I would love to see a fluff about Yuri shaving Victor. Idk, but I find that kind of thing so cute! Thanks again. ♡
It’s a Sunday morning ritual. It has been for almost a year now. Sometimes they have to forgo it if they’re travelling, but mostly every weekend they indulge in a lazy morning, taking their time to get up, making sure that they spend the extra hours being dedicated to each other and nothing else.
Neither are sure how it first started, really. Maybe it was on one of those morning’s they’d decided to do everything for each other: wash each other’s bodies, fix each other’s hair, feed each other breakfast. But now it’s become habit that, morning shower or not, Yuuri shaves Victor.
It had started off innocently enough. Yuuri straddling him and using his electric razor to clear the fine dusting of stubble Victor had accumulated over the past day. It’s intimate, but something that any couple might do for each other.
Now, though, it’s changed into something more. A few months ago, Yuuri had brought out a straight razor instead of Victor’s usual electric shaver. He hadn’t asked, hadn’t explained, just offered.
As terrifying as it might have been - a single blade so close to Victor’s neck - he’s always trusted Yuuri, and he’d agreed with almost no hesitation.
The first session had been quiet. Just Yuuri concentrated on cleanly shaving Victor. His sweeps weren’t perfect, but he hadn’t nicked Victor at all, just left him with soft skin.
They hadn’t discussed it and had gone back to the electric razor the next week. But the week after, Yuuri had given him the choice - electric or straight razor. Victor had chosen the blade.
It’s beyond intimate now, this ritual of theirs, but still something they only indulge in once a week.
It always starts off the same, Yuuri sitting a naked Victor down on the edge of the tub, pulling the brush, soap, and blade out from under the sink. He doesn’t need to turn the overhead lights on - the morning sun is streaming in through the window at the perfect angle.
He heats a washcloth under the hot water of the tap, pressing it to Victor’s face once he’s pleased with the temperature. It’s quiet as they wait, letting the warm wet weight of the washcloth soften the stubble Victor has.
When he’s satisfied, Yuuri sets the blade ontop of the washcloth beside Victor as he wets the brush, swirling it over the soap to make a lather, the edges of the brush lightly tapping against the ceramic bowl the soap sits in. Victor’s eyes flutter closed as Yuuri slowly brushes the foam across his jaw in long swipes, gathering more lather as needed. The bristles of the brush are soft, but sometimes catch against his stubble.
He only blinks his eyes open when Yuuri turns to wash out the brush in the sink. He receives a soft smile when he turns back around and their eyes meet.
Victor quietly tips his head back to bare his throat to Yuuri when he picks up the razor and washcloth. Yuuri steps in between his legs, one hand keeping Victor’s head steady, the other carefully holding the blade. The first sweep is long and easy. Yuuri wipes the excess soap from the blade on the washcloth drapped over his arm.
“My dad taught me this,” he admits for the first time this Sunday. “Back when I was a teenager.”
It takes a few more sure swipes of the blade before he continues.
“When he did, I wasn’t sure what the point was. There were easier ways, and I certainly wasn’t growing enough of a beard at fifteen to warrant a full shave.”
Victor hums in the back of his throat to show he’s listening. He doesn’t speak though as Yuuri’s swiping along his jaw.
“I practiced anyway,” he admits. “Because I thought maybe it would be a useful skill. My father told me that if I could master this, then any other shave would be easy.”
He has a fond look in his eyes as he tilts Victor’s face to the side to slide the blade up his neck.
“I thought it was ridiculous. And after I’d learned how to do it, I just stuck to disposable razors because they were easier.”
“Seems a shame,” Victor murmurs as Yuuri cleans the blade on the washcloth.
“I suppose.” Yuuri agrees as he continues. He works his way slowly across Victor’s face, fingers and blade moving together in a loving motion. Every action for to Victor, and Victor alone.
Victor shows his own trust, his own love for Yuuri in the way he moves pliantly with each tilt of his head. Never flinching when Yuuri comes close with the razor.
It’s almost erotic, this reverence, this attention that Yuuri gives him on those late Sunday mornings. A moment just for the two of them.
“Even though I always thought it was a little archaic,” Yuuri says as he swipes at any moustache hairs Victor might have, “I’m glad I learned it.”
“Mmnn,” Victor agrees.
“Because now I can share it with you,” Yuuri breathes, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It’s heart wrenching to see how soft Yuuri is in this light, smiling, eyes intent on Victor, adoration showing completely on his face. Devotion. That’s what this ritual is. A promise of every Sunday from here until forever.
When Yuuri’s finished and has turned to wash the blade before he cleans Victor’s face, Victor stands, waiting until Yuuri’s turned around again before he catches him in a kiss.
The leftover shaving cream smears across both their faces. Yuuri’s stubble scratches across Victor’s soft skin. He feels contentment.
“Maybe one day you can teach me too,” He says before pulling him into another kiss.