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Yuuri pushes off the wall, closing his eyes and letting his feet guide him around the (mostly) empty rink. He picks up speed, some part of his brain calling for a jump and his body responding subconsciously, and with the flick of a toe pick launches into a clean double axel. He skates around for a bit, feeling the music playing in his ear buds out. It was nice to just... be on the ice, no obligation, no screaming fans, just a soft instrumental and the familiar scraping of the blades against the ice. Yuuri lets himself spin on one foot, then the other, lazily twizzling round the edges as his music fades into a single high violin, and the high E ends with his arms wrapped around himself.
In the silence echoing in his head, he hears someone else's skates scrape up slowly behind him, before a familiar pair of arms wrap themselves around him. A nose buries itself between his shoulder blades, and Yuuri can smell the familiar pine-ash-cat-cinnamon scent. He smiles, content, and leans into the blond's arms.Yuuri, as an omega on suppressants in a new country, hasn't had a heat in a few months. His mate, Victor, and his[?] pup Yuri Yurio, Yuratchka, Yura is so, so angry, but Yuuri loves him anyway.
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