"Oh? You can't kiss silver?" Viktor makes a mock-horrified face. "Silver? No way!" Ah. Yuuri recognizes this—Viktor getting into one of his bratty moods. Yuuri's never really tried to do anything about it before, and eventually Viktor always tones it back down, but this time, Yuuri wonders... He shrugs. "Well, I guess I just won't be able to kiss you then."

"You kissed me in front of thousands of people." Viktor laughs, masking behind a gasp when Yuuri's grip on his hair turns deathly. "I did. I was so proud of you. You did so good." He pauses, relishing in the nervous tremble of Yuuri's shoulders. "We're in a bathroom, you know. You want everyone to see what you did to me?" "Maybe."

ib a post on tumblr: yeah power bottom viktor is nice but what about loud needy bottom viktor who can't shut his moans no matter how hard he tries because yuuri fucks him just too good and he just lets yuuri do everything

It’s just…does Viktor not get bored with doing it the same way every night? Doesn’t he want to spice things up? Is Yuuri being unreasonable? He’s pretty sure that if Viktor told him his performance in bed was unsatisfying his soul would flee his body for a more merciful plane of existence, but…Viktor is thicker-skinned than he is. And so here they are. Viktor’s bed is wide and soft, and Yuuri is lying there with wet hair and ratty boxers while Viktor absently trails kisses over his shoulder. It’s nice. It’s soft. It’s good. Viktor’s headboard is enormous and Yuuri keeps thinking about Viktor’s wrists bound to it, black rope over white skin. Fuck. He should say something.

Otabek won silver at Worlds. Yuri was going win gold at fucking doming. (Fuck his brain and its fucking innuendos.)