I realised it wouldn’t be on the diet.” He smiled ruefully as he sipped the water. There was a twist of lemon in it and the flavour was refreshing.
“When I’m focused on a goal I can be strong willed. I’ll look forward to katsudon again in the future.”
Victor settled on the end of the sofa, and Yuuri self-consciously tried to make himself smaller, pulling his body away from Victor to avoid accidently brushing against him. Victor didn’t seem to notice, and as he spoke his arm came down to rest against Yuuri’s leg.
“I’d like to cook for you again. Maybe we can celebrate the end of your first week here?”
Yuuri was frozen in place, not sure if Victor knew he was touching his leg or not. He didn’t want to move in case Victor then realised and moved his arm away. He couldn’t believe he was this worked up about such a casual touch. He wasn’t even touching his skin; both his leg and Victor’s arm were covered by clothing. He shook his head sharply and realised that Victor was still waiting for a reply.
What had he said again? Oh yeah,
“Yes, that’d be great.” He said lamely, wishing he had even one tenth of Victor’s confidence. Makkachin chose that moment to scramble up onto the sofa with them, and in the ensuing scuffle Victor moved his arm away. Yuuri felt equally relieved and devastated but sat up properly, Makkachin now a physical barrier between himself and Victor. It had been an eventful day, and he felt exhausted. After draining the last of his water he announced that he might head to bed. Victor agreed and said he would walk him out. Yuuri’s protest fell on deaf ears as Victor climbed gracefully to his feet. The contrast in their movements was not lost on Yuuri. After his long day at the gym was moving like a marionette.
Victor followed him out the door and across the hall, and the warmth from his hand resting against the small of his back was causing Yuuri to have trouble breathing.
“Sleep well, Yuuri,” Victor leaned closer to whisper to him, his breath ghosting against Yuuri’s cheek.
“Remember, I’m just across the hall if you need anything.”
Yuuri gulped, said goodnight and fled into his apartment, shutting Victor out before he did something stupid like ask him in. Leaning against the closed door, he caught his breath, willing his heartbeat to slow to a more reasonable pace. A low chuckle from the other side of the door caused his heartrate to skyrocket again, and with a whimper he dashed for the bedroom. Pulling his clothes off was a mission: everything hurt. He ran a hot bath and poured in some salts he found in the cupboard. As the bathroom filled with sweet-scented steam, he reflected on the lengths which Victor had gone to setting up this place for him. The bath filled quickly and he gratefully lowered his aching limbs into the water, setting a timer on his phone so he didn’t soak too long.
He nearly fell asleep, the water was so relaxing. The warmth sunk into his abused muscles, soothing away the long day. The insistent beeping from is phone brought him back to life and he reluctantly climbed from the bath, drying off quickly and moving to the bedroom to stretch. The hot water and salts had done their job; he could move much more freely. He only stretched a little, ready to sleep now that every movement wasn’t torture, but still wanting to take any advantage to regain his former flexibility. With a grateful sigh he crawled under the covers, and within minutes he was deeply asleep.