It’s two nights before Onsen on Ice, Yuuri finds himself helping with the family ryokan as he contemplates “Eros”. He still doesn’t understand how to be a playboy or seduce the most beautiful woman in the city. From junior high through university he’d always been plain, awkward Yuuri, more focused on skating and school than girls and dating.
Yuuri sees Victor stepping into the dining room, his yukata draped indecently open.
“Shouldn’t Kobuta-chan be asleep?” Victor asks.
Yuuri sighs, wiping a table absently with a dishrag.
“Don’t tell me you’ve given up already,” Victor says. “I don’t like defeatists.”
Yuuri drops the dishrag and fiddles with his glasses. “I understand the program,” he says. “I understand it, but I still can’t convey it.”
Victor comes closer, puts his hand on the table, leans in. “This is why I told you I need to know everything about you,” he says in a low voice. “You’ve never had a lover, Kobuta-chan.”
It’s not a question, but Yuuri still answers. “No.”
Victor’s hand is cupping Yuuri’s chin again, his breath warming Yuuri’s face, and Yuuri tries not to die of heart failure. Victor asks, “Do you want me to teach you?”
“Wha—what?”
“Eros,” Victor says. “Sexual love.”
“I think I’m fine,” Yuuri somehow manages to say while looking everywhere else but Victor’s face just in front of him.
Victor tsks, pressing his thumb into Yuuri’s lips. “Didn’t I tell you I don’t like defeatists?”
“Y—yes,” Yuuri says.
“Do you truly want me as your coach?” Victor asks.
And whatever else, Yuuri wants his last season to be a good one that he can fondly remember. He steels himself and looks straight into Victor’s too-close eyes. “Yes,” he replies with surety. “I do.”
Victor’s thumb caresses the corner of Yuuri’s mouth before brushing his cheek and softly tilting Yuuri’s lips upward, upward into the warmth of Victor’s mouth. “What a cute Kobuta-chan,” Victor murmurs to Yuuri. “You’d make a delicious katsudon.”
Yuuri is blinking dazedly at the loss of his first kiss, the chill of Victor’s solid hand on his wrist, and the dancing strands of Victor’s drying hair, that he barely notices Victor leading him up the wooden stairs and into Victor’s guest room. The door clicks softly behind them, and Victor is cradling his head and waist as they fall into the futon.
“Are you sure?” Victor whispers into his ear.
Yuuri pulls his hands out of Victor’s embrace, and reaches to turn Victor’s face directly towards him. “Yes. I am.” Then Yuuri surges forward, catching Victor in a hard kiss, glasses knocking awkwardly into both their faces. He makes a sound of protest as Victor angles Yuuri’s head away with a hand on his nape, but then Victor latches onto his neck with his mouth and his glasses disappear with Victor’s other hand.
The hand comes back, stretching the collar of Yuuri’s shirt as Victor licks into the join of his shoulder. Victor stops for a moment, and looks up with a wicked glance through his silver eyelashes. “Vkusno”, he says, pressing another kiss into his collarbone.
Yuuri pushes Victor up so he can kiss those infuriating lips again. He is all too aware of Victor’s tongue on his, of Victor’s chilly hands reaching under his shirt, exploring his stomach fat and his core muscles both.
“How does this feel,” Victor asks, and a thumb pad presses into his nipple.
“C—cold,” Yuuri says.
“If you can say that, I’m not doing a very good job of being the playboy,” Victor says, and pulls Yuuri’s shirt up as he dives down to lick Yuuri’s chest. The warmth of Victor’s mouth is a sharp contrast from the cold before, and Yuuri can’t help but lean into it.
Yuuri gasps. “Better, you egoist.”
“Careful,” Victor says, “you better not be calling your coach names.”
“Who said you’re my coach yet,” Yuuri says, just as Victor swipes his tongue across another patch of skin.
“Well,” Victor says. He lifts his head back up to stare Yuuri in the eye and, with a pinch to Yuuri’s stomach, adds, “I certainly hope I didn’t fly all the way out here in vain.”
With that, he tugs Yuuri’s shirt off in one movement and pulls Yuuri’s sweats and briefs down with another. He catches Yuuri’s eyes again, like he’s making sure Yuuri’s watching. Yuuri doesn’t know how he’d ever look away. A faintest hint of a smirk appears on Victor’s lips, and then Victor’s tongue makes its way down Yuuri’s cock.
“Oh my god,” Yuuri breathes.
There’s too much sensation and too much pleasure as he watched his idol—his teenage idol, god—going down on him. Every bob of Victor’s head spark a fire in nerves he didn’t know he had; every sway of Victor’s bangs tease at places he didn’t know he needed someone to touch. Victor wraps a still-chilly hand around the base of Yuuri’s cock as he took the head into his heated mouth, and Yuuri closes his eyes and lets out half a scream before he bites into his arm to muffle it.
He feels a tongue clinging onto his cock as Victor lifts his head. “Good, right?” he hears Victor say.
Yuuri’s face is flush with embarrassment, but he manages to open a single eye to look Victor in the face and say, “Is that the whole lesson?”
Victor narrows his eyes, and with a sudden motion, is pushing Yuuri’s legs up into the air as he starts biting the meat of Yuuri’s thighs.
“I haven’t even gotten to the best part of this katsudon,” Victor says, nipping and licking down Yuuri’s thighs. “I’d be a poor customer if I didn’t finish it.”
Then Victor spreads open the space between Yuuri’s thighs and licks Yuuri’s hole.
“T—that’s unclean!” Yuuri says, even as his cock gives a twitch of interest.
“But it’s the best part,” Victor says with a pout on his wicked lips, before those same lips descend to lavish Yuuri’s sensitive hole again. Yuuri feels Victor’s tongue working into his tight furrow, making a space for itself. Victor’s hands let go of Yuuri’s thighs and Yuuri finds himself holding them, keeping himself open for Victor to take. One of Victor’s hands, now warm, moves to pumping his cock, while the other traces circles around Yuuri’s hole with deceptively delicate fingers.
“I’m close, V—Victor,” Yuuri gasps.
Victor replies with his hands and mouth, stroking him harder and diving in deeper. Between one breath and the next, Yuuri comes. He barely registers Victor cleaning them both up with a yutaka, and covering them up in the futon.
“What was the lesson,” Yuuri murmurs sleepily, as Victor settles in behind him.
“Sexual love,” Victor says, pressing a light kiss to Yuuri’s neck and wrapping an arm around his waist. “Spokoynoy nochi.”
(Yuuri asks Minako-sensei for help the next day.)