
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8942821.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Victor_Nikiforov/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Victor_Nikiforov
  Additional Tags:
      Intercrural_Sex, Oral_Sex, Age_Difference, Praise_Kink, takes_place
      during_ep_3, bittersweet_angst, canon-compliant_for_the_most_part, and
      all_that_implies
  Collections:
      Yuletide_2016
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-25 Words: 3197
****** on love: longing ******
by labocat
Summary
     Unable to grasp agape, Yuri tries another tactic to try and win
     Victor back over to his side so that they can leave this whole thing
     behind and return to Russia. Like it should have been from the
     beginning.
“Yurio, you need a clearer image of agape, it’s just not coming through in your
skating.”
Yuri tried not to wheel around, not to bare his teeth and glare. Victor had
choreographed a program for Yuri, just like he’d promised. Just like Yuri had
made him promise. But it was this stupid, gooey, pure love. It was the sort of
thing better suited to children and idiots, like the Japanese Yuri, the pig
struggling with eros.
Yuri wished Victor had assigned eros to him; he knows he could skate it, far
better than the other Yuri could. He already had female fans - how hard could
it be to skate a program based on sensuality? Surely it would be easier than
trying to grasp some stupid, intangible concept like selfless love.
Besides, wasn’t love and sex all about getting the other person to fall for you
and be yours? It didn’t sound very selfless to Yuri, and no amount of temples
would change that. No matter what Victor thought.
Victor. Yuri tried not to grind his teeth again at the thought of him. If he’d
just remembered his promise to Yuri in the first place, they wouldn’t even be
here. They’d be back in St. Petersburg at their home rink, Victor would be
coaching Yuri and there would be no doubt in anyone’s mind who was going to get
a gold medal in his first year in the senior division of the Grand Prix. It
should have been his season.
It should have been a lot of things.
He’d idolized Victor from the beginning, from the days when he was barely old
enough to stand upright on his own skates. He’d started skating because of
Victor - a national hero from his own city. He was a star on the ice and
captivated the hearts and imaginations of millions. He had the entire world in
his hands.
Yuri wanted to feel like that, just once.
He’d become obsessed with the idea of skating alongside Victor, of catching his
eye and captivating him to the point that Victor had no other choice but to
coach him and help him become the next powerhouse of figure skating. Victor’s
career was basically at its end anyway; Yuri would help him live longer and
intertwine their legends.
They would be amazing together.
Then that stupid nobody from Japan had to go and ruin it. And then Yuri found
himself in Japan, entirely taken in but determined to get Victor back and get
him to come back to Russia. To show him what he was missing.
He needed more than agape to do so.
The idea wouldn’t leave his mind: when he was supposed to be thinking of agape,
he found himself instead thinking of ways to better prove to Victor he was the
better investment. Not just the better skater but more nuanced and open
training than anyone else.
And so he found himself outside Victor’s room at the inn one night, clad only
in a shirt three sizes too big for him. He knocked softly on the doorframe,
aware of the fact that just down the hall was the Japanese Yuri’s room. He knew
the Japanese Yuri idolized Victor too, with his too-obvious gazes when he
thought Victor wasn’t looking.
It was that idot’s own fault he wasn’t willing to grab what he wanted like Yuri
was. Yuri - the right Yuri - would get there first. He’d get Victor to come
back to him. He would make sure of it.
When Victor opened the door, it was clear he’d just started to fall asleep: his
hair was mussed and his eyes were hooded. His pajama pants rode low on his
hips, a perfect gateway for Yuri to set his opening move.
He moved in past the doorway, hip brushing against Victor’s as he did and
smirking at the bemused look in Victor’s eyes as he tried to place why Yuri
would be in the hallway outside his room this late at night.
“I need some help.” It was rare Yuri made plans, so it was thrilling to see
them actually work out, to see the unguarded expressions cross Victor’s face:
first confusion, then delight, then back to confusion as he tried to piece
together what was in front of him.
“I would be more than happy to help, but wouldn’t this be better done in the
morning?”
“Not the sort of help I have in mind.” Yuri moved closer, letting one hand
reach out to Victor’s hip. “I don’t think this would be very comfortable on the
ice.”
He knew when Victor finally caught the thread of what he was implying as heat
flashed in his eyes before they cooled and closed off. “Yurio, you don’t mean
this. You are simply having a perfectly normal creative block.” He tried to
draw away, but Yuri moved in to crowd him against the door. “We can talk
through this in the morning when you’ve had a chance to sleep on it.”
“I don’t want to sleep on it, I want to sleep with you.”
Victor’s face drew closed before he breathed out, a light smile the fakeness of
Yuri hadn’t seen since his last interview. “Oh! If that’s all, that’s no
problem. I can get you a robe and some pants and it’ll be like a sleepover! If
you missed having people around like in the dorms, you should’ve just said so!”
Yuri couldn’t suppress the urge to slam his hand against the door. “Don’t play
with me; I’m in the senior division now, I’m not a child anymore. You know
perfectly well what I mean and what I want and I think you want it too.” He
moved forward to further crowd Victor into the door and sure enough, when his
hips met Victor’s, there was a slight hardness there to answer his own.
“I don’t think you know what you’re doing. I remember being your age: you’re
young and confused and everything seems like a good idea and you have so many
desires, but you don’t have to follow all of them. We can still just go to bed
and it’ll all be fine in the morni-”
“No! I know what I want and I won’t let you run away or weasel out of it like
you have everything else you’ve promised me. I’ll show you: you made the wrong
decision giving eros to that katsudon idiot instead of me.”
With that, he dropped to his knees, hands grabbing at Victor’s pajama pants and
grinning sharply at how he felt Victor’s hands go to his shoulders and stay
there. They weren’t pulling him in, but they weren’t pushing him away either.
Progress.
“Yurio…,” Victor started, before Yuri broke in, growling, “don’t call me that.”
The force of Victor’s sigh actually ruffled his hair, but it meant Victor was
looking down at him. Watching him. Yuri’s thumbs started to circle Victor’s
hipbones, not stopping even as Victor spoke. “You’re still too young, too new
to really get to dictate what your fans will call you, no matter how many years
you’ve been in the juniors division. The senior division is a whole new world
you’re not ready for yet.”
Each word from Victor’s lips made Yuri want to seal them and keep them from
talking, and although he couldn’t do it directly, he knew another way of
distracting someone.
All at once, he pulled down Victor’s pajama pants from where they rested and
buried his face in the juncture of thigh and cock, nuzzling at the growing
hardness there. He paused, waiting to see what Victor would do, but all he
heard was strained breaths, all he felt was fingers digging into his shoulder.
He could do this. No matter who Victor had had before, Yuri was the one on his
knees before him now, the one whose slight breathing over Victor’s cock was
making his hands tremble and fight against a reaction.
“I know you remember the dorms. Twelve years isn’t so long ago for that much to
have changed. You know the sort of things that happen there, the sort of things
you learn,” Yuri said, breathing each word over Victor’s cock and relishing in
the tremors they produced.
“You don’t...know,” Victor hissed out through his teeth and, for a moment, Yuri
saw red. Even now, even like this, Victor was trying to tell him he didn’t
understand? That he wasn’t old enough? Mature enough?
“I know plenty.” He’d show Victor. And with that, he darted his head forward
and sucked Victor down, as far as he could take.
Immediately, he had to stop himself from going further or pulling back. Victor
was nothing like the furtive blowjobs traded in the dorms after lights-out. He
was long, longer than Yuri had realized until he was too far to back off. He
would not admit defeat. Especially not now that Victor’s hands had moved from
his shoulders to his head, still neither pulling nor pushing, and Yuri had to
do something so that Victor would make up his mind.
Taking a deep breath to try to calm his racing heart, Yuri pushed forward
slightly, hollowing his cheeks to make up for the way his eyes watered when
Victor pushed at the back of his throat. He’d do this, and show Victor that he
had eros to spare.
He could feel Victor’s hands shake and clench at his hair as he did his best to
work Victor’s cock into his mouth, deeper and deeper.
“Yurio,” he heard from above from, in that tentative, almost gentle tone, and
that was it, that was the last straw. He pulled back, glaring up at Victor.
“Stop calling me that! Stop looking down on me, like I’m not as good or won’t
surpass you one day! You promised me something that I’m here to collect, no
matter what I have to do!” he all but shouted, remembering at the last minute
that this wasn’t Russia, with its concrete walls but a house where some of the
walls and doors were made of paper. This was going to be his advantage and he’d
be damned if he’d give that pig any clue on how to advance.
He’d watched Victor on the ice in both competition and practice, knew how
easily he could switch from one emotion to another. He’d always felt it as less
of a flow and more of a switch, that deliberate shaping of his presence no less
smooth for its drasticness. But nothing prepared him for the way Victor’s eyes
sharpened and narrowed or the way Victor’s hand buried in his hair, dragging
him forward. He had the briefest moment to think, “finally” before he was all
but choking on Victor’s cock again.
“If you really think this will help, far be it from me to stop you.” Yuri’s lip
would have curled at Victor’s tone if they hadn’t been too stretched wrapped
around the length in his mouth. So instead he sucked harder, breathed deeper,
tried moving his tongue in lengths he never would have gone for his dormmates.
They were pathetic, needing only a few minutes or a few tugs before they’d
spend. Nothing like the way Victor murmured, “so eager for it, aren’t you? So
eager to do anything to win. So eager and quick to take on the world. So eager
to throw yourself away to win.”
Yuri tried to bare his teeth, to warn Victor that he went too far, since the
grip of Victor’s hand kept him from pulling off at spitting out a retort
himself. But he was stopped by Victor’s hand, so much larger than his own and
likely larger than his own would ever be, spanning his throat and cheek, thumb
pressing oh-so-lightly on where his Adam’s apple would emerge and become more
prominent. He gagged slightly, breathing through his nose as Victor stroked his
face.
“But so good. So delicate, so willing to be shaped and to bend. You could be
anything, and you’re choosing to be this. You truly are a wonder, Yuri
Plisetsky.”
He knew he was; he’d come here to prove it, but somehow hearing the words, with
Victor’s cock in his mouth and his hand in his hair made Yuri shake and close
his eyes against the heat there. He’d already been melted down and shaped by so
many others; the only one who hadn’t was the one he wanted most to claim him
and take him higher. He clung more tightly to Victor’s hips as he tried again
to force more down his throat. Finally, Victor pulled his head away, swiping
his thumb across Yuri’s bottom lip, which felt so hot and so swollen from being
stretched for so long. His jaw hurt, but he welcomed the ache, taking it in as
a sign that he was able to meet Victor on the same level and bridge the gap
between them.
“You don’t realize just how lovely you are, do you?” Victor murmured, softly
enough that Yuri wondered if he was truly meant to hear that, even as it sent a
shiver through him. He wasn’t supposed to be lovely; he was supposed to be
fierce, but the image of Victor at 16, eleven years ago, his long hair ethereal
and lovely - truly lovely - wouldn’t leave Yuri’s mind. He wanted to be there,
be that captivating. He wanted to be even beyond that.
He grabbed Victor’s wrist, pulling his hand away from his mouth as he stood.
Even standing, Victor’s gaze was so far away, and Yuri wondered if he’d ever be
as tall as Victor was when he reached his growth spurts, wondered how much he’d
have to alter his routines and his jump and spin balance to account for gained
height and muscle tone. Being short and being tall would both be problems, but
for now he was small and lithe and dragging Victor to the bed like a siren.
Yuri fell back on the bed, not even bothering to try and arrange himself in an
alluring position but instead pulling Victor down with him with pressing
urgency, pulling Victor’s hand down his body, skimming his erection and balls
in favor of putting Victor’s fingers at his hole, which he’d cursorily
prepared. He knew he wasn’t properly prepared, but if he knew Victor half as
well as he thought he did, Victor wouldn’t dare fuck him without preparing him
fully and that the lube he’d smeared around his hole would go far in convincing
Victor that he was aware of his choices and what he was asking for. He was
young, not stupid.
If it felt like a victory, a little like landing a jump cleanly, to see the way
Victor’s eyes widened and his pupils dilated at the feeling of Yuri’s slick
hole, it felt like a fall, a proper sprawl, to feel Victor’s hand pull away and
see him shake his head no.
The “why won’t you fuck me, you bastard,” was almost out of Yuri’s lips before
Victor put his hand over his mouth.
“No,” he said. “No.
“You have practice tomorrow. Have you skated, knowing that every time you
lifted your leg, every time you jumped, you would feel the twinge, the ache of
having had someone deep inside you before? No. You aren't ready. Not yet.” The
firmness in Victor’s tone felt almost like a promise, but Yuri knew what to do
with Victor’s promises.
He started to roll out of the bed, angry and hurt, before Victor’s hands
clamped down on his wrists. “I said I wouldn’t fuck you, but why are you so
eager to give up? Surely you aren’t so young to think that’s the only thing two
men can do. I know the dorms can’t have changed so much,” Victor said, his
voice washing over Yuri’s red face, stilling his limbs into a semblance of
acquiescence masking ignorance. Whatever Victor would do to him, he would take.
He would take it and succeed.
He didn’t protest or even react when Victor rolled him to his side, nor when he
felt Victor’s hand gather the lubricant he’d tried to prepare with and smear it
on the inside of his thighs. Not even when Victor’s cock slipped between them,
bumping the back of his sack and sending stars up and down his spine. But when
Victor began to thrust shallowly, palming Yuri’s cock at the same time, he
couldn’t help but throw his head back.
“There we go. That’s beautiful. You’re so expressive, so open, but you’re
guarding something, aren’t you?” Victor was whispering in his ear, each breath
making Yuri shudder and whimper and twist in his grasp, chasing the friction of
Victor between his legs and Victor’s hand on his cock.
“When you truly open up on the ice, you’ll captivate everyone. You think you
know how to perform on the ice, but no one’s seen this, have they? No one’s
seen you let go, how stunning it is when you do.”
Yuri really wished Victor would stop talking; his blood wouldn’t stop fizzing
at every word that poured from Victor’s lips in an unending stream, and it made
it impossible to focus, even on the friction he was trying to chase. He could
feel himself falling apart, his body trying to contain something too big for
it, and he knew he was here for a purpose, for a reason that he couldn’t keep a
hold of.
Through the haze, the fractured rainbows he could see dancing behind his
scrunched-shut eyes, he could tell Victor was smiling that stupid, know-it-all
smile through his tone as he said, “someday you’ll find someone to give you
this, to let you express this on and off the ice. They’ll help you let go and
reach your potential. They’ll find you this beautiful.”
It was supposed to be you, Yuri tried to say, but the only sound that made it
out was a sharp cry as he came, the shock of it ricocheting through him as he
curled in on himself and felt Victor follow.
It wiped him out, the anger and frission from earlier washed clean away. He was
exhausted, from the skating and the long day and the run after dinner and even
though he knew he should stay awake, he couldn’t help but drift off. As he did,
he thought he felt Victor stroke his hair, saying, “find those you want to
protect and they’ll protect your heart in return. Then you can open up.”
When he came to, he was alone - Victor had wiped him down and pulled the covers
up over him. Of course, he was nowhere to be seen. Yuri knew that the idiot had
gone to the room where Yuri was supposed to be sleeping, rather than risk
waking Yuri carrying him to his room. He kicked out, tangling himself in the
covers as he wrapped them and his frustration around himself like a cocoon.
Victor would regret underestimating him and showing him pity. He’d show him;
he’d skate agape better than Victor ever could and he’d still have the best
senior debut, no matter what.
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