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Viktor starts paying attention the moment Katsuki Yuuri leaves his corner.
He’s been watching Katsuki tip back flute after flute after flute of champagne for the past hour, wondering when the man will finally reach his limit. It seems that this is it. Katsuki loosens his tie, cheeks flushed and eyes bright. He walks confidently; shoulders pushed back and back straight, a far cry from the slouching timid figure Viktor had met when he had first entered.
‘ – Don’t you think?’ says the man he’s talking to. Viktor startles. He smiles politely at the man.
‘Ah, yes,’ he says, nodding. ‘Sorry, I got a bit lost in thought there.’
The man glances at the point where Viktor’s gaze is locked. Katsuki grabs a bottle of champagne from a table. The man is drunk. Completely drunk, Viktor thinks, as he watches him take a small swig.
‘Is Katsuki all right there?’ the man muses. ‘He looks slightly inebriated.’
That’s an understatement. But still, Katsuki retains most of his grace and balance as he saunters over to where Viktor is standing. His tie is tucked in his pocket, the top of his shirt unbuttoned. His jacket, surprisingly, is still on.
Viktor,’ says Katsuki when they are standing in front of each other. He leans closer. ‘Viktor.’
Viktor doesn’t move. It’s not really shock. Maybe it’s confusion and slight amusement. Maybe it’s because seeing Katsuki Yuuri up close has brought to his attention how pretty the man is. Hair rumpled, cheeks slightly pink, and eyes too bright to be completely in control, Katsuki Yuuri is beautiful.
‘Viktor,’ someone says, and Viktor startles. Really, it’s far too easy to get lost looking at Katsuki.
He registers movement from behind him, and Yuri is there, arms crossed and nose upturned to look down at the drunk figure skater, even though he’s shorter.
‘What’s this?’ says Yuri in Russian. He sneers. ‘He’s drunk.’
Even though he probably doesn’t understand, or maybe because of it, Katsuki smiles. Viktor feels his breath catch. Damn it. Maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne too.
'Yuri Plisetsky,’ announces Katsuki. His voice is loud. Everyone turns to watch, but he doesn’t seem self-conscious.
He’s not the Katsuki Yuuri who had messed up earlier in the ring, Viktor thinks, all slumped shoulders and nervous ticks. He’s someone else drunk, and if Viktor was honest, he is curious. Maybe more than curious.
Katsuki extends a finger. Points at Yuri right in his face. ‘I challenge you to a dance-off.’
There are small titters and chuckles from the people around them. Viktor spots Mila with Sara, standing at the edge of the scene and laughing.
‘Hah?’ Yuri shouts, louder than necessary. Viktor smiles and crosses his arms. This is going to be interesting. While Yuri would probably complain to no end later, he’s probably not going to reject the offer. If there’s one thing that Viktor knows, it’s Yuri’s competitiveness. He never backs down from a challenge. ‘You’re on, pig.’
Somehow, the music changes to something louder and more to something you’d hear in a club. Yuri drags Katsuki to the center of the room, people parting around them to make space. Viktor spots phones being taken out, readied for the scene, and he takes his own out too. It’ll be funny to show Yuri later.
‘Use mine,’ Yuri says, rushing over and shoving his own phone at Viktor. ‘Record this. I want blackmail material.’
That doesn’t happen. Well, Viktor does take the pictures, on both his phone and Yuri’s. But he doesn’t see how you can use anything Katsuki does as blackmail material. He’s killing those moves, his drunken state not affecting his balance and accuracy at all. At one point, he approaches Viktor and looks straight in the camera – the one on Viktor’s phone – and starts dancing, a champagne bottle in hand, and good god, he’s hot. Even drunk and sweaty, there’s no doubt that Viktor finds him hot. Especially with his dancing. It’s a mix of breakdancing and figure skating without actually skating, but somehow, Katuski pulls it off.
‘Look,’ says Katsuki, shoving his face in the camera. Viktor laughs, snapping a picture of his blurry rosy face, then another of him and the bottle of champagne. ‘It’s champagne.’
Then he’s a few paces away already, legs raised high in the air and champagne held like a mike. Some goes into his mouth, but a lot sloshes out. He doesn’t seem to mind.
Viktor watches as Mila makes her way into the circle and takes the bottle out of his hand, handing it to a nearby waiter. He sees Chris with his phone out, looking like he’s having the time of his life. To be honest, Viktor is too. This is an unexpected surprise, and he can’t say he’s not enjoying it. Watching Yuri dance is hilarious, and watching Katsuki dance is, well, let’s say he’s liking what he’s seeing.
Katsuki takes off his jacket and throws it away. Someone in the audience catches it, but Viktor’s too immersed to see who it is. Funnily, Katsuki is putting on his tie, adjusting it neatly over his shirt. Viktor smiles. It’s almost cute.
At this point, Yuri and Katsuki are going wild. He’d hate to be the one to break it to Yuri, but Katsuki knows what he’s doing. Viktor catches a glimpse of muscles as his shirt lifts up when he holds himself up on his hands. He doesn’t know much about breakdancing, but he does know that when Katsuki does it, the air rises up by several degrees. Boy, I’m in trouble, Viktor thinks, when Katsuki makes eye contact and runs a hand through his messy hair.
Yuri doesn’t want to get beaten, and Viktor laughs when he tries to copy Katsuki’s moves. With his sleeves pushed up, shirt untucked and hair disheveled, Katsuki’s hot, but Yuri in his all blue suit is hysterical. He does a move that looks like it’s right out of a program, legs in a split and arms back, and Viktor’s laughing now. Then he spots Katsuki with one hand on the ground, half his abs exposed, and he’s still laughing, but it’s a different kind of laugh. He focuses the camera to Katsuki, thinking of the time when Yuri will open his phone to find all these pictures of Katsuki in all his hot glory. The guy has muscles like no one’s business, Viktor thinks. He catches an especially good picture when Katsuki lifts his whole body off the ground with only one hand supporting his weight. Viktor glimpses his stomach again. God.
He’s too busy taking pictures and watching that he doesn’t realize that Katsuki’s approaching him until he’s already tugging at Viktor’s hand.
'Come on,’ he says, words slurring. It’s amazing how his motor functions are working as properly as they are. Well, except his tongue, of course. ‘Dance with me.’
So they do. Dance, that is. And Viktor finds himself having fun like he hasn’t been in quite a while. Katsuki’s shirt is fully unbuttoned now, and he finds his eyes straying every so often. His moves are weird, but Katsuki follows. It looks less like breakdancing and more like figure skating at this point, but he can’t care less.
When Katsuki grabs his hand, Viktor’s attention focuses on that one point where their hands join. The other man’s smiling, and Viktor feels his heart stutter.
‘Pair skating time,’ says Katsuki laughing. He spins Viktor and they end up with Katsuki’s hand around his waist, legs braced against the ground as Viktor has his legs in the air.
It’s all a blur, really, because Viktor has only enough concentration to keep dancing. His mind keeps going to Katsuki’s hands and his eyes and his laugh, and god, he’s so hot. Thank goodness they’re not in a real competition, or Viktor would be doomed.
Their dance ends with Katsuki’s hand on his cheek, a hand on his leg as he lifts it up in the air. Their faces are inches apart, both of them smiling in exhilaration.
‘Nice dance,’ says Katsuki, breathless. Neither of them are looking away. Viktor doesn’t want them to. Katsuki’s eyes are beautiful, his face his beautiful, his hair is beautiful, and damn it, he’s better than this.
‘You too,’ Viktor replies, and after a moment of looking into each other’s eyes, they burst out laughing. ‘Ah, Katsuki.’
Katsuki smiles, holding out a hand. Viktor takes it, shaking it firmly. Like before, he finds it a bit hard to let go. ‘Call me Yuuri.’
Viktor’s sweating in his jacket, and he takes it off. Making eye contact with Yuuri, he holds it out like a matador. Yuuri raises a brow.
‘Toro,’ Viktor says, like a challenge. Yuuri laughs.
‘You asked for it,’ he says, arm outstretched as if ready to knock him to knock Viktor to the ground.
‘Katsuki!’ someone shouts suddenly, and Yuuri stops. He looks around, and stops on Chris, who holds something metal and long in his hand. It can’t be, Viktor thinks. Why would he have it? ‘Care for a dance with me?’
But it is.
Chris pulls out the ends of the metal bar and it extends. A few in the audience titters, but he doesn’t seem to hear. Fixing it to the floor, Chris holds the pole and checks it for balance. It’s good and firm.
‘Chris!’ Sara shouts. ‘There are minors here.’
Mila laughs. ‘No one wants to see you naked.’
But the man ignores this. It’s at once horrific and magnificent to watch him strip to nothing but his dark purple briefs. Viktor catches several faces of shock and fear, but everyone else who knows Chris isn’t surprised. He’s prone to episodes of exhibitionism and nudity, and really, having a portable stripping pole on him isn’t the worst he’s done.
Chris is all golden tanned skin and built muscles. He’s a lot bulkier than Yuuri, who’s leaner and skinny. Viktor catches several giggles and exclamations of wonder and surprise. He’s beautiful, he supposes, but he’s never found the man particularly attractive. He’s seen a lot of beautiful people and Chris is just one of them.
Katsuki Yuuri, on the other hand, is a different matter. Viktor sneaks a look at the strip of skin exposed by his unbuttoned shirt. Him he finds attractive. He’d be lying to himself if he denied it.
He starts to the pole, but stops before approaching Viktor.
‘Viktor,’ he says. He’s still completely drunk. Viktor finds him closer than expected. Like, really close. Inches apart. Then to his surprise, Yuuri throws his arms around him. Beside him, Yuri makes a disgusted sound. Chris, shirt in hand and pants already on, watches them, an awestruck expression on his face. ‘Viktor.’
Then he starts grinding on Viktor.
‘After this season ends,’ says Yuuri, still moving up and down. Apparently, he’s also a horny drunk. If he doesn’t stop, then Viktor’s going to end up with a hard-on. The pole-dance hasn’t even started yet. ‘My family runs a hot spring resort, so please come.’
Frankly, Viktor’s too shocked to say anything. Yuuri’s too close, too beautiful, too hot.
'If I win this dance-off,’ continues Yuuri. ‘You’ll become my coach, right?’
Viktor doesn’t know what to say. He catches sight of Yuri’s horrified expression.
‘Be my coach, Viktor!’
Then Yuuri jumps, lacing his arms around Viktor’s neck, his head in the crook of Viktor’s neck, and all Viktor feels is the burning in his cheeks as he stares at the man. His hand automatically goes to Yuuri’s back, and he flushes even more. He’s cute, he’s pretty, he’s hot, Viktor tells himself. This is why you’re reacting the way you are.
Ah, Vitya, he hears another part of him say. Don’t lie to yourself. He’s charmed the pants off you completely. You’re lost.
‘Katsuki,’ says Chris, who’s already climbing on the pole with a familiarity of what is probably years’ worth of training. Yuuri immediately lets go and turns towards Chris. Viktor finds himself cold and a bit too light without Yuuri. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t pole dance. Give me some champagne.’
Yuuri laughs. ‘Don’t I?’ he says, but he takes off his pants to reveal black boxer shorts. Viktor tugs the collar of his shirt. It’s way too hot in here. Yuuri pushes his tie down from his head to around his neck, fixing it in place.
‘Watch me.’
Chris bends and twists around the pole, muscles flexing as he performs. He holds himself in the air with only his hands on the pole, doing upside down splits. It’s impressive, and Mila hoots. Viktor catches sight of a disgusted-looking Yuri and laughs to himself.
‘Your turn,’ Chris says finally, sliding down the pole. He’s covered in a slight sheen of sweat, gleaming in the light. ‘Do it well, rookie.’
The moment he lifts himself off the ground, Viktor knows that this isn’t his first time. He traps the pole between his legs, keeping one hand to hold himself and the other outstretched in front of him. Chris whistles.
‘Not so rookie after all,’ he says.
‘You’ve been upstaged,’ Viktor says to him. Chris gives him an amused look.
‘And so I have.’
Whereas Chris’ performance had impressed him, Yuuri’s performance is something else. He’s lithe and graceful on the pole, beautiful and so very erotic. It’s crazy watching him. Viktor feels something stir inside him and quickly muffles it. He can’t get turned here of all places. That would be catastrophic.
Chris nudges him. ‘He’s not bad.
Understatement of the century, Viktor thinks. Katsuki Yuuri’s a pro at pole-dancing, so it seems. ‘Hm.’
A few minutes later, Chris is back on the pole, but this time, he’s with Yuuri. They make a fantastic duo and the air is thick with chemistry and general drunkenness. They’re both shirtless, only in their underwear now, and Viktor can observe all of Yuuri’s naked glory without even trying. He’s sculpted elegantly, all fine lines and slimness; although there’s no doubt that he’s strong too. Both of them are covered in sweat, and Viktor can’t even find that disgusting. At one point, Yuuri’s holding Chris while the latter is completely off the pole, curving around his hand. Then another, with Yuuri standing on Chris’ legs as the blonde figure skater does an upside down split. Viktor runs a hand through his hair. He doesn’t know how long he can stand this. Funnily enough, he notes that Yuuri still has his socks on. He took off his shoes, but not his socks.
Ah, Vitya, you idiot, he thinks. Katsuki Yuuri catches his eye on the pole and smiles. Viktor finds himself smiling back, cheeks warming. Now, look what you’ve gone and done.
When the party finally ends, he looks around for Yuuri. Yuri raises an eyebrow.
‘Looking for someone, Viktor?’ he sneers.
He replies by ruffling his hair. ‘Ah, there you are. I was looking for you, but you’re so small that I couldn’t see you, Yuri.’
Yuri ends up raging and swearing all the way back. Maybe I’ll see him at the airport, Viktor muses, as Yuri slams the gymnasium door. Yakov shouts a scolding, but Yuri stomps away. We had a good time. I can get his number or something.
‘Viktor,’ Yakov snaps, and he almost jumps.
‘Da?’
Yakov frowns. ‘Where’s your head at, Nikiforov?’
Viktor smiles, clasping a hand on Yakov’s shoulder. ‘Right here, Yakov. Say, let’s go to the airport a bit early shall we? I have something I want to do before we leave.’