Yuuri's never heard Victor's voice sound like that, but somehow he knows it's not just the stress of what happened. There's something about it that makes it seem as if it's something raw already there that's been exposed instead of being a wound freshly dealt.
He still doesn't know what it is that drew Victor to him from a country away, but he knows that someone wouldn't upend their whole life unless they were searching for something, trying to fill some need or want.
The idea that he fills that need and want emboldens him. It makes him feel like he's discovered some kind of hidden power inside himself. He's the femme fatale who's charmed the playboy, wrapped him around her little finger, and now Victor is begging him with that tone in his voice to not be cast off, to have a different ending to the dance.
Hearing those words silences the little timid voice in Yuuri's mind that questions these kinds of things. There's nothing to question anymore. Victor wanting to be his boyfriend made so many things clear, and right now, the way he's wrapped around him, naked in more way than one, makes them even more clear.
Of course he doesn't want to leave him, his eros is that powerful.
There are worse things to sacrifice a career over. He's already made his choice. He'll still try for the Grand Prix Final when this is all over because he knows Victor will be heartbroken if he gives up entirely, but after that, of the two of them, only Victor has a chance of going back to form when all this is done. He's the only one that has a chance of a career after their final competition together. Yuuri's career will be over, just like Yuuri assumed would be the case when he signed up for this saving-existence thing.
He can live with that if he can still have everything that comes after, if he can cheer Victor on from the sidelines, if they can wake up safe and warm from the cold Moscow mornings because of how they're all wrapped up just. Like. This.
He could've stuttered. He could've been shy about all of this, timid, upset over his ice skating career, but no. No, after hearing those words and the crack in his voice, after understanding how much a waste of time that timidity is, he's never felt more sure of anything in his life. One of them has to stop skating and he's fine with burning what's left of his career on the altar of their relationship.
"Then don't."
It's unquestionably a command, but the harshest edge of it is softened by the way Yuuri whispers it in Victor's ear.
no subject
He still doesn't know what it is that drew Victor to him from a country away, but he knows that someone wouldn't upend their whole life unless they were searching for something, trying to fill some need or want.
The idea that he fills that need and want emboldens him. It makes him feel like he's discovered some kind of hidden power inside himself. He's the femme fatale who's charmed the playboy, wrapped him around her little finger, and now Victor is begging him with that tone in his voice to not be cast off, to have a different ending to the dance.
Hearing those words silences the little timid voice in Yuuri's mind that questions these kinds of things. There's nothing to question anymore. Victor wanting to be his boyfriend made so many things clear, and right now, the way he's wrapped around him, naked in more way than one, makes them even more clear.
Of course he doesn't want to leave him, his eros is that powerful.
There are worse things to sacrifice a career over. He's already made his choice. He'll still try for the Grand Prix Final when this is all over because he knows Victor will be heartbroken if he gives up entirely, but after that, of the two of them, only Victor has a chance of going back to form when all this is done. He's the only one that has a chance of a career after their final competition together. Yuuri's career will be over, just like Yuuri assumed would be the case when he signed up for this saving-existence thing.
He can live with that if he can still have everything that comes after, if he can cheer Victor on from the sidelines, if they can wake up safe and warm from the cold Moscow mornings because of how they're all wrapped up just. Like. This.
He could've stuttered. He could've been shy about all of this, timid, upset over his ice skating career, but no. No, after hearing those words and the crack in his voice, after understanding how much a waste of time that timidity is, he's never felt more sure of anything in his life. One of them has to stop skating and he's fine with burning what's left of his career on the altar of their relationship.
"Then don't."
It's unquestionably a command, but the harshest edge of it is softened by the way Yuuri whispers it in Victor's ear.