melodytree

Pairing/characters: Victor/young!Victor/Yuri
Rating: Explicit
Contains: N/A
Summary: Yuri wanted his promised choreography and coaching from Victor. Even if he had to follow Victor, searching for inspiration in another, younger version of himself, to an alternate dimension in order to obtain it.
Notes: Written for shadow_lover in exchange for a donation for the Fandom Loves Puerto Rico fundraiser.

Nauseous, head pounding, Yuri gripped his cup of tea and wondered why he'd agreed to come dimension-hopping with Victor. All he had wanted was to get the choreography Victor owed him, dammit.

And now he was surrounded by two boisterous dogs (because of course Victor wasn't going to leave his dog behind for weeks on end) and two versions of Victor: the usual annoying one, who didn't seem half as affected by the trip as Yuri was, and a younger one, who Yuri already suspected was going to be even more annoying. At least they'd stopped cooing over their dogs for now. Instead, the younger Victor was pulling on the very tips of the older Victor's fringe while the older Victor played with the ends of his long hair.

Yuri curled up further into the couch in the younger Victor's living room. His apartment was noticeably less shiny and spacious than the older Victor's, while also looking less like it was plucked from a Scandinavian design catalog and feeling rather more lived-in.

"So we're going to be training here for a few weeks," the older Victor said, the tail-end to some convoluted explanation. Yuri still didn't know exactly why they were here. He wasn't sure Victor entirely knew. Looking for inspiration before Yuri toppled his precious crown as the king of skating, sure, he got that, but dimension-hopping, really? Was he that desperate to find something new for his audience? "Would you mind helping us out a bit? I can pay for everything."

"Well," said the younger Victor. He looked like he was being taken in by his own charms.

"Take him up on it," said Yuri. "He's probably the richest person in Russia who earned it all legitimately."

The younger Victor gave a pleased 'oh' of surprise; Victor grinned at Yuri, and then took out his wallet to show the younger Victor, who went 'oh'. After a moment, he looked up again and turned towards Yuri. "And this is a rinkmate of yours? Hi!" He waved, as though they hadn't already been through the basic introductions. "I'm kind of surprised Yakov let him kidnap a Junior for a month."

Yuri grit his teeth. "I'm in Seniors."

"Oh, are you? Sorry, it's that you're so small and cute." He looked around. Yuri's head pounded harder. He wasn't cute, he was tough and strong, but the younger Victor was already talking again. "Hm, I don't really have a lot of room here for guests, but it'd be mean to make myself and my future rinkmate sleep in a hotel, wouldn't it? I think there are extra blankets, so Yuri, you can take the couch if you want." Yuri shrugged; as long as he wasn't paying for it. The couch seemed comfortable enough to sleep on, if the dogs didn't try to cuddle with him. "And older me can just share my bed, I guess, unless you want the floor?"

"Absolutely not," the older Victor said. "Hm, I wonder if both of us and both of Makkachin will fit?"

Yuri let them hash out the details and buried his head against the couch after finishing his tea. Eventually, the younger Victor sent the older one out to get some things, and then flopped next to Yuri. "So," he said, drawing out the sound. Yuri grudgingly turned his head to acknowledge him. "Your name is Yuri and you're his rinkmate and you're in Seniors."

"...yeah?"

"And...?" When Yuri just stared at him, not sure what he was getting at, Victor leaned back against the couch and asked, "Why did he bring you with him?"

"He owes me choreography and I wasn't going to wait until he came back. He promised he'll give me coaching, too."

"Oh, is that all." Victor looked disappointed.

"What were you expecting?"

"In movies and books and things, in this situation you usually get to meet your future husband or wife or so on, though I guess you're a bit young for—"

"Ugh." Yuri had seen Victor's idea of a good romance. He was the top skater in the world (for now) and a well-known celebrity, he could date anyone he wanted, and he still got mushy over sappy romance films where the ending was telegraphed in the first five minutes. "You do know why he's here, right?" At the shrug he received, he continued with, "It's for ideas, 'cause—"

"Oh, don't tell me. I want to figure it out on my own. It's no fun if you spoil everything for me."

Fine, his loss. Maybe after a few days he'd figure out that the older Victor wasn't here for fun, he was here because he needed something to inspire him and he'd decided that stealing some of the shine off of his younger self was a great idea. Maybe this one would end up differently from the older Victor once he saw what he was going to become some day; they'd only been here for an hour, but he seemed so earnest and cheerful.

In fact, he was already bouncing to his feet. "This is going to be a lot of fun," he declared, clapping his hands together. "I can't wait to skate with you." Then the two dogs were at his feet, begging for attention, and he was laughing. Yuri was prepared to nap off his headache when the younger Victor started pestering him about what he wanted for dinner, and by the time the older Victor came back, Yuri had been somehow talked into making something for all of them.

~!~

Yakov didn't look happy to see them walk into his rink. The two Victors managed to sweet-talk him out of a yelling session, though Yuri didn't get quite how. He was distracted by the sight of a younger Georgi warming up on the ice with an older skater who Yuri hadn't thought of in years, since he'd retired already by the time Yuri had started being coached by Yakov.

It was a little strange being at the rink with Yakov and not getting coached by him, but Yuri was over that in the first couple of hours. Victor gave him his choreography, and the grateful part of Yuri was almost overrun by the fact that the music was something light and sweet instead of the much cooler variation on the song that he'd heard Victor play once before. It didn't help that Victor kept trying to explain the concept behind it to him, and it just sounded like nonsense. Neither of them believed in God, so how the hell was Yuri supposed to contemplate the supposed all-encompassing heavenly love that Victor kept prattling on about?

Stranger still was seeing the younger Victor at work when Yuri was taking a breather or waiting on the older Victor. Yuri hadn't watched Victor's older routines in a long time, and so it was a surprise to see that the younger Victor had – not rough edges, it was impossible to imagine him ever having had any. But places where his ability wasn't yet smoothed all the way down to perfection. His step sequences, for example, weren't as good as the other Yuri's, and they weren't as good as they would be someday. Excellent, sure; he hadn't set a world record as a Junior for nothing. But they weren't perfect.

Well, neither was the older Victor, but it was still gratifying to see the teenager he'd looked up to so much as a stupid kid falling on his jumps just like Yuri did.

That only came with one problem.

One Victor could be bad enough when Yuri was in the wrong mood, even if he made up for it by coaching him. Two Victors was worse, or rather, the younger Victor was worse. If the older Victor wasn't around, sometimes the younger Victor would try to give him advice (which was occasionally helpful, so he couldn't even ignore it), and whenever he gave out compliments, they always managed to sound condescending. And he reacted about as much to Yuri yelling at him as the older Victor did: he might crack a smile, or laugh, and then go on as if Yuri hadn't said a thing.

And speaking of the older Victor, he was far too delighted with the younger Victor. Watching him practice with an indulgent smile (before, sometimes, launching into a rundown of everything he was doing wrong), braiding his hair for him – they were all over each other at the apartment, always leaning on one another and falling asleep on each other's shoulders. It was weird at best and goddamn irritating when the older Victor was meant to be paying attention to Yuri.

At least his attention did usually return to Yuri. Sometimes it took a bit of yelling. Once, Yuri got so fed up with the older Victor's critiquing of the younger Victor's run-through of his program – when they were supposed to be running through Yuri's – that he chucked his empty water bottle at him. That at least got him a half-hearted apology and another hour of those eyes focused on him.

A couple weeks in, Yuri was starting to wonder when they were going to go home. By now he thought he'd sort of figured out this agape thing – less God's love than something like Grandpa being a million times more reliable than Mom had ever been – but apparently that wasn't good enough for Victor, who kept frowning after every practice run and trying to draw more feeling out of him. He missed Potya, and Victor was turning out to be less good of a coach than Yakov, even if he was a hell of a choreographer, and he was still acting overly-fond of the younger Victor, whose presence was getting more and more on Yuri's nerves. He was already sick of everyone expecting him to be the next Victor Nikiforov, and it was worse with the version who was only a few years older than him around all the time, casually running through programs that would have left Yuri utterly exhausted.

The last straw, or so Yuri thought at first, was the morning he came into the rink to find the younger Victor trying out his routine. And doing it better, of course, because he was Victor Nikiforov and why wouldn't he be able to project angelic innocence at the drop of a hat even in his plain practice clothes, even without the music, even with the timing of everything slightly off.

Yuri could feel his hands curling into tight fists. Beside him, the older Victor hummed thoughtfully.

When he was finished, the younger Victor spotted them and came over, smiling like there was nothing wrong. "You looked so charming whenever you practiced it, it made me want to do it once," he said. "It's a pretty program."

Running through it didn't leave Yuri with any breath left to talk afterward. And what the hell, charming. Yuri scowled at him, and then the older Victor started to say, "Yura, why don't you try—" while smiling back at the younger Victor, and he couldn't take it.

"Shut up," he snapped, only refrained from kicking at Victor because that was hard to do well in skates, and settled for storming off in the opposite direction instead. Maybe he could practice spins or something all day and try to figure out how to do his own program better than Victor had. It was his, he had to.

The older Victor got the message after the third or fourth time Yuri yelled at him to go away and left him alone. Yuri didn't even have to deal with his disappointed look after practice; he took off on his own, as he'd occasionally been doing, so it was just Yuri and the younger Victor tromping back toward the apartment together. "Maybe you can cook tonight," the younger Victor suggested as they entered.

"Sure." He liked cooking. Victor wasn't bad at it, but after years of helping Grandpa, Yuri was better.

"Great!" Victor tapped his shoulder. "And when older me gets home, make sure to apologize, okay?"

Yuri, bent over to get his shoes off, looked up to stare at him. "What?"

"I mean, he's taking the time to coach you, when he could be focusing on his own routines, but you kept ignoring him all day. That's pretty rude." He said it matter-of-factly, not bothering to look up from where he was shimmying his heel out of his shoe.

"Mind your own business," grumbled Yuri, shoving past him.

He was surprised when Victor shook off his shoe and whirled around with his hands on his hips. "What is with you?" he demanded. "Why are you always stomping around and yelling and why hasn't older me told you to shape up and learn to be polite yet? Why hasn't Yakov? Lilia would have strangled me if I acted like such a brat!"

The name was vaguely familiar, but Yuri didn't know who that was. Wait, was she that new ballet instructor Yakov had said was going to be teaching him? That would make sense, she probably would've worked with other students of Yakov's in the past.

He growled and tried to avoid Victor by going to the kitchen to start dinner, but Victor followed. "Is this because of me? I don't understand why you hate me so much. You like older me! I let you stay here and I try to be nice to you, I was even going to try and help you with your program because you're cute and you look pretty skating it and I know older me is frustrating you—"

Yuri slammed a bowl on the counter. "I don't need your help and I don't want you skating my routine!"

"You have a thing about being compared to me, don't you? It's not my fault, you know. It's not like I made you train with my coach and skate to a program I made that is a lot like ones I skated to and grow your hair out like I'm famous for—"

"My hair has nothing to do with you!" It didn't, really, it didn't. The bob looked better on him than his last haircut had. That was all. "Why do you care if I like you, anyway? We're not going to be here that much longer."

Victor frowned. "Older me hasn't said when you're leaving." He peered at Yuri. "Why does he like you so much? I don't understand."

"Ask him," Yuri snapped.

"I did. I want to see your good points for myself. I can't believe he would like you because you're his protégé," and Yuri gave up on staring into the cabinet to snarl and spin around, "or he feels sorry for you because you're the family breadwinner—"

"I'm not your fucking protégé," Yuri screamed. "I'm the one who's going to smash your records until you give up and retire!" Victor pulled his head back as Yuri shoved his own in his space. "I'm the one who's going to get to surprise the audience now."

"Hm," Victor went, frowning. His expression hadn't changed much, and he hadn't even taken a step back. Yuri stared at him, hands fisted, seething. "But why you?"

"What?"

"There's lots of talented young things, especially in Russia," Victor said. "And anyone can work hard if they want to. What makes you different from anyone else? Have you even beaten my record from Juniors yet?"

He'd pretty much matched it, and that was without using any of his quads. And he'd been leagues ahead of anyone when he won Junior Worlds, even the skaters who were years older than him. "None of them can beat me, 'cause I'm stronger than any of them."

Victor looked at him for a long moment, then put his finger to his chin. "Well, maybe you are. Maybe this is what older me likes about you, seeing you get all fired up like that. It makes me want to take you back to the rink and show you that you're wrong." He grinned. "Plus he said you get cute around your cat, and I haven't seen it but he swears you let Makkachin nap on you at least once."

"Did not," Yuri said, not quite sure why the conversation was swerving in this direction. (He had. She was an old dog, he wasn't going to be that cruel to her.)

"You really should stop yelling so much, though, it's so off-putting. I like you better when you get all serious."

Yuri stared at him in confusion as Victor turned to open the fridge and started chattering about what they should have for dinner while pulling out vegetables. "What's with you?"

Victor set down some carrots and looked at him. "You can get away with the attitude now because you're so young. People aren't going to be so indulgent when you're older and taller. Maybe you can practice on me!"

Humming, he started washing vegetables. Yuri didn't know what to say to that, so he grabbed a knife, and they started to make dinner together. It turned out to be kind of nice to have help.

"I'm not the one who chose the music," he finally said. "I wanted the cooler variation."

"There's two versions?"

"The other's all darker and more energetic and, you know, sexier. But older you said that the agape version would suit the image I'm going to get or something and wouldn't let me choose."

"Ah," said Victor. "I suppose if everyone thinks you're going to be the next me, you might as well take advantage of it at first, before you show off your own style, rather than fighting against it, especially looking the way you do. I'm sure it's not like older me wants to make you into his replacement, either. He seems to like you the way you are, even with the shouting, and you haven't crushed him yet, after all."

"It's not him," Yuri muttered. For the shortcomings he did have, the older Victor didn't treat him like a kid, or like it was his duty to help out the next generation of skaters, or anything weird like that.

When the older Victor finally showed up, he gave them a confused smile on seeing them sitting next to each other at the table, already digging into the food. "We're friends now," the younger Victor said, very earnestly, and Yuri rolled his eyes, but somehow after that, the younger Victor was more bearable to be around.

~!~

They didn't go home. They had to go back before it got too far into summer; Yuri was supposed to meet this Lilia and he needed to get a free program from someone, and he didn't want Victor providing that, it would be too much. Now that the younger Victor was being less irritating, though, Yuri was starting to appreciate the focused atmosphere they had here.

One evening not long after their fight that had fizzled out, the younger Victor was helping him cook again – they'd started doing that, he was a better assistant than the older Victor. As Victor leaned over the pot on the stove, his braid started to slip over his shoulder. Before he brushed it back, Yuri spotted long, red scratches going from his spine toward his shoulders where the low dip of his shirt didn't hide them. He stared even after the braid mostly covered them again, thinking – he held out one hand and curled his fingers. The spacing matched up.

The conclusion he wanted to draw was that Victor had a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever that he hadn't told them about, and he had been sneaking out to see them. Or otherwise finding time between skating and ballet and everything else he had going on to go and meet them.

The conclusion he actually came to was: Victor spent most of his free time with either him or the older Victor. He and the older Victor were always hanging on each other and putting their heads in each other's lap. He was sharing a bed with the older Victor.

"What the hell," he said, and Victor turned to give him a curious glance. "Are you two fucking?"

Victor blinked at him once, twice, and turned the stove off. "Yes." After a moment of Yuri gaping at him, he asked, "Was that all?"

Yuri didn't know what to say for a second; he managed to sputter out, "Why?"

"Because we like it," Victor said. "Wouldn't you sleep with your older self if he appeared?"

Yuri, almost involuntarily, thought about it for a brief moment. Imagined an older, taller him, imagined them scowling at the each other, imagined them kiss— "No way in hell."

"Oh," said Victor. He peered at Yuri like he didn't understand what was making him quite so agitated. "I think a lot of people would. There's almost as much porn with doppelgängers as there is with twins, isn't there?"

That, Yuri could concede. (He'd tried watching a doppelgänger threesome video once, when he was bored and looking for something new, and it hadn't just been strange, it had been boring, so he'd moved on.) But that wasn't the point. "Isn't it weird?"

"Well," Victor said, and to Yuri's surprise, his cheeks turned faintly pink. "A little. But it's really good, too." For a moment, Yuri worried that the conversation was about to go extremely TMI, but Victor just said, "Because he already knows everything I like, and we like the same things. There are a couple of things where we have to take turns doing the parts we find boring, but still. And he's nice to me, and I'm pretty handsome, so we're basically the perfect lovers for each other."

"Oh." Put like that, it almost made sense. It was still weird, though. Maybe a little gross. Like some kind of super-strange incest.

Victor moved past him to start pulling dishes from the cabinet. "You really wouldn't?"

"Unlike certain vain jerks, I'm not my own type."

Victor laughed at him and handed him a stack of bowls. "Okay," he said. "Hm, I wonder who is, then." He winked at Yuri, who scowled back and went to start filling their bowls, before taking them out to the table.

The door to the apartment opened, then closed. There was the sound of clothing sliding against cloth, of two dogs' nails clicking on the hardwood. Victor perked up and raced from the room, leaving Yuri to finish shoving everything in the sink to soak and give the counters a quick wipe-down where there had been spills.

When he came out, the two Victors were already sitting at the table, with the younger Victor leaning hard against the older Victor. "Yuri's so smart! He figured out that we're sleeping together and I didn't tell him anything."

The older Victor looked up at him with an amused expression. "Were we that obvious?"

Yuri dropped into his seat. He could feel his cheeks heating as he gestured vaguely towards the back of his neck. Both of them stared; the younger Victor repeated the movement, looking puzzled, then suddenly clapped a hand over the top of his spine. "Oh!"

The older Victor nudged his hand and his braid away and went, "Oh," himself. He turned back to Yuri, who had started in on his chicken. "I didn't think you'd be so calm when you found out," he said, picking up his own fork.

"He already yelled at me a bit," the younger Victor offered.

Yuri stabbed his next piece harder. He didn't feel calm. Something was setting his stomach roiling despite the perfectly good food in front of him. He didn't know if it was the idea of the two of them screwing every night just a few meters away from him or what. "Just keep it down," he muttered through a mouthful. "If I hear anything from your bedroom at night, I'm going to kick your door down."

"If you want to join us that badly," the younger Victor started, a teasing grin on his face, and Yuri tried to kick him under the table. He dodged. Damn.

Now that he'd found them out, it seemed that they no longer felt a need to be discreet around him. They acted normally in public – as normally as any version of Victor ever did – but at home the affection dialed up. They cuddled on the couch together, with or without a Makkachin or two. Sometimes they exchanged brief kisses or nuzzled against each other. Yuri didn't understand how anyone could put up with so much physical affection; if anyone tried that on him, he'd go crazy.

Mostly, he did his best to avoid looking at them when they were being lovey-dovey, except for the time they forgot he was there and started to slowly make out. He glared, and when that didn't work, yelled at them to cut it out.

They sprang apart and didn't start up again – even offered him apologetic smiles – but didn't seem that chagrined. Maybe they were perfectly suited for each other after all. Yuri scowled at them for a moment before turning back to his phone, trying to ignore the way that something about seeing them had put a twist in his chest that didn't seem to ease at all until the older Victor came over to talk about his routine some more. (No, Yuri was not going to go to a church service for inspiration, that was the worst idea he'd heard from Victor yet.)

~!~

One sleepy afternoon, the older Victor was out on a walk, while Yuri read on the couch and the younger Victor had just gotten up with the cup of tea he'd been nursing for hours. The two dogs were playing with each other, chasing each other up and down the room, stopping to do that chest-down 'play with me pose' before going after the other. They circled around the younger Victor, who laughed and held his cup of tea higher – and then one of them must have barreled into his leg or something, because he promptly tripped and spilled his tea all over Yuri.

The only mercy was that the tea was long cold, so at least he didn't get burned. He just got covered in cold liquid that was going to stain his pale shirt.

Yuri looked blankly at his chest and legs, and then looked up at Victor. His face would have been hilarious if he hadn't spilled tea all over him.

"I'm sorry!" Victor hastily clanked his mug down and waved his hands in front of himself disarmingly while Yuri growled at him. "I'll wash the stains out for you."

Yuri turned to look pointedly at the drying rack, which was filled with all of his other clothes, because he'd just washed them an hour ago.

"Oh. Um." Victor suddenly brightened. "Just wear some of mine, then."

That was how he ended up stripped to his underwear in the kitchen, shivering a little, as Victor rinsed the stains in the sink and then set the clothes in to soak with some laundry soap. He reassured Yuri that they would be fine (if they weren't, he was making Victor buy him replacements, he liked that shirt) as they headed into the bedroom to find him something to wear.

The younger Victor had better taste in clothes than the older one did, but that didn't mean it was great. Some of his pants were pretty okay – he dug up a dark, faded pair of jeans that mostly fit Yuri – but his shirts had too much glitter and not enough good patterns. Not a single piece of leopard print in the whole closet. Honestly. Victor ran through the shirts in one drawer and pulled a green one out. "This one's kind of old," he said, holding it up. It looked like a practice shirt, three quarters sleeves and a deep v-neck. Plain, but it would be fine for a few hours. "It should fit you."

Yuri tugged it on. Old had to be right; if it was any tighter, it would be uncomfortable to wear. Victor smoothed down the waist for him and tugged at the hem, as if it mattered what it looked like. Yuri brushed him off and checked the mirror anyway.

"I thought it would suit you. Look, it matches your eyes in this light."

"Yeah, I guess." Yuri's gaze was drawn more to the way it framed his collarbones, and to how, when he crossed his arms, his forearms somehow looked less spindly than they normally did.

"You can keep it, if you want. You don't have anything else that's green, do you? Cornflower blue would look nice with your hair, too, I think I might have this button-up that doesn't fit anymore...."

"I don't want it." Victor was smoothing down the fabric on his shoulders, now; Yuri shoved him off again. "What is with you two and trying to get me to wear your clothes? Older you asked if I wanted to use one of his old costumes this season. Like I want his hand-me-downs." Like he wasn't going to get compared to Victor enough as it was.

"Is there something wrong with liking to see someone cute in your clothes?" Victor said it so innocently that it took Yuri a moment to process the sentence and swing his head around to stare at Victor, who only smiled at him. What the hell. Was he flirting with him? He was flirting with him, wasn't he? Yuri wasn't fooled by that smile. Not with the way his eyelashes were lowered like that.

"What, is your perfect boyfriend with the same DNA not good enough?" Yuri pulled away from him, but Victor followed.

"We're doing fine. Aren't you jealous?" He kept talking even as Yuri tried to protest. "I can't figure out who you're jealous of, though. Older me or me or both? Which is more your type, short hair or long hair?"

"I'm not jealous," Yuri snapped. "And even if I was, why do you care? You two are all over each other, I wouldn't try to and break you up or anything."

Victor's smile slipped, replaced by confusion. "Of course you wouldn't," he agreed, like it wasn't even a question. "But you're cute and we like you, and when I saw you in that I started wondering if you would help surprise older me."

What did – oh. "What?"

Victor tapped a finger against his cheek. "I didn't think I'd have to spell it out for you," he murmured.

"Not that." Yuri swallowed over the sound of his heart, which was pounding much faster than it had been a minute ago. He was having trouble finding the right question to ask, but Victor waited for him to clarify. Victor with his stupid special hair falling loose against his waist, his eyes open and guileless.

For a moment – not the first since they'd come here – Yuri felt six again, watching the figure skaters on TV with his grandparents. Watching Victor, who, even when he hadn't been winning everything, had clearly been so much more wonderful than the competition. Actually meeting him had been a crushing disappointment in a lot of ways.

And here was that perfect Victor before him, but not so perfect after all: his sleeves were still pushed up from dealing with the stains on Yuri's clothes, and his hair, while neat, was slightly mussed from the activity of the day.

Yuri had the sudden, vicious urge to mess it up a lot more than that. So what the hell, if he wanted to surprise the older Victor that badly, Yuri would give him a surprise.

Victor let out a muffled yelp when Yuri crashed into him, jerked him down by the hair (he was too damn tall, why couldn't he have stayed at a reasonable height like Yuri's?), and pressed their lips together. A moment later, Victor caught him about the waist. He pulled him in even as he pulled his own head back to make the kiss less forceful.

Yuri, admittedly, didn't have a ton of experience with this kind of thing – making out with a couple of his fellow Juniors didn't really count – but how hard could it be? He knew he wanted more, so he grabbed the front of Victor's shirt and dragged him down when he broke the kiss. He knew Victor looked better with his hair all messy from having Yuri's hands in it. He knew it felt good to shove his tongue in Victor's mouth when he opened it.

The hands on his waist had moved to his shoulders by then, making little clawing motions. Victor moaned when their tongues met, and his breath was hot and rapid on Yuri's cheek when they had to pull away to breathe. Yuri was doing that. Yuri was putting that look in his eyes, that flush on his cheeks. It felt awesome to be able to affect Victor so much for once, unlike all the times Yuri had pushed on him or snapped at him and gotten barely anything in response.

The angle was making his neck start to hurt. He shoved Victor back until he sat on the bed, then went ahead and climbed into his lap. Now he got to be the taller one just by pushing himself up on his knees. Victor reached up to run a hand through his hair. "You should grow your hair out," he said. "It's so soft."

"I thought you didn't want me copying your look."

"Long hair by itself isn't copying! Especially if you wear it differently. The braid thing you do sometimes is cute."

Yuri rolled his eyes – there was that word again, cute – and kissed him once more.

They kissed and kissed for what felt like forever. At some point, Victor turned and flipped them so they were lying down and he was on top of Yuri, their knees awkwardly dangling off the side of the bed. Yuri took the opportunity to shove a hand up the back of his shirt, since it was in reach now, and Victor's skin was so hot. Hotter than his hands, which were cool where they pressed against his neck, his collar, before Victor followed them with his lips.

They were taking a break from the kissing – Yuri's lips felt bruised, and his entire face was on fire by this point – and Victor was starting to work his shirt up, when the front door clicked open. Both of them went still. There was the older Victor, chattering to the dogs, calling out to them. "In here!" the younger Victor shouted. He pushed himself up on his hands as the footsteps in the living room approached.

The older Victor started to come in the room, a bright smile on his face, but then he paused. He looked at them, and they looked at him, all frozen until the younger Victor pushed a strand of hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ear.

"Welcome home," he said, still a bit breathless.

Victor's smile changed to something more serious, and to Yuri's immense relief, he came and sat next to them. "You didn't say anything," he said, a pout audible in his voice, before he put a hand on the younger Victor's cheek and kissed him gently.

"It was a surprise," the younger Victor responded. "Anyway, it's not like he hasn't come up before." Yuri drew in a breath.

"Is he wearing your clothes?"

"He tried to ruin mine," said Yuri, ignoring the nerves in his stomach. "Apparently these scream 'fuck me', so I bet he did it on purpose."

"Did not," the younger Victor laughed, and he leaned down to kiss Yuri again. Only for a moment, before he went back to shoving Yuri's shirt up and touching underneath. Yuri tried not to squirm too much; his fingers tickled.

The older Victor leaned in closer, his eyes following those fingers. "Are you just going to watch?" Yuri asked him, and he didn't give him a chance to answer. He reached up, grabbed a handful of the older Victor's hair (just as fine and easy to muss as the younger Victor's, and not, surprisingly, notably thinner), and dragged him down for a kiss. Yuri tried to make it as good as possible – enthusiastic but not too enthusiastic, not too childish, showing that he was – that this was a great idea. (Even if he had no clue how far this was going to go. Whatever, he could handle it.)

When the older Victor pulled back, for a moment Yuri felt fine about it, until the older Victor gave a little laugh. "This isn't your first time kissing anyone, is it? From the look on his face, I thought you'd be better."

"Well, yeah, he's kind of bad at it," said the younger Victor, ignoring Yuri's squawk of outrage. "It's fine, I liked it. And I'm not here to coach him."

"Hm," the older Victor went, and yeah, no. Yuri tugged him down again and reluctantly let him take the lead. The older Victor went a lot slower – annoyingly slow – all soft little kisses that gradually went deeper and deeper, a light touch on Yuri's chin that shouldn't have felt so electrifying. And there were still the hands running over his ribs, his waist, nails digging in until they hurt.

"What costume did you want him to wear?" the younger Victor asked. "He's so small, it would have to be one from when I was in Juniors, right?"

The older Victor had to pull away to answer. "I was going to let him choose—"

"It was for the short program," Yuri interjected. "The one he choreographed."

The younger Victor brightened. "The white one!" Yes. The white one made to look transparent, all glitter and feathers. Yuri knew exactly which one he meant. "You should take him up on it, you'd look like a little angel in that," he crooned.

It was true that it would fit the theme of agape. And it would save him the money for a new costume. It didn't really fit with the image he wanted to project, but hell, if Victor apparently got off on it, maybe he should take the offer just for that. At least for a night or something.

Anyway, that could wait. Now, Yuri shoved both of them away enough to peel his shirt off and toss it somewhere off the bed. The younger Victor made an approving noise and pushed him back to the covers so he could – suck on the skin above his sternum? Was that somehow sexy to him? (Was Yuri supposed to be finding it sexy?)

The younger Victor glanced up at him through his silver eyelashes and, as though he had heard the thought, turned his head to draw his tongue across his chest to circle one nipple instead. Yuri's back arched at the sudden sensation; one hand flew to his mouth to muffle his gasp before he tore it away to dig into the covers instead. It felt really good, and he had to fight to stay reasonably still as the younger Victor kept teasing him with his tongue. Distantly, he registered the older Victor shifting beside them, and turned to kiss him again to stifle the sounds that wanted to come from his mouth.

There were nails scratching into his ribs now. They hurt, so Yuri batted them away; they drifted underneath him instead, encouraging his back to arch further into the younger Victor's mouth. When he suddenly sucked, hard, Yuri heard an embarrassingly-high noise come from his throat, and his legs wrapped around the younger Victor on their own accord. So this was what he'd been missing out on in those few stilted make-out sessions, where he'd been lucky if whoever it was even pawed at him through his shirt.

"Soft," the younger Victor mumbled against his skin, and that got the older Victor to break their kiss and slide a hand down the other side of his chest – light, too light, Yuri wanted it to stay – before burying it in the younger Victor's hair. The younger Victor made a happy noise and started to move down Yuri's chest, and his hands scratched into the curve of his back.

"Ugh, stop it." The younger Victor looked up, confusion written on his face, and Yuri shoved at him. "What's with all the scratching? He should be calling you kitten instead of me."

"Oh. Sorry." He didn't sound very sorry, and the older Victor just looked amused. Yuri remembered the scratch marks on the younger Victor's neck; so, it was probably a thing that they were both into.

The younger Victor kissed him, which was a better kind of apology. Yuri tried to copy what the older Victor had been doing earlier, the gentler movements, and it was still kind of boring and it didn't stop his lips from feeling too hot, but the younger Victor seemed to like it. He made these breathy little sounds, not something Yuri had heard from him before, pressed his leg between Yuri's, dug a hand into his hair. The hand trailed away, down Yuri's neck, as they broke the kiss.

And his goddamn nails scraped Yuri's skin. Yuri growled and yanked the hand away; the younger Victor laughed.

"Sorry! It's a habit by now."

Yuri replied that maybe he should break that habit, and as they sat up and bickered, the older Victor shifted away. Probably bored, Yuri assumed, until he returned by practically jumping onto the bed and kissing the younger Victor's cheek. "I have a solution," he announced, and he held up a blue ribbon. Both of them stared at it. It was a nice ribbon, as far as Yuri could tell, because why would Victor ever own anything that wasn't nice, but he couldn't figure out what the older Victor was getting at. After a few moments, the older Victor relented on them and added, "You can't scratch Yura if your hands are tied, can you?"

"Oh!" The younger Victor put his fingers to his lips, and then held his hands out. "That's a much better idea than gloves or something."

Yuri thought that the best idea was still the younger Victor paying attention to what he was doing, but there was something to watching the older Victor wind the ribbon around the younger Victor's wrists, after pressing a kiss to them. The ribbon was a vivid, dark blue, and it stood out against his skin, made the bones of his wrists look more delicate beneath the place where it was tied. The older Victor finished with a fancy bow, which he carefully made even before tucking the ends and loops under so they wouldn't get in the way.

"Too tight?" The younger Victor shook his head. "Now be good," he said, kissing the younger Victor's forehead, "or I'll have to tie your fingers together, too."

"Or tie me to the bed?" the younger Victor asked. He turned back to Yuri. "Or maybe you would have liked that better? Me, all helpless beneath you?"

The mental image only lasted a moment, but Yuri felt his cheeks heat. "You'd probably start kicking or something instead," he said, and the younger Victor laughed lightly and leaned into him.

"So what did you want to do?" the younger Victor asked. "Just touch each other?" He put on a teasing grin. "Did you want me on my knees, for you?" He leaned closer. "Did you want to fuck me? Or we could do it the other way around."

When Yuri failed to pick something out in a couple of seconds – he was thinking, he hadn't exactly expected a list, he had thought that Victor would start on whatever he wanted to do – the older Victor prodded the younger Victor. "Or he could watch us. There's three people here, you know."

"I got him first. But I guess there's plenty of room on the carpet."

Watching them turn from him to lightly bicker with each other was irritating. Yuri didn't give them the chance to get distracted and swallowed up in each other; he grabbed the younger Victor by his hair to get his attention, yanked him back over, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind: "Blow me."

The younger Victor caught himself on Yuri's leg and blinked at him. "Okay," he breathed, his expression shifting to something less teasing, without that smile on his lips. He looked down at his hands – oh, right, literally tied, so Yuri was the one who had to go for the fastening of his jeans. The older Victor gently pushed the younger Victor to the side in order to help out when the fabric got caught, and pulled Yuri's back against him after the clothes were off. He didn't quite fit under his chin when they were sitting like this, but the older Victor barely had to shift to press his lips to Yuri's hair.

The younger Victor knelt in front of them on the edge of the bed, smiled, kissed Yuri's cheek and looped his arms around him before sliding down to the floor. With his hands caught somewhere behind Yuri's hips, at least there was no way he was going to scratch him now. It was strange – in a good way – to see any Victor from this perspective, even if he had another one humming in his ear.

Yuri saw him tilt his head and open his mouth like he was about to make a comment instead of getting on with things, and said, "If you call it cute, I'm leaving."

"Fine," the younger Victor said, sounding unreasonably put-out, but Yuri didn't have long to be annoyed before he leaned forward and licked the underside of his cock, taking all the words from both of them.

Yuri didn't know what to do with the rest of himself as the younger Victor swallowed him down. He wasn't sure he could do anything except let the shudders run up his spine and twist the blankets in his hands. It felt awesome, not just all of the – the heat and the way the younger Victor was sucking and everything – but also seeing the supposedly perfect world-famous Victor Nikiforov close his eyes and concentrate on him.

The other Victor held on to him tighter. Yuri could feel him breathing harder in his ear. It felt weird, shivery, and he turned his head, but that just made the older Victor duck down to press his lips to his neck. "You can touch him," he said. "Here."

He took Yuri's hand and put it on the younger Victor's hair. Yuri tried not to feel too grateful about the direction. The younger Victor pulled off of him to nuzzle into it, and then sighed as the older Victor's fingers trailed down his cheek. Yuri didn't want to let on that he still had no real idea of what he was doing, and he had some idea that maybe he could, like, guide the younger Victor to do what felt best, which at the moment seemed like everything he'd been doing a moment ago. So he curled his hand in the younger Victor's hair and pushed him forward again, not sure how hard was too hard to pull.

It worked; the younger Victor teased for a moment, licking at the head of his cock in a way that made Yuri squirm despite the older Victor's grip, before he took him into his mouth again. "You can hold him harder than that," the older Victor said in his ear. "He likes it. Or touch his face, or tell him you like it, Yura. Doesn't it feel good?"

"Y-yeah." He could have swore he saw the younger Victor smile around him. "How hard?"

"I don't know," the older Victor said, chuckling. "Don't start pulling hairs out, I guess."

Yuri let his fingers wind tighter in the younger Victor's hair, saw him shut his eyes again and shiver slightly – and then he reached back with his other hand, grabbed a handful of the older Victor's hair, and jerked.

There was a sharp gasp, a low moan. The arm holding him tightened to the point of constriction for a moment. The older Victor, when Yuri turned his head to look, had surprise written all over his face; the younger one pulled off again and started laughing against his thigh. Yuri felt very pleased with himself.

"His face," the younger Victor laughed. "Do it again?"

"Maybe if you get back to blowing me," Yuri said, hooking his leg over the younger Victor's shoulder. That got him a grin, and the younger Victor leaned forward again. The older Victor let him tug a couple more times – it was getting hard to concentrate – before taking his hand and putting it back down. There were lips on his neck again, the older Victor gently sucking – Yuri felt the slightest hint of teeth, but he didn't bite.

White-hot pleasure built and built in him, and it was an embarrassingly short time before it was too much. The younger Victor didn't take his mouth off of him the entire time, not until Yuri's hips had stopped jerking and he'd gone still and limp.

He didn't get long to enjoy the afterglow before the younger Victor climbed into his lap to get his hands out from behind Yuri, and then both Victors were kissing literally over his head. Being sandwiched between them reminded Yuri that he was the only one naked here, which seemed kind of unfair, but he needed his mind to kick back into gear before he could do anything about it.

The younger Victor rocked his hips against Yuri's thigh as the older Victor whispered a piece of praise. Yuri let go of the blankets to put his hands on the younger Victor's waist, thinking – he should return the favor, shouldn't he? That was how this worked. The younger Victor shifted back down, making eye contact, before glancing up at the older Victor again. Suddenly they were moving, getting a bit more room, which was good, because being at the edge of the bed had meant that the younger Victor had been close to falling off even with his piling on to Yuri.

Yuri swallowed. The younger Victor was looking at him, so he wasn't going to go crawl around to the older Victor so they could fuck or something, so it was his turn to make a move, so – he tightened his hold and turned them out of the older Victor's grip, pushed the younger Victor to the bed. It got him a pleased smile, and the older Victor moved out of the way to lay beside them.

Yuri didn't really want to kiss him after what he'd just done, so he put his mouth to the younger Victor's neck instead. He seemed to like it, tilting his head to make it easier. Good. He was on the right track here. Really, it wasn't that hard.

Getting the younger Victor's shirt off wasn't going to be much of an option with his hands still bound together, but Yuri could push his hands under, and he already knew one thing that Victor was apparently really into. He dug his nails in and raked slowly down from his ribcage to the top crests of his hipbones where they poked out above his pants. The reaction was immediate: the younger Victor gasped and pushed into his hands, and when Yuri was done, he made a soft sound and said, "Again?"

So Yuri did it again, and judging off the noises the younger Victor was making, curled his nails in harder this time. On Victor's pale stomach, he watched the lines left from them go from white to a faded pink. "There you go, kitten," the older Victor said, his head propped up on his elbow, his gaze on Yuri's hands. Yuri rolled his eyes at the nickname, pressed his nails in once more, and then let go so he could get the younger Victor's pants off.

He'd seen the older Victor without clothes before, and the younger one wasn't much different. Smooth legs, defined calves, and a cock that was bigger than Yuri's because of course it was. At the moment it was a very excited one, too, and the younger Victor sure seemed to be trying to get him to touch it, between how he was straining at the ribbon and the way he was parting his thighs to give Yuri room. So Yuri moved up and touched, trying not to just grab him but not wanting to look too hesitant, either.

The younger Victor gave a low moan. The older Victor settled his head against the younger Victor's shoulder to watch. He wasn't breathing as hard as the younger Victor, and his expression didn't have the same tinge of desperation, but his face was flushing down to his neck, and Yuri could see the hand snaking its way down between their bodies.

Yuri might not have done this with another person before, but it was still just a dick. Victor couldn't be that special. Yuri started to stroke, and it was fascinating to watch the younger Victor wriggle and moan again at his touch, his breath picking up further. The older Victor brought his head up to kiss his cheek, and the younger Victor turned his so they could share another proper kiss, but then he turned back to Yuri, his eyes half-lidded, biting his lip when Yuri tried gripping harder.

Clearly, he was into what Yuri was doing, which was great. But this wasn't exactly exciting, and Yuri wanted to reciprocate properly. So he let go and slid down. It couldn't be that difficult, although Yuri was already sort of regretting that he couldn't remember anything that the younger Victor had done, specifically.

He barely heard the younger Victor go, "Ah, you don't have to..." before he interrupted himself with an, "Oh," when Yuri tentatively licked the head. It mostly tasted like skin, a little salt, which... made sense. Anyway, it wasn't bad, and Yuri opened his mouth and took as much as he thought he could handle.

Yuri didn't know what sound it was that the younger Victor made, but he felt pretty proud to have caused it.

Even if he wasn't sure what exactly to do next. What he was sure about was that the older Victor was chuckling and he didn't know why. He sent a glare upward, and the older Victor replied with a grin. "I thought you'd do something like that," he said fondly, scooting down a little, and he reached out to put a hand on Yuri's hair.

He didn't yank, or do anything more than twine his fingers in, so that was fine. Actually, it felt nice. Yuri gave himself a moment, and then set about trying to figure out what he was supposed to be doing. Sucking? Moving his head? Something with his tongue? Keeping his teeth out of the way somehow? It never looked that complicated in porn.

He wasn't hugely surprised when the older Victor started trying to tell him what to do – and the directions sure did seem to make the younger Victor squirm even more beneath him, his legs pressing firmly into Yuri's sides. After a couple of minutes, though, it began to get annoying, especially with the tone he'd taken on. "What the hell," Yuri said, pulling off. "Can you shut up for five minutes?" He looked at the younger Victor, who was giving him a dazed look back. "Do you seriously get off on him talking to you like a coach?"

"Well," the younger Victor said, breathy, and then he paused. "Not exactly."

The older Victor lifted his head. "I thought you liked being told what to do."

"Not like that. If you want to practice your coaching, you should do it on the ice."

"You should have said!"

"You seemed like you were having fun. I didn't want to ruin the mood. Anyway, usually I could distract you until you stopped talking."

The older Victor huffed; Yuri sighed and dipped his head back down.

At least after that, he didn't get any more instructions, except for a couple of whimpered pleas from the younger Victor, which were a totally different story. Yuri hadn't realized before just how powerful it was to be able to affect someone – to affect Victor – to make him plead like that and try to trap Yuri in with his knees. It left him feeling almost heady, and was surprisingly arousing. He could feel himself starting to get hard again just from knowing that it was him who was making Victor act like this.

It really wasn't even that hard, or at least not that bad once he'd gotten used to it. Aside from a couple of times where he'd misjudged how much of the younger Victor's cock was going in his mouth, or when he rolled his hips up into Yuri's mouth a little too much, and he'd ended up having to pull back and cough from the choking feeling. It was better with the older Victor shut up, just the hand in his hair. At one point, when some strands fell into his eyes, the hand moved to brush them back, gentle, not moving too close to his eyes, before returning to where it had been. Yuri couldn't see where his other hand was, but he knew what it was doing. And that was even better, getting to affect both Victors like this, the one he'd grown up seeing plastered everywhere and the one whose records he was aiming to beat.

"Stop, stop," the younger Victor suddenly pleaded, and Yuri did, peering up in confusion. He didn't think he'd been doing that badly. And the younger Victor didn't look upset, just red-faced. He took a gulp of air. "I'm about to...."

"Yeah?" Was that all? The younger Victor had let Yuri come in his mouth, Yuri could handle it. He opened his mouth again and resumed what he'd been doing.

The hand still on his head slipped down to touch his neck, curling gently over it. The younger Victor couldn't lay still – Yuri saw him toss his head a couple of times – and then he went all tense, and then he was coming on Yuri's tongue.

As soon as he thought it was over, before the younger Victor had quite finished shuddering, Yuri sat up and put a hand to his mouth. He'd known it wouldn't taste good, but getting a mouthful of come was something else. His throat wouldn't co-operate to try and swallow it.

"Here." The older Victor appeared in front of him, holding a tissue. Yuri was glad to take it and spit into it. Ugh. He threw it in the direction of the trash can and barely made it. "Okay?" the older Victor asked, touching his hair.

"I'm fine." Except for being super turned on again, maybe.

The younger Victor, still panting, pulled him up until they were almost – not quite – close enough to kiss again. Yuri had to close his eyes against the way his cock felt trapped between their stomachs, but the younger Victor didn't exactly complain when Yuri ground down against him. He only laid his arms over Yuri's shoulders for a moment before pulling them off just as the older Victor lay down again, pressed all against them.

Yuri looked up to see the younger Victor working at the ribbon with his teeth; after a second, he found the end of a loop and jerked his head and wrists away from each other to start undoing it. Huh. If there'd been something to the image of his wrists tied with a bow, there was definitely something to seeing him undo it with his teeth. Judging by the sound he made, the older Victor agreed.

One hand settled on the small of his back, while the other buried itself in his hair. The younger Victor didn't scratch, this time, just held him. Yuri hid his face against the younger Victor's collar and continued to rub against him. He heard a soft, whispered, "There you go," and he could also hear the older Victor jerking himself off.

Yuri wondered what was next. He was starting to tire, and he had no idea how this kind of thing usually worked – if they were supposed to get off the same amount of times each, or something, with the older Victor maybe getting a pass for being old.

After a minute of neither of the other two making another move, he realized that the older Victor was planning on just touching himself to the sight of the two of them. What the fuck, this was a threesome, not a peep show.

So Yuri pushed his hand down the older Victor's pants, displacing his own hand. His reward was a sharp gasp and the older Victor shoving into his palm. A moment later, the touch on his back shifted, turned, slid down to join him.

This worked. Yuri could roll with this. It was kind of weird to do this with strange fingers running into his, but the older Victor probably liked it, the two of them working him. Yuri shifted his head until he could watch his face.

He'd seen the older Victor happy, puzzled, blank-faced, on a very few occasions annoyed, but it was fascinating to watch him fall apart. Yuri stared and stared, taking in every aspect of of his expression that he could through his hair falling in his eyes.

When the older Victor came apart, clutching at both of them, the younger Victor murmured quiet nonsense syllables at him. Yuri wiped his hand off on the covers, reached for himself, and came again after only a few strokes, mind blank as it surged over him and left him melting on to the younger Victor.

It was very quiet.

Nobody moved. Maybe they were done after all. Yuri felt pretty pleased with himself, as he'd apparently rocked Victor's mind twice over in the span of, like, an hour.

He tried to sit up, but the younger Victor whined at him. "No, don't get up yet." He turned them over to dump Yuri between the two of them. "You can be in the middle!" Before Yuri could get away, there was a second pair of arms wrapping around his chest, legs tangling with his own, and he was trapped.

Yuri put up with it for a couple of minutes, partially because he was sleepy and listless and partially because struggling didn't do much – both Victors had all the grabbing power of an octopus – and partially because after a few minutes, when his brain settled down a bit, it wasn't that bad. When he later renewed his attempts to pry them off, he was marginally more successful, probably because of the element of surprise.

"Yura," the older Victor whined at him, trying to pull him back down.

"I'm hungry," Yuri whined back. "It's your turn to make dinner, and my clothes are still sitting in the kitchen sink."

"Oh, right," the younger Victor mumbled. He yawned. "They're probably fine now."

"They better be." He managed to get himself sitting up. "Either cook or order something already."

"If we order in," the older Victor said slowly, "there's no need for you to get up right now, is there?"

He reached for his phone, and the younger Victor dragged Yuri back down again. Yuri grumbled, but it was pretty warm here, and he was going to get food soon (which Victor was paying for), and his clothes didn't need to come out right this instant, so he acquiesced. The Victors kissed over him again, and then they ordered, and while they were waiting, a nap sounded great. He left the two of them murmuring sappy things at each other and settled in between them to sleep for a bit.