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Summary
AU in which Yuuri still doesn’t remember the banquet, somehow doesn’t blow Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor at the World Championships, and has absolutely no idea why his idol is suddenly friendly and incredibly handsy.
Does Yuuri care about his reasons? No. It’s Victor Effing Nikiforov.
Basically this is an excuse for total fluff.
And porn.And shit-talking with bonus smut. (Edited for accuracy.) Happy birthday, Victor.~~
Victor turned back to him, supernova smile in place once more. “I really, really like you. Promise you’ll still dance with me at the banquet if you take gold this time around.”
Yuuri stared at the man. He looked at their entwined hands—he hadn’t wanted to pull away—and their thighs, pressed together despite there being plenty of room in the backseat of the cab. That scent of Victor’s cologne—just a dab, lightly applied somewhere on his neck—swirled around him. This was too real to be a dream, too physical for him to have imagined it.
“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said slowly. “But…have we talked before?”
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Bookmark Notes:
--"Stupid Victor. Yuuri had been seduced by him years ago. He hadn’t needed tiramisu or dinner or a walk together to make him give in. He’d just needed Victor."
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Bookmark Notes:
Icónico. Lo he leído como 5 veces y sigo volviendo.
──Tengo estándares ──dijo Yuuri──. Estándares altos, por si quieres saber la verdad. Aquí va el más importante: no quería tener sexo con alguien sabiendo que iba a estar imaginándote a ti todo el tiempo. No es que haya estado esperando a alguien que supiera mi nombre. He estado esperando a alguien que pudiera hacerme olvidar el tuyo.
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