Yuri on Ice, Sugar, Sugar

Title: Sugar, Sugar [Yuuri/Victor]
Rating/Warnings: NC-17
Summary: They’re going to be late to the banquet in Barcelona but somehow that doesn’t stop Victor from ruffling Yuuri up all over again.
AN: Written for Shiritori. Uhh Victuuri went right for the blowjob? Lol, like Yuuri I wasn’t prepared. Plus silly Russian petnames, which I always love. I never get over gingerbread as a thing, never.

Sugar, Sugar

“Angels are real after all, wow.”

“Quit it,” Yuuri murmured, fiddling with his shirt cuffs. Victor did not quit it, chuckling softly as he stood in the doorway of the hotel bathroom, eying Yuuri up and down. Yuuri felt the tips of his ears turn red. “Can you just help me with these? Please.”

“Of course.” Victor took the two steps into the bathroom and did up Yuuri’s cufflink with efficient flicks of his fingers. Then he kept his fingertips right there, resting against Yuuri’s pulse point. “It’s really cute when this happens.” He leaned over to nip the top of Yuuri’s ear.

“Victor!” Yuuri snapped, flush spreading further down. Victor’s smile curled up a little higher, a little sneakier. Yuuri knew that look. “Victor, no, wait…”

“Hm?” Victor backed Yuuri up against the sink, hands sliding down to bracket Yuuri’s waist. The kiss was slow, Victor’s lips smoothing over Yuuri’s again and again, until Yuuri was lightheaded with it. He pulled back just far enough to lean his forehead against Yuuri’s, both of them pink across the nose. “Wait? Are you sure?”

“Nngh,” Yuuri answered, grabbing two fistfuls of Victor’s shirt and yanking him the two centimeters into another kiss, rougher, more breathless. He forgot about everything for long minutes while Victor melted into him, the heat of his hands skimming up and down Yuuri’s back. Then Victor hooked hands under Yuuri’s ass and lifted him up onto the edge of the counter, and the cold of the granite shocked just enough sense into Yuuri to remember the banquet and Yakov coming to get Victor at any moment. “W-wait,” he gasped against Victor’s mouth. “Wictormmm.”

“Hmm?” Victor hummed, stepping into the space between Yuuri’s thighs, hands still on his ass. He turned his head to drag kisses up Yuuri’s jaw, to the spot just under Yuuri’s ear that made Yuuri twitch against him.

Yuuri didn’t disappoint. “Oh. We’ll…be late…”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Victor murmured. He was tugging Yuuri’s shirt free now, one his hands splaying across the small of Yuuri’s back. Why were Victor’s fingers so long? “Are you even allowed to go to this banquet? You caused quite a scene last year. You might be banned.”

“Don’t talk about that,” Yuuri said, face going redder with embarrassment on top of arousal. “We should…” Victor dropped his head to nibble at the tendon of Yuuri’s neck, and Yuuri’s protest faded into an airy whine.

“Maybe I don’t want you to go,” Victor continued, lightly as if they were talking about nothing. “Maybe I’m afraid you’ll find yourself a new coach to dance with, a younger model, hm?”

“Not even a little,” Yuuri insisted, wrinkling his nose. “If there’s another you down there, you’d just fight over me. One of you is more than enough, two sounds exhausting.”

Victor burst into laughter, loud enough to echo in the small bathroom, resting his head against Yuuri’s shoulder and shaking with it. Yuuri chuckled after a few seconds too, sliding one hand up into the back of Victor’s hair to ruffle it, mussing up the style. Victor hummed approval.

“Shall I convince you I’m worth it?” Victor asked, and before Yuuri could ask what he was talking about, Victor was sliding to his knees, urging Yuuri down off the counter by tugging the fabric of his suit pants. He grinned up at Yuuri, nudging his nose against Yuuri’s fly in case Yuuri somehow didn’t get what he was suggesting.

“Oh my god, you’re the worst idea ever,” Yuuri said, covering his face with his hands, but making no move to stop Victor. It only made Victor smile harder as he unbuttoned Yuuri’s slacks and tugged them down to mid-thigh.

“Of course if you don’t want me to…” Victor said, making his eyes wide and innocent as he rubbed his cheek against Yuuri’s bare thigh.

“Just hurry up,” Yuuri demanded, dropping his hands to clutch the counter instead. He bit his lower lip when Victor stroked him base to tip, too light and definitely not hurrying up. Yuuri huffed impatiently; Victor chuckled and pressed a kiss to the inside of his thigh before finally getting down to business.

Maybe at some point, like ten years from then, it would stop blowing Yuuri’s mind that Victor Nikiforov was touching him, was putting his mouth on Yuuri’s dick, but today definitely wasn’t that day. And it wasn’t fair anyway, Yuuri always thought. Anyone would be undone by Victor staring up at them with those bright blue eyes, watching Yuuri’s every shiver and hitched breath, wet pink lips sliding down Yuuri’s flushed cock.

And then Victor reached over to peel one of Yuuri’s hands off the edge of the counter and pushed it towards his hair instead.

“Too much,” Yuuri said, half moan, half complaint. He wove fingers through the already-mussed back of Victor’s hair, then tugged hard enough to make Victor’s eyes flutter. “Ugh, you.”

Victor pulled his mouth off Yuuri, making up for it with his hand, but instead of answering, he pressed his thumb into the sensitive spot just under Yuuri’s head, eyes flicking down to the drop of pre-come welling up before back up to Yuuri’s face. The message was clear without words: you love it.

“Co-” Yuuri tried to hiss, but he could barely get a syllable out as Victor rubbed his cheek deliberately against Yuuri’s tip, leaving a wet streak. “Nnn. Really…”

“Ok, ok,” Victor soothed, putting his mouth back over Yuuri’s cock and swallowing him until his lips met his fist. His eyes were back on Yuuri’s, wide and blue as the sky, taking in everything until Yuuri had to squeeze his eyes shut and tip his head back.

Too much, everything about Victor was too much, and Yuuri did love it. But that didn’t make it any less embarrassing when Yuuri could barely last five minutes with his trousers around his thighs in a hotel bathroom. The yank he gave in warning to Victor’s hair only had Victor swallowing him more deeply, fingers a tight circle around Yuuri’s base holding him steady as Yuuri pulsed himself out, a wave of heat washing up his spine and out to his fingertips.

Victor was on his feet a second later, arms around Yuuri’s waist and holding him against the counter as Yuuri shivered himself out, knees weak.

“My Yuuri,” Victor purred in between rushed, wet kisses. Yuuri hummed, still befuddled, leaning into Victor’s grip and hoping the breathless noises he was making in the back of his throat would do for the post-sex praise Victor liked so much. “Kotyenok, sunshine, sakharok.”

“S’that one mean?” Yuuri asked, having found his voice but still slumped heavily against Victor.

“Sugar,” Victor translated, kissing Yuuri’s cheek soundly, then his temple. “Mm, and you do taste sweet.”

“Stop,” Yuuri whined, pushing ineffectually at Victor’s chest. He let one hand drop to Victor’s hip. “Do you want…”

“Mn, we’re already late.” Victor gave Yuuri one more kiss, a showy, loud one square on the mouth that made Yuuri wrinkle his nose. “Later, though, hm? I expect you to take very good care of me.”

“You got it, pryanichek,” Yuuri said, and if he still thought calling your boyfriend ‘gingerbread’ was silly, it was worth it for the way Victor’s eyes widened whenever Yuuri used some Russian on him for once. “Just tell me when.”