Victor left the last workout of the night exhausted. His exhaustion was not only due to the fact that his career was ending as a skater, after all, he wasn’t so young at 27, but also that feeling of emptiness in his chest.
What good would it be to train so hard and not have the spirit to do so? His choreography was incomplete, he thought, remembering his conversation with his coach, Yakov:
- What's the matter, Vitya?
- I don’t know what else to do, Yakov! I don’t feel good skating this song.
- But the choreography is perfect!
- The judges are going to look at me, and all they'll see is a body skidding from one side to the other, making mechanical moves, hoping someone will be convinced by its performance.
- You say that because you do not feel your feelings are integrated?
- What feelings? I don’t even know what Eros is in practice. I spent my whole life living for skating. And even though I've been with several people, I've never really gotten involved with any of them. Eros for me is not just sex. It’s seduction, control and loss of control. I don’t think I've felt it before.
- Vitya, it's never too late to discover new things. If you think you’ll only perform well if you try Eros in practice, I suggest you stop trainning until you find it.
Yakov was right, he had trained another day in vain, perfecting techniques, but dancing without his soul.
The ring of the cell phone took Victor from his reverie. Victor answered and heard the familiar voice.
- Vic, Sala and Mila are waiting for you, my love...
- I swear I forgot.
- How can anyone forget their friends' marriage?
- To begin with, the marriage is Arab, don’t ask me the reason. Then I'm really unmotivated at the moment, I'll be more annoying than paperweight.
- You know they're eccentric, Vic. But they will be very hurt if you don’t show up.
- I'll have to stick to the bar all night. The only way I can endure this party is getting really drunk, Chris.
Victor hung up and went home. He deserved a bath and a beautiful outfit.
He prepared himself as always, taking care of his body like a temple. He paid special attention to his long, platinum hair, using his special technique with castor oil. He would not wear a suit that night, just a white social shirt and blue jeans. To top it off, used his best perfume, which by the end of the night would be mixed with the smell of alcohol in his body.
He called a cab and headed to the party. Certainly, it would be a long night.
Upon arriving, Victor met Chris, who greeted him by saying:
- Even casual clothes you're the one who draws most attention here, Vic.
- It isn’t my fault, Chris. I just came here to drink.
- Come on, I'll take you to the bar.
When they reached the bar where they played Arabic music at the request of the brides, Victor sat down and began to watch the most ordered drinks before he began to order his own. The bartender was a dark-haired young man with black eyes and an easy smile. It looked like a child, a fact that made Victor rethink his stay at the bar.
- Good evening, sir! What do you want?
- I haven’t decided yet, ask me later.
- All right, Sir. I'll be replaced in 5 minutes, so I'll ask the other bartender to receive your order.
The situation wasn’t very promising. Victor didn’t know what to drink, and soon he would have to adjust to the other bartender if he wanted to get drunk, but without a hangover prompted by the mix of drinks. He waited patiently for the new bartender, expecting someone much older and more experienced with drinks, but nothing in the world would prepare him for the shock that ran through his body.
Replacing the first, the second bartender came in with a black tank top, showing all his lean but toned muscles. The apron didn’t allow Victor to watch his legs, but he had the feeling they were as handsome as his arms. The final touch of his beauty came from his face. Asian features so delicate that they contrasted with the sensual body.
Victor was paralyzed. If he breathed a little closer, he would attack the guy without much explanation.
- Hello! Pitchit said you have not asked for anything yet. Would you like a suggestion?
- Er... I... Of course! Why not?
- I made a new drink, but I haven’t named it yet, would you like to try it?
For a moment, Victor thought of saying what he really wanted to try, but he found it wiser to ask what the drink was about.
- Well, it's a pomegranate recipe, Big Apple and Vodka.
- And what are the side effects?
The Japanese wondered what the other man was referring to, but risked an answer.
- Well, I've heard of the customers who tested it as a great drink to try charming someone.
- And how exactly would that be?
- Kissing? I have no idea.
- Interesting... Make one for me.
- Your request is an order, sir.
- First, I am not a sir, nor do I intend to be. Second, my name is Victor. Call me that for the rest of the night.
- All right, Bictoru. My name is Yuuri.
- It's Victor, with a V.
- Oh! I'm sorry, V-Victoru. I didn’t mean to offend you, I still couldn’t get rid of the accent.
- Where you are from?
- I'm from Japan. I've been living here for a few years.
Yuuri started to prepare the drink. It was done delicately, which required a high level of concentration of the bartender. Victor watched every movement, staring like a predator.
“Am I really being seduced by a bartender?” Victor thought.
Meanwhile, the Japanese man was as confused as the Russian. He had never seen a man exhaling such an erogenous aura. It was even shameful how handsome he was. Maybe the drink would help the two to get closer? It was impossible to say, but surely, he would try.
- Here you go, Victoru. Hope you like.
Yuuri said, smiling.
Victor tried the drink. It was wonderful. Sweet and refreshing. It didn’t even tasted like there was alcohol in there.
- Yuuri! I hope you make more of these for me all night!
- Of course I will.
Victor spent much of the night watching the Japanese making several drinks for the guests. It was then that he realized that Yuuri didn’t make his signature drink for anyone else besides him. Chris came up behind Victor, hugging him, which made the platinum blush in front of Yuuri.
- Let's dance, Vic. Your fans are waiting to see your butt on the floor.
- I don’t want it, Chris! I'm busy drinking.
Victor said looking intently at Yuuri, prompting Chris to look speculatively at the barman ahead.
- Hm... Enjoy the drink then.
Yuuri wasn’t believing what he was seeing. Victor stroked his impeccable hair, gesturing to the Japanese. If that was the signal he was waiting for, he wouldn’t let it go. He resolved to try a more direct approach.
- I'll have a little break in 10 minutes. Would you like to talk in the meantime?
- Why not?
At that moment, in their heads, there was only one kind of conversation possible.
(10 minutes later)
- Victoru, what are we doing? I need to get back to the bar in 5 minutes...
Yuuri could barely breathe in that little warehouse. He and Victor shared the place, aware that they could be found at any time. Adrenaline, however, only made the sexual tension increase.
- I don’t know what's going on, Yuuri. The only thing I know is that I want you. Now.
- Come and get it.
It made no sense to both of them. What kind of attraction would be so strong to make two people who barely knew each other feel that kind of physical need?
Yuuri took the initiative, pulling Victor for a kiss with the taste of his own creation. Their tongues curled, exploring the new sensations that passed through their tissues and papillae.
Sweet, bitter, ardent.
For Victor, nothing compared to the kiss he was receiving. It was as if all this time, none of his kisses with other people made sense. Besides being intoxicated by alcohol, he was also drunk from the sensation of having the body of the brunette next to his.
Yuuri jumped on the older man's lap, grabbing his legs around his waist, allowing his pelvis to lean against him.
- Yuuuuuri! If you provoke me like this, I'll want more than I can do now.
- Then you give me your contact, Bictoruu. I promise I'll show you my pole dance when we're in a more appropriate place...
The brunette left Victor on the spot, not knowing what to do. He was mesmerized. The brunet was deliberately teasing him. His breathing still failed by the memory of intimate contact.
Meanwhile, Yuuri was returning to the bar, with a victorious smile on his face.
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