A/N: So after being begged by my friends to write a YOI piece, I figured I should finally try it out. It's just a small, inconsequential fic, but it got a lot of my Victuuri feelings out. Hope ya'll enjoy.

I might write more fics for this pairing, especially since there's going to be another season. Anyone have any suggestions/prompts they want me to explore? Should I write another chapter from Viktor's perspective about Yuuri? Let me know!

He couldn't remember when this had started to feel normal. Feeling perfectly content to have Viktor's eyes on him, to have his devoted attention and not feel like scurrying under the pressure. At first it had been terrifying. He could skate in front of thousands of people, compete for his entire nation, but when skating for his idol, the legend, the man he'd copied and aspired to since he practically first stepped onto the ice, his nerves seemed to seize into a tight ball in his chest that barely allowed him to breathe, much less skate. Those first few weeks in Hasetsu had been a trial, to say the least.

Sochi had been different. He couldn't even feel the man's presence at all when he'd been on the ice. He didn't even know if the man was watching, didn't even care, if that was possible. He'd been so depressed, so lost as he thought about Vicchan. He was so consumed by grief and guilt and regret that the ice had lost all meaning, all purpose. His routine became a blank in his mind, his body floating, tripping, stumbling as it attempted to make it all up from muscle memory. His beloved best friend had died, and he hadn't been there for him, hadn't even seen him in five whole years. Viktor's possible stare hadn't occurred to him. As his body kept meeting the ice at every turn and jump, he'd just wondered if Vicchan had missed him in those last moments. If he was scared. If he hated him for leaving him and never coming back.

Yuri slowed to a stop as he reached the barrier and closed his eyes, hot tears building up behind his eyelids. None of them spilled over. He'd gotten better at holding it all back, his sadness, his pain, even his insecurities. Viktor's undivided attention could do that to a person, he supposed, and he'd had that for even longer than he could remember, thanks to all of the alcohol he'd consumed that night in his sorrow and shame. Speaking of Viktor...

"Yuuuuri," the man started, his reprimanding coach tone in play. "Where is your head? You've just been gliding along on the ice for the last five minutes." There was that look of stern disappointment, but Yuuri could still see the love in his eyes as he looked at him.

He didn't know when that stopped being such a daunting thought, the knowledge that Viktor loved him. But it was obvious now, even to his anxiety addled mind that was loaded with self-doubt. The man loved him. Viktor didn't even have to say it, the words were written into every one of his expressions and sparkled in his blue irises as he watched him. There wasn't much room for disbelief anymore.

Yuuri shook his head and let out a watery chuckle, gripping the rim of the wall. "Sorry. I was just… thinking about what got me here, that's all. And about Vicchan." He rubbed his gloved palms into his eyes, an embarrassed heat flaring up his cheeks. Maybe he hadn't learned to collect himself as much as he thought.

Viktor was almost instantly by his side, his hand rubbing soothing circles into his back. There was concern on his face now, his expression sprinkled with sympathy. Viktor had never faulted him for his performance at Sochi, not after he'd learned of the reason he'd bombed so badly. He knew that he would have been just as much of a wreck if he'd been told about Makkachin's passing right before an event.

"Why don't we head home? It's almost dusk out," the older man stated as he glanced out the rink's frosty windows. "We've already been here most of the day. Let's pack up."

The man went to turn away, but Yuuri quickly grasped his sleeve. "No, I'm fine. W-We can keep going," he mumbled before steeling his voice until it was firmer, surer. "I need the practice. That last landing was wobbly."

Viktor's expression softened even more as he turned back around. He carefully extracted his sleeve from Yuuri's grip before he clasped their hands together and leaned forward, their foreheads meeting as he attempted to assuage the other's worries from his mind. "Yuuri."

He glanced up at the call of his name, but his gaze froze, transfixed as Viktor's deep stare petrified him down to his soul. There was so much emotion there, something even stronger than love bare to him and him alone. He found it hard to keep his heart steady in the face of it. Those eyes, that look… This wasn't his coach anymore, he was no longer his idol, or his competition,. This was his fiancé that was looking at him now, all other hats cast away as he took on the persona that meant the most to the both of them.

With blue eyes flicking back and forth between Yuuri's brown orbs, he sighed, reaching up to cup his face. "You're tired. Yes, that last quad flip was executed poorly," he grimaced, before a doting smile formed, "but we'll deal with that tomorrow."

Yuuri nodded as they pulled apart. Suddenly the fatigue weighed down on his body and he groaned. "Probably for the best. If you made me do another jump I think I would have passed out until the day of the competition."

"Wow~ What happened to that glorious stamina of yours?"

"I'll let you know once I can feel my lower half again." Viktor just laughed.

The car ride home was silent, comfortable and companionate as they basked in the simple pleasure of being side by side. Viktor drove with Yuuri in the passenger seat, the gap between them bridged by their laced fingers. The brunet looked down at their connected hands, mind wandering. "Maybe I should learn to drive. Get a license and all that."

Silver brows furrowed as he glanced in his direction. "Should I feel insulted?" he asked with a chuckle. "My driving not up to snuff?"

"No, nothing like that. I just…" His gaze didn't stray from their hands, and he tightened his hold on the other, suddenly feeling vulnerable. He focused on the warmth of their connection, on the rough callouses he could feel imbedded into smooth skin, a feeling he had intimate experience with. "I should get used to Saint Petersburg as my home. I'm going to be here with you for a long time. Becoming a five time world champion is going to take a while." The gold shine of his ring caught in the light of the street lamps, sparkling as they passed by. "And I'd like to think that we'll be together for even longer than that." The admission, as quiet as it was, startled him. And apparently Viktor, as well.

Surprise came over the older man as he looked back at Yuuri, eyes wide, lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure what. It was an expression akin to the shock he'd expressed when Yuuri had first placed that ring on his finger and the twenty-four-year-old relished it. That gaze, once again on him, and even in Viktor's shock there was that underlying tenderness that he could bask in for centuries. It took a few moments before the look wore down as Viktor warmed to the sentiment. He didn't get to reply, though, as Yuuri caught something coming in startlingly close to their car in his periphery.

His head whipped around as he wrenched his hand from the other's grip. "Viktor, stop!" His panicked shout was quickly accompanied by a foot slamming on the brakes and the subsequent screeching of the tires. The car came to an abrupt halt, Yuuri's body slamming forward, caught not only by the strap of his seatbelt, but by Viktor's arm that had been thrown out in front of his abdomen.

They both took in shaky breaths as they looked up, seeing themselves mere millimeters from another car's bumper. The brunet slumped in his seat once his heart settled back into his chest. "Maybe I should learn sooner, rather than later."

They finally made it home fifteen minutes later, everything but their nerves intact. The minute Yuuri slipped his key in the lock, they could hear claws scurrying along the wood floor. Opening the door, Yuuri got an armful of Makkachin, nose and tongue wet on his face as the dog's whole body wriggled in his excitement. "Hey there, Makkachin" he spoke, his voice muffled by the poodle's fluff.

"Okay, okay, Makka, down," Viktor commanded, gentle yet stern. The dog obeyed, running back to sit in the foyer and wait. "I'll get you some food in a moment." He dropped their bags down, stooping low to rub and ruffle the hair of his dog's cheeks as Yuuri shuffled inside. "What am I? Chop liver? You always give all your love to Yuuri when we come home." He smirked at the other man's amused huff. "Though I can't blame you. He's got my sole attention from now on, too." He stood back up, wrapping his arms around his now flustered fiancé. "My tasty little Katsudon," he practically sang.

Yuuri's cheeks lit up, but he was pretty used to the affection by now. The whole katsudon thing had been his idea in the first place. At least if he was going to be likened to food, he was just glad that it was something both he and Viktor favored greatly. "More like your limp and trembly katsudon. Between practice and the car ride, I think I'll just lay in bed for a week."

Viktor hummed against the back of his neck, nose tickling the fine hairs on is nape. "That's alright. I like you like that, too."

Yuuri just shoved the man off with a laugh. "I need a shower. I'm all sticky and gross." He quickly put a hand up in front of his partner's face, silencing his next words. "Don't. No perverted comments about how you like my body sweat. That's just disgusting."

"But Yuuuri~" he pouted, acting put off.

"Nope." He disappeared into the bedroom before the man could protest further. He sighed as he leaned his back against the door, his eyes glancing around Viktor's bedroom.

Their bedroom.

Two months and he still had to correct himself. It was their room now. Their apartment. Their city. Theirs.

Before the move, the whole idea had been nerve-wracking. He could barely believe what he was doing until he was standing back in his room in Yu-topia, fresh from his win at the Grand Prix Finals and alone as he stood there. They were going to be living together. As coach and student. As competitors. As friends. As fiancés. As so much more. For a moment, he wondered if it was wise. If they were blurring one too many lines.

That was before he began to feel cold as he stood there, stripped of the usual fire he felt from the other man's gaze. In such a short time, he'd become accustomed to having his eyes on him and now he was deeply affected by the loss of his presence, even if it had been less than sixteen hours since the beginning of their temporary separation.

Viktor had stayed behind to make preparations and take the interviews about his return from retirement that Yakov had forced him into, leaving Yuuri to pack on his own. He'd only gone back for a few weeks to pack up his life, spend time with his family and Yuuko's, and skate some at, what would forever be his home rink, Ice Castle. Mari had helped him collect all of his things for the move. She was the one that convinced him to pack more of his stuff than he ever thought he'd need, far more than he'd taken to Detroit, and far, far more than he was comfortable with dumping on Viktor's doorstep. Not that Viktor had considered that when he'd made the move to Hasetsu, but that was neither here nor there. As his sister said, with her Cheshire smirk, "This is different, right?"

Was it?

They hadn't really talked about it except for a vague outline of future events and the practicality of it all. They just knew that this was what was right. For their careers. For them.

Yuuri asked about it in one of their calls.

It had taken less than a day for them to begin video chatting, both of them drinking in each other's stares as the distance between them became maddening. They hadn't been together long, a quick heartbeat to most, but that failed to matter as all thoughts turned to each other. To their want, desire, need to be together.

Viktor didn't seem to mind all of his stuff when it finally arrived after him. He seemed rather pleased, actually. Yuuri began apologizing profusely anyway, his face in his hands as he let his self-consciousness take over. The man simply hushed his stream of apologies with a kiss that took his breath away.

Unpacking had been filled with its own horrors. He'd sat down to open one box only to instantly close the flaps back up and shove it away from himself, his face red up to his ears. He tried to will away the box before his fiancé took notice. When that didn't work, he attempted to dispose of it in a very Yuuri like fashion, by spazzing all over the place. This, of course, served to attract the man's attention. Viktor inquired as to what was inside, his interest making Yuuri so startled that he dropped the box, the contents spilling out onto the floor. And there they were, every poster of Viktor that he'd ever owned out for all eyes to see. Every. Single. One. He could practically hear his sister cackling back in Hasetsu. She was never helping him pack again.

Yuuri came back from his thoughts as his muscles began to scream at him. He made his way to their master bath, soon letting the water rinse his exhaustion away.

He must have been in there for longer than he thought because when he emerged, Viktor was already placing their plates on the table, a mouthwatering aroma filling the apartment. "Ah, I'm sorry. I would have helped you with dinner."

He waved the comment off, proud smile in place as he took his seat and gestured for Yuuri to take his own. "The least I could do. I practically ran you into the ground during practice. And then into someone's backseat on the way home."

"But… I still wanted to help some…" he mumbled, gaze downcast as he picked up his fork.

Confusion descended upon Viktor's brow as he stared at the other. "What's with the sudden interest in helping more? First it's with driving, now dinner, soon I won't even be needed around here anymore," he teased, lazing his head on the palm of his hand.

Yuuri didn't take the comment lightly. "Of course you're needed!" he shouted, probably with more concern than necessary. By the look on Viktor's face and the way his body jolted, he realized that it may have been a bit of an overreaction. He sunk down in his seat as he calmed. "I… just want to be more useful around here. I want to be more useful to you than just being your student."

"You haven't been just my student for quite some time, Yuuri."

He shook his head. "I feel like you're always doing everything while all I do is skate. I-I…" Staring down at his ring, he turned it idly with his thumb, trying to ignore the penetrating gaze of his partner's. "I want to help with some of the burden."

Reaching over the table, Viktor brought his chin up with a delicate lift of his index finger. "None of it is a burden. I enjoy doing these things for you." He let go of the smaller man as he made his way around the table and knelt at his side. "For us," he continued, pulling his hand from his lap and gripping it. "I want you to be able to focus on your art. I want you to get that gold more than you do. And no student of Viktor Nikiforov is gonna start slacking because of meager chores." Yuuri laughed despite himself. "Besides, you do more than just skate. You have no idea what you do for me every day, Yuuri. Your presence alone makes it all worth it."

Yuuri's breath caught. Before he could question him on what he meant exactly by the word 'all', he looked up to find that same overwhelming emotion lingering in his gaze, a love of a thousand lifetimes bare to his soul. Yuuri felt like he was drowning in his gaze, lost in a sea of sweet devotion. His mouth went dry, throat parched by such an intimate expression. "I'm not very hungry anymore…" he said, the rosy tint of arousal clinging to his pallor.

The older man's mouth formed into a mischievous smirk and he leaned in towards Yuuri's mouth so their lips lightly brushed when he spoke again. "Neither am I. Not for dinner, anyway."

They fell together on the bed, hands wandering and lips locked as they held onto each other with no intention of letting go. Desperate groping evolved into sensual touches and high pitched gasps that only increased in intensity. Every movement caused delicious friction. Every gasp and groan shook Yuuri's very foundation.

When they did break apart, heavy breaths intermingling, their gazes met for the briefest of moments. Viktor's eyes were alight with a passionate fire that turned his irises a deep azure. The desire within them was terrifying, yet incredibly enthralling. It chilled Yuuri down to his core, making his body tremble with the visions of what that look meant. Inspired by such a look and the emotions it stirred within him, he summoned up his inner Eros, a part of himself that had always been meant for the one above him.

He flipped their positions and leaned back, a lone, solitary finger coming down to brush along the other's bottom lip as he looked down at him with hooded eyes. He could feel Viktor's body shudder beneath him, the action emboldening him more. He clasped their hands together at the sides of Viktor's head and leaned forward as their hands slid up towards the headboard. Yuuri dipped his head low, denying his partner the kiss that his blue eyes were desperately seeking, and instead ran his nose along the man's throat, breathing deep and drinking in his scent.

"Yuuri."

His body jolted at the deep tenor of Viktor's voice, his hips bucking up against the hardening length beneath him. They both gasped at the immensely gratifying feeling.

Yuuri's head spun. The urgent need to rut against the man until he saw stars pounced upon him, but he willed it away. He brought himself back up, a light smile on his face as Viktor submitted himself to his charms. Slowly, he brought their mouths back together, lips, tongues, and teeth meeting as they hungrily tasted each other. Every sound, every breath, swallowed up in their passion.

Viktor groaned. "You don't have to seduce me, Yuuri." He slipped his hands free from the light hold in favor of gripping Yuuri's hips, his thumbs pushing up beneath his fiancé's shirt to rub circles into his skin. "You had me the night of our first dance."

Yuuri's Eros slipped, a goofy smile taking over his face as tears welled beneath his eyes. He brought his hand up to cup Viktor's jaw, caressing it oh so carefully, like he was cradling God's greatest gift in his hands. "Then seduce me, Viktor," he whispered, stomach aflutter. "Touch me. Take me. Make me beg for you now, and long for you when we're apart. Make me feel everything you felt that night and more."

Viktor's breath hitched and he closed his eyes as he composed himself. Quickly drawing Yuuri back to him, Viktor took the challenge.

When they came together it was like a symphony. Viktor had once told him that he loved the way Yuuri made music with his body, and Yuuri had shared the sentiment as he'd watched Viktor for all those years, but nothing could conquer the sweet, sinful song they produced when they danced as one. The motion of their bodies brought forth an enchanting melody, a song that had bewitched the crowd when they'd danced on the ice at the exhibition gala. But this dance, this symphony, was reserved only for them, a glorious hymn that went on long into the night as they worshipped each other's bodies, their souls fusing into one.

It was a synergy so powerful that Yuuri found himself drifting. For a moment he was floating, high in the air like he'd just skated into a jump. He was spinning and dizzy and adrift with nowhere to land. Viktor was there to catch him.

He fell breathless into bliss, hands gripping onto strong shoulders as he cried out their last note into the night.

They slept in each other's arms, their bodies remaining locked together long after they'd awoken. Hands drifted across skin. Tongues lapped together lazily. Their intimate and soulful stares never wandered. It wasn't until the sun's renewed light streaked their room golden and Makkachin's peppy barking filled the room that they succumbed to the start of a new day.

Yuuri got up first, Viktor seeming content as he laid there for a few more precious moments, the sheets tangled around his waist as he stared at the other man's naked form unabashedly. The brunet ignored his insecure need to instantly cover himself up, finding comfort and thrill in having Viktor's attention all to himself in such an intimate moment.

"God, you're so beautiful. How can you be so perfect?"

Yuuri threw a shirt at him. He dressed for the day, his clothing covering up the remnants of Viktor's eternal adoration that he'd impressed upon his skin. Making his way back over, he started picking up the clothing they'd left strewn across the floor when Viktor seized him by the waist and drew him back to the bed.

"It's true. I always thought you were so beautiful. That night at the Sochi banquet. When I first came to Yu-topia-"

Yuuri scoffed. "You mean after you forced me to work off every katsudon I'd ever consumed in my adult life, in a week's time."

Viktor shook his head against his back, squeezing the other man in his hold. "Before and after. You need to stay in shape to compete, but not to earn my desire. Your body is always beautiful to me, Yuuri."

Those words drew him back into Viktor, going back in for another round of heated kisses and touches. He'd just turned around and began to straddle the other man when more barking interrupted them. Makkachin nosed the door open and bounded in, leaping up onto the bed, leash in mouth.

Viktor hung his head as he let Yuuri go. "Alright. Time to get up."

Yuuri was back on the ice in no time, his slave driver of a coach teasing his limits as he pushed him through jump after jump, a rather aggressive step sequence and then another jump. By the time he finished his last move, Viktor was already telling him to run through it again. He sagged down to the ground, hugging the ice as if it could save him. "Why are you so mean to me?" he whined pitifully.

"Come on, Yuuri. I know you have more stamina than that. Where's my gorgeous little Eros from last night-"

Yuuri snapped to attention, cheeks stained as his eyes wildly took in the rink around them. "Viktor!"

"Oops." He brought a coy finger to his sly smile. "Is that a secret?"

"You are trying to kill me." He forced himself up, willing himself back into place as he started over.

Nothing could quite replace how he felt on the ice, especially now as he could feel Viktor's eyes doting on his form. It didn't matter whether he was skating freely, in competition, or in practice, the man's gaze was his. It was an odd transition when he thought about it. He had always been watching Viktor, the rabid fan that never tired of the flow of the man's body. But now it was Viktor that was captivated. Yuuri was the wolf that had captured its prey.

Yuuri looked up, meeting the gaze of his fiancé. Viktor smiled just for him, a twinkle in his eye like he knew exactly what he was thinking about. That one emotion was there, swirling and dancing in his eyes, just like it always was.

That man never failed to take his breath away.