Victuuri | complete

Pressure !

"Perhaps, several years from now," Victor pauses to kiss the side of my face, "we will be married, and able to adopt through an international agency?"

Just the idea of it lifts me up a bit. Marrying Victor, whether it be a public or private affair, requires that I win gold or perhaps second only to Victor himself, if he's willing to settle. If I can just do that, perhaps Victor could come back to Japan with me— or conceivably, we could live wherever we think best to start a family— and life would be golden. There's just a matter of taking all the right steps to get that far.

But I can't shake Elkena out of my head. I want to help her, not just any random child. Maybe, though, we could do both? Stay in touch with Elkena and have a child of our own? I bite my lip at the idea. I look to Victor.

"That's a lot of pressure on winning this season," I sigh, cuddling closer to his chest. He grabs a tighter hold of me and lifts me into bed with him, laying me down gingerly.

"A little bit of pressure is good for you, Yuura," Victor lies down beside me, pressing himself against my back mischievously. "Keeps you motivated."

"Hm," I settle into this position slowly. "Somebody is 'motivated' right now," I tease.

"Don't patronize me," Victor groans. "Now that the season has started, I shouldn't— it would be almost like cheating if I were to fuck you— but it's late at night, and your presence is heavenly, and I'm so happy you're back—"

"Haha," I press seductively closer. "Believe me, Vitya, I know."

Victor mutters a short Russian curse word that I almost recognize but I definitely couldn't pronounce. Ever the Eros of this relationship, I roll over to face him and push my groin against his. The helpless release of a guttural groan indicates his approval. I have him, now what to do with him?

"Do that again," I implore, climbing over him and grinding against him with far more urgency than before.

Victor gasps, clutching the sheets for dear life. I take his hands from their defensive position, however, and direct them to more intimate regions as I sit up, perched over him hungrily. I bite my lip, a momentary lapse in confidence, while I direct one hand to rest on my ass. He smirks, immediately squeezing. The other hand, I allow him to use for his own fondling purposes, because I choose to lean back just slightly enough to expose everything he wants to see and pleasure myself.

For several heartbeats, I'm afraid what I've done is too erotic because Victor seems incapable of making a humanlike sound. I let go of myself and use both hands to prop myself into a low hover above Victor. His starlit blue eyes gleam with an emotion close to desperation.

"Fuck," Victor huffs.

In this position, I am almost tempted to push his knees up and back and indeed fuck. But as Victor said before, we should refrain from forcing each other into such a skating handicap. I bite my lip as I wonder what I can do for him. Ever the Femme Fatale in this relationship, I decide to press a tender kiss to his lips in the middle of all this manly lusting.

The kiss feels so good it almost hurts. Victor simply tastes like home and, as we conform to the sensation of a masterful kiss, his body feels like home too. Several small groans and moans escape our lips as they work together to make love in a way our bodies can't. In the rosy light of our beautiful embrace, my tongue finds Victor's, inviting his to dance. And for one small eternity, everything is perfectly fine.

*****

The feelings of security and comfort I feel with Victor do not always extend onto the ice. I often feel the pressure to win like a ball and chain when I prepare for a jump. It is only by the grace of a merciful God that I somehow land those jumps. I refer to some sort of God a lot, but I don't put much thought into whatever I believe. I just know that whatever it is I believe in works, and it doesn't seem to care whether I totally screw up or totally screw Victor. Whether it's the power of love, myself, Victor, determination, a deity of some kind, or the universe itself, something in here or out there is good. Hopeful idea-fragments like these take me through each performance in such a way that I usually come out in one piece.

And then before I know it, I'm stood in the center of the ice, posing breathlessly and searching for the emotion on Victor's face to gauge how well I did. We are both more professional than we were last season, about how we hold ourselves in front of the crowd, but tonight Victor looks at me differently.

He's ready to marry me, I realize.