While he hasn't exactly had much time for sightseeing, so far Chris likes Japan. Except for one thing. The afterparty for the competition has been dull tonight, which isn't Japan's fault, but the fact that he can't even get a decent glass of champagne is. What kind of country sets the drinking age at twenty? There must be someone willing to hand him a glass anyway; he just hasn't found them yet.

At the moment, though, he isn't looking; he's standing in front of a very clean mirror in a very nice bathroom and rubbing at his eyes. After most of a day's worth of dry winter air, his contacts are starting to get irritating. His eyes don't look red, yet, but maybe he should run to his room and switch them out for his glasses.

He gives his eyes another rub – it doesn't actually help, but it feels good – and leaves his hands there for a moment, pressing just enough to see swirls of color against his closed eyelids. He hears someone come in as he does so, with soft, light footsteps. A moment later, he squeaks on reflex as arms wrap around his waist.

"Chris," Victor says in his ear. "There you are!"

Chris drops his hands. "Were you looking for me?"

"Mm." Victor drops his forehead to Chris's shoulder and clutches at him more tightly. It's a good amount of pressure, kind of comforting, until he squeezes and it becomes borderline painful. "I thought you'd gotten bored and gone back."

"I was thinking about it." Chris finds Victor's hands and tugs at them, but Victor doesn't let go. He loosens his grip, at least, so Chris twists to get a better look at him. "Did you want to come with me?"

"Mm," Victor says again, and he leans his head up to kiss Chris's cheek. Chris only has to turn his head further to make it into a proper kiss, soft and slow. Victor smells like alcohol. Good for him, considering he's also still underage here. Chris kisses him again, a little harder, and Victor's mouth opens beneath his – he tastes of champagne, when Chris presses his tongue in, and Victor shudders and curls his fingers into his shirt.

The angle is getting painful, so he pulls away and doesn't allow Victor to follow. "My neck hurts," he says, going after Victor's hands again, but he lets go first, only to tug Chris around before he can do so himself. One arm presses firmly into the small of his back, while the other hand slides up his spine, his neck, into his hair as Victor leans in. Chris settles his hands on Victor's waist and enjoys the quiet noises he makes when their lips move together.

Victor opens his mouth again, whimpers lowly and pulls at his hair until Chris acquiesces to his wordless demand. He slides his tongue between Victor's lips and kisses him as deeply as he can until breathing through his nose isn't enough. He finally gets a good look at Victor as they part, his pretty eyes wide and cheeks flushed and mouth still parted as he takes fast, hard breaths. Chris puts one hand to his cheek – it's hot, and Victor nuzzles into it, eyes closing and opening halfway, slow, like a cat's, looking at him. Oh, some part of him goes, and there's heat in his chest to see Victor like this, giving him that expression. Oh, and he did this to him, and he wants more.

But maybe not right here. Somewhere more comfortable (even if this a nice bathroom, pristine, with warm light instead of cold). He asks, "My room or yours?"

"We're already here," Victor whines. He tries to tug them closer, though there really isn't any room left to close.

"Victor. Wouldn't you rather--" He's interrupted by Victor shoving their mouths together. It's a very good distraction, especially with the way he runs his fingertips down Chris's scalp and tries to twine them into the short curls. Several minutes later, when Victor drops his hand down his neck and pulls away, he's half forgotten his objection. "Okay," he says, feeling a little dazed, like he's had some of the champagne he can still taste. He swipes his thumb along Victor's cheekbone and watches him smile.

He has lovely cheekbones. Chris tells him this and he smiles even more, shows a hint of teeth for a second.

Still, they shouldn't just stand here. Someone else is going to come in eventually, and while he doesn't mind the thought of them seeing, he doesn't want to get interrupted. So he pulls at the arm around his waist until Victor lets him take it, and leads him down the row of stalls to the handicapped one at the end.

One good thing about Japanese bathrooms – the walls go all the way to the floor, and the door just clears it. No worrying about interruptions this time if they can keep quiet.

Victor barely waits for him to lock the door before pressing him against the wall. He doesn't kiss him, at first, but cups his cheeks and leans in so far that Chris can't actually focus his eyes on him. Chris wraps his arms loosely around his waist and tries to lean back on instinct, though of course it doesn't work and he can feel his eyes crossing.

Victor darts in just long enough to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, then smothers a burst of giggles against his shoulder while Chris is still processing it. The sound of his laughter makes Chris smile, too, and he rubs his cheek against Victor's hair until his head lifts again.

"You're so cute," he croons, and like last time, Chris doesn't know what to say to it. He doesn't have to say anything, though, as Victor presses their mouths together. Chris hums and tilts his head so their noses aren't bumping, lets his hands slide down the back of Victor's suit jacket until he can get a good grope of his ass.

Victor laughs into his mouth this time – kind of a strange sensation, but he likes it, and he likes what he feels, so he keeps his hands right where they are. (He thinks, for a moment, of the sleek costume Victor wore for his short program a few days ago, the one that had clung to every line of his body, from his wrists to his waist to his legs. He hadn't been able to pay attention to most of the program itself, too distracted by the way Victor's muscles moved when he was able to jump, the curve of his back and waist during his step sequence.) They stay like that for what has to be at least several minutes, Victor's thumbs brushing his cheeks at irregular intervals, their mouths sliding slowly against each other, both of them making soft murmuring sounds. Then Victor arches into his grip for a few moments before he pulls away from the kiss.

Chris tries to start it again – he was enjoying that, dammit – but the hands still on his face press him back, gentle. They drop down as he presses quick kisses down Chris's cheek, his jaw, the top of his neck, and then he draws back and starts undoing Chris's tie.

When he's still having trouble with it a minute later, Chris reluctantly brings his hands up, bats Victor's away, and has it untied in three seconds. He lets Victor finish taking it off, but when he stares at the silk in his hand like he has no idea where to put it, takes it from him and loops it around the bag hook.

"Ah," says Victor. He kisses his cheek again and starts on the buttons of Chris's jacket. His fingers fumble a bit, but he manages. "It's different when it's on somebody else," he says, absently, and then he gets the last button undone and moves his hands up Chris's chest to slide it off his shoulders from underneath. Chris shivers at the sensation and lets Victor do all the work of getting it off.

Victor gets the first two buttons on his shirt undone quickly, and puts his mouth back on Chris's neck while he works on the third. Chris turns his head to nuzzle on the top of his head – his hair is so soft – only after a few moments of that, he pulls his head back and lets go of Victor to paw at his own mouth. There's something--

"Chris," Victor says, looking up, only to get a strange look on his face. "What?"

Ah, there, he's got it. He pulls a long hair away from his mouth, though he can't help but rub his tongue against the roof of his mouth a couple more times to make sure it's all out. Victor laughs as he shakes the hair off his hand to fall unseen to the ground. Chris makes an exaggerated expression of disgust and Victor laughs harder, leaning into him.

"Sorry," he says. "They get everywhere. You might find some on your clothes later. ...if I don't take them off first."

"Get back to it, then," says Chris, looping his arms back around Victor.

Victor pecks him on the cheek and does so. After the next button, he starts on the rest with one hand, uses the other to push open Chris's shirt. He traces Chris's collarbone with a finger, one end to the other as far as he can reach under the shirt, and back again. He does it again with his tongue, kisses the hollow of his throat, and he finally makes progress on the buttons as he moves his mouth up and sucks on the juncture of his shoulder and neck.

Chris prods him after it's been a minute. "If you keep sucking like that, you're going to leave a mark."

Victor pulls away, goes, "Oh," quiet, and then his eyes light up. "Can I?"

He looks so eager about it, and it's not like they're going to see each other again soon after this, and – what the heck. "Okay," he says, and tilts his head to give Victor better access.

He doesn't waste any time, either, leaning down and putting his mouth to Chris's skin. He sucks hard – really hard, it doesn't actually feel that good. But it's okay, Chris can stand it, lets Victor enjoy it, up until the point he bites.

"Ow!" He shoves Victor away and slaps a hand to the bite. "Victor!"

"You said I could."

"You're not supposed to bite that hard."

"It wasn't that hard!"

"It was," and he should be the one to know, shouldn't he? He rubs at the bite, which really does hurt, and tries not to scowl; the atmosphere has been ruined enough.

Victor pouts and wraps his arms around himself, and Chris wonders if they shouldn't just go back to a hotel room and try again, with less teeth involved. But then Victor loosens his arms, tilts his head a fraction, looks at him through his darkened eyelashes. (He has to duck his head a little to do this, though not that much; they're almost the same height now.) "Let me make it up to you?"

It's hard to stay mad at a sight, a tone of voice like that, and anyway, his neck doesn't hurt that much anymore. "Okay," he says, and first he finishes undoing his shirt, though he doesn't bother taking it off, then steps forward to remove Victor's tie. Victor gives a pleased hum and reaches for him again, closes the space between them until Chris barely has room to work.

Chris pauses after the tie is off and the first button undone. The truth is, Victor looks very good in this suit, even if it's not one he would have put him in – the black should be too stark on him, but somehow it just seems to bring out his eyes instead, highlight the strands of hair falling across the dark fabric. He'd love to see Victor out of it, but there's also appeal in the idea of Victor still in it, mussed. Decisions, decisions.

Well, it's faster to simply untuck his shirt and slide his hands beneath it. Victor gasps and leans even further into him. Then there are hands moving up Chris's back, under his own shirt, and for once, Victor's hands are mostly warm already.

Victor's muscles jump as he touches them, fingers creeping up his waist, fanning across his ribs. "Chris," Victor whines, breathy, pushing into his hands.

"Hush. I thought you were making up to me?"

Victor moans and shoves his face into Chris's neck, breathes against it as Chris takes his time touching. He can feel Victor's ribs expanding and contracting; he can feel the slight dip of his waist, the solid muscle underneath, the bones of his spine. He's so very warm, and Chris thinks of his skating, again. Victor leaning until his back is a gorgeous arc. Victor propelling himself up into difficult jumps. Every good skater looks lovely on the ice, but something about the way Victor moves out there is distractingly beautiful. He skates like it makes him feel the way it makes Chris feel.

It makes Chris want to touch him, to have that under his hands, and now he does, now Victor is whimpering against his neck and pulling him closer and working a leg between his.

Victor arches when Chris traces a thumb across one nipple. Chris takes one look at his face – flushed, hair falling everywhere, eyes not quite focused – and leans in to kiss him. Victor smashes their mouths together before he gets there, and Chris feels his teeth catch on a lip.

"Ow."

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

"No. Come here," Victor says, voice shaking a little when Chris digs his thumb in harder. Their second attempt is more successful. Chris rolls their hips together; Victor clutches at his back, though at least there aren't nails digging in this time; and at some point, someone's knees fail and they hit the floor.

Both of them make pained noises; Victor draws away to rub at his knees, mutters a curse. "Okay?" Chris asks, rubbing circles on his own. Victor replies with a sound he can't quite interpret.

They readjust themselves, and while they're at it, Chris takes off his shoes, because they are very uncomfortable to kneel on the floor in. Then he climbs into Victor's lap, runs his hands down his hair, and kisses him again. Victor tilts his head back, opens his mouth, pulls Chris harder against him – oh, yes, this is a very nice angle.

Victor moans as Chris tugs on his hair to pull his head even farther back, though it ends up being more uncomfortable than it's worth. Chris is getting impatient; he wants more. He leans into the touch of a hand on his waist, tries to grind against Victor again.

Victor ends up almost overbalancing, leaning back so far he has to put a hand down with a little gasp. So Chris pushes him further, down until he's laying on the floor. He's such a sight to see: hair flying everywhere, suit in place but half open and wrinkled, begging Chris with his eyes.

"You're so pretty," Chris says, reaching up to trace his cheek. Victor shivers and digs his hands beneath Chris's shirt again, pulls at his shoulders until he is laying on him. This is even better; they grind against each other. Victor lets out a moan, and his legs part beneath him, and his fingernails dig into Chris's back until it hurts. Chris presses his face to Victor's skin and rocks harder – he doesn't even know what sounds he's making now, it's so good to be like this, finally, Victor can scratch his back up for all he cares as long as he keeps pushing them together, making those breathy little groans.