Okay, people. This is the chapter that gave birth to the whole story. I hope you like it!

I had to split this chapter into two because it was turning out too long. So, instead of 4 chapters, expect this fic to be about 6-7 chapters long (because I know myself and I know that next chapters are going to end up being too long too).

Ch. 3. A Dance of Ice and Fire

Yuuri stared with wide eyes at the man in front of him, his mouth gaping against the pale hand covering it, and failing to make a sound. Viktor's eyes went from him to the door, clutching the younger man closer when the steps outside became louder.

His yelp was muffled by Viktor's chest then, and his head couldn't stop reeling by the fact that he was being hugged by no other than Viktor Nikiforov himself.

He could hear his heart beating and the blood rushing through his ears, blocking almost all the background sound. However, he could still hear Viktor's breathing, feel his strong (and quite fast) heartbeat against his mouth, and the footsteps from the man outside getting fainter and fainter until he couldn't hear them altogether. He felt the lithe hand on his nape flinch slightly. Wait, when had he even put it in there?

After what it seemed like a lifetime, and at the same time not long enough, Viktor's hold on him loosened, and Yuuri leaned back. He stared at the man's face, not quite sure if that was really happening, and his cheeks reddened when he realised that he was crouching mere inches away from Viktor's growing grin.

"I-I'm sorry!" he spluttered as he tried to get away, putting as much distance between them as possible.

Viktor in return closed the distance between them again and shushed him, placing a finger on his lips. "Be quiet, or he's going to come back."

Yuuri cocked his head in confusion. "Who?"

"The security guard."

The… the security guard? "Why are we hiding from him in the first place?"

"Because there's no point in sneaking in a closed place if we get caught, is there?" He winked at him and immediately turned to the door, standing up and looking through the little window at the top of it. That made him miss Yuuri gaping at the older man like a fish. "I can't see him now. Let's go."

Viktor reached for his hand and tugged, helping him stand up. That snapped him out of his stupor. "Where to?"

"The rink."

The older skater didn't let go of his hand as he opened the door and lead him to the ice rink, stopping once in a while to see if they heard the guard's footsteps again. Yuuri wasn't exactly sure why he was being dragged into this, but he followed him silently all the same. He didn't know how much time they spent turning randomly at the seeming infinite corridors and hiding when one of them heard any sound, but finally, they ended once again at the ice rink.

The clean ice glinted with the soft moonlight coming from the windowpanes, becoming the only source of light in the big room. What just mere minutes ago had seemed haunting and intimidating, it now sparkled with a beauty that managed to take his breath away.

He stepped forward, not taking notice how Viktor's grip in his hand had slackened, and walked until he reached the limiting walls. He rested his hands on the barrier and leaned on it, looking around with a soft smile. It was almost as if the ice was begging him to skate on it.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

Yuuri turned his head to the left, only to see Viktor standing beside him. His gaze was focused forwards, his crossed arms resting on the edge of the barrier. He was leaning forward, and his shoulders were relaxed.

He wasn't sure if he'd ever seen the other man as calm as then.

Yuuri returned his gaze forward and hummed in agreement. "It really is. It looks so different from an hour ago."

"I know, right? That's why I like to come to closed ice rinks once in a while. It's so peaceful, so calming… it makes me remember just how much I love the ice."

"I can relate to that."

Viktor's eyes went from the ice to Yuuri. "What's your name?"

He startled slightly at the question. "Oh, me? Yuuri. Katsuki Yuuri. Nice to meet you."

"I'm Viktor Nikiforov." As if he needed to be introduced. He extended a pale hand towards him, smiling. "Nice to meet you too."

Yuuri shook his hand, praying that his hands weren't trembling so much. He was speaking to his long-time idol. As in having a conversation between the two of them. Was this real?

Now that he thought about it, everything about that situation was strange. Viktor was supposed to attend at the Post Competition banquet with his fellow skaters and coaches, wearing expensive suits, drinking fancy champagne and having god knows what conversations. So what was he still doing in there, wearing his white and red runner jacket and black pants?

"Um," Yuuri called for Viktor's attention, who quickly turned his head to hear him. "I was wondering… W-why aren't you at the banquet, if you don't mind me asking?"

He simply shrugged. "I didn't feel like going. Those parties are always the same, although I've heard that Christophe really knows how to spice things up. But-" he returned his gaze to the ice- "I wanted some alone time with the ice after the competition."

A comfortable silence fell between them. Yuuri could relate to that feeling. After a competition, the ice always felt strange, and he needed some time to get used to its calmness again. Maybe they were similar in that.

"What about you?"

"Huh?" he snapped out of his reverie.

Viktor turned his head so he was facing him again. He rested his chick in his open palm, and cocked his head in curiosity. "What are you doing in here, so late in the night, Yuuri?"

His heart skipped a beat at the way his name sounded in Viktor's lips, his slight accent making it even more endearing.

"O-oh, um, I forgot my camera. I came back to get it." And then you dragged me into the closet room. "Which reminds me- I need to get going, someone's waiting for me, and I don't want to worry them."

Viktor hummed in answer. "Who's waiting for you? Your girlfriend?"

"No-"

"Boyfriend, then?"

"No!" he exclaimed, then blushed at his outburst. "My coach. Well, coach-to-be. He invited me to come to see the Shanghai Cup with him."

"Then we better get going, we don't want to keep Celestino waiting, right?" He straightened up and left his place at the barrier. "Come on, I'll get you to the door."

He walked to the entrance, his movements as fluid as when he was on ice. Yuuri had been so worried about the guard before that he hadn't paid any attention before. It seemed that Viktor's performance didn't end when he took out his skates.

He rushed to his side, not really wanting to fall behind, and once they were nearing the main room, Viktor's words really caught up with him.

"W-wait!" He stopped in his tracks. Viktor turned around, looking at him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "How do you know Celestino's my coach?"

A slow smile began blossoming in his face, once too wicked and knowing to be of any good. "Secret," he sing-songed, and Yuuri resisted the urge to groan.

They reached the door, and the cold from outside seeped through the thin glass. Yuuri shivered and zipped up his jacket. It was snowing heavily outside, the wind blowing so strong that the snowflakes became a white blur. Snow piled up at the streets, blocking the exit.

Yuuri was really not looking forward his way back to the hotel.

Viktor whistled behind him. "That's an ugly blizzard. Are you sure you want to go out with that weather?" No, he really didn't, but what was he supposed to do? They both looked at the growing pile of snow at the floor outside. "Can you even open the door?"

Yuuri placed his hand in the handle, and the cold of the metal bit his sensitive skin. Swallowing a grimace, he pushed forward, but the door remained in the same position. He pushed again, stronger this time, but he didn't even manage to move the glass a centimetre forward.

"Oh, god, we're locked in."

At that moment, his phone began ringing, and Yuuri looked for it hastily. He has filled with dread when he saw Celestino's name pop up at the screen. Oh, no. Oh no, no, no, no, no. He was supposed to be at the hotel by this time, not in the ice rink. What was he supposed to tell him!?

"Pick up the phone and tell Celestino what happened," Viktor said, "I'm going to call for someone to help us get out, okay?"

Yuuri looked down at his phone, which kept on buzzing on his hand. Not really sure what he was going to tell him, he picked it up, bringing the device to his ear.

"Yuuri! Thank god you picked it up." He heard him sigh from the other side. "Where are you? Are you at the hotel? You got us so worried."

"Oh, right." He winced. He saw from the corner of his eye Viktor taking some steps back, waving with his own phone. He guessed he was going to make that phone call. "It's kind of a long story, but… We've been locked up in the ice rink, and we can't get out."

"You're locked in the ice rink!? How is that even possible? There should have been a guard checking that no one's there before leaving."

Yeah, but we were hiding from him. "We… missed him? Anyways, we're calling for someone to help us get out, so don't worry! I'll call you when we get out."

There was a pause at the other side, before Celestino spoke up again. "… You keep talking in plural. Is there someone in there with you?"

Crap!

He looked back at the Russian skater, who talked in a hushed voice on his phone. He couldn't understand one bit of it, so he assumed he was speaking in Russian. Did the ice rink have operatives who understood Russian? Viktor noticed him staring and grinned at him, giving him thumbs up. He waved awkwardly back then turned back again, looking outside at the piling snow.

"Yeah, I'm not alone. Another person got locked in too; we met some minutes ago." Like forty-five minutes ago, but pay no mind to that. "He's calling for someone to get us out of here as we speak."

Celestino sighed. "Who would've known something like this would happen… at least you're not alone, something I'm glad for."

"Yeah, you've got nothing to worry about!" he remarked with an overly-cheery voice. He winced inwardly at how fake it sounded. He hoped Celestino wouldn't catch up his lie. "Anyway, how is the party going? Any fun?"

"The same as any other party, I guess. John is having way too much fun with Christophe Giacometti, and I've seen them revolving around a pole I didn't even know the room had." He groaned, sounding suddenly tired. "I guess it'll be time to babysit my figure skater again. I'm getting too old for this. Yuuri, I hope you behave more properly in these banquets, you hear me?"

"Yeah, sir. I, uh, I don't like to drink very much."

He'd had alcohol once, and once was enough. He would really love to know how he ended up waking up one metre away from the ofuro with only his tie on his head. He never found the rest of his clothes from that night.

"Also, Viktor Nikiforov hasn't shown up." Celestino commented absentmindedly. Yuuri tensed at the words, and shot a look at the other man. He seemed engrossed with the conversation he was having on his phone. "Yakov was here, though, but didn't say anything about the matter. He looked pretty angry, but when has he looked any different?"

"H-how strange."

"Yeah. Who knows what crosses Viktor's mind. Honestly, he's- John! Don't take your pants off!" he yelled, "Yuuri, I need to go. Call me when you get out of there, okay?"

"Sure, but Celestino-!"

The call ended before he could say anything else, and Yuuri lowered the phone, frowning slightly at it. He turned slightly too look at the other man, and managed to catch some of his conversation. Not that he understood it.

"… Яков, я не вернусь сегодня в отель, увидимся завтра." And with that, he hung up. Noticing that Yuuri was looking at him, he grinned and trotted to his direction.

"What did they say? Are they coming to get us?"

Viktor shook his head, but he didn't lose his easy-going smile. "No, they said they couldn't take us out until the snowstorm receded."

"Wha- Bu- You look way too cheerful over this!" he protested.

He shrugged in response. "I wanted to stay here in the first place. Now come on!" He grabbed Yuuri's arm and began dragging him god knows where.

"Where to?"

"The changing room. I have my bag in there; luckily Yakov didn't remember to order someone around to take it. I also saw some spare skates in there, with luck some will fit you."

"Skates?" he spluttered when realisation hit him, "are we going to skate?"

"Yep!"

Viktor opened a door leading to what clearly looked like one changing room. He quickly spotted his bag and sat beside it, taking out his skates immediately. Yuuri ogled at the beautiful (and clearly expensive) skates before he shook his head, trying to focus on the matter in hand.

"We can't skate, Viktor! We shouldn't even be here!"

"Why not?" he asked, bended to take out his shoes, "we'll be here for a while, so might as well use our time and do something, no?"

Yuuri only gaped, trying to come with a comeback to it, but coming out empty. Meanwhile, Viktor ended putting on his skates and loomed over Yuuri, gracefully steady even on his protector-covered blades.

"Yuuri?" God, stop saying my name like that! he mentally screeched, and he could feel the heat pooling in his cheeks as Viktor got closer and closer. "Skate with me? I want to see you skate like you did this morning."

This… morning? Oh… the video.

"You… you saw the video?" he said with meek voice.

He nodded, a smile teasing his lips. He leaned closer. "Yakov sent it to me, and told me to watch it. I might be biased, but I think I recognised some of my short program's step sequence in there?"

Yuuri's mind short-circuited in there. His eyes widened, and his face made its best imitation of a bright red tomato. He tried to say something, anything, but the only sound that came from his mouth was a high-pitched squeal. He buried his face in his hands, not even caring that his glasses were pressed against his nose uncomfortably, and screeched again against his palms. Of course he recognised his step sequence!

"Ты очень милый."

Yuuri raised his head at that, embarrassment momentarily forgotten but his cheeks still flushed, and blinked in confusion at the other man. "What?"

"Nothing." His smile widened.

"No, what did you say? That was Russian, right?"

"It was." He turned around and began scanning the spare skates lying in there. "Which is your food size?"

"Huh?" Oh, for the skates. If he had a 24.5, in China it was… "Oh, um, a 40, I think."

"40? You have such tiny feet!" He grabbed a pair of skates and checked the blades before handing them to him. "This should fit you."

"Yeah, thanks."

He sat down and began taking off his shoes and putting on the skates, while Viktor waited, humming a little song under his breath. He was tying the second skate when his hands froze on the action. When… when had he agreed to skate with him? Viktor had ignored all his questions and managed to subconsciously convince him to skate with him at the same time.

Dancing between a groan and a laugh, he finished tying up his skate. After all the pain of finding him a pair of skates that fit him, he may as well humour him. Moreover, he felt thrilled to know he was going to skate with him, not that he'd tell him that. It was too embarrassing.

Viktor grabbed his arm once he finished tying up his skates and walked him to rink, almost as if he was making sure he didn't run away. Once they were at the edge, Viktor finally let go, and glided to the centre with his characteristic elegance. He came to a stop and turned around, extending his hand towards Yuuri in a silent request. Yuuri joined him afterwards, and they began doing lazy laps at the ice.

It felt soothing. The dim light of the crescent moonlight shone against the ice, illuminating everything in a bluish hue. The only sound that filled the always crowded room was their deep breathing and their blades caressing the ice. Yuuri lost himself to his senses, soon forgetting the ball of nerves buried deep within his stomach and letting himself reconnect with the ice once again.

"How did Celestino and you meet?" Viktor's voice came from the other side of the rink.

Yuuri opened his eyes, not having realised he'd closed them until then, and looked over there. His profile was shadowed but it was bright enough to see his relaxed features, and his clear blue eyes were fixated on him. He had to repress a shiver.

"Ah, he came to the Japan Regionals, and I was competing there. After the winners ceremony, he was talking to Minako-sensei."

"Minako-sensei?"

"My ballet instructor. She's the closest thing of a coach that I have, and she's a real fan of ice skating, so when I asked her to accompany me to the Regionals, she had everything packed in about five minutes."

Viktor chuckled at that. "I'd love to meet this woman."

"Oh, she'd love meeting you too. She'd scream for a long time… or have a seizure."

Viktor reached him, and both skated alongside each other. "And what happened once you met?"

"He congratulated me for my first place, we talked a bit, and he offered to coach me in Detroit the next season. He also invited me coming in here, something I'm deeply grateful for." He scratched his neck uncomfortably. "To be honest, I don't know why he's favouring me so much. There are a lot of figure skaters way better than me."

They fell in silence, Viktor deep in thought. Then, when Yuuri stopped hearing Viktor skating beside him, he stopped and turned around, just to see Viktor with his arms crossed and his head cocked to the side, an unreadable expression in his face.

"Viktor?"

"Say, Yuuri." How could he make his name sound so well? "Do you have the music of any of your programs in your phone?"

"Oh, yeah." He took his phone from his pocket and looked for one of the songs. Once he spotted it, he pressed play, and let the soft melody of a harp and violins fill the room.

Viktor didn't say anything for a while, just closed his eyes and gave his whole attention to listening to the soft melody. Once the song finished, he opened them again, and smiled.

"Which was this, your short program or free skate?"

"Free skate."

Viktor nodded, as if he already suspected it and wanted to confirm it. "Yuuri… perform your free skate for me."

What? Viktor wanted to see him perform his free skate? Like now, without warming up and with a high chance of his nerves getting in the way? He was going to mess up all his jumps. He was going to make a complete fool of himself in front of his long-life idol. He would laugh at him and never talk to him again, and he would lose the chance to compete against him at the Grand Prix someday.

He knew he wanted to perform for Viktor, but he'd never expected it to be so soon!

He shook his head. "I can't do that!"

"Come on, skate for me," he whined like a child

He turned around to stop himself to look at him. "I-I'd rather not."

Viktor wasn't relented by his efforts in avoiding the situation, and skated around the boy so he was facing him again.

"Please?" his mouth stuck out in a pout, but Yuuri could see him struggling not to laugh.

He shook his head violently. "I'm nowhere near your level in skating."

"I don't care. I just want to see you skate."

"No."

"Yuuri." That stopped his spiralling thoughts of self-doubt – because it wasn't fair how his name rolled off his tongue – and looked up at him. Viktor was looking at him with an intensity that managed to take his breath away. "Skate for me? Please?"

How could he say no to that?

"O-okay," he whined in defeat, and Viktor's face blossomed in a blinding beam of sunshine.

"Perfect! I'll take care of the music, just give me a sign and I'll press play."

Then he extended his hand between them, and waited patiently. Yuuri handed him the phone in reluctance, and he took of his glasses and handed them to him too. He looked at the Russian skater gliding towards the edge of the rink in dismay, feeling like, somehow, he'd been played in some way.

He tried to control the quivering of his hands, the shaking of his knees, and the knots already forming deep within his stomach, and made his way to the middle of the rink. His eyes rested on the empty tiers, obscured by the bluish shadows of the darkened room, and let his eyes trail until they landed on Viktor.

In the little time he'd gotten to know him, he'd learnt so much about him. He'd found out that there was much more to be seen than the careful placed celebrity mask he wore in front of the cameras; he was also a bit of a scatter-brain, over-cheerful and sometimes a bit selfish, reminding him of a child sometimes. But neither of those sides were the one looking at him right now.

His sight may be blurred for not wearing his glasses, but that, he could see. Viktor had his arms crossed nonchalantly on the top of the barrier, in a position quite similar of the one he had when they first got there. His fingers were draped loosely on the phone, but he paid no mind to it.

His full attention was on him.

Yuuri got once again the feeling of being looked through, of being peeled of all his layers to stand bare in front of the other man, and such intensity directed at him again in such little time in-between made his legs shake but not because of anxiety.

Swallowing down, he extended his right hand to the side and bended his left one so it would rest gently on his invisible partner's shoulder. He closed his eyes and took two deep breath, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

He looked at Viktor hesitantly. "I tend to get really nervous when I skate for others, so if I flub it, I'm sorry."

"Why are you nervous about? It's just me."

You being you is one of the main reasons this is so nerve-wracking!

He must had fallen into deep thought, because when he knew it, Viktor was calling for him again.

"Yuuri. We're alone at the rink. Right now, no one's watching you. Forget about me. Forget about all your insecurities and nerves. Be one with the ice. Show me."

Yuuri took two deep breaths, trying to steady his erratic heart, and closed his eyes. Just by the simple gesture, the room surrounding him didn't feel as intimidating as it did before. It was just practice. No one was giving him a score, he had no crowd to move with his performance. It was just… him.

He heard a little shift from outside the ice, too loud in the nearly empty room. Viktor was waiting for him patiently, waiting until he felt ready.

He wanted to show him, he realized. He wanted to show him how he skated with all his heart and soul. It may be flawed, and simple, and he certainly had a long way to go yet, but Viktor Nikiforov was waiting to see nonetheless. He had already seen the video of that morning, and he'd liked it; he'd praised him for it.

He knew he could do so much better than that.

He finally opened his eyes, determination and confidence he wasn't familiar with pouring from him. He exhaled softly, letting go of the last of his nerves and nodded at the other man, asking him to start the song. His heart was beating strongly against his chest, his hands were steady in position, and he felt his whole body maintaining his starting position with ease.

The silence was deafening while he waited for the music to start. He could hear nothing but the blood rushing through his veins, feeling for the first time eager to start his performance. It was exhilarating and frustrating at the same time.

And then, the music began.

The soft melody of the harp pushed him through his starting twirls, the violins soon joining and composing together the heart-warming melody of a waltz. His partner, made of ice and air and music, led him through the ice, helping him in his steps, accompanying him in his twirls, and lifting him in his jumps, which he landed effortlessly.

There was something different, he noticed. He didn't know how to put it into words, but as he went along, he didn't feel alone, as the song sometimes made him feel. His partner was almost tangible against his fingertips, and cradled him and showed him off like the most beautiful painting that ever existed. The song surrounded him in a warm embrace, and left him breathless from the sudden longing he felt.

His thoughts darted towards the other man watching him skate. What was he feeling? Did his dance leave him indifferent or did it reach him? Did he make him have to stifle the urge to join him in his dance, to fill the empty space in his arms? Did he feel jealous of the air around him, of the violins that got the chance to join him?

How would it feel, he wondered, if it was Viktor the one who danced with him?

Yuuri kept on dancing, telling the tale of the song for him and only him. His movements were softer, his stepping flowed in total synch, and for the first time in a very long time, he felt he belonged there. He was meant to be skating.

The song was coming to an end, and something in his chest constricted, already missing the feeling of near completion this song brought him. Just as the violin played the last note, he fell into his ending pose, bended backwards and holding his invisible partner close, not ready to let go of them yet.

He panted softly, his glossy eyes transfixed to the ceiling, when slow clapping snapped him out of his post-acting haze. He straightened up, letting his arms fall beside him, and focused on Viktor. There was a soft smile in his face, his clear blue eyes twinkling with warmth and something else, something he wasn't sure he could name.

Viktor abandoned his position behind the barriers and skated towards him. He stopped in front of him, mere inches separating them, but somehow, although a part of his mind was screeching at the proximity, he felt surprisingly calm about it.

The Russian rose a hand and placed it on his cheek, his thumb caressing lightly the skin of his cheekbone, drawing a blush at the mere contact. It felt intimate and private. He resisted the urge to lean on his warm palm.

"That was absolutely stunning, Yuuri," he said, his voice rough with emotion. The Japanese shivered. "You took my breath away the moment your performance started. It was beautiful."

He felt his cheeks heating up, and his lips cured up in happiness at his praise. "Thank you, Viktor."

"No. Thank you for sharing this with me."

"It was nothing,"

"It was!" he put his other hand on his cheek so he was cradling his face. He looked at him dead in the eye, serious. "There were so many feelings poured into it, so much longing… the best Agape I've ever seen in my life."

The confidence he felt left him at the rain of praises, not used to the constant gushing. "T-thanks."

Then Viktor, still cradling his face with his both strong hands, cocked his head, enthusiasm and cheerfulness filling his face again, becoming once again the Viktor that hid behind the cameras. He couldn't understand why, though – albeit more childish, this Viktor was as charming as all the other sides of him he'd seen so far. However, something told him there was so much more about him than what met in the eye; despite his gleeful demeanour, his eyes were still intense and focused on him. Why did he hide under all those masks?

He hummed, snapping him out of his musings. "Your jumps need a bit of work, but your step sequence was flawless. It was impossible to look away. And the way you snuck in waltz steps like this… you know how to dance waltz, right?"

"Yeah. Minako-sensei taught me how to dance in our lessons. She loved to introduce me to all kinds of styles; she didn't stick to ballet for long. She usually says that if you want to dance properly in one style, you need to have a taste of them all."

Viktor chuckled with a soft look in his face, and let his hand fall to the crook of his neck, then reached for his right hand. He clasped his hand in his and suddenly pulled Yuuri towards him. The Japanese's eyes widened as he lost his footing, raising his arms to grab onto something, and his left hand clasped onto Viktor's shoulder.

He looked up at Viktor, and his breath hitched at how close they were standing from each other. Viktor's smile was teasing and way too naughty to be legal. He then felt his strong hand resting just under his shoulder blades.

"Get ready."

"What?"

Viktor stepped forward and Yuuri instinctively stepped back, albeit a bit clumsily. His eyes widened in realisation and he adjusted his hold on his shoulder nervously, catching up in what he was doing. When he stepped forward again, he was ready.

Yuuri met him in the dance, his body falling in the familiar steps of an improvised waltz. They flowed through the ice with grace, adapting their steps to the slippery ground in total coordination. Viktor's hand was warm against his back, and instead of looking forward, like the dance required, his eyes were trained on his face. They twirled softly, and Yuuri tightened his grip on the other man.

"You see, what I love of dancing and performing is that you can convey so much with so little. For example, we have the waltz." He tipped Yuri backwards in a ninth pose, and Yuuri kept his eyes trained on the fair-haired man.

"Can you feel it, Yuuri? The delight of being joined, the selflessness the dancers feel, the unconditional love pouring from every movement they make. It's like a painting and its frame, showing them off to the whole world, but incomplete if you separate them. This," he whispered, "this absolute devotion is the essence of the Agape love."

Then, something in his hold changed, and Yuuri was suddenly standing closer to Viktor, if it was even possible. He could feel his breath fanning his face; his clear eyes had darkened, his pupils blown, and they were focused solely onto him. He stepped forward with intensity, and Yuuri answered in kind, completely lost in their dance.

Viktor's voice was deep when he went on, and Yuuri couldn't supress the shiver that ran through him.

"Then we have the tango, the unaltered representation of the Eros love. The eyes trained on one another, the space between the dancers being almost inexistent, and their bodies almost fused together. It's in the minute hesitation before a kiss, the electricity of a lover's touch, the shivering running through our bodies in a charged whisper. This dance is intense passion and pure sexual tension."

Just when he finished talking, Viktor twirled him, and Yuuri took the chance to do a flying camel spin, completely trusting Viktor to hold him. The Russian's hold on him tightened, and his smile crooked at the action. Yuuri met Viktor's eyes in a challenge, his mouth curving up, and he felt Viktor's breath hitch.

Viktor spun him and dipped him, resting his forehead on the younger man. Their eyes bore into each other, drowning into them. Yuuri raised his hand to his face, almost touching the pale skin of his cheek but not quite, just to rest it on his shoulder again. Sparks flew between them.

Viktor raised them both and skated backwards, his tight hold on Yuuri not faltering one bit. Yuuri leaned onto him, letting him drag him through the ice. He reached to Viktor's broad shoulder blades and straightened both of them, turning their bodies in the rhythm of the music coming from their blades.

Yuuri could hear the song Viktor had danced to in his free skate in his head, the song he'd longed so much to dance with the man currently holding him, and adapted his movements to it. Viktor turned him around and pressed his chest against his back, leading him into steps full of passion and intensity. His hand raised from his stomach and cupped his face, turning it slightly so they didn't lose eye contact. Yuuri could feel the other's man heart beating against him, and everywhere they touched tingled in response.

Yuuri turned around again and bended his knee, resting his leg on Viktor's side. The other man's hand travelled to his thigh, holding him closer and leading him once again. His bangs fell on his face, covering part of his face, and Yuuri reached to brush them away, resting his hand on Viktor's nape, and the touch skin-to-skin felt electrifying.

Viktor bended him backwards and he leaned forward, accompanying him in his bow. His bended led curved into his figure, supporting him, and his hand travelled down, dragging Viktor with him. Their eyes bore into each other as they stopped in that pose, heavy breaths falling into the short space separating them.

Yuuri couldn't think. He was way too lost into the feel of him to think.

It was Viktor who brought them back to their own two feet. He didn't let go of Yuuri's waist when he did so. Silence fell between the two of them, their soft pants being the only sound that could be heard in the spacious room.

"This…" Viktor said, his voice rough and deep, "this is Eros. Intensity, electricity, passion. It's the fullness in a fleeting moment, just to leave you winded out and craving for more."

Viktor reached out for his hand again, and Yuuri automatically rested his on his shoulder. Their movements became soft and slow again, like the calm breeze of spring, as they returned to their waltz. Yuuri listened to his voice, absorbing every word he whispered between them.

"Even though I love both dances with intensity, I have to lean towards waltz. It's sweeter and unforgettable. It's about unreserved adoration that will last forever, it's a promise of never-ending love, and it can bring…"

Viktor trailed off. They came to a stop, but neither of them moved. Yuuri blinked away his glossy eyes, trying to get his heart to beat in a normal pace again. His stare trailed down and rested on Viktor's collarbones, looking too white and exposed in the moonlight. A hand cupped his face and lifted it, making him stare into Viktor's eyes again.

"Viktor?"

His voice felt airy and rough after so much time not using it. Viktor blinked heavily and let go of him, putting some distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair, and he could see his walls building up again.

He couldn't help but feel a small twinge of disappointment because of it.

"This was fun," he commented, his voice still a bit rough. He cleared his throat. "It's been so long since I danced with someone else. Thank you, Yuuri."

Those last words rung with sincerity, and it caught him a bit off guard. "You're welcome, Viktor."

"Oh, before I forget about it." He rummaged through his pockets, and took out Yuuri's glasses and phone. "This is yours."

He accepted them with a grateful nod. "Thanks for keeping them."

He put on his glasses, and the world fell into focus once again. Huh, he hadn't noticed the lack of them so much. It was no wonder, since Viktor and him had been standing in such a close proximity…

Yuuri's cheeks flared up when his brain finally caught up with the last twenty minutes. Had he…? Did they…? Was he…?

Viktor, completely oblivious of his sudden meltdown, kept on talking. "Well, now that we're both here in the ice, why don't I help you with your jumps? I could teach you some tricks to land them better. What do you say?"

His spiralling train of thought completely stopped when he heard Viktor say the word 'teach'. He turned his head in a whiplash, slightly startling the older man, and his face was the pure expression of joy and excitement.

"I want to learn how to do flips!" He bounced in his feet, not caring that he was on his skates and he could fall. "I-I mean, if it's not too much to ask for. It's just that I have no one to teach me how to do them, and learning from videos is actually pretty difficult. It's also your signature move, and I've wanted to know how to do it properly for so long…"

His voice died out as embarrassment won over excitement. Viktor chuckled at the sight of it and covered his eyes with the palm of his hand.

"Прекрати быть таким милым, или я тебя поцелую."

"Huh? What does it mean?"

"It means I will teach you, so you better get ready."

Yuuri nodded, a face-splitting smile in his face and his eyes twinkling in delight as he skated to the centre of the ice. Viktor went to the boards and rested his weight on them, watching Yuuri stop in the middle and turning to look at him expectantly.

"This boy will be the end of me." He muttered under his breath, too elated to care. He then raised his voice. "Okay, Yuuri, what you have to do is the following."

A/N:

Russian translations: Everyone thank Sadomazocat for those lovely Russian bits!

"… Яков, я не вернусь сегодня в отель, увидимся завтра." "… I won't be going back to the hotel tonight, so see you tomorrow, Yakov.

"Ты очень милый." "You're very cute."

"Прекрати быть таким милым, или я тебя поцелую." "Stop being so cute or I'll kiss you."