Viktor was still adjusting to this new reality.

Reality being that this place was not his home. This furniture was not his hodge-podge set of designer furniture, nor were the floors the polished, shiny wood he was used to walking barefoot across, Makkachin not far behind his heels.

Hasetsu was much different from any other place he had been to. He had visited Japan previously, of course, competing in events that yielded fruitful results, as usual.

But this place contrasted the busy streets and constant diaspora of Tokyo. Hasetsu actually slept. This place held fast onto tradition, preserving the places of old and the wind breathed stories of people long since gone. It was calm, quiet, and harrowing.

It was the perfect place to mull over the decisions he had haphazardly made. Or so everyone else believed. Truthfully, this idea had been in his head for a while now. No, not the training Yuri Katsuki part, but the retirement. It only seemed sudden to everyone considering he had yet another dazzling victory in the senior division and collected another gold to add to his collection.

Tonight, he stared at the ceiling of the storage room that was now his temporary home. Makkachin was next to him on the futon, snoring softly, lying on his side. Viktor smiled.

His passion for skating had been a constant in his life. It was something that he could always do, and do well. He exceeded expectations, defied certain rules, shocked the masses. He had never felt more free and satisfied than he did on two thin blades on ice.

But like all greats of any sport, there comes a time where the passion starts to ebb. People always ridicule or criticize athletes of any sort when they decide to give up their craft. Viktor knew what people said about him, knew that people thought he was a fool for leaving in his prime time. Even worse, they thought he was mad for taking on the job of a coach, to a younger skater from a different country at that.

He made no attempt, and never would, to explain to the world why he gave up his initial career in favor of something else. There would never be a day where Viktor was not thankful and humbled by the opportunities skating had given him; never would there be a day he did not truly love skating.

But he had hit his fill. There was joy in challenge and success. Every medal he won was hard earned, and by no means was he trying to be cocky, but he had no reason as of late to doubt his abilities to place first every single time.

There was no more excitement in it anymore. He was approaching his thirties. Sure, he could continue this for as long as his body let him, but he did not want to. He chose to hang up his career all on his own and that was not an explanation he owed anyone, not even if they asked nicely.

Well, except Yuri Katsuki, maybe.

The second he saw the video of Yuri attempting one of his own routines, Viktor had no doubt in his mind.

Yuri Katsuki was a project he had taken on, and by no means did he simply think of him as a project. The twenty-three year old had talent, oh, did he have a lot of talent. But he lacked the confidence; he had poor conviction, and it showed immensely at the last competition.

Viktor saw him perform in person, and it was nothing like what he saw on camera. He wondered where the difference was, and what the issue could have been. Was it nerves? Did something happen before he went out on the ice? Was he intimidated by others in his division? Did he care?

The time he had spent with him already confirmed that yes, he cared. Yes, he had anxiety and a lack of faith in himself. But he had all the potential and all the grace on the ice. He had the passion as well, and Viktor wanted nothing more than to help a young skater who still had that fire running through their veins.

And Yuri Plisetsky, or Yurio, had plenty of fire in his veins too, however, he knew how to be self sustaining. Viktor never had a doubt about him in his mind. Yurio exceeded expectations as well, and Viktor respected his effort. With or without him as a coach, he would prevail.

Yuri, on the other hand, needed much more work. He was a battered case, but when given proper guidance, and the time to rectify his own shortcomings, he was refining himself. With Viktor's help, of course.

Viktor wished Yuri could see what he saw. He wished Yuri could look at himself and have the confidence it took to win. Viktor knew he was still an amateur coach. He could compose a great program and find the flaws in a routine in his sleep, but to motivate someone else, to care for them, to sustain their needs was something different.

It was more personal, what Yuri needed. It was beyond a pat on the back or some encouraging words. Yuri needed something that Viktor could see in his eyes when they were alone, when they trained together, when they went to the coast to sit and talk.

He wasn't slow, and he was older. He knew what Yuri thought of him. But he wasn't here for that, and he hardly made anything else other than harmless advances because he didn't want Yuri to think he cared about those things over helping him succeed. That was the primary objective. Everything else that happened in pursuit of that objective, Viktor would take in stride.

His own feelings and his own needs did not hold a candle to what Yuri needed, and that was comfort and unconditional support. He knew what he felt for the younger man, but to make do on those feelings would have to wait.

However, Viktor had no problem with breaking Yuri's affinity for personal space. Their relationship was going to require a lot of trust, meaning Yuri needed to open up. And considering he had problems doing just that, Viktor had to make him open up.

He did things like visit the springs with him, not caring to hide parts of his body. He did other things like massage Yuri's shoulders after a hard workout, place his hands on his hips when he needed to readjust his form on the ice. Or give him a routine with a theme that did not entirely suit him; Eros.

Yuri needed to come out of that shell of nervousness. If the whole world could see that he was anxious, that was a problem. There was a standard for what people expected from a young skater like him, and Viktor wanted nothing more than to help Yuri defy all those expectations.

Yuri was coming into himself more, and it was beautiful to watch. He was beautiful to watch. Viktor thought Yuri was beautiful.

He sighed. He wasn't going to rest well in here tonight with so much on his mind. He supposed he could creep down the hall to Yuri's room again. It had been two nights since he had slept in there for bonding purposes. That was another way to break Yuri's nerves.

Viktor sat up, his olive green robe falling off one shoulder, as it was too big for him. He grabbed the pair of slippers he had tossed towards the end of the futon, and carefully slipped them on and slid the screen door quietly, so he wouldn't wake Makkachin.

The moon shone brightly as Viktor moved down the hall, making sure his steps were quiet to not disturb anyone else as well. He saw light underneath Yuri's door, so he must still be up. It was faint, but it was something.

He knocked on the door lightly, hoping that little noise would get Yuri's attention. When he didn't hear any footsteps or sounds of movement, he decided to take a more bold approach by cracking the door open a pinch.

And oh. Oh.

Yuri was seated at his computer desk with ear buds in his ears. He was watching a skating routine, specifically, he was watching one of Viktor's routines. And it was the last routine he did where he took home the gold. That was right before his retirement.

All of this would have been totally, completely, utterly normal. It would have, only if Yuri didn't have anything on but a black t-shirt with his bare legs spread shamelessly, his feet perched on the edge of the chair so that his knees were up by his chest, with one hand obviously working his cock, and the other greedily working himself open.

Viktor felt ice and heat slip down his spine and come around to pool in his belly. It stayed there for a moment as he took in exactly what he was seeing.

Yuri Katsuki was getting himself off to a video of Viktor's latest routine.

Fuck.

From the light of the computer screen, Viktor could see the sheen of sweat collected on Yuri's forehead and around his neck. He could see both hands vigorously working himself. Those weren't the kind of actions someone did when they wanted to take their time; it was almost like he was trying to get it over with.

Yet he certainly looked like he enjoyed it, with his bottom lip caught between his teeth and the occasional way he would open his mouth and exhale sharply. Not only could Viktor see, he could hear what Yuri was doing to himself. There were quick, wet sounds coming from in between his legs, and in made Viktor weak in the knees.

He quickly looked over his shoulder, just to make sure no one was coming down the hall. He should leave, right now, but his feet were glued to where he was.

This was a moment that Yuri was supposed to be having in private. But Viktor couldn't help but stand there and think how many times had Yuri done this and was it always to his skating videos and how comfortable was he with touching himself back there, because right now he seemed completely comfortable and-

A heady moan interrupted Viktor's train of messy thoughts, and his right hand immediately went to the front of his robe to grip his hardening member, while his left stabilized him on the door frame.

Yuri had both hands working over his cock now, and when Viktor looked at the computer screen, he could tell the program was approaching the more difficult half. It was a well practiced program, leaving Viktor's own thighs quivering by the end of it. It was the exact same routine that Yuri covered that eventually led them to each other.

He wondered what about this content was stimulating for Yuri. What about seeing him like this made him so desperate? Did he think this way at practice when Viktor was showing him a move? Did he have to will himself to not get turned on?

There was so much that Viktor wanted to know, and he hadn't even paid attention to when he had opened his robe in the front so that he could stroke himself in time with Yuri. It wouldn't take him long, honestly, and he wasn't even embarrassed. It had been a while since Viktor felt anyone else's touch, but just the sight of this alone had him teetering on the edge.

As the program was approaching the crescendo Yuri slipped a hand back to work inside him again. There was a whimper that followed that action, which made Viktor's knees tremble.

His own inner mantra was also spurring his release along. He was praising him as he would when he was on the ice.

'Yes, Yuri. Like that. Make yourself feel good. So good, Yuri. You're so good.'

Another whimper left Yuri's lips, and his hand that was working his insides sped up.

It was so incredibly hot. Viktor's body felt like it was doused in heat. He was so close, breathing quietly and stifling any sound that could leave his mouth. He was close, oh he was close, and from the looks of it, Yuri was too.

"Viktor, oh-

Yuri was thinking of him. Goodness, he was absolutely lewd in private.

The screen showed Viktor doing his final spins, flawless effort made to look simple.

As Viktor stuck his final stance, Yuri tossed his head back, one more whimper leaving his lips as cum spurted from his cock, which he didn't even attempt to catch.

Viktor did however, as he caught most of it in his hand. He bit his bottom lip between his teeth and let himself go as soon as Yuri did. It felt right, it felt wrong, it was sinful.

He watched Yuri pant as he calmed himself down, and then Viktor carefully brought his left hand away from the door frame to close the door back. He felt like his life was on the line, because if he made one misstep, or if the door creaked, he was done for.

Fortunately for him, he closed the door with no troubles. He finally let go a breath he had no idea he had been holding, feeling stress roll off his shoulders, and he smirked to himself sleepily.

Back inside the room, Yuri let his own breathing stabilize. Once he finally felt himself get back on track, he smirked to himself as well.

That mirror he had next to his computer desk just came in handy.