Yuuri sucks in a breath at the leather against bare skin, doesn't really think about it in the moment other than just that it feels good, everything is good, he wants all of it. He's not quite in the same amused place that Victor is, but that's mostly because there's still some part of his brain that is quiet, instead, still back on the ice. It turns him strange, a little otherworldly-- he's claimed Victor far more aggressively, certainly, but right now, there's a light of possessiveness in his eyes that's different.

What happened out there on the ice is his. Theirs. And logically, he knows that so is everything that came before it, but there's something different about the ice, something sacred. It's too big for him to hold, leaves everything feeling the best kind of raw and sensitive.

He leans back down to kiss Victor some more, keeping his spine arched enough that he can reach between them and tug his pants down enough to free his cock, sparing only a moment in silent thanks that he's in workout pants and not dress pants or jeans.