Wednesday, late afternoon Who: Viktor (+ Temporary!Yuuri); OTA (open to anyone) What: The inevitable Other Shoe (don't worry, they have clothes on now) When: Wednesday evening, late Where: Dining hall Warnings: PG? Not sure idk Status Ongoing/Open
"You really think I could win the World's?"
Yuuri's words were a little slurred and Viktor reached out to remove the tie from around his head.
"Not in that suit, you won't," he said with amusement, tossing the offensive tie aside. "As soon as possible we're finding you new clothes, and I'm going to personally set fire to that tie. It's hideous."
Yuuri pouted. Adorably. Viktor kissed his lower lip. As much as he would have preferred not to get dressed again, that would make getting back to his room difficult. Viktor might be shameless, but he was hardly uncivilized or a barbarian.
"But, I've always thought you had potential," he continued. He would have told Yuuri this long ago, if he'd had the opportunity - if Yuuri had not immediately disappeared on him as though the banquet had never happened, never giving Viktor the opportunity to follow up on his request. "Your routines last year didn't capitalize on that. I always wondered why. Who choreographs your programs? Who chooses your music? It always seems forced, never quite right for you, as though it doesn't suit you at all. They also never push you to the best of your ability.
"But I think that you could make the most of your potential with a high-difficulty program - " he paused, sliding a hand down Yuuri's side, and closed his fingers gently around his right knee. He stepped back and Yuuri let him draw his leg up, maneuvering his body into a full splits, one leg directly above the other and his torso at a ninety-degree angle to both. Skaters, by definition, required remarkable flexibility and muscle control, a lot more so than the average person. Over the last few hours they had both put that flexibility to very good use. Now, hours later, Viktor was still riding high from a very long and extremely satisfying afternoon. Somehow they had ended up out in the dining hall, knocking over several chairs and leaving a string of tables in disarray, a bit drunk and giggling like fools. He had yet to question his incredible good fortune, or perhaps he was in some form of aggressive denial. He didn't much care which, at the moment. So he had yet to question how this could really be Yuuri, if it was actually his Yuuri, or what the price might be for such an amazingly, incredibly, heartbreakingly extraordinary gift. Or, how it might come back to haunt him.
"... and I could provide that for you," he went on, adjusting Yuuri's position while being careful not to overextend his thighs or injure him. "If you would let me. It would not be easy, my programs are never easy; but I could design one to maximize your strengths. I'd even let you choose the music, and produce it. In fact, I think you should," he added, more brightly. "Then it comes from your heart, what you feel inside you, and it's far more personal that way, da?"
He leaned in close to Yuuri's ear, and Yuuri purred happily. There was a moment of shuffling and rearranging as Yuuri spun around and pressed close to him again. Viktor had to pull back for breath a minute later. "Again?" he asked, amused, brushing Yuuri's dark banks out of his eyes. He liked them pushed back, though he didn't mind his glasses, which he didn't remember Yuuri ever wearing on the ice. "You're going to wear me out. Where on earth do you get your stamina?"
He heard a high-pitched giggle, and for a second Viktor thought it had come from Yuuri. It sounded odd, and a little off to him, but Yuuri only smiled warmly. "I understand. You're an old man. Probably well past your bedtime. How's that bald spot?"
Viktor narrowed his eyes.
And pounced.
Yuuri squeaked as he was thrown back against one of the dining tables, sending some of the pristine plates and cutlery flying. Viktor loomed over him; old man or not, now he was a man with something to prove.
Then the giggle sounded again. This time, Viktor distinctly heard words.
Beautiful, what's your hurry?
It definitely had not come from Yuuri.
"Did you hear that?" Viktor asked, pausing, and Yuuri made a frustrated sound.
"The only thing I can hear is the sound of you not making out with me right now," he complained, reaching for Viktor again. Viktor squirmed out of his reach. The hair on the back of his neck was prickling, and he had an unnerving sensation that he was being watched.
Maybe just half a drink more? Put some records on, while I pour.
It was singing. Definitely singing.
"Shhh," he said, bringing a delicate finger to his lips. Yuuri whined, but clung to him as Viktor cocked his head and listened. Did he even have an off switch? There was no way anyone could be this insatiable. His fingers, however, far from warming him or making him feel comfortable and secure, brought an icy chill to the back of Viktor's neck, and he felt suddenly cold, all over. What was going on here?
I ought to say no, no, no, sir Mind if I move in closer?
"Viktoooor," Yuuri complained, biting at his ear, and this time Viktor very deliberately unwound himself from Yuuri's arms, bracing them both at an arm's length in front of him, so they couldn't wander. "Yuuri, listen."
At least I'm gonna say that I tried What's the sense in hurting my pride? I really can't stay Baby don't hold out Oh, but it's cold out-side.
The melody was vaguely familiar, but the last line came from directly overhead, and when he looked up, Viktor was staring directly at a tiny elfin creature in a red and green outfit, grinning eerily at him.
"Yuuri," he said quickly, keeping hold of one hand and releasing the other, "I think we should leave. Right now."
Pulling a vaguely protesting Yuuri behind him, he raced from the dining hall.