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The Cyrillic script curls around Yuuri’s wrist, forming an intricate pattern of dark velvet ink. Victor traces the flowing lines that form ‘Виктор’ on the laptop screen with his fingertips in awe, as if he’s carving the letters into his lover’s skin anew.
“Well? What do you think?” Yuuri asks, a faint pink blush coloring his cheeks.
Victor’s lips slowly part to from his trademark heart-shaped smile. “I love it! I never would’ve thought you’d go and get a tattoo though - does that mean you won’t be able to step foot in your own family’s hot springs now?” he jokes.
“Idiot, that’s why I had it done on the wrist in the first place,” Yuuri admonishes fondly. “It’s fine if it isn’t somewhere obvious like the back or on the chest - that would look horrid on ballet costumes.”
“Unless if there’s ever a dance production centred around the yakuza ,” Victor laughs, his fingers moving to draw patterns over Yuuri’s open palm instead. “They did a great job on the font.”
“Oh good, I was worried the artist wasn’t able to read my handwriting. Phichit said he could make art out of chicken scratches, but I had my doubts,” Yuuri says with a chuckle as his other hand scratches the back of his neck.
“Don’t worry, your Russian writing is really pretty,” Victor assures him.
“Haha, thanks for saying - wait.” Yuuri squints confusedly, then widens his eyes in shocked realization. “Oh god, you saw my notebook.”
“Well, I did happen across a notepad under the pillow on your side of the bed belonging to one ‘Yuri Nikiforov’, if the first page covered completely with the name was any indication,” Victor recalls with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Please don’t,” Yuuri groans as he covers his face with his palms in embarrassment. “I swear I only used it for practicing my handwriting!”
“So the crossed heart doodles were handwriting practice too?”
“No, that was because I’m a lovesick idiot,” Yuuri deadpans, and both erupt in laughter.
“It’s pretty silly, isn’t it?”
“Nonsense! The ‘Виктор + Юрий’ doodles were really cute! Maybe you should get a tattoo of the entire thing instead of just the first half,” Victor suggests with a grin.
“Not on your life,” Yuuri chuckles. “Having Chris try to talk me into tattooing your face on my left thigh was more than enough.”
“Better keep away from him for a bit then.” The minute the words leave his mouth he knows he’s come off wrongly though, and if the furrow of Yuuri’s brow is anything to go by he’s picked up on the shift in tone too. However, the other man mercifully doesn’t say anything about it at present, and Victor’s grateful for that. It’ll definitely come up sooner rather than later, but for now he really just wants to enjoy his time with the person he loves.
“How’s the show coming along?”
“It’s going great. Phichit’s been spamming his Instagram with photos of us at rehearsal - for publicity, he says. I don’t know how images of grown men sporting hamster hats while in leotards is going to promote a ballet production, but apparently the likes are piling up so it’s working I guess?”
“Yuuri, the hamster hats are basically the highlight of the program, of course it counts as promotion!” Victor moves the laptop from his lap to the mattress and draws his legs up. “I’ve seen the comments on Instagram; it’s trending quite well on all the social media platforms. Of course, I wouldn’t expect anything less from Phichit on Pointe ,” he grins.
“That’s what everyone in the studio has been calling it,” Yuuri agrees with a laugh. “And we’re still using the selfie sticks, which surprisingly aren’t too bad as props after all. I don’t know how Phichit pulls it off, but he does.”
“He couldn’t have done it without you or the others. You guys are pretty amazing too to be doing this for practically no charge.” Victor’s smile turns a little wistful. “I only I wish could’ve been there too.”
“I know you do,” Yuuri says gently. “Everyone knows you and Yurio are busy with the new season at Mariinsky, and Phichit can’t thank you enough for your contribution to the relief fund, but I know it’s still hard on you.” He lets out a deep breath. “I wish you were here too.”
The corners of Victor’s mouth lift slowly. “Then I have an idea. Can you lock the door behind you?”
“Huh? Okay.” Yuuri sets down the laptop on the bed and gets up, and there’s a clink of metal before he returns within seconds. While he gets back onto the bed Victor glances behind to make sure his own door is closed. There’s only him and Makkachin in the apartment at the moment, but he likes the sense of privacy that adds to the intimate atmosphere he’s aiming for with this suggestion.
“Victor? You still there?”
“I’m here, porosenok ,” Victor replies, and he smiles as Yuuri chuckles at the endearment unique to them only. “So you’ve been brushing up on your Russian, right? Are you up for a little quiz?”
“Since when did this become a tutoring session?” Yuuri wonders with a laugh.
“Oh, what we’re going to do would be rather… unprofessional for regular tutors.” A smirk plays across Victor’s lips. “You have to take off a piece of your clothing every time you get an answer wrong. If you get it right, I’ll have to strip instead.”
When Yuuri speaks again his voice is noticeably a few notches lower. “So it’s that kind of Skype call, huh. You’re lucky Phichit and his family are already asleep.”
“It could be that kind of call… or it could not. It depends on your performance, danseur -san,” Victor drawls with a teasing lilt.
Yuuri just shrugs nonchalantly. “Ready whenever you are.”
“Such confidence.” Victor makes himself comfortable on the sheets, then grins at the screen. “Okay, first word: победитель .”
“Winner,” Yuuri replies promptly.
“Correct!” Victor affirms cheerily, then reaches an arm behind him and tugs before holding up a sock in front of the camera.
“That’s cheating,” Yuuri complains. “Who wears socks with their yukata anyway?”
“The same person who wears yukata in St Petersburg, of course,” Victor quips. “Next! What does мужество mean?”
“Courage.”
“Right again! You get another sock!”
“You’re hopeless,” Yuuri tells him with a smile of fond exasperation.
“And you just want to see me naked, so we’re even. Now, how about коса ?”
“Braid.” Yuuri pauses. “Or sword. No wait, I meant scythe - ”
“Nuh-uh, no takebacks! Off with your pants or off with your shirt, Yuuri-kun!”
Yuuri sighs. “And somehow I’m still in love with you,” he mutters with fond exasperation as he grips the hem of his shirt with both hand, then pulls it off and tosses it side. He lies back down on his bare stomach and folds his arms under his head with a smirk. “Stop drooling and get on with the next word, Vitenka.”
“Wow, someone’s getting impatient,” Victor drawls laughingly. “Okay okay, how about история ?”
“History.” Yuuri props his chin up with an arm and waits.
“That’s correct.” Victor holds eye contact while his hands find the waistband of his pants and tug it down. He only looks away when he gets up on his knees to remove the garment, and even then he makes sure the camera is level with his boxers.
“Looks like things have taken an interesting turn,” he hears Yuuri remark, and he grins as he moves to lie on his side again.
“I thought this would’ve been interesting from the start, Yuu ri.”
“Oh yes, watching you take your socks off was very titillating,” he humors dryly.
“Well, if you want a little more excitement, let’s try phrases next! передай соль?”
“Pass the salt,” Yuuri says with a chuckle, and Victor strips himself of his shirt accordingly.
“я хочу тебя?”
“I… miss you?”
“Close. It’s ‘I want you’.”
“And how do I know you’re not just mixing things up so you can come out on top?”
“Oh come on, you can have a little more faith in me,” Victor whines.
Yuuri smiles softly. “I’ll always have faith in you,” he says as he slips out of his pants, watching Victor’s gaze travel down his bare thighs until he hears an abrupt intake of breath.
“Victor, what’s wrong?”
“Yuuri.” Victor’s voice is rigid, like a puppet on stilts. “What’s that mark on your hip?”
Yuuri glances down questioningly. “Oh, that,” he says with audible relief in his voice. “Guanghong tripped over a loose floorboard and collided with me, but it was just a slight fall. The bruise should be gone within a couple of days.”
“I thought it was…” Victor shakes his head rapidly as if to rid his brain of something unpleasant. “Never mind. I’m glad that you’re alright.”
Yuuri doesn’t say anything in the space of a heartbeat, then inhales slowly and lets it out. “Talk to me, Victor. Tell me what is it that’s on your mind.”
“Yuuri, I’m fine, I - ”
“Victor. Please. ”
“Пожалуйста, извини меня,” he blurts, and the words then pour out of his lips as if the floodgates have been thrown open. “I keep thinking about the people that’ll look at you, the people who might touch you, who might get close to you, and - и я не хочу Это,” he says in barely a whisper. “There’s this voice inside my head that’s telling me to lock you up and never let you out of my sight, so that I can always keep you with me, and it scares me Yuuri.”
A lone tear escapes the corner of his eye. “ Я превращаюсь в монстра .”
“Нет.”
Victor opens eyelids he didn’t know he’d closed to see Yuuri’s palm pressed against the screen, as if about to caress his cheek. “How would you know? How would you know I wouldn’t hurt you?”
“Because I know you, Victor Nikiforov. I’ve spent an entire year by your side and seen with my own eyes the person you are, the person you become when I’m with you. You have your flaws and imperfections and so do I, but together we can become stronger. I’ll always come back to you, любимый.”
Victor lets out a strangled sob before smiling tremulously. “I don’t deserve someone as good as you.”
“I didn’t choose you because you deserved me, I chose you because I love you.” Yuuri holds up his right hand, the band of gold glinting on his finger. “Can you kiss your ring for me?”
He watches Victor press his own hand to his lips, then mimics his movement. “Thank you for trusting me,” he murmurs against his knuckles.
Tears well up in Victor’s eyes again, yet even as he wipes them away his gaze remains fixed on Yuuri who kisses a trail down the back of his hand and around his wrist before hovering over the inked script on his skin. Here he nips and sucks on the black letters one at a time, starting from the end and not ceasing until there’s a dark bloom over the B in ‘Виктор’.
“Is this what you wanted? To leave a physical mark over the brand you left on me?” he asks in a hushed voice. “You should know these letters aren’t ever going to come off - I’ll have your name imprinted on my skin for the rest of my life.”
“I know,” Victor breathes. “I never thought you would do something so bold, in a place that anyone could see easily - I couldn’t believe it at first when you showed it to me. You never fail to surprise me, Звёздочка .”
“I just wanted a visible reminder somewhere I could see it all the time, I guess,” Yuuri explains almost shyly, lowering his lashes in a tender expression. “Then you could stay by my side always.”
Victor covers his face with a palm and laughs lightly. “You’re going to have to teach me how to write your name in Japanese when you get back - I want my tattoo to be in my own handwriting as well.”
“You don’t have to - ”
“I want to. And you know what else I want to do?” Victor takes three of his fingers into his mouth and lavishes them liberally with his saliva, then lets them slide out with a moist pop. “I want to finger myself open with these and pretend it’s your fingers in me, making my hole wet and ready to take you in.”
“You’ll have to make sure they’re slicked up properly then, I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself,” Yuuri says as he presses the tips of his own fingers between his lips. “Would you like me to prep myself as well?”
“Yeah, but not down there. I have other plans for you.” Victor grins as he slides his hand between his thighs. “Can you get up on your knees for me?”
Yuuri complies, tucking his legs under him as he pushes the hair back from his face. “What do you want me to do next, Victor?”
“Lick your thumb and forefinger. Yeah, like that. Now pinch your nipple with them.”
“How hard?”
“Take it slow first. Just hold it between your fingers.” Victor waits until Yuuri’s digits have cornered his nipple before continuing. “Now rub your thumb over your forefinger - small circles, yes that’s it - harder, then squeeze .”
“Hah,” Yuuri exhales through his mouth as his other hand moves up as well. He arches into the touch of his fingers as they pull and prod at the sensitive nubs until they stand erect on his chest, like two luscious berries.
“A pity you can’t suck on these like you love to do when we’re together,” he comments with a smile that’s both bashful and seductive as he cups his breasts.
“Don’t push the line, Yuuri,” Victor warns. “As punishment, use your fingernails only. I’ll know if you try to cheat.”
“Yes sir.” Yuuri shifts his knuckles so that only his nails are in contact with his nipples, then digs the edges in and immediately jerks his head with a cry.
“You think this hurts? Wait until you see what I’m going to buy for you when you get here,” Victor promises with a dangerous grin. “Metal clamps, attached to each other by a chain. I’ll tie your hands behind your back and clip them on, then wind the chain around my fingers and pull .”
“God, yes,” Yuuri moans as he alternates using the tips of his fingers to circle his nipples with tugging on them until they’re tingling and sore. “You can play with them however you like while I fuck you with my fingers. Are they still wet, Vitya?”
“Nope,” Victor chirps. “I rubbed them dry when palming myself.”
Yuuri narrows his eyes. “Show me your boxers.”
“While they’re on or while they’re off?”
“Let me rephrase that. Show me your boxers, then take them off in front of me.”
Victor smiles provocatively. “As you wish, my love.”
He gets up on his boxers again and angles himself so that Yuuri can see the outline of the bulge straining against his underwear, precome staining through the fabric to mix with the saliva on the outer layer. Victor hooks his fingers in the waistband and pulls ever so slowly, exposing his loins inch by inch until the boxers are pooled around his shins and his manhood is erect on display, head glistening in the glow from the laptop screen.
“You’re really into this, aren’t you?” Yuuri muses. “The first time we’re in different countries since we got together and you’re getting hard just from watching me tease myself. You’re that desperate to touch me, huh?”
“Says the pot calling the kettle black,” Victor shoots back good-naturedly as he sits back down and spreads his legs. “Don’t think I can’t see what state you’re in yourself, Yuuri. You’re all soaking wet from thinking about me fingerfucking myself, or is it from imagining the nipple clamps?”
“From both.” Yuuri frees his cock from his boxers as well. “From you.”
Victor gulps, throat suddenly bone-dry. “Then I’ll have to make sure I don’t disappoint, won’t I?”
“Go ahead and give me everything you’ve got,” Yuuri grins.
Victor blows a kiss at the screen before reaching down to collect the precome dripping along his length. He smears it around the rim, then holds up his hand to spit into it and uses the fluid to ease the penetration of his finger further. His entrance is still tight though, so he focuses on breathing through his nose while he works his way in carefully.
“Are you sure you don’t want to use lube after all?” Yuuri asks, voice tinged with worry.
Victor’s lashes flutter as he leans back against the headboard. “Don’t worry about me, I can take it. I’m not the type to back down from a challenge,” he smirks.
Yuuri leans closer until his eyes are level with the camera. “Then put in another one.”
“Not until those boxers come off.”
“You’re an obstinate one, Victor Nikiforov.” Yuuri obeys anyway, ridding himself of his last piece of clothing before lying on the side and exposing his front to the screen. “Your move now.”
Victor nods once, then slides another digit into his already clenching hole He wriggles both fingers back and forth in small jerks initially, before twisting his wrist and dragging them in circular motions around his insides while a litany of sounds emerge from his throat. When he starts scissoring his fingers he throws his head back and moans, his other hand moving to grip his shaft.
“Stop.” Yuuri’s voice resounds firmly in his ears, and he stills his movements. “I want you to come from your fingers alone, without touching your erection.”
“Quite the sadist, aren’t you?” Victor grins through gritted teeth as he curls his hand in the sheets instead. “Well, two can play at that game. On your hands and knees, sweetheart.”
Yuuri dutifully arranges himself accordingly, raising his hips higher on purpose as he props his chin up on a pillow. “What’s wrong, Victor? Have I been that naughty?”
“Yes you have, and now you’re going to have to dole out retribution on yourself.” Victor clears his throat, visibly relishing what’s to come. “Put your right hand up behind you, palm facing inward. Now wait for my next instruction.”
He smirks when he sees Yuuri’s arched spine waver. “Can you do that much?”
“I can handle a little suspense,” Yuuri flat-out giggles as he lifts his arm and waits in a picture of serene grace - save for the telltale quiver in his right thigh that Victor longs to smooth over with his tongue. It’s these little cracks in the seemingly flawless image of Japan’s premier danseur Yuuri Katsuki that he wants to sear into his memory as a treasure for his eyes only.
“Aim for your right. Don’t hold back.”
Victor closes his eyes and imagines he can taste the tension permeating across the miles between them, as if Yuuri was bent over right before him - near enough to touch, to claim as his own.
“Now.”
The slap reverberates through the speakers, followed by a breathy gasp that Victor stores away in the most private corner of his mind. He sees Yuuri’s head turn to meet his gaze, chocolate-brown eyes blown wide with lust, and a vein twitches in his cock. Things certainly are progressing well.
“Run your palm over that side gently, yeah just like that, then knead it slowly. Think of it like a massage, only lighter. You got it?” Victor waits until Yuuri’s shoulders have relaxed before continuing. “Now alternate your spanks between both sides until I tell you to stop. And don’t forget to count. In Russian,” he adds with a wicked smile.
Yuuri wets his lips with the tip of his tongue. “You’re not making this easy for me, are you?”
“Of course not. That’s how I show my love.” Victor sinks his fingers inside himself down to the knuckle and crooks them until he hits his sweet spot, and he knows Yuuri’s heard his cry when he sees the other’s waist jolt ever so slightly.
“Is that a good enough incentive for you?”
Yuuri groans into his pillow. “How can I say no when you sound like that? I’ll even let you talk me into spanking myself until I come,” he says with a shaking laugh.
“I know it’s ridiculous,” Victor admits sheepishly. “If you want to stop I - ”
“I can do a thousand things more embarrassing than this if it’s for you.” Yuuri reaches out to pull the laptop closer to his face. “I once asked you to stay close to me. Now I want to help you believe that I’ll always stay close to you too.”
Victor looks into the face of the man who literally waltzed into his life; who was his student, teacher and partner all at once, and it’s as if a tangle of cords in his heart has been chopped through with one swift blow. He grips the covers with his right hand and feels the ghost of Yuuri’s fingers threading through him across time and space.
“I do believe,” he says, and lets himself be surprised once again.
Apparently Yuuri can only count to thirty-eight in Russian.
Victor makes a note to give him a more comprehensive education when he returns.