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Victor was halfway into his coat and scarf when Yuuri grabbed him by the hand and attempted to pull him back into their makeout session. They’d just spent the last half hour or so loving on each other and getting thoroughly disheveled and turned on, but despite it being a rest day, Victor had several interviews lined up for this particular afternoon and had to stop things to get ready. Despite Yuuri’s frequent attempts to stall him, he was finally dressed and fit to be seen in public. This was not what Yuuri wanted, though. He wanted Victor undressed and back on the couch to resume their activities, or perhaps in the bedroom to take them further.
Yuuri gave his best doe eyes and held Victor’s hand while the latter slipped into his shoes. Victor took one look and laughed, knowing that any other day, he’d be melting. “Baby, I have to go. I’m gonna be late.” He pulled his hand away gently, but Yuuri just took the opportunity to slip his arms around his fiance’s neck.
“Just wait! You’re forgetting something!”
“I have every—“ Yuuri silenced Victor with a slow and deliciously tender kiss. His arms remained locked together behind the Russian’s neck to keep him from leaving. Victor sighed into the kiss and reflexively put his hands on Yuuri’s waist. A minute of this was all he could indulge in, though. If he didn’t leave right then, the sponsors would be all over him for his misconduct. Still, the man in front of him was simply irresistible, especially since it was so uncommon for him to be this affectionate when Victor was only going to be gone for a few hours.
Victor pulled away and tried to loosen Yuuri’s grip, succumbing to the Japanese man’s soft pink lips several times while he did so. “That’s…I can’t…Mmh…take that with me.”
Yuuri looked up at Victor through his eyelashes and touched their noses together, inviting another kiss. “You can reschedule.”
“I’ve already rescheduled this interview twice,” Victor said, half strained and half incredulous. From Victor’s pocket, the alarm on his phone signaled that the driver was downstairs already. He groaned and stepped out of Yuuri’s embrace, but Yuuri kept hold of his hands once more. “Baby, I have to go!” he laughed.
“Just one more!” Chocolate-brown eyes flecked with cinnamon and mahogany and filled with want looked back at Victor from under long, dark lashes. Victor sighed and resigned himself to the one card he knew would get him out of any trouble. He had only used it once before, but its powerful effects would buy him time to regroup before he came home later in the evening.
With a fond sigh, Victor looked deep in Yuuri’s eyes, letting all the love and adoration for his fiance shine through for a moment, taking the younger man off-guard. He brought his hands up to cup Yuuri’s cheeks and let his gaze flick down to his lips before pressing his own to them. With practiced motions, he backed Yuuri into the wall and gave him a thorough and devoted kiss, one that left them both slightly flushed and breathing hard. When they separated, Yuuri was speechless. Victor left one more soft peck on his mouth and said, “Anata, I really have to go. I’ll be home in a few hours. I love you.”
If Yuuri’s eye could have gotten any wider, they would have. Victor used endearments all the time, but never in Japanese. That kind of pet name was really only used between long-time serious couples, and they both knew as such. Victor’s use of it was wonderfully surprising and rendered Yuuri weak to do anything. He only just managed to say, “O-Okay. Have a good time,” before Victor left, brushing his hair back into place and adjusting his scarf over his grin as he went. Yuuri shut the door and slid down it onto the floor, where he remained in a puddle until he could calm down from the overwhelming happiness he felt.
~+~
Another tiring day at the rink had Yuuri bundled on the sofa in blankets and sweaters. He relished in the warmth and sipped a hot cup of his favorite green tea, unwinding from a long practice and even longer video conference with a potential sponsor. From the bedroom, Victor could be heard shuffling around in the closet. He called to Yuuri, his voice muffled by the distance and the sheer amount of clothes surrounding him. “Have you seen my new red sweatshirt? I could have sworn I just put it away a few days ago.”
Yuuri grinned and snuggled deeper into his nest, a red hood visible behind his head. “Yeah, it’s out here.”
There was silence and then Victor poked his head out of their room. “You’re wearing it, aren’t you?” he asked suspiciously.
“Sorry not sorry.” Victor stepped into the living room and ran a hand through his hair, still damp from his shower a few minutes ago.
“Well then I demand payment,” he said, “in the form of cuddles and your undivided attention.”
Yuuri rolled his eyes and wiggled his arms out of the nest, holding them out in invitation. He was such a sucker for cuddles with Victor. As much as he enjoyed a nest of blankets, his furnace of a fiance only made it more cozy. Win-win situation.
Said furnace of a fiance practically toppled over the arm of the sofa into Yuuri’s lap. He put a quick kiss on his fiance's cheek and lay his head on pillowy thighs and a pile of cotton and fleece. As if my muscle memory, Yuuri immediately brushed Victor’s silver hair away from his eyes, stroking his forehead in small, slow motions. It was the same way Hiroko had done for Yuuri himself when he was very young. It always made him feel safe and loved.
Victor just loved being touched. If humans could purr, Victor would have been an engine right now. He closed his eyes and sighed contentedly, letting his mind clear and his muscles relax.
The two of them sat like that in silence for a while. Yuuri ran his fingers over Victor’s face and through his hair, gently untangling the damp locks and setting them in place. Victor let him, his own mind free of anything but the sensation of Yuuri’s cool fingers. After a few minutes, Yuuri broke the silence with a kiss to his Russian’s hairline and a question.
“So how was your day, Vitenka?” he asked softly.
Victor’s eyes snapped open. The ice-blue in them startled Yuuri after so many moments of looking at silver hair and pale skin. They searched his face for something undeterminable, and, finding nothing, he squeezed them shut again. A fine pink blush rose on his high cheekbones. He covered his face with his hands to hide it.
Yuuri tried to pull them away out of concern, but Victor wouldn’t yield. He nearly panicked at his fiance’s reaction. Had the day really been so terrible that Victor couldn’t look him in the eye? Was he so ashamed of the progress he had made on the ice that day? Yuuri tried again. “Victor? What happened? Is everything okay? I know you’ve been struggling with landing quad lutz lately, but I’m sure--”
Victor abruptly held up one hand to stop Yuuri before he started babbling. “Where did you learn that word?” he asked slightly muffled from behind his other hand.
“What word?” Yuuri wracked his brain for what was wrong with his question. Nothing.
“You didn’t call me Vitya.”
“Oh.” Yuuri realized. “No. I didn’t.”
Victor looked up at him through his fingers. “So where did you learn that word?”
“Oh, god, I accidentally pronounced it wrong, didn’t I? I thought I had it right when I heard it from—“
“From?”
“From Mila.” Mila Babicheva was a genius mischief-maker, a talented artist and a little sister to both Yuuri and Victor. She had mentioned to Yuuri in passing a few weeks ago that should the opportunity ever arise, there were more diminutives for Victor, and they all had different connotations. The gentlest and by far the most lovely was Vitenka. She vehemently assured that if he ever used it, Victor would be putty in his hands. Yurio had confirmed when Yuuri asked for his opinion and then pretended to retch into a trash can. Yuuri hadn’t meant to use it just now, but his fiance looked so beautiful and serene that the nickname slipped out.
“Mila.” Victor sat up slowly and turned to face Yuuri, reaching out to slide his hand into dark hair. “Remind me to send her flowers,” he whispered desperately before he pulled Yuuri into a kiss.
Mila got a giant bouquet of lilies and a kiss on the cheek from Victor the next day. She giggled and pulled one out for Yurio, who looked back and forth between her and Victor. When he saw the satisfied smile on Victor’s face and the very obvious hickey underneath Yuuri’s collar, he threw it on the ground and grimaced, shouting, “Keep it in your pants, old man! DAMN!”
~+~
“That was splendid!”
Victor shouted from the sideline of the rink, his arms raised in victory. Once Yuuri was clear of their rinkmates and had let his momentum carry him a few feet, his coach skated over clapping his gloved hands together. Yuuri smiled but ducked his head. Victor could be a tough coach, demanding and exhausting, but he never gave out praise that wasn’t deserved. A few weeks of practice on the quad salchow had finally paid off, and he could now land it more than 75% of the time.
“I dunno. I felt a little shaky on the landing.”
“Trust me, that was near perfect. We still have plenty of time to work on it, as well, if it feels off. You’re doing wonderfully today, darling.”
“Thank you, Vitya.” Yuuri wiped the thin sheen of sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm. They’d been practicing jumps all morning, and even the famous Katsuki stamina needed a rest. “Do you mind if I take a break?”
Victor gave him a once-over, looking for obvious signs of fatigue. With kind eyes, he nodded. “Of course. Get yourself some water, and if you want to you can do those figures you like or take an early lunch.” Suddenly, the dulcet sounds of ‘On Love: Eros’ cut through the conversation and the swishes and slaps of skates on the ice. Victor glided over to his phone and held it up so Yuuri could see. “Excuse me, love, I’m going to go outside to take this. Stunning job!”
Yuuri watched Victor skate over to the gap in the boards and answer his phone while he snapped on his skate guards. In the din of the rink, he could barely make out what the Russian was saying, but he could tell it was a call for business and not pleasure. Taking advantage of the break, the younger skater turned away and spent a few minutes cutting figures into the ice and letting his heart rate slow. He noticed some novices - a pair of young girls - watching him, and waved in their direction before pulling his arms into a twizzle and stopping with a flourish. The girls giggled and clapped at his antics, and he waved again as he made his way over to the boards for his skate guards and water bottle.
He waited another few minutes for Victor to come back, but hunger eventually won out. Skates came off, sneakers slipped on, and Yuuri flexed his feet to get the blood flowing to them again. He decided to get lunch for both himself and Victor at the little cafe down the street and left through the front exit to find his fiance and get his order. It wasn’t hard to spot the trademark silver fringe blowing in the wind on the steps of the sports palace. Victor leaned against the half-wall leading up the entrance and smiled as Yuuri approached. He held up one finger, asking for just one minute to finish his conversation. Yuuri nodded in understanding and respectfully stopped a few feet away. However, he could still hear Victor’s conversation, and the beautifully rapid French he used.
“Oui, je comprends. Je peux laisser un message? Est-ce elle peut me rappeler? Merci.” Victor ended his call and smiled warmly at the wide-eyed Japanese man in front of him. Upon seeing Yuuri’s expression, his smile morphed more into concern and he held out his arms as if to offer comfort. That concern was lost on Yuuri, however, because Victor was still speaking French. “Yuuri? Tout va bien, mon trésor?”
Yuuri stepped into his arms, wide-eyed but with a crazed smile.
“Say that again.”
Victor cocked his head in confusion. “Eh?”
Yuuri grabbed victor by firmly the lapels of his coat and gave a tug so they were eye-to-eye with the Russian still leaning against the wall. “Say. That. Again.”
“Mon trésor?” Victor questioned, his own eyes still wide with confusion. Yuuri nodded.
“What else?”
Victor realized what he wanted and smirked at the command. He obliged nonetheless. “Mon petit chou.”
Yuuri pressed closer so that their chests touched. “Keep going.”
Victor touched their foreheads together. “Mon tres beau coeur.”
“One more…”
The Russian cupped his fiance’s face and gazed into his eyes. “Mon chére d’amour,” he breathed between them. Yuuri closed the distance and pressed their lips together, without hesitation and without restraint. His hands relaxed on Victor’s chest and slid down to rest on his slim waist. Victor’s own hands remained on Yuuri’s face, cradling his cheeks as if he were something that could break.
It was a kiss filled with smoldering passion and just a hint of something demanding. The two of them sank into it and stayed like that for a while, oblivious of the spectacle they were making for passersby. Victor would have been content to keep going like that for the rest of the day, but Yuuri pulled away with a smile. His bangs fell into his face endearingly and his eyes sparkled with mischief. He pulled Victor’s lapels back in place and took a step back with a pleased smile. Victor stood up, clearly aroused but confused as to what just happened. His French has never gotten a reaction like that, but he wasn’t going to complain.
Yuuri pulled him by the hand down the steps towards the cafe with a pleased expression. He didn’t speak until they had made it there and back plus into their skates and onto the ice. Before he pushed off from the gap in the boards, he leaned in close to whisper in Victor’s ear. “If you want to use your French later, I’d be okay with that.”
Victor’s eyes grew wide and he pressed his lips together to stifle his surprise. “Duly noted,” he breathed back. He cleared his throat once and put on his best coaching smile, trying to focus on skating and not on all the beautiful things he could say to Yuuri in French later.