I Should Have - Tumblr Posts

You know, there was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov sat down with his very first costume designer and explained exactly what he wanted his outfit to look like. And there was a time in which said costume designer explained that all of those ideas were great. They’d just have to push the neckline a little further, maybe replace a bit of the fabric with mesh.“You have the most beautiful skin, darling,” she’d said. “It’s what people want to see.”

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov got his very first PR specialist and was taught the ins and outs of flirting with the cameras. He learned exactly when to be sweet, when to be silent, when to be sexy. And in the end, he learned how to give people exactly what they wanted.

There was probably a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov was asked if he had a girlfriend. And he’d laughed, twirled his hair around his finger. “Of course not,” he’d said, wearing signature smile number five. “But I have a boyfriend.”

Technically he didn’t have a boyfriend, but the look on the PR lady’s face had been priceless.

He hadn’t really been ready for all the questions that came after, but he’d answered them anyway. He’d laughed. He’d smiled. He’d made a few jokes, thrown in an innuendo or two for good measure.

There was a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became a playboy, and though he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it was, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

There was also a time in which a much-younger Victor Nikiforov became an adult, and though he hadn’t necessarily been of age, the headlines had spoken for themselves.

So had the interview questions.

So had the sponsors.

There was probably a time in which a slightly-less-younger Victor Nikiforov had regretted it all, in which he realized just how far he’d gone, in which he realized that he couldn’t go back.

And there was probably a time in which a fourteen-year-old Yuri Plisetsky looked at a much-older Victor Nikiforov, determination etched in his eyes, ready to skate Eros with everything he had.

And there was probably a moment in which Victor realized it wasn’t even a choice. Of course, someone would push Yuri down that road eventually, someone probably already had.

But that someone would not be Victor Nikiforov.

It would never be Victor Nikiforov, and Yuri would skate Agape.

Michael’s breath was steady despite his rough strokes. His large hand fisted his cock, lewd sounds of spit and pre-cum filling the room. The muscles in his arms flexed as he continued to stroke himself, rubbing up on the tip occasionally while letting out a little groan of frustration. His coveralls were unzipped down to the crotch and his hand was stuffed in what remained of his pants, pulling his length out further to properly take care of himself. He was pent up and determined to get it all out. He leaned on the wall, his left forearm resting against it as his head rested on top of it. His hot breath was close to him due to the mask, causing sweat to run down his face. He runs a hand through the hair of his mask, stroking faster as a few more groans leave his lips. His legs shook as his orgasm came closer before he let go of his length and massaged his balls carefully, a whorish whimper leaving his mouth. He came undone right there, his cum covering the wall and dripping down his tip as he painted heavily, head still resting against his arm.