emberossing (
emberossing) wrote2017-03-05 04:53 pm
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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?"
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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Yuuri pressed back against him and Victor is pushing back as they meet. Victor's weight lifts Yuuri off the floor so his tiptoes could barely touch tile. Between the wall, his arms, and Victor's height, the support is there, but it probably feels trepidatious to be lifted while sitting heavily down on a cock. He's not going to drop Yuuri, he could carry the man in his arms so this is hardly even that strenuous. He wouldn't try this he couldn't keep hold of him.
"Is this up enough?"
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He can't move like this. Everything is either useless or completely load bearing, there's nothing to push off of, nothing to press against at the right angle to help him. He shudders, cedes, as completely without protest as Victor had earlier. There's only one answer to that, but it's been long enough since the bed that he has to work to get it in the right language.
"Hai," it's maybe a little grateful.
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"Y, Yuuri, I want to come, just like this... you feel incredible,"
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"Hai," he breathes again, and he's back to not being very expressive anymore, but he's not closed off, the words just aren't there, but Victor said that was okay too and so he works to find some more of them, at least, to please him, but there's only one that seems to matter right now, "Yours."
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It's good thing he was locked in the position or his knees might have buckled and totally ruined all the trust he built up by dropping Yuuri. He stands strong, loyal to the very end, holding Yuuri like he was keeping a promise. Victor's not sure anybody has ever showed him so much loving trust, he's not going to squander that.
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"Sit down on the ledge," his voice is soft, but firm, directing Victor through this while his brain's offline, "Don't let go of me, I want to keep you inside," he flushes, saying that, but he knows he has to be direct right now or Victor's not going to move.
Provided they make it there without slipping, that settles him in Victor's lap, a break for both of their legs, with him still inside him and an arm around his waist so he doesn't slip off. As soon as he's settled, Yuuri wraps a hand around his own cock and if Victor wants to help, he's got about five good strokes to get in on it before Yuuri's spilling over his hand, hips rocking just enough at the end to feel Victor move a little inside him.
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"Yuuri, my Yuuri, my perfect Yuuri,"
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Whatever it is, he's coming in less than thirty seconds, but everything feels syrupy, underwater, and he's slow to move, afterwards, content to just lean his head back against Victor's shoulder and just exist for a moment, nothing else, nuzzling up under his jaw.
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"Aaha, you're too much, hold on..." he's got to lift slide the man off his dick, at least! Victor doesn't want Yuuri to go far, he'll keep the man in his lap after, sideways this time, so he can kiss his lips. It had been far, far too long since. Not that Victor has any sense of time, at the moment.
"Marvelous, my Yuuri,"
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He doesn't have any words back at the moment, but he does have another use for his mouth in the form of a long, slow kiss that he hopes speaks his mind about how much he enjoyed all of that.
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But after several minutes, his stomach has had enough and growls loudly.
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"Yeah, me too... but I don't know if I can move," he's only a little bit teasing. Everything feels heavy and kind of shaken out of place and he's really not sure if he can do something like sit at one of the kitchen barstools, right now.
He's also reasonably sure that he's overdue to panic about some of this, but he's too tired for that as well which is something that he's actually intensely grateful for.
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"I could move, I simply don't want to," Yuuri's weight down on him is too satisfying, too comforting for him to want to escape from. Still, they were going to turn into a couple of prunes if they didn't manage to actually shower off and get dry. As much as Victor wants to stay just like this, moving to someplace with cushions would serve then we'll.
"Let's split the difference and have breakfast on the couch," breakfast in bed wouldn't do, he didn't want Yuuri out of his sight that long, but sitting the man down on any of his more solid chairs sounded cruel. "When your legs decide to work again," he'll add, not sure he had the energy to carry Yuuri so far.
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He's going to need help showering unless they want to sit here for an extended period of time, will probably also need help getting dressed, but even though he'll be clinging to a wall (or Victor) the whole way to the sofa, by they time they're actually clean, he does at least kind of have use of his legs.
Everything hurts but it's in a similar way to after a really intense practice, just deeper in some ways that are hard to define other that that. He's long ago learned the difference between something that hurts and something that is hurt, the difference between soreness and injury, and nothing's injured, his body's just been pushed to some limits.
Still, hopefully Victor isn't expecting help making breakfast...
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"Hot breakfast, Yuuri? I can put on some eggs and hash, or just pour some cereal,"
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(And there's a little, darker part of his mind that some of the things they've done tease at the edges of, that kind of likes seeing Victor Nikiforov mooning over him a little. He's too nice and unsure of himself for it to be a conscious thought, but it lingers there, somewhere back behind everything.)
"Mmm... if you're offering, hot breakfast sounds better. I'm starving. But cereal is fine," he adds, definitely not wanting to put Victor out in some way.
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"I've never cooked for a boyfriend before, this is exciting!" Makkachin is gently shooed out of the kitchen a moment later, Victor not wanting to step all over him. The dog is wandering over to find Yuuri, jumping onto the couch to mob him with some needy cuddles. How dare you both lock him out of the room for so long!
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"Your boyfriend is too hungry to be picky," he even manages to say it with a laugh and he's actually panicking just a little bit both about that and about whether or not Victor's maybe fucked something loose in his head because he doesn't say things like that, not out loud, not just... brazenly. Only... apparently now he does.
Also, he has a lapful of enthusiastic poodle that he is very enthusiastic to have there. It makes him a little sad in the middle of everything, when he realizes he's been petting him where Vicchan liked to be petted, but it's more of an ache than overwhelming at the moment, with his arms full of Makkachin.
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There's something to this he immediately finds thrilling and it's actually how... utterly mundane and domestic it is. The calm and quiet of the moment lets him thinking about everything that had happened so far. A rush, for certain, but he wouldn't call it a blur. He does snap out of it a moment to consider.
"Should I put on some tea, Yuuri? Or coffee, if you prefer?"
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There's something poetic and right about having to give this up to train to somehow, against all odds, be here.
"Coffee, please, if you don't mind," on someone else, that might sit too formal, but Yuuri's tone is just sweet, cozy.
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When a few things are on to cook a moment longer and he's otherwise just waiting, he walks their coffees over, handing Yuuri his.
"Just a few more minutes,"
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He's usually a lot more guarded (or tries to be), but he's so far out past the breakers right now, he's not even sure he sees the shore.
"Thank you," he says to the coffee, reaching up and then sinking back down before Makkachin can get unsettled. He's gone quiet, even the words barely breaking the silence, but it doesn't seem like it's a bad quiet, just peace, and Victor may not know how difficult that is yet, for Yuuri, but Yuuri does and he's sinking into it like a warm bath, content to just bask in it for a little bit while he has it.
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He has to break the peace with a chuckle, though he's sure it's a soft one, quiet.
"Not too sore, I hope?"
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"A... little," he admits, and the flush deepens, "But it's... um..."
It feels good, is what he wants to say. It reminds me where you've been, what you've done to me. He can't say something like that, though, so he's just kind of blushing up a storm and writing something like that in his expression if Victor catches it, while his mouth says something different,
"... it's not that bad."
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"I think the soreness is a wonderful feeling," so don't feel alone or too odd, Yuuri. He wouldn't have done that if he wasn't sure it could feel good, "you-- oh! Toast might be burning..."
He'll set his coffee down and rush back to the kitchen, whoops. Another little moment of silence as Victor takes everything off and gets it onto plates for them. He's bringing two breakfasts over. Eggs, hashbrown potatoes, and sourdough toast (a little burnt...)
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