emberossing | for wauuu

for wauuu

Yuuri cracks open his eyes, blearily, to an unfamiliar ceiling. His head feels like it's either on fire or full of bees or possibly both and his stomach does a slow, sickening roll as he opens his eyes, but it settles, at least for the time being. Not just his head but everything hurts enough that, at least at first, he more just moves on auto-pilot, looking around for his glasses and taking what is obviously a pair of Paracetamol on the bedside table. There's a little note with them but he doesn't parse either the message or recognize the handwriting, so he just drinks about half the glass of water and looks around.

Memories leak back in slowly-- Vicchan, the competition, calling his mom, going back to the room, Celestino insisting that he had to go to the banquet afterwards, possibly worried he was going to do something stupid if he didn't. But he remembered saying no and refusing to open the door. So... shouldn't he be in the hotel room?

This is not the hotel room.

In fact, he swears he's seen this room before, somewhere, actually, but he's too tired and bleary to figure out where. So he just walks over to the bathroom, which he, for some reason, is able to guess the location of, and splashes water on his face rubs at it until he somewhat resembles a human being, and then goes in search of more clues to where he is.

The bedroom door creaks open and there's another sense of deja-vu as he looks around the apartment it opens on, but the pieces refuse to slot into place.

"He-Hello?"

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"I don't know!" he's almost yelling back, exasperated, but still laughing, meeting Victor's indignant tone and then pulling him back close, almost tucking him into his arms, not particularly caring that Victor's bigger enough than him to make that probably ridiculous looking, "Please don't stop. Don't ever stop." He says that with his own ass aching on the tiles from their earlier activities and every muscle feeling like it's trembling on the edge of exhaustion.

"This is ridiculous. We're ridiculous," he's peppering Victor's skin with kisses, as he says it, because there's just too much inside him, something that has to come out somehow, and it's either this laughing, silly thing or it's just one uninterrupted scream at this point.

Victor curls up into Yuuri, hunching over and pretending with all his might he's a small thing and not a full grown, adult man. It's ridiculous, just like Yuuri exclaims, but he doesn't care. He wants it and it feels right, because it's something he's choosing even though it's strange and awkward. Victor's not one to hide his face, but he's not sure what expression he has, certain it's not in his control anymore. His smile is wide and he's weeping and his whole body feels flushed red. Lifting his arms some, they wrap around Yuuri's back and hold in return, still partially limp. He's trying, he wants to try so hard for Yuuri, he's inspired by this man. The moment would look utterly nonsensical to an outsider, needs the entire three or so days of context leading up to it for any amount of sense to be made of the scene.

Even then, Victor's not sure it works out logically, not that logic matters. He wouldn't be anywhere else than in Yuuri's arms, right at this moment. This is how fools end up getting married mere days into meeting each other, isn't it? He quite suddenly understands the impulse.

"We are, we are..!" he sobs out, smiling through his tears which won't stop now, "I won't let you go, I promise, I promise, I promise...."

He's still not sure how he's here, the same thought that keeps occurring-- how Victor has systematically broken down all of his walls in such a short time, how he's gotten from the disaster of the Grand Prix Finals to here, a totally different kind of disaster on Victor's tiled shower floor. He has no idea what strange alchemy of things has happened, even though he's lived through it. He feels like there's an entire lifetime between kissing Victor in the sauna and here, can't parse that the time can easily be measured in hours, still. He feels like he's been turned inside out.

He tilts Victor's head up and kisses him, tastes salt, follows the trails upwards with his mouth until he can kiss away the tears and only flushes a little bit for how boldly intimate that is. There still is (will always be) a voice in his head that tells him he's stupid for doing that, silly, unworthy, but right now, all of that seems very far away.

He'd had to learn, when he moved to America, that people there say "I love you" all the time, just like that. Joking, sincere, to friends, to coworkers. He's not shocked, to hear Victor professing his love after so short a time-- he's long since gotten used to hearing a phrase he's never even heard his parents say to one another on the lips of a horde of acquaintances, like it means nothing. He's not sure how it works in Russia, but he figures it can't be much different, the way Victor tosses around the word. He'd had a silly fantasy when he was a kid, of bringing Victor chocolates like he was some schoolboy to be wooed and managing a stammered "daisuki desu" and then had been embarrassed for a week about it even though no one else knew. And he's said I love you already, in English, in the foyer. But it's different, now, when he opens his mouth and that last soft, small "I promise" works it's way into his brain and under his skin,

"...aishiteru..." it doesn't really come out of his mouth like a declaration, or even a whole sentence, really. It's more like revelation.

"Th-that sounded important!" Victor exclaims, joking in his voice since he has no clue what it really means, it could be anything. Yuuri could be calling him an idiot for all he knew, but it sounded like it meant something. He's managed to calm his fried and twisted up nerves some, no longer weepy. Having his tears kissed away is too sweet to even fully comprehend, it makes him want to bury his face into a pillow, scream, and kick his feet like an excited teenage girl. Actually, he probably will do just that once he has a moment to, it sounded foolishly appropriate for all that had happened.

"It loses something in English," he says, voice still shaded tender, which is both something of a cop out and is also absolutely true. It's also a call-back to the Russian phrase that Victor kept saying and how he'd said that the words themselves didn't translate. But, in Yuuri's case, he's not sure how to explain the difference-- just that even if Japan were like America, even if people professed their love openly all the time all over each other, there's still never been anyone that made him feel like saying it that way. It's inappropriate, actually, after so short a time, or at least a little ridiculous.

But it's not a short time for Yuuri, not really, not with posters of this man all over his walls. Not when the reality is so much better than he could have imagined.

"But you're not wrong," there's another kiss, then, sweet and short, but warm.

"Mmmn, maybe I'll understand it one day," Victor knows there's more than just language between them, there's culture and age and success, but... He doesn't mind it. He'll reach out, try to close any gaps between them, because everytime they connect it's like magic.

"Is it something I should say back? Teach me if it is,"

Okay, well now he wants to hear that desperately. But if Victor says it right now, so easily, he won't ever be sure he means it. It's not something to be said lightly. And he actually trusts Victor to understand that-- he just doesn't trust himself to be able to explain it.

"Not now, I don't think," then there's a small quirk of his lips, an idea, "If I start acting really weird once I get back to Detroit, record it and send the recording to me." He's joking. He's also totally not joking.

They really should finish this shower, but Yuuri really doesn't ever want to move from right here.

"I'll say it when you like, but I hope you'll tell me what it means, first!" Victor laughs light, exhausted, wistful sighing before he gracelessly blurts out,

"I don't want you to ever go,"

He's kind of glad Victor changes the subject. He doesn't want to be cagey about telling him, but he's also not sure bare assed and exhausted on the floor of his boyfriend's shower is a good time for a linguistics discussion, which is what he feels like this has the potential to become. Also, right on the heels of saying it, it's embarrassing to talk about what he said,

"I guess you'll just have to stay around, if you want to know," he says, teasing, the same way Victor had said about the Russian phrase. He pulls Victor somehow closer a moment after that, nods in agreement, "I don't want to go."

He understands, of course, that he has to, that even if he was the kind of person to just completely give up everything about his old life and spend the rest of it in Victor's condo and bed, he wouldn't actually want that for Victor. But that doesn't mean he's excited about going anywhere else in the world right now except for right here, right now.

Well. Maybe out of the shower. So he voices that, too.

"We probably should stand up eventually, though."

"We should, but my legs, you've turned them to jelly!" Victor laughs, pathetic and comedic. He finally gets the strength to lift both his hands to cradle Yuuri's face, holding it so very doting to kiss on the lips. It's ever bit of romance he can muster with how they've found themselves. His deviously adoring, V shaped grin is seemingly every present, corners of his mouth tipped with the bright blush of his cheeks. The way Yuuri looks at him is blissful.

"...I've never felt so loved, my Yuuri,"

That swirls all kinds of things up in Yuuri. Every time he thinks maybe he's somewhat adjusted to the fact that this is his idol doing all of these things to him, with him, letting him do these things, something happens and he's right back to just staring, completely baffled, at what fate has given him. Yuuri's not used to feeling a whole lot of pride, so it's a strange feeling in his chest, now, and some of it is a kind of possessive pride, as though to say "I can give him something that no one else has been able to" but there's a lot of it that's softer, more mixed with wonder, that there's someone who's given him so much, without ever knowing he has, who he can actually give something back to.

He's sure Victor would protest that Yuuri doesn't owe him anything, but this isn't a feeling like the scales are unbalanced, it's just happiness. There's something he can do and do well and do for someone he cares about. He runs a hand down Victor's back and there's a slight flare of that deeper possession in his eyes, but it's mostly the latter when he says,

"Good," and then, because he's suddenly realized that that could make it sound like he's glad Victor hasn't experienced this before, and the alternative is a million stuttering apologies, he adds, "I'm glad that I can show that to you." It's a little weirdly formal in that way he can be sometimes, but second languages and all that.

Victor realizes after he says it that maybe it was a pathetic thing. He knows many people "love" him, he's an idol to many. It may not be the real him, his persona more so, but he still understood it was important to appreciate his fans love. This is just... Different. It's personal, it's not love just anybody could give him. That's difficult to express, especially in a second language.

"You're the best at loving me," it's a little awkward phrase, but maybe poetic in its strangeness, completely sincere, especially with how hopeful Victor looks to say.

"I want to be the best for you, too,"

"You are," it's given so easily it might seem like he hasn't thought about it, but really, it's all he's been thinking about for the past few days-- how strange it is that he lets Victor love him, how much effort it usually takes people before he's comfortable accepting love and how he would have said three days ago that if Victor ever did love him, he would be over the moon, but also knowing how difficult that would be, how awkward and weird he would have been. Hell, Victor can remember what he was like just about a photo.

He leans in and kisses him, warm and sweet and just a little heated, teeth nibbling lightly against his lip.

"You're the best," he adds, more clearly, because while he apparently could knock Victor down a peg and tease him about always getting what he wanted, but he doesn't want Victor to think for a moment that he doesn't adore him anyway.

The water effectively hides what that does to Victor, making him all wet and warm and more grateful than he's felt in a long time, maybe ever. He wants so much to be loved and here Yuuri is, giving and passionate. Being lonely in success was his daily life, he was used to it, Yuuri makes the struggle feel worth it. If it got him here, with this man who admired him so much, then he's glad to have made it. He kisses back, softer than Yuuri, more pliant and submissive, not taking an ounce of lead. Inexperienced as he was, Yuuri probably didn't really know much in the way of after care, but here he is, completely intuitive. Victor feels so looked after, just want he needed after the intensity faded.

"I think I've been told that before," he jokes, playfully arrogant, but turns it sweet, "but it means more, when you say it. More inspiring and more true."

"Aftercare" is not really a term or a concept Yuuri is familiar with, and that might be something that needs to be discussed at some point if they're going to keep one-upping each other's intensity. Hell, right now both of them are so over-sensitized and in unusual headspaces that having completely normal sex at this point might be intense enough to need aftercare, and neither one of them seem capable of not upping the ante. Luckily, Yuuri being vulnerable and kind of uncomfortably stretched past his comfort zones is a place where he's a lot more affectionate, not less. He's not going to crash until he has time to think about things.

Victor probably ought to buy Phichit some apology presents, actually. The likelihood that he's going to have an up-and-coming Thai skater in his messages with a WHAT DID YOU DO TO YUURI??? in a few days is greater than zero.

For the moment, though, Yuuri is thoughtlessly affectionate, and while he doesn't have a word for it, he can feel the way Victor is more genuinely submissive in the kiss, and it turns him completely inside out, a little breathless.

"No one's ever told me something like that before," he's also got a joking tone, though it's clear he's also serious, "so I guess you're setting the record on that, too."

It's going to occur to Victor the moment they are separated that he really doesn't know much about Yuuri. He's seen him in this one, very peculiar and intense situation and that's all. Not that he will regret it, but it will motivate him to fill those gaps, make sure he does learn and understand more about this man he's fallen so haplessly in love with. Who he hopes continues to love him with the fierceness they share right now, even when they have to part. It's worries for another time, for now Victor is finally getting control of his legs again and shifting. One more kiss for Yuuri as he groans his way up off the floor to stand, reaching to help his partner along.

"I'm good at keeping records," he coos, doing his best to keep them both steady. Actually getting cleaned up would be wise. Actually, they have a lot of cleaning up to do, but maybe some easy chores would be good for them. A simple, domestic moment after this to remind them they can be normal between catching each other on fire and tangling their bodies all together.

"Yeah, I know," it's almost snorted, a reminder not just that Yuuri is a fan but also actually a fellow competitor, someone who would very much like to shatter those records, regardless of what he thinks he's actually capable of. It's cute, a little bit of lighter hearted teasing after how intense the past few moments have been, and he couples it with letting Victor pull him up to standing and into his arms.

He can't stop kind of stupidly grinning, to the point where his mouth kind of hurts with it, actually. He's tired, though, temporarily sated enough that getting him to pay more attention to getting clean than getting riled up again won't be very difficult.

Good thing for Victor because he's only just woken up and he's exhausted. Yuuri's stamina is a beautiful monster to handle and while he's up to the challenge, this many days in a row of so much sex and intimacy is starting to catch up and wear him out. Just doing a quick scrub, complete with a silly "ooh~" when he sees the cherry red handprints Yuuri left on his rear. He won't linger in the shower, finishing up and getting out first so he could grab them both towels. He dries off just outside the shower, not willing to leave if Yuuri is lingering. What he will think to do is pick Yuuri's glasses off the counter and gently wipe the steam off of them, so he'll be able to see once Victor hands them over.

Look, Yuuri cannot be blamed for grabbing Victor's ass when he does that. It's really, really not his fault.

Yuuri's sexual awakening is dragging a lot of other realizations along with it, some of which he's not going to be fully aware of until he has a moment to sit and think about them. Some of them, it will take other intimate moments some time in the future, other things to hold up and sift through. But watching Victor coo over his handiwork on his ass lodges something in his chest, a weird, shivery sort of feeling that he doesn't have a name for-- it's not the same feeling as the first time he saw Victor skate, but it's the same type of thing, a world shift, a seed that is going to bear fruit in some garden in the future.

Or maybe he's just giddy with too much sex and too much hot water.

He's pruning badly by the time he gets out of the shower, doesn't linger after Victor brings the towels. He dries off quickly, and melts a little when Victor thinks to hand him his glasses. He puts them on absently, following Victor out of the bathroom but then freezes when he sees himself in the mirror and the absolute mess of his neck. He's been kind of dimly aware of them before, but this is the first time he's really taken a moment to look. He laughs, kind of helplessly,

"Wow." It's not deliberately an impression, but it might come out like one.

Forgoing any sense of modesty, it's his own house and he's more often been naked around Yuuri than clothed, Victor throws his towel over his shoulders only. When he sees the man stop to inspect himself in the mirror, he can't help but gawk with satisfaction. The little echo of "wow" on Yuuri's lips makes him chuckle gently, closing the distance between them to stand behind the younger man. Not kissing, just running his lips along the skin, he follows the curve of the marks up to Yuuri's ear, planting a kiss there, smirking to admire his handiwork.

"They got a lot darker today, I hope you still like them,"

Yuuri reaches up and runs his fingers along them on the opposite side from where Victor's mouth is. Everything is sore, but he's starting to see why his neck is. He's a mess. He tilts his neck a little more in the mirror to inspect them further and then there's a slow, soft little smile, a banked kind of heat in his expression. It's the sort of look where, had they not just exhausted themselves, might have been the signal for another round. As it is, it's just a sweet, intimate kind of hot.

"I love them. I want them everywhere." He gets to see his own wide-eyed blush a moment later as he realizes what he just said, a moment before he ducks his head, embarrassed, half turning and kind of hiding against Victor a moment. Even though he's genuinely embarrassed, though, Victor can still feel the curve of his grin.

That smile melts Victor into jelly, embracing Yuuri with an adoring squeeze and laugh. This man is so sweet and soft and good, he almost can't stand it. Nestling his face into Yuuri's wet hair, the man gets another kiss there, loud and ridiculous MUAH.

"You smile so loud, Yuuri, it rings in my ears,"

"Another thing no one has ever said to me," he says, muffled, pleased but embarrassed.

The truth is, he does occasionally get compliments on his smile. It's just that it's usually paired with the demand (or at least he hears it as a demand) that he smile more. He's never heard a compliment like that all on it's own, almost as though it's a complaint.

"I'll have to keep making you smile like that," he reaches and pushes both his hands through Yuuri's hair, styling it back with a gentle message of his nails on the man's scalp. When it's all back, he finds it quite dashing and also it lets him see all of Yuuri's pretty face. Well, except for the glasses, but those are still cute. Another kiss to Yuuri's forehead before he'll break away, knowing they should put on some damn clothes before they spend the whole day naked. It was pretty chilly in the condo still, Victor the bathroom being an except for how long they let the shower run. He's quick to adjust the thermostat and go to get Yuuri his own clothes, which were freshly washed and Victor was sure he'd appreciate the familiarity of.

Getting his own clothes back is one of those bittersweet things. On the one hand, he couldn't just run around in Victor's stuff all the time. On the other hand, he really wants to run around in Victor's clothes all the time. His own feel so boring after the softness of Victor's.

Even now, there's a deep cultural ingrained thing that says he's unlikely to outright ask or seek out that comfort, even with the personal progress he's made, but he doesn't really hide the expression he's making as he's getting dressed or how sort of awkward he feels being back in his own things, really.

(Honestly, though, he's grateful to be back in his own underwear at least. There's something a bit sexy about wearing Victor's but also something uncomfortable about wearing something like that that's very much the wrong size for him.)

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