emberossing | for wauuu

Laughing along, Victor's just a little pink cheeked with embarrassment. The mood was really wonderful, his stomach reminding them they really should do something, anything else today but fuck, is unwelcome and yet humorous. He'll nuzzle Yuuri's face with his, fingers tracing across his jawline smoothly.

"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.

"That sounds like heaven," he'd be embarrassed about how enchanted even that makes him sound later. Right now, he's too unguarded to be anything but honest.

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...

Victor has no qualms about helping Yuuri with every little thing if he needs. It's a level of intimacy he's certainly never had with anybody else, but he also hadn't gone turning any of his partners to jelly quite like he had with Yuuri. The sex was really intense, but this affectionate aftercare felt good to the body and mind. Victor is just glad Yuuri allows him to be so continuously doting. He'll help wash the man off, get him dry after the shower, chuckle a bit to help him slide on clean clothes. It does take a while to get them both out on the couch, but Victor wouldn't trade this morning for another record or gold medal, that was for certain. Getting Yuuri sat down on the soft cushions of the couch, Victor gives him one more kiss.

"Hot breakfast, Yuuri? I can put on some eggs and hash, or just pour some cereal,"

Yuuri is not the kind of person to let people fuss over him and dote on him. But he's also so deliciously sore and still a little delirious, unmoored, that it's easy to just kind of let Victor take care of things.

(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.

"Hot breakfast it is," he'll agree immediately, sneaking one more kiss and a big beaming smile. With uttermost enthusiasm, he'll be heading back around the sofa to the nearby kitchen. It's unclear if he's talking to himself or to Yuuri as he giddily exclaims.

"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!

Yuuri was going to make some kind of reference to his comment yesterday morning, about Victor making all his one-night stands breakfast, but boyfriend makes him blush instead and grin like an idiot, safe where Victor can't see him over the couch. Instead, he tries out the words, because they fit strange in his head and he's curious what they sound like out loud, if they make any more sense to him,

"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.

"Oooh, well, I'll try my best! You're probably hungry enough to like it regardless," he laughs after, indicative of how little pressure he felt, just joy at making the attempt. Victor is no master chef, he's functional on a good day and usually preferred to order out if he was being indulgent. His usual was to prep a whole weeks worth of nutritious, if not necessarily interesting, meals in advance. Yuuri is getting the indulgent option, they definitely worked off enough calories already to deserve a hearty breakfast. It's Victor shredding up fresh potatoes and getting some eggs out of the fridge, smiling the whole while.

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?"

Yuuri's used to being more domestic, so the mood is actually weirdly settling to him, like he's back home in Hasetsu, with his mother making breakfast. Not that there's really THAT comparison, but there's something just... right about it, home-y, particularly with Makkachin in his lap, that he's been missing so much in Detroit. Not that he and Phichit hadn't made something of their own home, there, but this hits deeper than that. He hugs a little harder into Makkachin, which he seems to enjoy quite a bit, if the quiet woofing is any indication.

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.

Victor will chatter along at Yuuri, asking questions with no real consequences aside from being courteous and curious. Cream? Sugar? How do you like your eggs, Yuuri? I'm going to brown these potatoes, they're best really crisp. Oh, I could put on toast, do you like sourdough? With jam and butter? It just sort of rattles off between brief moments of silence while Victor worked in the kitchen, filling the no longer empty feeling apartment with sounds of a busy kitchen.

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,"

The reward for all that effort is how completely peaceful Yuuri looks when Victor rounds the couch and finds him sprawled out across the cushions with Makkachin draped over him while he pets him. He looks almost surprised to see Victor, which is also kind of sweet, because it looks a lot like him forgetting how lucky he is in the couple of minutes Victor was in the kitchen.

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.

Finding Yuuri looking to genuinely peaceful is a relief, that's for certain. Victor passes the coffee, before cupping his own between both hands, blowing on it. He admired the little scene with Yuuri and Makkachin, thinking it looked just right just where it was. Victor really never found his vacation condo very cozy until this moment.

He has to break the peace with a chuckle, though he's sure it's a soft one, quiet.

"Not too sore, I hope?"

Yuuri flushes immediately, drops his eyes, but it's not quite a retreat.

"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."

The blushing expression is searched while Victor sips his coffee. He can't tell the extent, but he can understand a few things. He can tell Yuuri likes it and he can tell Yuuri is unsure if he should like it. Victor's been there, it took him a while to grasp just how much he enjoyed a rough experience on either side. Sitting with the feeling after was strange and satisfying, like a long practice with new choreography.

"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...)

"Really?" he's not so pathetic as to make that sound too eager, but there's definitely a sense of relief there. It's an advantage, in some respects, that Yuuri hasn't formed opinions about sex already. It means that there's a lot of things that he doesn't know he "shouldn't" like, no pre-conceived notions about what this "ought" to look like. But that also means that he's flying completely blind on whether or not he's having reasonable, normal reactions to things. So learning that he's not the only person in the world who enjoys something is actually revelation, albeit a tiny one.

Still, he's bizarrely grateful to the toast because it gives him a moment with that before Victor returns. He's delighted at the breakfast, even if he does have to push Makkachin a bit off him to enjoy it. He discovers he's ravenous, but hopefully Viktor can forgive him any table manners (he's still not messy about it) since he's he one who got him that way to begin with.

"What time is it?" he finally asks, in between bites. It's a bit of a mundane question but he's not honestly sure if he's up for a discussion of what happened in the bathroom, right now. Or what happened in the bed. He's gone from a virgin-not-by-choice to someone with a boyfriend who spanks him in the last several hours and he needs to process some of that before he's ready to do much more about it. And that's before he even considers who that boyfriend is.

(Or at least, he thinks he needs that time. The truth is, if Victor pulled him into his lap right now, the chances that they wouldn't be having some kind of sex again in the next ten minutes are exactly zero.)

Victor is watching Yuuri eat, curious if the meal met with approval. Once the younger man is practically inhaling his food, Victor will grin and follow suit, stomach having been grumbling with need as he prepared the meal. He doesn't bother to be critical of his cooking, all it needed to be was functional, the pleasure was in the creation for Yuuri, more than the resulting taste. Playboy reputation or not, Victor didn't really date much. There wasn't really time to get more serious about a partner than a night over, maybe a short morning, nothing like this was. The simple question gets Victor to lift his head, swiveling to find a wall clock to spy the time.

"Only... Near eleven! Not too bad, I thought we might have been longer," with that kind of a wake up, it really did feel like the day could be over and it would have been a satisfying one. He'll chuckle under his breathe some, needing to tease, "Need to be somewhere, Yuuri?"

Look, Yuuri may or may not ever get to the point where he can actually manage to say anything explicit except at when he's been brought completely out of his mind, but he's a pretty fast study about flirting, actually. He stretches just a little, matches the tone,

"Mm. Just back in bed," he manages to hit the perfect balance between making it sound like he means he could sleep the rest of the day and that they should have sex the rest of the day. "Though we should probably get some of my clothes clean at some point so we can go shopping for dinner. I have to return the favor," he indicates the breakfast he's still working his way through.

"We should definitely wash your clothes before getting back to the bed. Who knows how long we'll be there once we get our hands on each other again," flirting over breakfast is fun, but Victor assumes Yuuri does need an actual break after all that. He sure did, not exactly known for his stamina, though he could make up for that in experience. His grin broadens at the mention of going shopping, having forgotten already.

"You'll show my attempt up, I'm sure! I don't know how to cook anything traditionally Russian. The idea of authentic Japanese food excited me, though,"

Yuuri is 23 years old, known for his stamina and has just discovered sex with the person he's the most interested in having sex with on the planet. What are breaks? (For that matter, what are brakes?) He's completely exhausted, but that's only going to slow him down, not stop him.

But, Viktor does have a point in that they probably should wash Yuuri's clothes first, or at least get them started.

"We might have to go shopping for some more clothes, too, but I can at least wear some that fit while we do. I'm not sure what they took-- the bag the police brought seems lighter than my bag was, but I haven't done an inventory," something occurs to Yuuri that makes him frown, suddenly, and Victor would probably think it was the thought of having his clothes stolen but that would mean the way he blushes and looks shy for a moment is completely incongruous...

"Um... if we do get my clothes clean, though..." oh look, Yuuri can still be shy after Victor's had his tongue in his ass, "I can still..." He can't quite seem to get the words out, but the way his fingers are playing on the sleeves of his borrowed sweater, makes it at least a little more obvious that he's talking about borrowing Victor's clothes. Even about something like this, he's far more expressive with his body than his mouth.

"You can have any clothes of mine you like," Victor chuckles, gentle and caring as possible, "though maybe I shouldn't say that. I should say they're borrowed, so you have to bring them back to me soon."

That's better, isn't it? Yuuri seemed like a man who only needed an excuse and then he'd jump in feet first to whatever was thrown his way. Yuuri was certainly an interesting mix of cautious and reckless, guarded and also vulnerable. Victor has no way of knowing if that's how Yuuri is with everybody or if he's the one, special, unique case that twists the man all over himself (probably literally, give him a chance to test that flexibility and they'll know). He suspects the idolization is working vastly in his favor, despite his own desire to break down any walls that might seperate them on the basis of 6th place and 1st place. Yuuri and Victor was a much better way too see one another, any day and any time.

Yuuri flushes, half in embarrassment and half in pleasure when Victor says he can keep wearing his clothing.

"Borrowed," he agrees and then flushes deeper, "It's not the same if they're mine." For once, it has nothing at all to do with Victor being Victor Nikiforov, Skating Legend. He doesn't want the sweater because he's a fanboy. He wants to keep wearing it because he can feel the ghosts of Victor taking him apart on his skin when he's wearing it, because Victor gave it to him to wear, because it smells like him.

And then, his tone isn't tentative at all, but he's trying this out, tentatively, testing the waters of an idea they've spoken around, before,

"Though it's still cold in Detroit for several months. You may have to come and get them, instead."

Victor is assuming it's a fanboy thing, whoops. He also thinks it might go a bit deeper than that. Wearing a boyfriend's oversized clothes around, it was a way of showing off a relationship. The more specific and recognizable, the better for that end. With the undercurrent of "claiming" one another they kept diving into at moments of passion, it would only make Victor proud to see Yuuri continue to wear his clothes. Not to mention how cute they were, hanging loosely from the smaller man.

"Now, now, Yuuri," he'll tease, almost like he's scolding, but, "a Russian is never afraid of the cold!"

It keeps not helping that the sweaters have wide enough necks to show off nearly every hickey, and his throat is a mess of them. His whole body is a map of the places Victor has claimed him and he likes feeling his clothing on top of all of that, though he's not sure if it's just one more way to pull Victor around him, or if it's his way of claiming something back.

There's a little, tiny voice in the back of his head, still quiet under both the peace and the inevitable worries, that wants to claim back, that wants to leave no doubt in Victor's mind that this isn't just about fanboying or convenience any more, if it ever was to begin with. But Yuuri's also still got more to sort through than Victor does, so it's not a very loud voice yet, brain still working madly on concepts like "having a boyfriend" and "not a virgin anymore".

And now "Victor possibly coming to Detroit".

"I just meant I'm not giving them up while it's still cold in Detroit," and no no no, that's a step back while he tries to explain the joke and he doesn't want that, "... and I don't know if I can wait until I've graduated and am back in Hasetsu to see you again." He looks down into his coffee, takes a little sip instead of looking at Victor for a moment, shyly.

"I'd like to visit, but Nationals is pretty close on the heels of the Grand Prix," Victor is thinking about the schedule of things, "I'll be very much stuck in Russia, to train and compete."

Nationals and then Worlds, before there would be another break in the year, nearly another five months worth before he had a definitive break. Going to Hatsetsu after Worlds would make the most sense, Victor can only imagine how many questions about his career he'll be getting at that time, win or lose at the competition. If he became five time world champion, what was next?

And how might Yuuri do?

"Where are you registered for Nationals? Japan or America?"

"Japan," that part is easy, "But... there's not a lot of time and I..." he still doesn't know how he feels about getting out on the ice in front of everyone, and he's going to lose a week here in Russia, at least. "I probably won't end up being able to get home. Win or lose, I'll have to get back to school." That's the easy answer. Because the more difficult answer is that he really doesn't want to go to Nationals at all. He needs more time, and Victor doesn't really change that. He doesn't know how he's going to deal with all of the questions on his own, everyone watching him for either signs of a comeback or signs that he's through.

He's glad he's done with breakfast both because he doesn't really have much of an appetite anymore and because it means he can curl his hands around the cup of coffee and take a little comfort from that.

Victor finishes his toast with a few thoughtful bites, mind buzzing through options. It's rough, there really isn't time in the schedule to meet up, not unless they wanted to sacrifice precious practice time between competitions. This is why you don't date, Victor runs through his mind and his heart sinks. Nobody wants to date under conditions like these, they're distant and complicated. But here Victor is, wanting to keep hold, because distance can be traveled and complicated can be solved. He looks a bit hapless at his own coffee. What's the solution here?

And then he remembers some enthusiastic, drunken words, which might be a solution.

"Five months is a long time, but," that would roughly be the time between now and the end of World's, "if you're finishing school, you'll be ready to skate full time after that, correct?"

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