emberossing | Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

The idea takes a while to come to fruition.

Life moves on in the meantime. The exploration of this thing that's happening between them happens, as most things do, slowly. It's not full-force training season yet, but they're ramping up, getting back in shape, spending time at the rink just working on the basics. Life isn't without it's quiet moments, but it's getting more hectic, and Yuuri has slowly expanded the list of Places in the Apartment That Feel Like Home from the bedroom to include the master bath, and the kitchen, at least, even if he often feels like something of an interloper into the space that he poured over in a magazine in the rest of the house. But it's his toothbrush in the bathroom and his favorite mug in the sink and his side of the bed, and it's good. It's better than good.

So even though he was originally thinking about it as some kind of reward for something in particular, he finds it's a more general thank you, for helping him to settle, on one of their last free days before the real training starts. Viktor's been talking about going clothes shopping for a week now, but hasn't done it yet, so when he suggests that maybe they should go, Yuuri shrugs and agrees to go with him.

Simple. Except that, with the notable exception of Barcelona, Yuuri has never said yes to going shopping for Viktor, except for grocery shopping.

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Viktor beams.

"Keep the jeans on, and - Hmm, this one I think," he decides, pulling out a cream button-up shirt. Now that decisions have been made, he doesn't linger. All efficiency as he slips the tags free, buttons into holes. It's not just the eagerness to get home. There's going to be a jaw drop from the sales staff, and Viktor does so love a show.

Especially if it's showing off Yuuri.

Finally comes the the scarf. The first trophy, wound carefully around Yuuri's throat. Then Viktor sweeps everything back together. Rejects piled neat in a corner, the larger stack of winners ready to be presented to the register. (The sales staff are in charge of both.) He tucks Yuuri's old clothes carefully under an arm.

The suit, though? Viktor offers that to Yuuri.

"Ready?"

Edited 2017-09-15 12:04 (UTC)

"No," he says, with a laugh, but he takes the suit and falls into step with Viktor, which is a good sign that he's actually okay with going out there.

Yuuri's blushing madly about getting ushered out, about how much they're spending, about how obvious it is that it's Viktor spending it on him, but there's a bit of mischief in his grin, too, and Viktor can recognize the expression from the club. It's the expression he gets when his brain has a moment where it accepts that Viktor is his. It's depressingly fleeting, but it's always incandescent when it's there. Everyone else here sees this one way and they know it's the other and Yuuri wonders if he's ever, ever going to get tired of that.

The effect is something like a spotlight. Viktor senses more then see the jaw drops. The staff is too well-trained to betray more then that. He takes the win. Looping their arms together and reveling in that aura radiating out. Of being Yuuri's.

The transaction is rapid, complete in less then a minute. Everything packaged neatly together and then they're swinging out the door. With somehow no amount of money actually spoken out loud.

They have more bags from this fancy store than he's ever taken out of even a department store at once, probably paid more for them than he has on every single scrap of clothing he has ever owned in his entire life. He can feel himself wanting to turn around and return them already, tell everyone that there's been a mistake. His stomach turns over a little, the further they get from the store, the more embarrassing such a thing would be. But Viktor's arm is warm through his and the scarf curled around his neck (which it's maybe a bit too warm for still, but he doesn't care, he's not quite uncomfortable enough to remove it) is soft and then the further they get from the store, the more permanent it seems, the more like something that has happened than something that is happening.

Viktor can feel him relax a little against him and he finally breaks the silence,

"Sometime soon, I probably need more than two pairs of shoes," he offers, a cherry on the sundae of today, "But uh... not right now, I don't think," he flushes, looks away-- it's not that he would mind the shopping now, exactly, but they definitely have somewhere better to be, after the conversation in the dressing room and he wants to be there.

"I'm free tomorrow!" chirps Viktor. Unable to resist the cheek.

The trip back passes in a warm blur. A successful shopping trip always brings a high, but this is something else entirely. Viktor doesn't really come back to himself until he's pressing Yuuri against the door. Trailing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. Lingering here and there. Leaving marks, now that there's no salespeople to gossip.

He reclaims just enough presence of mind to get the suit hung on the coat rack. Everything else can wait.

"Hm," Yuuri thinks about it for a moment, "Maybe tomorrow evening. You're busy tomorrow morning." It's said very casually, nothing like Christophe's purring innuendo, but considering what they both know they're cutting the day short today to do, it says something, quietly, about how Yuuri plans to spend the rest of today.

Yuuri's always mercurial, not moment to moment, but day to day, always a little bit of a puzzle, like trying to predict the weather. But, like the weather, there are larger patterns, seasonal norms. It's pretty clear right now that he's all deferred nerves, tension turning him kind of jangly, and when Viktor presses him against the door, the noise he makes is a little desperate, fingers tugging in Viktor's hair. He tilts his head to the side and lets Viktor mark up his neck, but if Viktor tries to be too gentle about it, he's tugging harder, pressing his mouth to the same spot until he gives in and bites, sucks a bruise there, anything. There's energy that has to go somewhere.

It's lucky there's a convenient, willing outlet right here.

Very willing and thrilled to be such a convenience.

Viktor is growing slowly more confident in reading Yuuri. Yet there are days like today, where he surprises Viktor. It's an incredible feeling. Especially with Yuuri tugging him closer. Demanding more contact, dressed in clothes that are new and his.

Just like Viktor is his.

He begins moving down Yuuri's chest. Undoing each button carefully, sucking another pretty mark on the pale skin under it.

All Yuuri can think for a moment is Finally. It's like a breath of relief after how tense everything has been. There's no regrets about doing it, but he definitely needs something else now, needs to put all of that tension somewhere. The very slight pain of the marks Viktor's leaving down his chest, insistent but not overwhelming, is perfect for that and he's pressing his whole body enthusiastically into each one.

"I'm a little surprised you didn't try to convince me the dressing rooms were more private," he comments, though it's broken by a little cry midway through as Viktor leaves a particularly deep mark.

"I happen to like that shop, Yuuri," Viktor hums. Lavishing more attention on that spot. Because he can. Because Yuuri allows it and Viktor will never get tired of these sounds.

Then he's rising back to his feet. Tugging the shirt down Yuri's shoulders. Letting the scarf trail down the fresh line of bruises. Cashmere against over-sensitized skin feels lovely and Viktor's eager to see the reaction.

"Besides," he purrs, "If we got kicked out I couldn't take you back."

Now that this has been establish as a treat, Viktor does not want the option closed off!

"Back? I'm pretty sure we already bought... mmm... bought the entire store," Yuuri's kind of arguing, but he's also gotten a leg hooked around Viktor and pulled him in flush with it until he can roll his hips off the wall and into friction and warmth, which he's doing a lot less like someone who's actively seeking friction and a lot more like someone who's taken pole dancing classes.

There's no move whatsoever to stop Viktor from getting him out of his shirt, and although Viktor can probably feel the ripple of tension through him, Yuuri also doesn't stop him from just dropping the thing on the floor, refocuses on the feel of the scarf on his skin instead.

While Viktor may not have taken pole dancing, he is a talented enough dancer to read that move. Follow through with a slither of his own. His hands slide over the curves of Yuuri's back and down to his ass. Thrilled by how well the denim sets it off.

"Oh no, you didn't get to see the hosiery selection" he murmurs. And it should be ridiculous. Except Viktor purrs the words, bringing up clear images of stockings and nylon to unroll over skin. All the untapped potential.

Except it's a men's store and so Yuuri isn't thinking about images of stockings at all and is instead pretty sure Viktor just purred that out about socks and he's really pretty confused about that. But Viktor purring out anything at all with his hands on his ass is going to be sexy. Besides, Viktor's always clearly had a thing for his feet, so it doesn't seem weird, he just misses the point entirely.

"I would think a shoe store next time would be better," he grants, which is it's own little prize, since he's very clearly agreeing on a next time. And then, warmer, incentive to please get them out of their clothing right now thank you, "I think you'd better be careful, though... You're going to get me used to you spoiling me."

It is definitely not a threat. It's definitely a lot more like a gift.

Well, Viktor's thinking more of the garters that come with the socks. Yuri offering an entire trip to a shoe store? He may faint.

Except there's too much to do! Like divesting Yuuri of his pants and shoes immediately. Viktor kneels to set those aside with care. Then nuzzles against the bulge in Yuuri's underwear. Stroking fingers over it.

"Yuuri, there is nothing I want more then to spoil you rotten."

Yuuri's made him take his time before, fold every piece of lackluster clothing he owns and set it aside while Viktor undresses him, withheld the prize of everything until the end. He's showing off a little now, that he doesn't complain when Viktor doesn't do that, now that he has clothing worth folding. But the secondary message is also clear-- the clothing was never the point. Letting Viktor spoil him on anything isn't about Yuuri, not for him, anyway. It's about letting Viktor spoil him, trusting Viktor to somehow keep turning him into someone who deserves to stand next to him, that he's capable of that. Yuuri's still not sure, some days (most days) that he deserves to be here-- but he's getting used to believing Viktor when Viktor says he is, he's getting surer of what he can't ever seem to ask for, but can demand.

Like now, hand curled in Viktor's hair and the lightest of tugs, not really actually forceful, but enough to hold him in place, pull him just a little forward against his cock.

"This first," he says, because he's not going to make it to the bedroom, "then fuck me in the scarf," he's surprised he gets it out. He's even more surprised he gets it out with the obscenity, has to move on before he locks up from embarrassment, continuing the conversation like he hasn't said anything at all, like he's not rubbing himself lightly against Viktor's face, "Oh? What's next then? Shoes like you said? Your fancy shower stuff? Underwear?" he's not actually sure there are specific stores for men's underwear, but if there are, surely Viktor shops at them. He doesn't want any of that stuff for himself (or at least, that's what he's telling himself, even while feeling the cashmere against his skin) but it's clear the effect it has on Viktor...

"Yes, yes, and yes."

Viktor's never had to work for someone like this. It's not that he wouldn't. But everyone before has been... settled? Not quite the word. Sure of their place, where they belong. He believes fully that Yuuri should be standing next to him. Always. Not because of clothes, or medals, but because he's Yuuri.

And Viktor loves him.

He knows Yuuri struggles with that. The whole thing doesn't have an easy solve. It's worth it, though. Every second. And sometimes - today - Viktor feels like he's getting through.

On that thought he's pulling Yuuri free. Dragging his tongue up the shaft, luxuriating in being allowed this.

"Yes," he murmurs again. Before bringing Yuuri into his mouth.

"Yes isn't a decis--" that's about as far as he gets with a low chuckle before Viktor sinks his mouth over him and the rest of it ends on a moan. He's sort of distantly aware that they're in the entryway, still, that someone in the hall outside would probably be able to hear that if they're passing by at the right time. But he decides that, for once, he really doesn't care.

(He'll spend weeks furtively looking at anyone he passes in the halls or getting their mail and blushing, but it will be worth it.)

The noise is as much relief as it is anything else, he's not really been aware of how wound up he's been until suddenly it's all spiraling out of him. He's not going to last long, but then, he doesn't have to, so there's little point in resisting the build, right from the start. Still, Viktor has enough time to play some, if he's so inclined.

Yes is absolutely a decision. And Viktor makes his case thoroughly. Taking Yuuri down as slow as he dares, reveling in the feel. Warm and heavy. Filling his mouth like ti belongs there. He adores getting to do this. All of Yuuri is pretty, but he shys away from compliments like that.

But this? There is no way to argue with a good blow job.

Viktor rubs patient circles into Yuuri's hips. Encouraging more of that spiral, pulling out the tension. He stays in place even as the orgasm starts. Happy to accept everything he's given.

Yuuri doesn't last, doesn't try to last, lets all of his tension go with it, all of the difficulty and embarrassment and how unsure and uncomfortable he was. He doesn't need any of it, not here, not with Viktor taking care of him. He's loud leading up to it, but almost silent when he finally releases, air breathed out in a sigh of relief that leaves him boneless and, unless Viktor has other grand plans, sinking to the ground into his arms when he's done.

Viktor meets him halfway. Wrapping him up tight, taking all the weight. It's another thing he accepts as the gift it is. Letting Yuuri just breathe for a moment. The taste of him still bright and salty on Viktor's lips.

Eventually there's a gentle brush of fingers through Yuuri's hair. Along with the fleeting thought of a haircut, but that is definitely for another time.

"Do you want to walk? Or may I carry you?"

He loves Viktor for asking like that, for knowing to ask like that, and it might seem like a foregone conclusion, but plenty of other people never learn how to deal with him, so Viktor bothering to learn warms him. There's a little more, he finds, that he can gift, push outside of his own comfort zone, if it's a reward for Viktor,

"Carry me. Please," the little plea is vulnerable. He's maybe pushed a little too hard at the clothing store, is stretched a little too far in some respects, but he trusts Viktor to put him back together, wants this part of it in a way he would have laughed at even a few months ago.

With that Yuuri's feet leave the floor.

"Thank you," murmurs Viktor. Happy to have the weight in his arms, more assurance that today has actually happened. Is still happening. Of course there's the earlier promise of the 'treat' but he would be happy with just this. Yuuri's trust has been so hard bought.

Not that Viktor's going to pass up said treat.

Soon Yuuri's getting set down on the bed, shirt sliding the rest of the way off. Viktor takes care to arrange him just so. Admiring the effect. The blue really is perfect.

"Hmmm... I wonder if I should leave the scarf around your neck or tie your wrists..."

He lets Viktor arrange him just so on the bed, because it's a weird weak spot in his poor opinion of himself-- if Viktor is making him look a certain way, Viktor's ability to perform miracles outweighs his own self-consciousness. He's pretty sure he looks good right now, even though all the credit for that in his brain goes to Viktor.

"I don't want to ruin it," it's a bit of protest, and it would maybe reek of nervousness to hurt something that nice, but the tone and the way he rubs at the fabric, a little worried, more shows how much he wants the scarf, wants to get to wear it. He's feeling the sort of uncomfortable pull of having done too much today outside of his comfort zone, having admitted to too much, embarrassment and worry right at his heels. He can't stretch any farther-- but Viktor can probably read the flush on his cheeks at the question as permission, at least, if not desire.

Desire has to be somewhat obliquely inferred as well, though from a different language,

"It's your reward. You can have what you want," it's almost snappish, but there's enough ease in Yuuri's posture to keep it permissive.

Yuuri looks incredible.

He has a point, though, about damaging the scarf. After all the work they've put into it, after how far Yuuri's reached today... and Viktor can hear the fraying edges. It's the last thing he wants.

So the kiss that comes next is gentle. Gratitude pouring warm from his lips. Then Viktor neatens the knot. Pulling it snug and reassuring against Yuuri's throat. Just enough so he can feel the press of cashmere with each breath.

"I want you," Viktor murmurs. Trailing his fingers down the scarf, then skin.

"You have me," it's somewhere between adoringly sweet and a little bit exasperated, because even though they're in no particular hurry, exactly, the orgasm in the entryway has only really taken some of the nervous edge off. Yuuri's still keyed up in a very specific way, and while he knows there are a number of outlets for that, there's only one he's interested in.

It's not that Yuuri will be upset with Viktor, if he lingers too long. It's just that he's stretched thin on a lot of things and allowing himself to be cared for is actually one of them. Which isn't a problem if Viktor wants to get rough fucked into the mattress until they're both exhausted, but if he actually wants his prize, there's a shortening window in which to claim it-- a window where Yuuri has very subtly left tying him up on the table, if Viktor is also thinking quickly enough about it.

In the next breath the scarf gets pulled free. Yuuri's wrists are crossed together over his head, fabric draping over them.

"Hold still. Unless you want to pull it."

It isn't a request any more. Even Viktor has his limits. He's all at once impatient to be inside. Fingers already trailing between Yuuri's legs, slippery with lube.

There isn't enough physical tension to hold Yuuri back. It's more the idea of it that's important.

Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

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Well hi ♥

I LIVE!!! (still getting caught up, tho)

Look I am Helping. ♥♥♥

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