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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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.

Occasionally, it's weird how this whole "thing" works. This is one of those times. Yuuri is always a bit like an optical illusion. He seems kind of imperious and silent at first, until he stammers and blushes and it becomes obvious that he's just awkward and shy. But then... he's not really just awkward and shy, not really. Not very many people get close enough to him to see it, but he's driven, internally motivated in a way very few people are. He doesn't share easily-- not himself, not his feelings, not his doubts.

This, too, continues the illusion. This whole day has been a treat, Yuuri wanting to show Viktor how much he appreciates how hard all of this is for him-- not just the coaching, but the getting Yuuri settled, keeping him from freaking out, dealing with his weird quirks, while having to deal with all of his own worries as well. Yuuri hasn't really been in a place to help much with any of that, and he knows it. Him letting himself go a little bit, giving Viktor something he usually makes him work hard for, is a reward, and they both know it.

It's just it looks a whole lot like him fisting his hands in the pillows above his head to make sure he doesn't pull at the scarf and spreading his legs more, feet sliding up to press flat against the bed so he can push back on that first push of fingers in, show Viktor how little he needs to be careful with him at the moment more than demanding anything in particular. He flushes and closes his eyes, turning his head to the side, feeling more vulnerable than he likes, but he deliberately makes the choice to not try to fight the moan that bubbles up out of him at Viktor's touch.

Viktor is a genius.

But what most people don't realize about being a genius is the work it takes. The hours of study and determination required. Starting at a higher level means you have to keep reaching and reaching. Figuring most things out yourself, because you're so often the first.

Maybe it always would take a person like this to reach Yuuri. Viktor wouldn't claim to be a genius at him yet - but he's determined to be. Not asking for rewards, most days, because being here is accomplishment enough.

However. It is hard work, the hardest of his life. And being rewarded for it? Viktor's going to make very sure to express every inch of his gratitude. Quickly moving to two fingers. Curling them in to send a jolt up Yuuri's spine, pull out more of those noises.

He won't dwell here, like he usually would. Adding a third after only a few strokes.

Yuuri can't help that the noises that he's making sound a little pleading, but he doesn't ask for anything, just appreciates whatever Viktor is giving him.

That said, he's clearly quite pleased at the move to three fingers, his noises deepening and his hands clenching more in the pillows.

It's somewhat paradoxical, maybe, that Viktor's reward for a lot of hard work is to lie back and let him do most of the work, but it's something Viktor doesn't have to work for, and both of them understand the difference.

It is all the difference in the universe.

Viktor manages to stay at three for a few breaths. Beginning to set a pace, enjoying the sounds. Balancing on the edge just a little more.

Finally he can't hold out any longer. Slicking himself up with his free hand, he switches from fingers to cock. There's a long, shuddering sigh at the heat, at feeling Yuuri all around him.

From the outside, it looks entirely too sudden, maybe punishing even. Viktor barely gives him time to adjust to each finger before there's another one, and even though the longest pause is for three, it's still not an amount of time that's careful in any way. It leaves Yuuri clawing at the pillows when Viktor pushes in, gasping for air, but if Viktor even so much as tries to slow down on his behalf, Yuuri gets a leg around him and tugs him in faster. If Viktor wants to set a slow pace on his own, Yuuri will absolutely let him, this is about Viktor, after all, but he refuses to be coddled right now.

So whether Viktor needs the warning leg or not, it will fall away after a moment anyway, and then there's just Yuuri shuddering slightly under him, whole posture an invitation. He definitely gives the impression, in that moment, of letting Viktor choose what kind of pace he wants, if he wants to draw this out or take his prize more quickly.

Quickly. Dear God quickly, Viktor surprises himself at the pace. Leaping off the edge. Hips snapping hard against Yuuri's.

"Fuck," he pants, in Russian, then his mouth's busy with other things. Specifically working a bruise into the crook of Yuuri's neck. So deep even the cashmere's probably going to sting when it's back on. Bring a blush to his cheeks, the red pretty against the blue.

Fuck this boy is so pretty. Dressed or naked Viktor doesn't care at this particular second.

He just wants him. Every single inch bright and hot and here.

The noise Yuuri makes doesn't have the sharpness of a scream, but it's hard to classify it as anything else, loud and startled, when Viktor snaps his hips like that. It hurts a little, it's too fast for anything but, but it's not a jarring kind of pain, it's nothing worse than falling on the ice, forgettable. The pleasure is much more intense, and it's the surprise of how that jolts through his limbs that draws the noise. Each thrust is almost teeth-rattling, and it brings with it that gunshot of pleasure and he's trying really hard to keep his eyes open because watching Viktor just completely lose it is a prize he never really even considered getting out of this, but it's gorgeous.

Getting Viktor to let go and actually lose control of himself is rare-- he cedes control quite beautifully and, since they've figured all of this out, rather frequently. But that's a gift and Yuuri knows it, loves it, but this is something entirely different and it always takes his breath away that he can do this. He wants to watch every second of it.

But then Viktor's mouth is on his neck and he's arching for that instead and that's something that hurts, too, but the blooming ache makes him squirm, fisting his hands in the pillows because he wants to be dragging them down Viktor's back. He can't seem to unarch his back or catch his breath. He knows the noises are probably starting to sound a bit less like he's enjoying this, can't help that, but he is, so much,

"More," it's a word he rarely uses, but it's appropriate to the day, greedy, and it's everything he wants right now.

The sounds are strange and bright, almost enough to worry - then comes the clear "More." Washing any concern away.

Viktor drags a hand to Yuuri's cock. Fingers gripping tight as he keeps mouthing the bruise deeper in. The pace turns relentless. He shouldn't be able to go any deeper, but it feels that way even so. Feeding off the greed and these stunning noises. He could fly from this. From Yuuri writhing under him and demanding.

Absolutely.

Everything.

The end comes blazing. Viktor's full weight pressing down as he buries himself in that welcome heat.

He doesn't have any idea how Viktor is able to keep that pace and his balance and get a hand around his cock, but he's making another one of those screaming shouts at the suddenness of it, the wash of pleasure and a new sensation where there's so much of it already. He's completely overwhelmed and it's in the best possible way-- Viktor's weight presses down on him a lot more like deadweight and there's a rushing wave through him. He has a feeling he's probably making a noise, and it's loud, but there's no room in his head for anything other than the orgasm, the feel of Viktor's teeth still sinking into his neck a bright anchor of pain in the pleasure that's feels like it's just enough to keep him from losing his mind.

Surely that's an exaggeration, but in the moment, it feels like it, like everything could just get swept away right now if there wasn't something holding him there.

Viktor feels that sweep too, as he hits the climax. But for him it's all from Yuuri. Crying out, screaming from the pleasure of it. Everything crashing loose.

And letting Viktor do it.

There's a few deep, shuddering breaths. Viktor stays buried deep. Fingers digging into Yuuri's shoulders. Making sure they're both still here. Then, slowly, sense begins to return. He plants one hand on Yuuri's chest. Keeping things anchored as he gently tugs the scarf loose. Dragging it back down to drape across Yuuri's neck.

"Definitely, definitely, definitely your color," he murmurs. Pulling free so he can curl into Yuuri.

Yuuri always gets a little knocked offline from his orgasms. Sometimes it's more intense than others, but he's always at least a little spacey afterwards, like the release of tension leaves him giddy a bit. The more intense version can leave him limp on the bed, trying to remember how his limbs work. He's ended up as deadweight on top of Viktor more than once, probably actually scared him at least once with how still and quiet he's gone.

He's just sort of figuring out how to focus his eyes when Viktor pulls back a little and drapes it down Yuuri's neck. The feel of the fabric in contrast to Viktor's skin draws a low noise of appreciation out of him, involuntarily, and he hums a little more appreciatively when Viktor curls into him.

He makes the extra effort to wind his arms around Viktor's neck, to lean into him, but even though he's not really sliding towards sleep or anything, it's about all he can manage at the moment.

Viktor has learned to read this too. There's a low chuckle as Yuuri sinks against him. The shared warmth pooling between them in the quiet. They have both earned this aftermath. Over and over again. It still feels like getting hit by a train. This time even more then usual

He finds himself toying with the ends of the scarf. Winding them around his fingers. Letting them drift across Yuuri's skin.

"Thank you," he says at last. For this, for the shopping, and just - being here.

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emberossing - 2018-01-30 13:44 (UTC) - Expand

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davaidavai - 2018-02-01 11:54 (UTC) - Expand

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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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