emberossing | for wauuu

"Addicting," he half-corrects, half moans and he doesn't really think about how that sounds, because he's moving to "If I'm intoxicated, I might not remember..." he doesn't ever want to forget this.

Reckless might also work. And even though he rejects intoxicating, Victor shares something in common with alcohol, in that he's gotten Yuuri to a place where the consequences of things don't matter, where he can just take now at face value without worry. It's not a mental state he's used to being in when he's sober.

"That... Yes, that's the word. Addicting..." Victor will agree, voice growling out lewd, low tones at both the idea and the physical sensations. Addictive was very appropriate, Victor already certain he wanted more and more and more of Yuuri. All he could get, more than time might allow for. He'd already admitted to his selfishness in that regard, being glad Yuuri would be delayed with him so they could spend time in each other's company.

He slides himself forward with a stride of his legs and hips. His hand leaves his own cock, but remains on Yuuri's, pushing him back toward his slick entrance. Lining them both up, he doesn't hesitate long before sitting down on the man's cock. He's not taking him all in at once this time. His feet are well planted and he's mindful to not slip. Still, it doesn't take him long to take Yuuri in down to the base of his cock, grinding his bare ass against Yuuri's groin.

He could listen to Victor growl things out in that tone of voice for the rest of his life. He could watch the desperate way he throws himself forward to line up for eternity. He doesn't know how he's going to know how all this feels and go back to a world where he doesn't get to have it. He'd tease Victor a little for how over-eager he seems, but he's right there, himself, clawing more at his thighs to not push up into him, letting him set the pace until he's resting his weight in his lap.

Then he lets himself push up, turns the very end of Victor's descent grinding, even deeper than gravity will take him. A moment later, his hands are trailing up, clinging, until he can drag either himself up to sitting or (preferably) Victor down to him to kiss him, the kiss immediately open-mouthed, messy. If he's got to tug him around by his hair a little to get it, he's more than willing to.

"Mmmnnnhg," is about as elegant a sound as Victor makes, lips crumpling against each other. Yuuri's cock reaches in deep and effectively, rubbing lengthwise along his prostate, creating a steady pressure instead of an overwhelming one. He feels Yuuri's hands reaching up him, not sure if the man was simply groping him or what. When a hand finds purchase at the base of his hair, he'll get the picture and curl down to meet Yuuri's lips.

His mouth slacks from the previous tension at the contact. His whole body relaxes more along with it, a sigh filling Yuuri's mouth as Victor let his tongue explore outward to the younger man's lips and teeth. Hips rock forward along with him, so he'll sit back down, slowly drawing the length of Yuuri's cock out and back into his ass. Victor's own hands plant beside Yuuri's head, on opposite sides, to support his weight. It's not the most comfortable, kind of like doing a push up, so he'll adjust them even more forward, long fingers sliding between the decorative slates of the headboard. That's much better leverage, he can draw his hips up again, beginning a slow rhythm between their bodies.

The noise Yuuri makes when Victor just kind of... stretches out on top of him sounds outright delirious. The physical sensations of the sex itself are maybe more intense with him sitting back, everything deeper, each movement a lift-and-fall that drives everything out of his head. But like this, everything else is more intense, Victor above him, no escape from what he's doing and who he's doing it with. The first time around, he wouldn't have been bold enough to, but this time, he can wind his arms around him, press fingers into the skin of his back, cling.

He doesn't feel like he's on the edge or anything, so much as just everything is so much. There's no hope of holding it in even if he really wanted to, he feels like he's moaning from somewhere down in his spine, somewhere below where Victor's weight is, deep.

"Victor... please... Victor..." it's not really a please for anything in particular, so much as just don't stop. For someone who can't seem to talk sometimes, he's thoughtlessly vocal now, half syllables of Japanese falling out, but he can't finish a whole thought.

The whole of Victor's being is engaged in the act, nothing about the man unfocused. From his fingertips curled around the headboard to the flexing of his abs to the rolling of his hips, he's all motion. His cock bounces, hard and leaking, always a little delayed from the movement of his hips, carried by Victor's increasing momentum. He gets really riled up on this part, before Yuuri is adding much, just enjoying warming up by fucking himself on the man's cock. Once the younger man started pounding into him, it would be different, more balanced in control, but he liked it all up to him to start.

"Yes, Yuuri, Yuuri, anything..." The plea does get a direct response from Victor, even if Yuuri hadn't intended it, "I'll do it. Tell me what you want,"

He doesn't actually know what he wants, beyond just more of this, except even that's not really true, because he also wants everything else. He wants all of the things Victor keeps promising. He wants to never have to leave this bed, this moment where, for just a few minutes, his demons seem to leave him alone. He wants to hear Victor say he'll do anything for him, over and over and over again, until the words make sense to him.

He can't express any of that, though, there's no poetry in him while Victor's riding him like that. So he just digs his fingers in a little bit harder, clings on more.

"Anything," he babbles back, "Everything... god... Victor..."

The sounds filling the room are incredibly satisfying. The squeak of the mattress, the slapping of skin connecting, the knock of the headboard as it bent toward the wall... yet, Victor would rather hear Yuuri's breathing and spill of desperate syllables than anything else. He supports himself forward on one hand, the other reaching down to push through black hair, pushing it out of the man's face. Such a handsome face, even if was somewhat obscured by the blue frame glasses Yuuri wore.

"You have all of me, Yuuri," he'll punctuate the phrase with a kiss, doting as he's ever been.

Even with everything else, the feel of Victor running his hand back through his hair pulls a deeper moan, an arch of his spine. He's getting used to the sensations associated with having sex, at least enough that they don't knock him completely offline, but this is something he hopes he never gets used to-- how tender Victor can be, emotional and sweet. It's not something he would have said he needed or wanted, would have said something like that would be too coddling, cloying, but it's not, somehow, and it's lovely.

Maybe he responds to that sweet assertion by sliding his hands down to Victor's ass and grinding up against him for a moment before he lets him have the pace back, but that doesn't make it any less appreciated. In fact, the two are probably connected, as he's getting more comfortable all the time with Victor.

"Aaah, Y, Yuuri, you can move," Victor will say, adjusting hands again to rest firmly on Yuuri's shoulders. Holding him down on the bed, sure, but also anchoring himself upright to not be shoved off. "I want you to move with me."

Victor already has a pace, bobbing his hips up and down, taking Yuuri's cock in and out. He's not sure if Yuuri will meet him there or push for something hard, faster. It's good either way, any way, he likes how all of this feels.

"I don't know, I'm kind of enjoying the view," he's sort of aware that doesn't actually make much sense since he can see Victor just fine either way. But probably that doesn't matter since it's actually a little bit sassy, and it's also pretty coherent for him while Victor's riding him.

He feels pulled thin, like taffy, but in a good way, everything stretched and warm. The pace he hits matches, and the way they fall into tandem like that turns him inside out, makes him dizzy. His moans are low and sweet, relaxed.

"Victor..." it's breathed out instead of one of the moans and it's adoring.

"Keep your eyes on me, Yuuri," Victor will respond to the comment by straightening his back out, hands sliding down from Yuuri's shoulders to caress the length of the man's body before hanging at Victor's sides. Victor holds himself upright, thighs following along with Yuuri's pushing up into him. He's totally exposed, not folded in on himself or hiding at all. Because he's a damn showboat, his own hands travel from the creases of his hips up his body, fingers rolling over all the contours of his muscles. His skin is shiny with a layer of exertion, his fingers finally reaching his sweaty hair and push it back from his face. Half his bangs return immediately, if more messy. This is not how Victor presents himself in photoshoots or even nudes on Instagram, this is a disheveled kind of Victor that the world doesn't get to see. All sweat and bedhead and drool running down his chin and come running down his thighs.

And Victor is showing that off for Yuuri, absolutely confident that he looks damn good, even when unravelled.

Edited (Phone tags... Also didn't proofread.) 2017-04-05 14:00 (UTC)

"How could I not?" it's quiet, laced almost with wonder, but then Victor moves and...

He gets it, immediately, what it is that Victor is showing him, and his breath stutters and catches and then he forgets to breathe entirely for a moment. His entire world is the path of Victor's hands along his own body, pushing into his hair, and the pressure around his cock is incredible, but it's nothing next to this, to getting to see this.

He still doesn't know why it is that Victor is showing him this, letting him in--

The thought's derailed, doesn't spiral, and his body screams for air, so he's panting all of a sudden instead, which is probably a little ridiculous, but he doesn't care. But it's not just that Victor looks like this. It's not just that Victor's letting him see him in a way he doesn't let other people see.

Yuuri did this.

Yuuri is doing this.

This isn't something posed or thought up with photoshoot storyboards or designed by someone with an agenda to show the world something specific. This is Yuuri's.

He's gripping Victor's hips suddenly, without a real thought of moving, not really taking control of the pace so much as pulling him harder down on him every time he pushes up.

"Touch yourself," the words spill out of him, and he immediately wants to backpedal because that's definitely too much, has to be too pushy, but Victor sinks back down over him just then and there aren't any words anymore for a second, so the command just lingers in the air for a moment too long to take it back, to pretend like he didn't mean it.

There is an intense thrill for Victor to watch Yuuri watch him. The man's face is so enamored and amazed and even a little terrified, like Yuuri wasn't sure this is something he should be allowed to see. Yet here Victor is, showing and giving to the man, holding nothing back. Victor really got off on that, usually so calculated with his presentation, to be truly exposed in front of someone else in all regards. He wasn't the type to show vulnerability, not outside of performance. Even on the ice it was only a glimpse of fragile melancholy, never the whole of him laid bare. Knocking the air out of Yuuri is about the response he expected to get and he nearly shivers when the man finally catches himself and starts panting for lost breathe.

He actually shivers once Yuuri makes his demand. A full body quiver, starting from his shoulders and traveling down to his tailbone, a reaction of sudden desire. This is punctuated by a tightening of his thigh muscles and ass as he's driven up into. With how utterly lost Yuuri looked, Victor really wasn't expecting such a sexually charged request. He obeys immediately, almost fumbling, grabbing tight at the base of his own cock. His fist strokes long and slow, biting his own lip desperately, like he might be worried this is too much himself and is pushing a boundary of his own. This is a perfect storm of What Works For Him and coming abruptly, again, isn't something he wants. So he's cautious, not wanting to go over the edge he's on, wanting desperately to hold out longer. His adam's apples bobs as he swallows wetly and gasps out, mouth lulling open.

"Y, yes, Yuuri,"

He was already trying to find the air to take it back, to say he didn't mean to say something like that, that Victor doesn't have to. But then he's shuddering like that, and Yuuri can't help but moan at the way his muscles tighten around him and then Victor is actually, honest-to-god, doing what he told him to and he nearly can't even do it in his haste.

Every time Yuuri thinks that he can't sink deeper into this, that he's at least used to how Victor makes him feel, he goes and sets another record. Yuuri's almost whimpering, watching him skirt the edge, or at least look like he is, biting his lip and struggling for air. His fingers are going to leave bruises, small ones, where they're clenched on Victor's hips, and he feels his own struggle to keep going wash over him, the way Victor says his name, says yes to him.

He keens and it's a near thing, but he hangs on by his fingertips and by grace of already having come twice and keeps going, instead, movements turning rougher.

There's only one reason to hold back now and it's to make this feeling last. This feeling of being right there, just waiting to spill over, knowing the moment of no return was quick approaching but staving it off ever so slightly. His fingers grip tight to his cock, prostate flaring so much that the contact of his hand needed to hold him back not work him up. Yuuri doesn't look far off and the frantic increase in pace is telling. Victor's thighs move fast and hard, meeting Yuuri's dick with a loud slap of skin. He's yelling the younger man's name loud and lewd, like he's trying to be heard by the floor above (and probably is).

"I, I'm close..! Yuuri! Yuuri, come, I-I want you to-- I'm going to--"

He loves this. He's got no idea what strange alchemy is making this possible, where he's both so far out of his head that there's no room for fear and where Victor's seen him at his absolute, dead bottom worst and still wants to take him there. He's still in wonder at all of it, maybe always will be. It's completely exhilarating and he's swept up in it.

"Please. Please... god... Please, Victor, please," he's laughing, just a little, less an actual laugh and more just a desperate, hysterical edge to his words, too much to hold under his skin. He doesn't know what he's begging for, even, with both of them barely hanging on like this, just knows that he wants more, more of this, more of Victor, more of seeing Victor like this and knowing...

It's because of him. He's doing this. Him. Him. Victor's head's all but lolling on his shoulders and he looks frantic, undone and he did that. He did that. He did that.

He digs his hands into Victor's skin and all but screams his way through another orgasm, back bowed and head thrown back on the pillow, as unselfconscious as Victor had been just a few moments before.

The begging really does Victor in, on the emotional front. Yuuri coming inside him again, filling him when he already felt so full, finishes him off physically. His own orgasm is happening without any more delay, hand unclasping his own cock. His release is in part on himself and on Yuuri, cock pumping three thick, white ropes of semen. His moan is deep and feral beneath the sound of Yuuri crying out, teeth grit before his jaw slacks again. All of him slacks, like he got unplugged, which is sort of what he feels like. His chest bobs with exertion, arms flat at his side's and butt sitting heavy in Yuuri's lap. There's some intense satisfaction in the feeling of Yuuri's softening cock still inside him.

He looks from Yuuri, where his eyes had been glued the whole time, up at the ceiling. Blue eyes are glassy like he's looking for an answer in the wall paper how did he find someone who makes him feel this good and how does he keep him?. There is, of course, no answer to be found and he snaps out of that within a second. There's a deep want to drink in Yuuri's expression, hoping it's as blissful as he was feeling.

"Yuuri..?" He's not quite sure what he's questioning, maybe he's just curious, maybe he just wants to hear that Yuuri's okay and that scream wasn't actually terror. Maybe he just wanted to say Yuuri's name again and his voice lilted upward at the end entirely on accident. Victor sure isn't certain, anymore, brain much too foggy.

It takes Yuuri a minute to come back to himself, blink his eyes fully back open again, and then a bit longer to focus them. Fucked incoherent is a good look on him, particularly painted in Victor's cum. He keeps reaching new levels of looking relaxed and open, afterwards, dazed.

"Victor," he's barely even aware he's spoken, that's how automatic the response to his name is, and Victor's name comes out rough around the edges from all the noise he's been making, but laced heavy in wonder, still, like even unspooled and sated, he can't quite believe this is real.

Before, though, there was an edge to that-- that it couldn't be real because he didn't deserve it, because he is who he is, not someone worthy to have it. Now, it's an almost giddy disbelief, so much of everything he's ever wanted that he can't wrap his head around it. He reaches up and pushes Victor's hair out of his eyes and the gesture is achingly tender-- all the moreso after the bruises his fingers are leaving behind.

When Yuuri reaches for his hair, brushing his messy bangs to one side, Victor reaches up to meet him. His long, porcelain white fingers cradle Yuuri's hand and he pushes his face into it, craving the affectionate touch like it's water in a desert. Everything barren feels like it's ready to bloom and Victor's heart kind of hurts with attachment. He shouldn't be falling so completely for Yuuri so rapidly, but he's hitting maximum velocity, not knowing when he's going to hit rock bottom. This isn't what he does, he doesn't fall in love with people, they have fun together and they go away. He goes back to what he knows and that's skating. He's afraid all he's going to return to on the ice now is pining.

"Ты нужна мне всё больше... и больше," he said it before and it stood repeating, even if just for Victor's sake.

Before, there was enough happening that the Russian was just a smear of syllables, but now, he recognizes enough to know that it's a sentence, something directed at him. He doesn't realize it's the same thing he said before, nor does he know enough Russian to even take a guess but there's something about the tone.

"That's pretty," his voice is still frayed around the edges. He likes the way it sounds, like he can hear Victor, what they've been doing, in himself. He wants to ask what it means, but he also doesn't-- it sounds intimate, private, and something about that makes his chest warm.

He runs his thumb over Victor's lower lip and, even though they've been kissing and Victor's mouth's been all over him, it's the first time he's deliberately touched his face when it wasn't to pull him in for more kissing. Everything feels open, raw, but at least right now, none of that feels scary or uncomfortable. Everything is just... quiet. Calm.

The thumb to his lip gets a playful kiss, Victor smiling as his shoulders tense upward, like he saw something too cute to hide the reaction. He's also giddy, heart warm, swollen up in his chest like it might burst from excitement. His hands stays on Yuuri's and he'll swivel his head some, pressing a romantically slow kiss to the soft of the man's wrist. Striking blue eyes travel down Yuuri's forearm until they reach and lock lidded gazes. The expression really does look like he could say I love you at any moment and it would match. He won't, Victor has good enough judgement to know, even in his fogginess that that would be TOO MUCH. Still, he can look it, he can express it without saying it.

"I'll tell you what it means, someday," he'll tease, wanting to leave Yuuri room for wonder and intrigue. Don't get sick of him, before he can tell the secret.

Yuuri shivers a little and his eyes go even softer at the kiss, returning that look. Unlike Victor, who knows the words and doesn't want to say them, Yuuri doesn't have a name yet for the feeling settling in his chest. Oh, he knows he loves Victor, but he loves him the way that he's loved him since before he could even really skate. That doesn't feel like this. This is new.

He wants to tell Victor he doesn't have to tell him, but something about the tone tells him that Victor's saying more there than just the words, though he can't pick up on what. Still, he grins instead, bright and open,

"Okay. Don't forget."

He's not sure what to do, now, really just wants to sit right here, in this moment, forever. So he doesn't say anything else right away, just strokes Victor's face some more, marvels all over again that he gets to, that he gets any of this.

"I won't..." Victor will promise, his eyes fluttering shut at the touch. He feels so damn at ease, such comfort emotionally, and satisfaction in every other way. That is, until he shifts a bit and his face goes pink to remember he still had Yuuri inside of him. He'll chuckle quietly, shivering somewhat to slide the man's cock from him, all wet and soft. There's a considerable amount of lube and cum slipping down his thighs, now. It's equal parts sexy and embarrassing, so he'll look to Yuuri with a crooked smile.

"...now let's have that bath," he'll pat Yuuri's shoulders, swinging his legs off the man, a bit wobbly from sensation, muscles flaring in small bursts all the way down to his ankles.

Yuuri makes a little noise when Victor lifts up and he slides out of him, all aftershocks and wet sliding. It draws his brain out of the clouds and back down to hear and now, like a switch flipping from everything being emotional and esoteric to remembering he has a body and they're both covered in each other's fluids and, weirdly (at least to him), it's just as good. He gets the air punched out of him just as much as he did a minute ago with Victor all sweet and beaming love straight at him, when Victor shifts and he can see the wetness between his thighs.

He did that.

He wants to do that all over again right now, suddenly.

Endurance and youth aside, that's a bit much, even for him, obviously, but it flickers hot across his face for a moment right before Victor suggests the bath. He agrees with a nod right away, though he looks a little hesitant about trying to actually make it down to the foot or side of the bed to put his feet on the ground. Muscles are starting to protest and fatigue is starting to set in. Still, he knows all of that will be better in the heat of the water. He can't help but laugh, though,

"Now I'm the one who's not sure if I can make it there," on a good day, no problem, but he's still pre-exhausted from everything else that's been happening. Even so, he starts at least trying to head that way.

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