Chapter Text
“Yuuri,” Viktor calls from his room. Yuuri closes his computer and pads out of his room quietly, standing curiously in Viktor’s doorway. Viktor looks up from his phone and smiles, patting the bed next to him wordlessly. Makkachin pops up from the other side of the bed and enthusiastically greets Yuuri as he enters the room, licking his palms.
“Hi, Makka,” Yuuri says softly.
“Makkachin, leave,” Viktor commands gently. Makkachin looks over his shoulder at Viktor and whines, but complies when Viktor points to the door. “Close the door, Yuuri.”
“What’s this about?” Yuuri asks as he sits cross-legged on the bed next to Viktor.
“When I showed you Eros at the rink earlier, I don’t think you had quite in mind the true meaning of sexual love. If you would permit me to show you…” Viktor murmurs, looking at Yuuri through his eyelashes, sitting so still he trembles.
Yuuri’s heart leaps into his head, pounding on his eardrums as if looking for escape. His mouth turns desert-like in the span of a breath. “Show me?” he whispers.
“A practical demonstration of Eros, if you will.” Viktor ghosts his fingers over the back of Yuuri’s hand and suddenly it clicks. Sex. Viktor means sex. The thought goes straight between Yuuri’s legs and his mouth floods suddenly. He swallows.
“O-okay,” he mumbles, turning to face Viktor. His coach’s pupils are blown, lips wet and pink.
“Okay?” Viktor echoes, leaning in slowly. His breath is warm on Yuuri’s lips, but stops short of a kiss.
“Uh-huh,” Yuuri nods, dumbfounded. He’s about to kiss Viktor Nikiforov. Viktor Nikiforov. The idol he’s admired and chased his entire life and followed through transition, the idol whose name he scratched the –ia off the end of on his posters when Viktoria became Viktor. The living legend. And he’s about to kiss him.
Yuuri lunges forward blindly, mashing his lips into Viktor’s with all the grace of an overexcited puppy. Viktor’s lips are warm and soft and he’s pulling away—no!—no, he’s coming back, so softly, his kiss is so delicate, their lips are barely touching, Yuuri’s heart is beating so hard it’s audible.
One of Viktor’s hands cups the back of Yuuri’s head, his cool fingers twining with Yuuri’s hair, and he presses deeper into the kiss. His lips are so soft and almost squishy under Yuuri’s. Yuuri tilts his head, grabbing gently at Viktor’s hair, trying to calm the mad rush inside yelling at him to push Viktor down on the bed, kiss him senseless, suck marks into his neck, push his shirt up—
Viktor pulls away a fraction and Yuuri opens his eyes in surprise, only to meet Viktor’s true blue gaze just centimeters away. “Is this alright?” Viktor asks earnestly, and Yuuri scrambles to comprehend what he really means.
“Alright?”
“May I touch you?” Viktor breathes. Yuuri nods firmly, a wave of lust crashing over him. Yuuri expects those cold, expert fingers to go straight to his nipples or his waist or the zipper of his pants but they don’t. The disappointment must register on his face as a smile tugs at the corners of Viktor’s mouth.
“Who’s showing who the Eros again?” he murmurs, and god damn it Yuuri can already tell he’s soaking wet. He exhales heavily, tipping his head back in surrender as Viktor’s hand moves down his neck to tug at the collar of his shirt. Viktor’s lips press a small brand into Yuuri’s throat and he almost gasps at how intense such a simple action feels. The faint click of a button barely registers with Yuuri’s heavily lust-fogged brain, but the opening notes of Eros cut through it like a knife.
In a whirl, Yuuri’s spun around an laid down on the bed, Viktor straddling him on hands and knees. A thin whine escapes Yuuri. Viktor smirks cockily as he slots a knee between Yuuri’s legs but doesn’t give him that pressure he needs on his dick. Right as he opens his mouth to plead, Viktor kisses him full-on with tongue and Yuuri fists his hands in that silver hair, needing more. Viktor breaks the kiss only to make his way down Yuuri’s neck, biting his collarbone, pushing a hand up beneath his shirt. Panting, Yuuri hooks his right knee over Viktor’s hips to try to pull him down and force some sort of grinding, but Viktor resists and retaliates, rolling one of Yuuri’s nipples between his fingers. He barely bites back a moan, unable to keep his hips from bucking up.
Viktor pushes Yuuri’s shirt up, bunching it beneath his armpits, and hesitates for just a second. Yuuri looks up at him, confused, but when Viktor’s fingers trace the lines of the scars on his chest he understands. Yuuri swallows, nods, pleads with his eyes. Viktor smiles gently at him, leans down, and flicks Yuuri’s nipple with his tongue.
“Yes, god, please,” Yuuri whispers in Japanese, raking his fingers through Viktor’s hair as he does mind-numbingly pleasurable things to Yuuri’s chest. “More.”
Viktor sits back on Yuuri’s left thigh, grinding against it as he strips off his own shirt. Yuuri stares with an open mouth at Viktor’s gorgeous, tiny, soft breasts. He sits up, lips going to Viktor’s pale neck as his hands find Viktor’s breasts.
“Ah-ah,” Viktor chides softly, breathily, taking Yuuri’s wrists and pushing him back down onto the bed. “You can touch later, once you show me on the ice you know what Eros is.”
Yuuri moans, sliding down enough so that Viktor’s knee is pressed into his crotch. The pressure is heavenly but oh my god he needs more.
“Touch me, please,” Yuuri whines, all sense of decency forgotten. Viktor looks amused, his hands wandering to the zipper of Yuuri’s pants, eyebrow quirked—questioning. Yuuri nods furiously, letting his head fall back in bliss as Viktor’s palm cups his dick and vagina.
“So wet,” Viktor breathes; Yuuri bucks his hips again.
“Touch me,” Yuuri begs. “Please. Inside me.”
One of Viktor’s fingers slips in the side of Yuuri’s briefs and circles his small dick, stroking up and down the length of it before dipping lower into the wet folds of his vagina. Yuuri only realizes he’s been chanting “please please please please please” like a prayer when it’s interrupted with a wanton cry. Viktor groans, eyes falling shut as he pushes into Yuuri.
Clumsily, Yuuri pushes his pants and underwear down, pushing Viktor’s finger out in the process. Viktor meets his eyes, staring straight into Yuuri’s soul as he slowly fucks into him with two fingers.
“Ohgodpleaseyes,” Yuuri moans, not daring to take his eyes off Viktor, even as he leans down to kiss Yuuri, his breasts squishing against Yuuri’s flat chest. Viktor fucks Yuuri at an agonizingly slow pace, his free hand playing with Yuuri’s nipples. Yuuri bucks his hips into Viktor’s hand with every thrust, grinding his dick against the heel of Viktor’s hand each time. Yuuri weakly reaches up and fists Viktor’s hair, holding him in the kiss, grinding harder against his hand.
“I’m—” Yuuri gasps. “Right there, there, I’m gonna—”
“Yes, yes,” Viktor moans, pushing deep and hard into Yuuri, pressing his hand into his dick, gasping as he feels Yuuri come around him. Yuuri throws his head back and moans, gripping Viktor’s hair for dear life as he rides Viktor’s fingers through his orgasm. Yuuri’s hands fall limp to the bed and he liquefies, breathing heavily. Viktor pulls his fingers out, surreptitiously wiping them on the sheets before Yuuri can manage to open his eyes. The room is quiet again save their panting. Yuuri doesn’t know or care when the song ended.
Viktor lies down on the bed next to Yuuri on his side, playing with Yuuri’s hair with his clean hand. “I want you to remember this when you skate Eros for me, Yuuri.”
“Of course,” Yuuri sighs.