Viktor has always liked surprises.I

Viktor has always liked surprises.

It might have been something borne of his being a genius—the ease with which he mastered the things he loved often leading them to grow boring in his eyes. It was more than having to find new ways to leave people breathless with what he could do with his body.

It was having to create new ways to leave himself feeling breathless.

And he had been doing this for years, choreographing his own routines for the simple fact of pushing them further and further past incredible, as was expected of him. As he expected of himself. Viktor was not the kind of person to let idle intrigues lie; he wanted to pursue them, to flesh them out and understand and know them until they bent to his will in the same way the world has since learned to.

This, he thinks, is a genius’ privilege.

And it can become so unerringly tedious. There’s only so much that he can do for himself before he loses interest in it. The world stopped showing genuine interest in his skating and focused entirely on his persona, and eventually he began to find it droll. He’d moved forward despite it, however, throwing bigger twists, more jumps, more incredible and intimate and inspiring aspects into his routines until he realized what was lacking wasn’t only the world.

It was then that he realized that even skating could let him down.

There was a brief period of frustration he doesn’t like to admit to, where he struggled to find meaning in life outside of skating, since it had nearly abandoned him. The world loved and adored him, thought his every movement and smile was enough to fuel the sun that welcomed their every morning, but he expected more. Skating had become more of an exertional source of invigoration, rather than one of passion and joy and love. He remembers the ice feeling colder than ever before when he stooped low to pick up one last bouquet of flowers, his fingertips numb.

He wondered then, even as gold metal touched his lips, when again he would rediscover his passion for skating—for living.

As it turns out, passion found him in the unlikeliest of places: a young man tracing his exact steps, with a body that transcended the music of Viktor’s own routine and made it belong to him.

Surprises.

Viktor remembers the rumors, and he remembers how late they were in reaching his ears. He spends a lot of his time on social media—it would have been even more surprising for the rumors to have introduced him to the wonder of Katsuki Yuuri before he found Yuuri himself.

Breathlessness. That is what Viktor remembers most about the first time he watched Yuuri skate his routine, the way he made the music bend and twist to his every movement. His form was unlike any professional skater Viktor had ever seen, on the heavier side, and yet Viktor had never seen a single skater shift the music of a routine with the simple intimacy of his movements before, either. He was beautiful, in a way that gripped Viktor steadily.

Viktor had a nagging thought, then, just an inkling of suspected hope that Katsuki Yuuri was going to be the first of many surprises that Viktor would covet.

And he would covet him; his body, his skating, his passion.

Viktor was going to have it all.

He read the caption under the video, the explanation of Yuuri’s lifelong admiration for his untouchable idol, Viktor Nikiforov.

He wondered if Yuuri liked surprises, too.



✧



“Don’t ever take your eyes off me.”

Viktor’s pulse thunders in his throat and he doesn’t blink for a second, unwilling to miss a second of Yuuri’s unexpected intensity. He stares into the deep amber of Yuuri’s eyes and thinks of molten heat, slowly shifting, and he lets the words boom through him in waves.

Don’t ever take your eyes off me.

When Yuuri backs away, he lets his fingers drag off of Viktor’s knuckles and then the very tips of his fingers, a seductive and purposefully intimate slide as he heads to center ice. Viktor reaches up to touch the lasting heat on his forehead, where Yuuri had gotten so, so close.

Breath pools back into him and he’s surprised to find himself trembling.

He watches Yuuri come to a stop, arms lifting, and the music begins to resonate throughout the arena. It’s in this moment that Viktor always finds himself breathless: when the music begins, something pre-made and orchestrated, seemingly unalterable.

Viktor’s eyes gleam, and he watches as the music touches Yuuri’s skin, beloved.

And the music changes.

And it’s not the fact of the music changing that surprises Viktor, but the turn it takes—unknowable until Yuuri moves, only transcribed through the intimacy of how deeply he feels it moving through him.

It curls around Yuuri so tenderly, so outright lovingly, and Viktor’s heart is a bastion booming in the cage of his chest. Viktor starts to hone in on the routine, trying to look through a coach’s eyes rather than a lover’s, because he knows how important this is to Yuuri. He can’t separate the two entirely, because he is so easily captiva

Kết quả (Việt) 1:

Viktor đã luôn luôn thích sự ngạc nhiên.Nó có thể có là một cái gì đó mọc của ông là một thiên tài-sự dễ dàng mà ông nắm bắt những điều anh yêu thường dẫn họ phát triển nhàm chán trong mắt ông. Nó đã là nhiều hơn so với việc phải tìm cách thức mới để rời khỏi người thở với những gì ông có thể làm với cơ thể của mình.Nó đã có để tạo ra những cách thức mới để lại mình cảm thấy khó thở.Và ông đã làm điều này trong nhiều năm qua, choreographing thói quen của riêng mình cho một thực tế đơn giản của đẩy họ xa hơn và hơn nữa quá khứ đáng kinh ngạc, như được mong đợi của anh ta. Như ông mong muốn của mình. Viktor đã không là loại người để cho nhàn rỗi mưu đồ nói dối; ông muốn theo đuổi chúng, để xác thịt chúng ra và hiểu và nhận biết cho đến khi họ uốn cong của mình sẽ giống như cách trên thế giới kể từ khi đã học được.Này, ông nghĩ rằng, là một thiên tài đặc quyền.Và nó có thể trở thành như vậy unerringly tẻ nhạt. Đó là chỉ rất nhiều rằng ông có thể làm cho chính mình trước khi ông mất quan tâm đến nó. Thế giới ngừng hiển thị quan tâm chính hãng trong trượt băng của mình và tập trung hoàn toàn vào các persona của mình, và cuối cùng, ông bắt đầu để tìm người khôi hài. Ông đã di chuyển về phía trước mặc dù nó, Tuy nhiên, ném xoắn lớn hơn, thêm nhảy, khía cạnh đáng kinh ngạc và thân mật và cảm hứng nhiều hơn vào công việc của mình cho đến khi ông nhận ra rằng những gì thiếu không chỉ trên thế giới.Nó là sau đó rằng ông nhận ra rằng thậm chí trượt băng có thể cho anh ta.There was a brief period of frustration he doesn’t like to admit to, where he struggled to find meaning in life outside of skating, since it had nearly abandoned him. The world loved and adored him, thought his every movement and smile was enough to fuel the sun that welcomed their every morning, but he expected more. Skating had become more of an exertional source of invigoration, rather than one of passion and joy and love. He remembers the ice feeling colder than ever before when he stooped low to pick up one last bouquet of flowers, his fingertips numb.He wondered then, even as gold metal touched his lips, when again he would rediscover his passion for skating—for living.As it turns out, passion found him in the unlikeliest of places: a young man tracing his exact steps, with a body that transcended the music of Viktor’s own routine and made it belong to him.Surprises.Viktor remembers the rumors, and he remembers how late they were in reaching his ears. He spends a lot of his time on social media—it would have been even more surprising for the rumors to have introduced him to the wonder of Katsuki Yuuri before he found Yuuri himself.Breathlessness. That is what Viktor remembers most about the first time he watched Yuuri skate his routine, the way he made the music bend and twist to his every movement. His form was unlike any professional skater Viktor had ever seen, on the heavier side, and yet Viktor had never seen a single skater shift the music of a routine with the simple intimacy of his movements before, either. He was beautiful, in a way that gripped Viktor steadily.
Viktor had a nagging thought, then, just an inkling of suspected hope that Katsuki Yuuri was going to be the first of many surprises that Viktor would covet.

And he would covet him; his body, his skating, his passion.

Viktor was going to have it all.

He read the caption under the video, the explanation of Yuuri’s lifelong admiration for his untouchable idol, Viktor Nikiforov.

He wondered if Yuuri liked surprises, too.



✧



“Don’t ever take your eyes off me.”

Viktor’s pulse thunders in his throat and he doesn’t blink for a second, unwilling to miss a second of Yuuri’s unexpected intensity. He stares into the deep amber of Yuuri’s eyes and thinks of molten heat, slowly shifting, and he lets the words boom through him in waves.

Don’t ever take your eyes off me.

When Yuuri backs away, he lets his fingers drag off of Viktor’s knuckles and then the very tips of his fingers, a seductive and purposefully intimate slide as he heads to center ice. Viktor reaches up to touch the lasting heat on his forehead, where Yuuri had gotten so, so close.

Breath pools back into him and he’s surprised to find himself trembling.

He watches Yuuri come to a stop, arms lifting, and the music begins to resonate throughout the arena. It’s in this moment that Viktor always finds himself breathless: when the music begins, something pre-made and orchestrated, seemingly unalterable.

Viktor’s eyes gleam, and he watches as the music touches Yuuri’s skin, beloved.

And the music changes.

And it’s not the fact of the music changing that surprises Viktor, but the turn it takes—unknowable until Yuuri moves, only transcribed through the intimacy of how deeply he feels it moving through him.

It curls around Yuuri so tenderly, so outright lovingly, and Viktor’s heart is a bastion booming in the cage of his chest. Viktor starts to hone in on the routine, trying to look through a coach’s eyes rather than a lover’s, because he knows how important this is to Yuuri. He can’t separate the two entirely, because he is so easily captiva