
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8963350.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Choose_Not_To_Use_Archive_Warnings, Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Victor_Nikiforov/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Victor_Nikiforov, Yuri_Plisetsky
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, Implied/Referenced_Underage_Sex, hello_i_wrote_something
      fucking_harsh, maybe_some_lowkey_worship_kink_kinda_thing, look_i_dont
      know_and_i_dont_wanna_go_into_it
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-23 Words: 1322
****** Truly Beautiful ******
by 3dgy
Summary
     Victor's performances are /exciting/.
Notes
     I feel like I'm gonna have very few contributions to this fandom, but
     here is one. As always, it's absolute garbage. Because I ship the
     only thing that has no realistic chance of happening. Amazing. You
     can congratulate me then print this thing out 20 times, push it down
     my throat and suffocate me with it.
Victor’s skating truly is beautiful.
 
Yuri doesn’t remember how long it has been since he found out about him and
started obsessing over him, but there’s anecdotal stories about his mania when
he was a little kid. It must have been a long time. Of course, then he got to
know the real Victor and the moment arrived when he had to delete the pictures
on his phone and pack up his poster collection in some remote corner of his
room. Pack up an not throw away - because he likes looking at them, despite
having to pretend he doesn’t. He wonders if another fan of Victor’s would act
the same way, hide in shame and put up a tough face, or if it’s just him being
so pitiful.
 
But more than the posters, he Yuri likes seeing Victor on TV, and his heart
skips a beat every time he’s surfing channels and he accidentally spots his
idol. He looks so detached and almost beyond this world that Yuri is prompted
to forget they’ve met in person. That magic is more subtle in person, it hides
well behind Victor’s calm demeanor along with the tiredness. His energy seems
to come back only the moment his skate touches the ice, barely, as if he’s
flying above it.
 
Yuri’s eyes go wide as he forgets to breathe during the evening of the Grand
Prix Final - and many other evenings, in fact. He often watches from his room,
not even the small and slightly blurry screen of his TV ruining the experience.
He prays his grandfather doesn’t enter, though, because that most certainly
would.
 
If someone didn’t know Victor was a skater when meeting him, they would
probably miss out on an entire side of him. It’s an unreachable level of
perfection, something Yuri knows he, himself will never achieve despite all his
efforts, and yet he will keep trying out of reverence. Victor does a flip on
the screen and Yuri is anxious, even though he  knows  it will turn out
perfect, a bit like children’s movies that all have a happy ending but are
exciting nonetheless. It goes as expected, perfect and gracious. Despite the
camera not zooming on his face, Yuri can see the ease in his expression, his
blue eyes half-lidded and at peace. Victor’s hair isn’t long anymore; he had a
change in image in the past year and cut it short. That light blonde colour
hinting at silver is barely visible anymore.
 
Yuri finds himself wondering about things that go beyond the limits of a
healthy admiration. In fact, he’s glad those  things  only occur in his head
with no real life repercussion. Victor glides across the ice, movements
smoother than any kind of dance, and for a second Yuri ponders on whether these
are the only moments when he’s really himself. He’s a world champion, so
naturally, the sport must mean something to him, but at this point, Victor is
one with his skating. His skating is him and he is his skating. But Yuri’s mind
is ultimately swayed from what he sees concretely, because what if Victor let
this side of him come out on other occasions too? This pure, cold, perfect and
ruthless side of him? Yuri furrows his brows, disapproving of himself as he’s
not concentrating on the performance at all anymore.
 
Victor would treat his lovers like he treats the ice, bruising their body and
soul gently, just like his blades leave a barely perceptible mark as he skates.
With the same grace exhibited by his movements he would sweettalk them, fill
their heads with cryptic words that sound like poetry until they are
deciphered, and then all that’s left is cruel amusement, intrigue at most. He’d
be in control. He’d hold the reins so firmly he wouldn’t need intimidation
tactics. Being touched by Victor would be a favour on his part, it would be
like being touched by a god who has no patience for neediness.
 
Yuri gasps, covering his mouth quickly to prevent more sounds from escaping
him. His hand is trembling as it grips his cock; he’s still reluctant, because
he should be thinking about a girl in this moment, and because Victor is his
senior and his role model and this is fucked-up beyond repair. Then he rethinks
and curls up a corner of his mouth in defeat - no woman, no  anything  compares
to Victor, he’s on a different level of existence altogether. Yuri imagines his
cold fingers - maybe he’d run them through his hair as an illusion of being
considerate, - they’d be freezing and almost lifeless from the low temperature
in the ice rink. Still, Victor’s grip would be firm - Yuri squeezes himself
harder and whimpers into his other hand, trying to imagine a bigger palm
instead of his own, with fingers more spindly and long.
 
He’d let Victor do whatever. At this point, he has learned that sometimes he
has to compromise on his pride to succeed, and he’s positive that dignity would
be the least of his worries if his idol so much as cast a suggestive glance at
him. Scenarios fill his head as he strokes his cock faster and faster,
scenarios of Victor pulling him to a side after practice when everyone left,
only to push him against a wall and smile along so peacefully with the force of
the shove. Or he’d step behind him in the changing room and wrap an arm around
him, reminding him faux-casually how there’s no one there to hear them.
 
Yuri would let Victor molest him, tease him in public and embarrass him, and
he’d get off on feeling abused, like he’s getting off on it now. The drops of
precum on his hand are proof enough. He feels sick of himself and he knows he
won’t be able to look the other man in the eye for a while, but right now all
his thoughts are directed at the imaginary presence of Victor’s body around and
inside of his. Yuri feels himself approaching his orgasm, so he thinks of the
most obscene thing to cross his mind. Victor grabbing him by the hips and
entering him, nails digging into his skin. He’d fuck him from behind, not
caring much about seeing Yuri’s face. His breathing would speed up, but he
wouldn’t even groan or let out a sound. He’d lack commitment entirely. Yuri, on
the other hand, would be a mess, sobbing and begging, and Victor would grant
his wish, but only as much as it satisfies him as well. And it would be even
colder and more methodical than the measured force in his quads, and he’d smile
and be brutal and crude at the same time, and  God , Yuri can almost feel the
breaths behind his nape, feel the cock in his ass, hear the whispers -
Yuretchka, Yuretchka, are you feeling good?  - and Victor is  everywhere  and
Victor is  everything -...
 
Yuri comes, blinking away an inadvertent tear of frustration, semen splattering
on his bedsheets. He keeps jerking off, remaining in bliss for as long as he
can - better make the best out of the situation since he’s sunk to such a low.
The audience on TV is clapping. Victor - the actual one, not Yuri’s fictitious
lover - is getting incredible scores, he broke his own record once again. Yuri
forgets about cleaning up for a few minutes, his eyes fixated on the screen.
Victor is an admirable person, his skating truly is beautiful. He raises his
medal in victory on the podium, and he gives a short interview a few moments
later. His skin is glistening with sweat in an incredibly human way, he looks
absolutely exhausted but in a good mood nonetheless.  Content , Yuri thinks as
he turns off the TV,  normal . The real Victor, so much more ordinary than he
likes to imagine him and so  infinitely  far away from everything Yuri could
ever be.
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