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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As absolutely on board as Victor is, he understands this is a feeling that's going to need time to sink in. There was too much uncertainty, because there was too little time so far. It feels like rain in the desert, a wash of relief and then fear of a flood. This is so much of what Victor wants, he can only worry it will wash away from him. The other possibility, of course, is the rain settles in and everything starts to bloom where it hadn't before. Victor hopes that'll be it, for the both of them, because right now it feels like their own personal oasis.
The metaphor falls apart when lightning strikes. It's loud, not too far away, and Victor jolts out of his little fantasy. He clutches onto Yuuri, somewhere between frightened and protective, but he's holding the other man tight for the moment. This is just a day full of surprises.
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"Are you... scared of thunderstorms?" there's no way he would dare to have asked that even a few minutes ago, but after everything that's just happened and the current mood, it seems alright. He doesn't sound like he's going to laugh or anything, he's just quietly wide-eyed, to learn something that intimate about Victor, if it's true.
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Victor might actually be a poodle.
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Yuuri shifts, suddenly, to pull himself up the pillows so Victor can rest his head on his chest instead of the other way around, and he can actually get his arms around him. He cards his fingers through his hair, gently,
"Thunderstorms are one of the few things I'm not afraid of, so I'll keep you safe," he's not sure that really makes a whole lot of sense, but he's also a little drifty, in the aftermath of everything they've done this morning. Spending some time lounging in bed alternatively dozing and cooing at Victor seems like the perfect idea right now.
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Another roll of thunder and Victor loses his outraged train of thought. Nope, this is very nice and comforting and he's going to stay clutched to Yuuri. He's allowed, Yuuri said it was fine. Hesitantly, he'll grumble out some teasing in response, though it's more teasing himself than Yuuri.
"My hero..."
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He kisses him until the feeling goes away and he can go back to hugging him instead.
It's a bit unclear whether he means Victor is his hero or Victor is just his, but either way he takes it. he's correct.
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"All yours, my Yuuri," he'll affirm, feeling this moment of peace settling deep in his bones, "I belong right here,"
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I belong right here.
It sinks into his bones. He doesn't understand how he can possibly be so full of doubt and so sure at the same time, but he can't seem to fight it, either, and he's given up trying. Everything feels so solid and real and so tenuous and dreamlike. He'd honestly think he was literally enchanted, except that he actually likes the thought that it's just Victor, somehow.
Unless either Makkachin or Victor stops him, he'll probably stay like that until the clothing is returned to them in an hour or so.
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"Incoming, Yuuri," Victor is going to open the door, poodle bounding in and running to the bed, flopping all over Yuuri before settling into the spot Victor had been occupying, demanding the cuddles for himself. Victor chuckles gently at the scene, standing to stretch out some, rubbing his wrists, only just noticing the pink rings left from the ties.
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He grins at Victor, but he can't help the way his gaze goes hot when his eyes catch him rubbing at his wrists,
"Nothing hurts, does it?" he's concerned but he's also unprepared for how hot it is, watching Victor rub at the marks.
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"Still sore from getting spanked? I'm surprised you didn't get me back, for that,"
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Yuuri blushes to the question and looks away, buries his head in Makkachin for a moment, which completely delights the dog,
"A little sore," he admits, looking back up, "But I like it," he matches Victor's words, but considering that just a scant hour or so ago, he was having trouble admitting that and now he's naked in Victor's bed locking eyes with him to say it, there's more weight there. Also, he probably looks unfairly attractive at the moment, doing some combination of helping to soothe a cuddly pet and still able to make bedroom eyes at Victor. It does not help when he adds, "I thought about it, but it's really hard to do anything mean to you when you're begging like that," there's a sly look, "I'd rather save it for sometime when you're being a brat."
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"I thought you were going to be a bit more of a brat last time, to be honest. But then you got all sweet for me instead," there's something darker about the tone, possessive. "Are you sure that wouldn't just happen again?" he teases. Games of words are ones he knows Victor is going to win, the man can probably get him begging just by talking to him and they both know it, but Yuuri's starting to want to play more. He wants to share the things in his head, wants to try out the shape of the thing starting to form between them that's both incredibly kind and safe and dark in turns.
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"Still, I don't know if I can stop being sweet on you,"
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And then his brain does that thing where it catches up with his mouth and he flushes all the way down his chest. But he's getting a lot better about biting his lip and managing not to apologize or take it back.
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"Makkachiiiin," Victor whines, grabbing the dog and hoisting him off Yuuri despite whimpering protests. He can't help but snuggle back into the dog when he gets a look at that cute face, Makkachin huffing contentedly once he's getting hugged again. Victor will give Yuuri a sweet look after, a little apologetic about Makkachin wanting to be in the way and yet also not willing to kick the animal out with the thunderstorm.
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And then he's laughing as they're both getting doggie kisses instead and his heart hurts with how perfect everything is.
It takes a bit of doing and maybe some tugging and repositioning, but he manages to get his arms more or less around both of them,
"There. There's no need to fight. I've got you both," he's got a little, warm smile on his face he seems unaware of. The whole thing would be ridiculous, except another lightning strike probably proves the wisdom of the idea.
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The room has grown darker along with the storm, slowly taking the calm blue light away. Maybe they should busy themselves with something else, but going out in that weather would be a pain. Victor doesn't think either of them can resist more sex if they're stuck inside.
"Should we flip on some lights, Yuuri?" It's a quiet question in the near dark. Still it's kind of fun without the lights, Victor touching along Yuuri's side, revenge for the blindfold.
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"It's up to you. I don't mind," there hasn't been a crash in a while, just the steady patter of rain. In the dark, everything feels hushed and close, and the way Victor's petting him now is nice. He doesn't really want to give it up to turn on the lights, but if Victor would feel better with the storm or wants to, he's not going to protest, either.
"I hope the rain stops at some point. I wanted to either cook dinner or skate with you."
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"Unless you'd rather stay here and have sex all day." He doesn't say it like a bad thing, but there is that teasing tone of Yuuri being seemingly insatiable now that Victor has got him started.
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"Mmm... because you're so disappointed knowing you could just roll over and have me right now and there wouldn't even be a word of protest?" he catches Victor's hand, drags it down his body, "It must be just awful, knowing you could fuck me on every surface of the apartment all day and I'd be just fine with it. Poor Victor, stuck inside all day with your... your--" nope, there are things even Yuuri can't quite make himself say and he stutters to a stop. But he doesn't backpedal over any of the things he's already said, though Victor can probably feel his heart beating like mad under his hand, afraid he's gone too far even though logically, he knows he hasn't.
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"My what, Yuuri?" he could think of a million sexually charged descriptions, and more than a million sweet ones, but he's curious what Yuuri shuddered to say. What did he want to be to Victor, in that fantasy?
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"slut of a boyfriend." He gets the last out in a rush and Victor can feel his heart pounding and the the tension, the way he's having to hold himself to keep himself from curling away or running or babbling something he doesn't mean.
But there. He's said it.
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"I flipped your switch," he teases, voice gruff with his accent and the desire smoldering there, "don't stop until you're satisfied,"
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