Chapter Text
Perhaps the only thing that had changed in Viktor and Chris’ approach to handling love life drama was the price of the venue and the refreshments. When Viktor reached Chris’ cozy shared abode with Masumi (enviously within walking distance to Soho) for their emergency dinner, he came prepared. In his V&A-branded tote lay a bottle of their favorite white wine from Chablis, and on the way was a delivery from their preferred French brasserie with fantastic rapport qualite-prix.
Chris mentioned that Masumi would join them after dinner, which meant Chris had probably warned him Viktor was bringing drama. This was obvious enough with Viktor’s entrance —after the door opened, he dropped all his bags immediately on the table and walked straight into Chris’ open arms.
“I am so stupiiiid,” he cried into Chris’ shoulder.
Chris patted his back in sympathy. “We all get a little stupid around cute boys, darling.”
It did not make Viktor cry any less. “But I’m 34!”
Chris simply chuckled and rubbed his back in soothing circles. “Yes, but Yuuri’s certainly better than your exes, hm?”
Viktor could only nod and pout. He was, but the issue here was that Viktor had no idea what to do with this information! Part of him wanted to cry and smoke a cigarette at the irony of loudly declaring he wanted just a “flatmate, not a boyfriend” just a few short months ago, only to find he wanted both. The other part wanted to go back to his Pinterest board and maybe pick some more suit options for their eventual wedding.
Because surely, it wasn’t just Viktor who had changed his mind, right?
Charlotte, Chris’ beautiful ragdoll cat that had caused Viktor many a sneeze when she would leave her hair after rolling around in his laundry, curled curiously around their legs. She recognised Viktor well enough. He’d cared for her as a kitten, back when Chris and he lived together as poor graduate students. She was lovely, if slightly crotchety company, and occasionally worth the trouble of removing cat hair from his suits.
Her hug was very welcome, for it wasn’t everyday when Viktor recognised he was falling in love. All the rush of the last ten hours bled through him when he sat down in the blue loveseat with a loud drawn-out sigh.
Then, of course, he winced, and readjusted the pillows to place one beneath his bottom, because Yuuri could somehow still fuck him like a demon after four hours of walking through the Kew Gardens. And when even that didn’t work, Viktor just decided to give up and sit in the most ungainly way possible by swinging his legs over the armrest, because that was the only way to relieve his discomfort.
Chris sent him a look with a question in it, to which Viktor gave a rueful smile and gestured at his bottom half. Chris shook his head, cackling, before going off to hunt for the lighter. This kind of drama required aromatherapy to solve.
But already, being in a place other than home—where Yuuri’s clothes hung on the edge of his hamper in the bathroom, where the vaguely legalese-riddled contract taped to the refrigerator was an overwhelming reminder to his faulty self-knowledge—was giving him more clarity about the situation. He inspected one of the tastefully arranged ferns near his love seat and flicked it back and forth if only to find something to do that wasn’t thinking soppy thoughts about Yuuri and less complementary ones about his lack of foresight.
“You okay?” Chris asked, as he lit some scented candles, which came in a variety of phallic or suggestive shapes, and sculpted male torsos.
Viktor ignored him, standing up with a slight wince to walk to the dining table to pop off the wine cork with a vengeance and pouring himself a full glass. “No! Hahaha.” Then he drank it all in one go and only came up for air when the last drop had been swallowed.
Chris blinked twice, then took hold of his own wine glass. “Leave some for me, at least.”
As they waited for the deliveryman to come, the story came out of Viktor in a gush. Charlotte stalked over to Viktor, asking for pets, and her soft purrs helped Viktor’s mood lighten as did the Chablis. When at last their food arrived, Viktor kept talking as he put Charlotte away in her kitty basket, as they washed hands and plated their food, as he poured himself another glass, and as they dug into their ratatouille and bouillabaisse.
“I’m not surprised given all the time you’ve been spending together. When did you first notice?” Chris asked, before cooing at Charlotte in her kitty basket as she made big, blue eyes at their fish and meowed pitifully to be fed. “No, none for you today, princess.”
“We fought after the Cao Bin incident, right? So we had a chat about it and cleared things up, and then, one thing led to another…”
Chris quirked one manicured eyebrow in disbelief. “So you tried to solve your problems with dick… again? Is this what your soreness is about?” He gestured emphatically in Viktor’s direction
Viktor made a face. “Oh god, that was one time with us! Yuuri and I actually talked through it then, you know, and we apologised to one another. It was very sweet. We’ve completely made up since then.”
“Mhm. So what happened after you talked?”
“Well, you know how I get after a fight…”
Chris smirked. “Horny?”
When Viktor didn’t reply right away, Chris cackled in response. “I remember that explosive last fight you had with Cao.”
“I thought it was just the biological crisis of being in the same room as a lover,” Viktor adjusted his seat, mulling it over. “Don’t remind me about Cao…” he sighed loudly. “I was petty when we broke up because he kept picking his hobbies over me, and yes, I was stupidly petty again with Yuuri but I did it anyway. But, I live with Yuuri. I can’t escape unless I decide to move out or avoid him entirely. I don’t want to do either.”
“You’re also good friends,” Chris pointed out. “Literally every conversation we have now, Yuuri comes up. Not just gushing about your sex life, but also about your dog park walks, the art and music you two discuss, and the food you cook for each other.”
“We didn’t want to wash twice the number of dishes. We were being environmentally responsible!” Viktor flung back.
“But you have no excuse. Being gay is already environmentally responsible! We have lots of sex but don’t reproduce.”
“Oh shush. Going out together was just convenient, even if he’d whine about how long I took to get ready. That plus making food together made groceries easier, and it was fun to have company at the dog park and–” The words had barely left his mouth when Viktor blanched in horror. “It’s worse than I thought. I was only going to talk about the unscheduled sex we’ve been having…”
Chris almost choked on his wine, but recovered quickly enough to eke out, “I’m assuming your sore ass today was completely unscheduled and not on the shared Google calendar at all?”
“It’s been three times in the last week alone. First, he accidentally shrunk my panty briefs—”
“There’s not that much fabric on those to begin with.”
“I know, so of course we ended up sexting and he made me come without touching me. I went back to his room after that because I missed him–“ and hindsight was 20/20 and Viktor really was a fool “– and then I asked him out to the gallery showing in the afterglow. You saw us, we were both having a good time until I had to help him out of a conversation with one of those ‘curators’ from Christie’s, but I almost choked him to death with an innuendo that went down the wrong way. He still came to my room afterwards to suck me off–”
Chris’ eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Yuuri is into erotic asphyxiation?”
Viktor set down his wineglass with a thunk and swatted at Chris’ shoulder. “Not the point. Anyway, what happened afterwards was very nice but I ended up wanting to spend more time with him, and then I fell asleep in his room. He was gone the next morning, but I was tucked into bed and there was breakfast on the table.”
“Is that the problem? That he fucked and ran? Are you bitter about it?” Chris pondered. “You’re both my friends. I really don’t want to have to take sides, but if I have to…”
“Again,” Viktor snapped. “Not the point! Well, fine, Mila made fun of me for doing everything as if we were dating, except the romance, and now I have to tell her she’s right. And then, she’ll rub her lesbian u-haul happiness all over the wounds of my ‘situationship’, which is funny for her and annoying for me. Can you believe she’s dating Sara, Yuuri’s colleague? Who had propositioned me?” He sat up in indignation, only to wince because the position suddenly made the soreness in his bottom even more pronounced. “Ugh.”
Chris’ eyebrows shot up. “That good? Wasn’t the gallery showing on Thursday?”
“I forgot to mention we had sex again yesterday night after going to the Royal Gardens,” Viktor said, morosely. “I haven’t been this sore since the party after my thesis defense.”
Chris whistled. “Now I’m curious.”
“Aren’t you engaged to be married?”
To which Chris, as shameless as ever, shrugged and said, “That doesn’t stop most men. That didn’t stop you before.”
Viktor pouted, before sipping at his champagne. “I don’t want to share him.”
“Cheri, you don’t even have him—”
“Weren’t you the one saying sometimes it’s what is right in front of you that you’re missing? He keeps saying he has no ‘bandwidth for a relationship’ but he certainly likes me enough to schedule sex regularly and suck me off spontaneously, and ask if I want food or to make food together, plus the dog parks and the gardens and the galleries and the music—”
“Touche, but mon cher, we both know that’s totally different from commitment.”
And suddenly there it was, the word that had haunted many a relationship. Chris didn’t pull any punches and began to dig into old wounds, “Fucking, sucking and dog watching alone do not make a committed partnership. It can certainly warm a cold heart, but what more do you want? A label?”
Viktor wrinkled his nose. “A label would be nice so that conniving blonds like yourself don’t get ideas.”
Chris blinked slowly, acting innocent, only to put his chin onto his hands and ask, “But does he want to commit to you? When has a label stopped anyone when they’re intent on being a homewrecker?”
Viktor pouted. “Why aren’t you more supportive of me, like, I don’t know, a real friend? What happened to ‘Saturday night special to Sunday morning brunch’?”
“Excuse you, I am being supportive by forcing you to use critical thinking skills. You already do everything a proper couple does, from the fighting to the fucking to the home decor finagling. I’m trying to figure out what it is you actually want. A shared mortgage? Because I have one of those and they aren’t fun at all.”
Chris was unfortunately right, and Viktor had to pause and think for a few moments after he poo-pooed Chris and his very grown-up mortgage. “I’m not looking for just fun, Chris. You know that I want something more than casual... I don’t just want to be tossed aside after the fun’s been had, nor have the reality of our relationship and intimacy hidden.”
“So, let’s say you meet Chuuji-Sotheyby’s-Curator again, or an annoying ex-boyfriend, and he asks if you and Yuuri are an item. You don’t want Yuuri to say ‘no, we’re just friends.’”
Bile immediately rose up in Viktor’s gut. He winced, just imagining it. He’d said more or less the same thing about countless men during grad school and his early career. Hadn’t he also said something similar to Cao when he’d asked if he was getting in between something?
The only thing that would be worse is if Viktor said “yes, we’re dating,” while Yuuri just shook his head no. The contract on the fridge would be a ghastly reminder of all of Viktor’s hubris and blindness to his own need for something more permanent.
“Sometimes I really hate you,” Viktor groused, while stabbing the remnants of his food with his fork. “Why can’t you just tell me ‘go for it, Viktor, the worst he can do is say no?’”
“Because I’ve known you to become infatuated and then change your mind over the silliest things, you’re the person who is fickle enough to fret over the color of your socks and tie. And I didn’t think you’d actually fall for him.”
Viktor made a face. “Stop being so melodramatic.”
“Says the man who’s probably already started planning his wedding on Pinterest.”
Of course, Viktor had absolutely no leg to stand on, because if Chris opened up his phone right now he would find a Pinterest board titled ‘Yuuri <3 Viktor 202x???’ with many selections for suits, and flowers, and centerpieces, and the perfect lapel pins that would compliment their hair and skin tones. His pursed lips made Chris suspicious, and before he could respond quick enough Chris was already snatching his phone from where it lay on the table, and demanding the PIN code.
“Aha! I knew it,” Chris crowed, scrolling through Viktor’s Pinterest with glee. “You’re so predictable. And also, this orange would look terrible on you,” He pointed at a bouquet featuring orange camellias. “You’d be better off with pink or purple.”
“They’re not for me. They’re for him.”
“Orange is also not a good color on Yuuri. Try red?”Chris handed him back his phone and smiled wryly. “Or better yet, figure out what you actually want from him, if a label isn’t enough.”
Labels like boyfriend or partner were mere grains of sand in the tumultuous adventure of actually finding a committed partner—and Viktor found that now, more than ever, sitting in Chris’ living room, that he wanted one. Someone to open his heart to in its entirety, who wouldn’t get bored of him after the glamor of his outer shell disappeared to reveal his ten-step skin care routine, love for pickles and sour cream, and thrifted Saville Row suits. Viktor knew from experience that he could play up the allure, but would Yuuri also want the dork who salivated over mid-century selvedge denim? Who had been a sex worker for a brief period of his life and still carried an intimate knowledge of the follies of rich men?
“Did I make you think too hard?” Chris teased, pouring out more wine. “Surely that doctorate is good for something.”
“No,” Viktor murmured. “I think you just made me honest.” He grabbed a throw pillow and muffled a groan into it. “I like him so much that I feel stupid. Chris, I want him to love me.”
Once again, Chris’ eyebrows shot to his hairline. “Those are fighting words. Have you–” But before he could complete his sentence, Viktor’s phone beeped to signal an incoming text. Lo and behold, it was the devil himself.
Yuuri
Sorry about this morning
Hope you’re not too sore 😥
Are you free next Saturday?
Viktor
Depends on what you’re asking
Usually my bed partners check in on me quicker
Yuuri
🥲 I’m sorry, today was quite busy and morning class was terrible on an empty stomach
And you left the bed first!
Viktor
Fair point …
Is there something special about next Saturday?
The three dots kept rising and falling on Viktor’s screen. Chris, as nosey as ever, prodded Viktor to tell him what was going on and Viktor did, leading to them surmising that either Yuuri was going to propose a date or cancel on him.
It turned out to be something far more mundane.
Yuuri
Sara’s having her birthday party
It’s a potluck, and I need help
Mila will be there so you won’t be completely alone
Aside from me, I mean
“A potluck?!” Chris hissed over his shoulder. “Is that how they friendzone people now?”
Yuuri
We can bring a plus one so I thought it’d be nice to go together
And I was thinking of making dumplings
Viktor
Are you asking me for free labor?
Yuuri
I’m asking you to be my plus-one to Sara’s birthday party
Which yes, does involve making dumplings
“Well. It’s not a date...” Chris returned to his seat on the couch, wine glass aloft and tilted it in Viktor’s direction. “You want commitment. What will it be?”
Viktor
Can we make pelmeni too?
Yuuri
Of course!
Do you know a good recipe?
Come Friday night, Viktor found himself folding kneading batches of dough and folding dozens of little meat-filled pouches. Perhaps it was a far cry from the romantic evening for two that he’d hoped for, but it was still time with Yuuri.
They’d discussed recipes at length over text the day before, sending several links back and forth, until they gave up and Viktor simply asked his parents to send a copy of his family’s secret pelmeni recipe, which came in the form of a blurry photo of a handwritten recipe card. They made a filling consisting of ground beef, fish, and mushrooms mixed with a secret savory seasoning. They also made gyoza with ground pork, aromatic chives and ginger, and a mix of carrots and shredded cabbage.
“You’re not very good at those,” Yuuri remarked, comparing their batches of folded dumplings.
Viktor glanced at Yuuri’s neat pleats and then at his pinched dough pockets, pursing his lips before replying “Show me how it’s done then.”
Yuuri finished folding one more dumpling before coming over and gesturing for Viktor to watch. But it took a few more attempts, plus Yuuri reaching over to direct his hands with his own, for Viktor to get the dumpling folds just the way Yuuri wanted.
“Where did you learn to make dumplings so nicely?” Viktor asked, as they resumed filling dumping wrappers. His cheeks felt warm from how close Yuuri had been to him, and his heart still fluttered when Yuuri’s hands left his.
The feeling stayed, all the way through Yuuri’s charming story about making hundreds of dumplings as a child after school when he wasn’t in ballet class or doing schoolwork. It stayed even after they’d boiled the dumplings and left them in the fridge, filling his imagination and leaving him with more questions to ask Yuuri in the Uber on the way to Sara’s apartment.
But there wasn’t exactly time to delve into details. As soon as they arrived, they were swept up in the chaos of greeting Sara happy birthday, Mila directing them to the kitchen to place the dumplings alongside other food with the ingredients ingredients and potential allergens. Phichit then found Yuuri right away, and got them to pose for photos, and then he whisked Yuuri away, leaving Viktor to figure out what to do in a crowd of mostly strangers.
His usual modus operandi was to make himself a fruity cocktail and find someone to talk to. Thankfully, there was a well-stocked cart of various spirits and drinking alcohols, and he fell into easy conversation with other dancers from the English National Ballet after they noticed his workings with the alcohol on hand.
Out of the corner of his eye, his attention kept check of who would pass by, and he’d almost turn whenever someone dark haired would cross his line of sight. And while Viktor’s skill with small talk was formidable, it didn’t stop the odd stirrings of loneliness that arose as he kept talking to his new acquaintances. Mila was occupied with Sara, obviously, and Yuuri with Phichit. Viktor was an adult who could fend for himself socially but it would have been nice not to have been left behind.
Viktor was so concentrated on not letting his displeasure show on his face as he spoke with the dancers that he only noticed at the last moment that someone was standing very close behind him.
“Phichit’s been bestowed the title of honorary DJ,” Yuuri whispered.
Viktor gave a little shivery jump at the warm breath that grazed over his ear. When he turned to playfully admonish Yuuri for giving him a fright, his words faltered, for there Yuuri was, shyly grinning at him. The strains of Italo-disco came onto the speakers, and a host of cheers went up in front of Viktor, his new found friends quickly pairing up.
Yuuri tilted his head towards the makeshift dance floor. “Wanna dance?”
Viktor, heart fluttering in his chest like the wings of a hummingbird, nodded. They stepped into the dance floor crowded with other partygoers, the living room replete with sparkly streamers and plants. Before long, they were spinning and twirling, surrounded by other dancers, but none were quite as sure as Viktor’s footwork when ‘Oye Como Va’ came on the speakers, with Yuuri as a ready partner.
It was easy to lose track of time after that, and focus only on the music and on the push and pull between him and his flatmate, who was all too easy to lead. Viktor pulled Yuuri into a happy, gasping hug, covered with a light sheen of sweat, after God knew how many songs. He heard some light applause through the ringing in his ears, and it was apparent just how much their partnership had been appreciated when after he’d come back from the bathroom, he found Yuuri in conversation with someone heaping praise upon his dancing.
“—your boyfriend, is he from a dance company? You two were on fire out there!”
He could see Yuuri’s expression from his corner near the kitchen, but it seemed that Yuuri had not seen him. Viktor watched as Yuuri’s expression blanked, going from uncertainty to a slow nod and shy grin, along with the words “Isn’t he amazing? He used to compete in university, you know…”
Viktor couldn’t help the grin that broke over his face once he processed the words. Yuuri wasn’t denying anything. Yuuri was, in fact, singing Viktor’s praises. He let this continue on for a few more moments to bask in the glow, before swooping in to call Yuuri “my darling! There you are!”
Viktor enjoyed Yuuri’s little pleased squeak and pinkened cheeks. The close contact of dancing had perhaps made him more willing to receive affection in public, for he certainly wasn’t tipsy enough to just simply accept Viktor’s loose arm around his waist, pulling them hip to hip.
Or maybe he was? In between conversing with Yuuri’s colleagues, Viktor thoughts swung back and forth between ‘maybe he’s just used to bodily contact because he’s a dancer???’ to ‘no, he’s definitely accepting my affection!!!’ with the grace of a teenage boy mooning over his crush.
As was the case with any party hosted by Italians, the alcohol flowed freely, and Viktor drank glass after glass of Chianti, Prosecco, Merlot, and eventually Sambuca shots with crunchy coffee beans during the birthday greetings for Sara. She looked resplendent in a purple v-neck dress that showed off her collarbones, cleavage and bellybutton piercing, with Mila as her helplessly starry-eyed lesbian arm candy.
“Thank you to all your love this year! Thank you to my wonderful partner Mila for organizing this with me! I would also like to say a special to thank you to the person who brought us together—“ she rose her glass in Viktor’s direction, her accent slurring to match her level of inebriation “—Viktor Nikiforov, who rejected me that night after I’d danced the Sugar Plum Fairy with Yuuri over there, but then gave us a lovely tour at the V and A where I met the love of my life!”
All heads turned to look at Viktor, and in his tipsy joy all he could was smile and wave over the round of slightly drunken applause, with Yuuri bursting into just as tipsy giggles next to him. Of course, that attention did not last, for in the next moment Sara was kissing Mila enthusiastically and with a lot of tongue.
Viktor was far too gay to fully appreciate what others might find titillating although he could appreciate the aesthetics of two beautiful women kissing. Instead, he checked on Yuuri, curious to find his reaction and also to see if he should be worried about losing his attention easily.
Yuuri turned his head at about the same time, and so it was the two of them looking into each other’s eyes, Yuuri’s brown ones alight with mirth and some embarrassment, flecked with gold and red in the twilight. They bumped foreheads, laughing.
“Should we kiss too?” Yuuri proposed, all of a sudden. He said it far too casually, only to sneak glances back at Viktor as if checking for his reaction.
Viktor was speechless for a moment, wondering with some dread if Yuuri would add “It doesn’t have to mean anything.” But Yuuri said nothing, and when Viktor nodded again to make sure his consent was clear, Yuuri licked his lips, put warm, rough hands on Viktor’s cheeks and pulled him in to give him a kiss that tasted of roasted coffee and liquorice.
Time stopped completely.
There was a faint smattering of shocked, even pleased gasps when Viktor returned the favor by adding tongue and the tilt of his head. He was smiling when at last they parted, both panting, with even a line of saliva still linking their lips together.
Yuuri immediately hid his beet-red face in Viktor’s shoulder, mumbling “I can’t believe I did that.”
“And you call me shameless!” Viktor teased, but seeing as how his flatmate refused to unhide his face and how he had to now hide the stirrings of an erection in some too tight skinny jeans, he elected to slowly direct them through a crowd full of adoring onlookers — and a Phichit who catcalled them with a raised wine glass to their honor — to a more covert corner.
It seemed they had escaped in the nick of time, because as they slipped away, Viktor saw a man, who bore a striking resemblance to Sara, rush from the kitchen and into the other room, followed by incensed shouting in Italian. He felt a twinge of guilt for abandoning Mila, but his priority was Yuuri. They found sanctuary on the balcony, which was blessedly empty and with a comfortable seating area hidden amongst an assortment of large plants.
“You alright?” Viktor asked, as Yuuri lay back on one of the cushions before slinging his legs over Viktor’s lap. Now Viktor was trapped until his flatmate felt okay enough to be out in public again, but he had his own erection to worry about first, and fiddled with his seating, trying to find a way to not alert Yuuri to the fact that he was feeling a little hot under the collar.
“I should be asking you that,” Yuuri retorted, eyes twinkling. “Don’t think I can’t tell you’re hard.”
Was he that easy to read? “It’s your fault, you shameless kiss thief, you should take responsibility!”
“I will,” Yuuri said, chuckling. “Later.”
Suddenly his pants felt even tighter. “Is that a promise?”
Yuuri nodded, lips tilting up in a sly grin. “It’s so easy to read you.”
“And I still can’t make heads nor tails of you. What even was that? Not that I minded,”
“Me having too much wine,” Yuuri admitted. “But the wine is always good at Sara’s house. And of course…” he looked away for a moment at the balcony railing, before meeting Viktor’s gaze again. “You make me feel a little brave. Sometimes.”
“Brave enough to?”
“Do slightly embarrassing things in public, or say things I find terrifying, like — do you have time two weeks from now? I have a pole dance showcase. If you want to come.”
“Oh my, Yuuri! I’m learning all sorts of things about you today.”
“S’not that much of a surprise after Chris’ engagement party.”
“Yes, but tell me: do I get to slip wads of cash into your shorts this time?” At Yuuri’s shocked gurgle, Viktor winked and laughed.
“Only if you think my performance is worth the tip.”
“If it’s anything like the one you gave at Chris’ party, I’d put real money in your shorts any time,” Viktor replied glibly.
Yuuri pinkened, but did not back down. “Real money would be nice, actually. But I have to admit I’m not used to dancing with cash in my shorts. And you won’t be the only one there. We might have to practice if you’re going to take part... Then again, it is a sex-worker friendly studio, so I might actually make enough for dinner if I perform.”
“Yuuuriiii, do I get to sit in a chair while you have your way with me? In front of a live audience?”
Yuuri snorted, and sassed back with “Only if you pay cash.”
“Feisty, I like it! Although I don’t quite carry that much cash on me now … Then again, it was always a lot easier when clients paid cash, even if my panties couldn’t quite hold all of it.”
Yuuri almost did a double take when he realized what Viktor had just disclosed. “Your clients? From before?”
“Mmhmm.” Viktor smirked. “Sometimes I got hundred-pound notes. A whole stack of them.” He mimicked a space between his pointer and thumb, and Yuuri’s eyes went wide.
Yuuri swallowed, and blinked a few times. He was silent for a few moments before quietly asking, “Why’d you stop?”
Viktor tilted his head innocently. “What do you mean? Why did I stop accepting wads of cash slipped into my panties?”
Yuuri swatted at him, but it was largely ineffectual from his prone form on the chaise. “You’re terrible.”
“You’re also very easy to tease! And besides, I’m not ashamed about what I did back then. It was necessary, and usually, fun. Sometimes, I even…” and in a rush of excitement, he grabbed his phone off the table to give it a number of taps until he found the email in his old account over Seeking.com. He opened a message dated just a week ago. “Here.”
Yuuri’s eyebrows drew together as he read out loud “… my loins still long for you, and I know you will appreciate just how much my riches have grown since we last played together.” His jaw dropped at the attached photo of someone’s bank account. “That is a very big number.”
“It’s in Swiss francs. He had an abysmally sized cock, though! Somewhere between a Christmas log and a chode, and he paid a concerning amount of money for me to belittle him over it.”
Yuuri’s eyebrows shot to his forehead. “I barely have 200 quid in my bank account on a good day. Just what were you doing back then?”
“That’s not the only one. Look,” Viktor said, as he clicked through to another email. This one made Yuuri blink and reread multiple times.
“These men are declaring their love for you, even after six years of ghosting. They want to pay you ridiculous sums of money for you to step on them and call them names. What I don’t get is…” Yuuri sat back into the chaise, mulling it over and not quite looking at Viktor. “When’d you stop? Why did you stop? You said you liked it.”
“The year after I graduated with my doctorate, because that was when I had made enough to stow away some investments and pay my rent for the next ten years,” Viktor replied, tapping his mouth with a finger. “It was fun, most of the time. Once, I made enough money for a two week cruise with Chris in just one night.”
He waited for Yuuri’s curiosity to catch up with him, and sure enough, Yuuri piped up, “What were you even selling?”
“I wasn’t a full service sex worker, if that’s what you’re wondering. Although, if I liked some of them well enough, maybe…”
“But these men wanted you to belittle them for money?” Yuuri looked very confused.
“They wanted the haughty Russian girlfriend experience —well, one with a dick so they couldn’t get her pregnant. I played a character, one who would get dressed up for dates and hang off their arm to make them look impressive, but also rip their egos to shreds. In public!”
Yuuri wrinkled his nose—very cutely in Viktor’s opinion. “So they wanted a character. Where have I heard that before?”
“Yes,” Viktor drawled. “They loved it when I played up my accent.”
“But you barely have one?”
“Not that one.” Viktor let some of that old timbre slip into his voice. “This one. I forget my definite articles and ask for their ‘adwices’ about stock market because I want to know how to spend their gifts right, and they feel themselves happy to talk while I ask questions and look pretty.” He dropped the exaggerated accent and continued, “Then I would step on them in heels and tell them they’re pitiful men who are only as good as their bank accounts and gifts. And for the full effect, imagine me doing all that wearing sunglasses, cigarette in hand, and Diet Coke in the other because I’d ruin my figure!”
Yuuri snorted. “I might have believed you if I didn’t know how much you like it when I pull your hair and push you around.”
Viktor grinned. “But that’s why it was easy.” He flipped his hair as if he still had it long, and winked at Yuuri’s amused expression. “It was nothing like me, and it was fun telling these men that I thought they were worthless little toads.”
“Was that what you actually thought of them?” Yuuri asked. “Didn’t you say you liked some of them, enough to…”
“I did, but I was still playing a stereotype. It could get tiring, doing that over a whole weekend even with the money and gifts. I couldn’t let my mask slip. Besides, they were more than happy to think I was a pretty, brainless twink. A piece of arm candy and a warm tight hole to fuck. Might as well take their money while I’m at it, and enjoy myself on their behalf.”
Yuuri mulled that over, before sighing. “God, I know how that feels. Sort of. But the money would have been nice.”
“What do you mean?” Had Yuuri been hiding his own history of playing around on sugar baby websites all along?
“To play a stereotype. If only I could’ve gotten paid for it!” Yuuri chuckled into his mug of tea. “Instead, I did it all for free for my ex.”
Viktor perked up. Curiosity and hesitation warred inside him, in the quest to learn more of Yuuri’s past. What he tried to say was a calculated and calm, “Chihoko?” but in reality, this sounded more like “CHIHOKO!?”
Yuuri suddenly looked like he wanted to exit this conversation. “No. My first boyfriend.”
“Yuuuriiii, how come I’m only finding out about them now?”
“Because I was young and stupid back then,” Yuuri retorted. “Who wants to talk about the time they nodded along to their ex talking about how chopsticks were the symbols of Japanese ingenuity and that sushi was the epitome of elegance? Not me.”
Viktor frowned. “That is very bad. Were they British?”
Yuuri snorted. “Unfortunately.”
“As in, ‘I love sushi and think kimonos are the uttermost symbols of femininity and elegance’ type of British?” At Yuuri’s nod, Viktor’s mouth dropped in shock. “Yuuri, that’s not a boyfriend, that’s a rice queen!”
Yuuri proceeded to try and become one with the cushions, but Viktor set his mug aside to pull him back from the brink by pulling at his —distractingly muscled— arms, and when that didn’t work, at his–deliciously tiny, oh god, Viktor’s mind was all in the gutter–waist. “Oh come, we’re friends. I’ll still accept you. Didn’t you accept me even after I dated a finance bro?”
That stopped Yuuri’s squirming. He even reached out to poke at Viktor’s nose with a small grin. “That was pretty terrible.”
“And I’ve shown you what these rich men wrote me. What’s one old ex boyfriend, hm?” And if that didn’t work, then maybe gazing up at Yuuri pitifully from his perch on his flatmate’s stomach would.
Yuuri met his gaze. His lips parted, and Viktor suddenly wanted to rise up and kiss him. But if he did that, then Yuuri would conveniently forget to talk, and Viktor could say goodbye to this moment of intimacy for another month or two. So he ignored how their physical closeness made him think of other more pleasurable activities, and kept pouting.
Yuuri smirked, and Viktor did a little mental happy dance at how he didn’t try to wiggle out of Viktor’s grasp. “You think being cute will get you more information?”
“I think being friends and reminding you of that will encourage you to share,” Viktor corrected, but kept making eyes at Yuuri anyway.
Yuuri chuckled, and began to crack as he traced a finger along the shell of Viktor’s ear, enough to make him melt a little. “I met him when I had just moved here.”
Viktor could feel his voice reverberate through his chest, and that made Viktor want to snuggle his face all the more into Yuuri’s soft shirt. So he gave in to that impulse, listening to Yuuri talk as he took in the mix of citrus, sweat and musk through his nose.
“My English wasn’t very good back then, and I didn’t have any friends. I hadn’t even met Phichit yet. We met through Whitehall, and when you’re in a school environment like that you see each other all the time. Which means you talk a lot, and because I didn’t know how to express myself and who I was, I just went along with a lot of what he said, because the attention was nice, going to eat expensive sushi was nice, although I actually like the version with mayo and fried toppings just fine.”
“How old were you?”
“19. He was my first.”
“Everything?”
Yuuri made a face. “First official relationship, and now that I think about it, some very specific acts that people seem to think all Asian men prefer.” He blew air out his nose in a huff, and Viktor noticed how his body tensed at the memory. “Just because I look a certain way doesn’t mean that I’m automatically a submissive bottom. And even when I do like things that way, it doesn’t make me less of a man or a poor substitute for a woman.”
Viktor perked up, and laid his chin on Yuuri’s chest. Yuuri caught his gaze then, eyes alight with golds and reds as the last of the sunset poured through the window. “And he wanted you to be like that all the time.”
“Yeah,” Yuuri murmured. “It got exhausting towards the end. We broke up in under a year.” The hand fiddling with his ear stopped, and Viktor mourned its loss when Yuuri took it away. “It took me some time to find new friends after that. Or rather, Phichit kind of just forced his way in. I was not fun to be around for a while.” He smiled sadly. “See? Nothing interesting.”
“No, Yuuri!” Viktor turned his ear to listen to the thrum of Yuuri’s heart beat, and also to hide his warm cheeks. “I think you’re plenty interesting. Thank you for telling me about your first shitty ex. Now we’re even.”
A hand started playing with his hair, and Viktor hid his little sigh of pleasure in Yuuri’s chest as Yuuri’s fingers raked through his strands. “I think you’re just interested in very specific things, like my recipes, my body, and my bed.”
Viktor disagreed, “No. I’m interested in you specifically. I like that you’re not passive. And do you know how hard it is to find someone willing to top most of the time in London? Bottoms are 10 to 1 on Grindr!”
He heard Yuuri snort. “It took a while to figure that part out.” There was a story there, but Viktor sensed he’d pushed all he could in one evening. “I still can’t believe people paid you money to take charge.”
“If they paid extra and were good looking enough, sometimes I’d let them see what was up my skirt.”
Viktor could literally clock the moment Yuuri’s brain stopped working. “Skirt?”
“Mmhmm! I think I still have some pictures.” Viktor sat up and unlocked his phone once again to dig through his archive of photos. He thoroughly enjoyed Yuuri’s embarrassed squeak when he turned the screen in his direction. And he particularly relished the way Yuuri’s flustered expression gave way to something else entirely once he set eyes on the photo of Viktor, 23, wearing a silky pink slip with a very high slit, heels, his long hair falling over his shoulders in waves.
“It’s vintage Dior,” Viktor said glibly. “I got to keep it.”
Only then did Viktor deign to notice how Yuuri was shifting in his seat and fiddling with a cushion, as if trying to hide what could only be a half-chub. “It’s very… pretty.”
“The dress?” Viktor teased.
Yuuri huffed and put his cheek on his hand, leaning against the sofa headrest and letting his eyes wander over to the phone, caught on the photo in question. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t,” Viktor said, coy. “What do you think, Yuuri?”
“I think you’re fishing for compliments.”
“So you like that version of me better then?” Viktor pouted.
“I couldn’t have afforded that version of you. You wouldn’t even have looked at me.” Yuuri seemed to fall in on himself, his perfect posture crumpling as much as it possibly could with a lifetime of ballet in him.
Viktor couldn’t have disagreed more. “I’m looking at you right now,” Viktor said quietly, as he lay a hand on Yuuri’s knee and squeezed gently. “That’s why I want to know what you think. And how you feel about me.”
A breath passed during which the butterflies in Viktor’s stomach flapped their wings furiously, only calmed by the sweetness in Yuuri’s gaze.
“Viktor,” Yuuri began. “I mean—Vitya.”
“Hm?”
“I think you’re wonderful.”
Viktor could hear his heart beating away in his chest, the blood rushing south, his sudden and all encompassing urge to kiss Yuuri. So he did, but in the process almost knocked the two of them off the chaise lounge on the balcony, which was not made for two grown men.
“Ow,” Yuuri groused, rubbing at his temple, which had grazed against the wicker part of their seat. “Were you trying to kiss me just now?”
“Yes, and I was clearly too excited to think about the physics of this lounge,” Viktor admitted sheepishly. But Yuuri, once he’d recovered from their little accident, just grinned and leaned in, until they were close enough for their lips to graze each other.
Viktor closed his eyes. A warm mouth met his, and their noses bumped together slightly before he titled his head and fixed that little problem. Yuuri’s lips parted, and soon a tongue flitted across his lower lip, tasting and teasing. He couldn’t help himself, and looped an arm around Yuuri’s waist to pull him closer so that they were almost right on top of each other, probably enough to topple them off the chaise lounge once again. But he didn’t care. All he wanted was to be as close as possible as public decency could allow, and already he was thinking of what would happen once they got home.
“Oooh, so you two escaped to just make out, huh.”
Yuuri immediately jumped away from Viktor, leaving him bereft and blinking in surprise. It was Phichit popping his head out the balcony doors, who had apparently come looking for them to ask if they wanted leftovers.
“Like the time I caught you with Seung-gil in the kitchen?” Yuuri fired back, once he’d gotten over his jumpscare.
Phichit stuck his tongue out at him. “I told you we had something going on. You never tell me anything! Some friend you are.”
“This was a recent development!”
Phichit mimed a phone with his hand. “You owe me a story later! I’ll leave you love birds to it.” And with that he was off, leaving Viktor confused and with an even worse situation in his jeans than before.
“Sorry, uh, Phichit sort of… knows that we have an arrangement, but not all the details?”
“I don’t think we said we couldn’t tell anyone,” Viktor said, siddling closer. Testing his luck, he leaned his head against Yuuri’s and pressed their shoulders together. His flatmate didn’t seem to mind. “He seemed surprised to see us.”
He felt Yuuri’s arm move, enough to squeeze his thigh gently. “I guess I owe him a story then. But for now, I just really want to go home.”
“Making out in public is too much for you?”
“I don’t think anyone’s paying us any attention right now, but—” another squeeze at his knee, before Yuuri admitted in a soft voice, “—I want to be alone with you.”
Viktor turned his head to take in the smell of Yuuri’s hair, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest. “Just us?”
“Yeah. I’m done being around people for today.”
Viktor, for all his supposed extroversion, felt much the same, and it did not improve as they wound their way through goodbyes with Yuuri’s colleagues that made him impatiently check his watch while Yuuri tried to wrestle his way out of conversations that just wouldn’t end.
An undercurrent of hurry cut through their trip back to the flat, from the long gazes at each other in the Uber, to waiting for the lift and making small talk. He was even mildly disappointed when Yuuri didn’t corner him against the door as soon as they got home, seemingly more interested in putting what food and drink they’d gotten away in the fridge.
Unused to having to demand attention, he decided to be petty. “I thought you wanted to be alone with me,” Viktor whined.
Yuuri shut the fridge door, and walked over to the washing machine, to lean his hip against it. “And we are alone.” He said it with such a matter of fact with such a blank look on his face, it was as if he hadn’t been stealing kisses from Viktor on a balcony in Chelsea, where anyone could see them!
“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just used me as an excuse to get out of a party.”
Yuuri raised one eyebrow at that, before chuckling. “Come here.”
And so Viktor came over, and let himself be pulled by the belt loops to press up against Yuuri, and to breathe each other in, before once again, they were kissing, exchanging breath and saliva and tongues.
This time, there wasn’t anyone to disturb them. So Viktor got to work enacting the fantasies that had taken root on the ride back. He pulled Yuuri in by the small of his back and pressed against him, and then cried out when his flatmate slotted a leg against his crotch for him to grind against.
Within moments, he was clinging to Yuuri, arms looped around his neck as Yuuri caressed his waist, hips and ass. He wanted to touch him all over, this lovely man of contrasts, and so he kissed along his jaw, his neck, snuck a hand under his shirt and toyed with the button of his jeans, until Yuuri gasped and nodded as Viktor nipped at the juncture between neck and shoulder. The button came undone, as did his zipper, loud enough to cut through their mutual panting.
Viktor knelt down — the taste of Yuuri on his tongue was exquisite, and his responsive pleas and moans even more so, as was the hand grasping his hair.
“I’m close,” Yuuri hissed, his hips stuttering into Viktor’s open mouth, sometimes deep enough to hit the back of his throat. His hand grabbed a little harshly at Viktor’s hair, enough to bring tears to Viktor’s eyes—it was warning that if Viktor didn’t stop now, that he’d come down his throat. But that was exactly what he wanted—Viktor didn’t relent, suckling on Yuuri’s cock, laving his tongue around the head, and undulating the pressure within his mouth and throat, and within moments Yuuri was coming down the warm vise of Victor's throat.
Viktor swallowed, barely tasting the fluid filling his mouth.
His cock left Viktor’s throat with an obscenely wet pop. Yuuri's knees buckled, and it was the combined force of holding onto the washing machine, the original site of their debauchery, and Viktor’s own steadying hands, that stops him from falling down completely.
“You’re terrible,” Yuuri said, still breathing heavily. “I can see why you were popular.”
Viktor smirked. As the cat who had just gotten the cream, he thumbed at the corner of his mouth to get the last of the cum off. Then, holding Yuuri’s gaze, he sucked on that same finger and watched as Yuuri’s mouth fell open.
Yuuri exhaled sharply, and then pulled Viktor up to kiss him, licking into his mouth and nipping at his lower lip. There wasn’t any time to waste. Yuuri murmured he could go again in a quarter hour, but then Viktor groused that he had to get ready, and so the most expedient option was to both hop into their single bathroom and take turns.
Had Viktor ever brushed his teeth while his bed partner took a shower? Ever traded giggling kisses before he got into the shower himself, having his hips and waist squeezed at the whole time? Everything was exhilarating and tantalizing, especially the way Yuuri’s chiseled ass looked in the mirror when he dug his fingers into it. And when Yuuri left the bathroom with a smirk and a pinch at his bottom, whispering “your ass is mine tonight, Vitya,” Viktor had to stop and get through the excited shivers before going through a truncated version of his pre-hook-up routine, with some extras. Shower, douching, moisturizer, cologne, a little flavored lip gloss. Surely Yuuri wouldn’t mind if he was a little less preened than usual, would he?
Yuuri certainly didn’t mind when Viktor came to his bedroom in a silky dressing gown, and cocked his hip at the doorway to wait for his flatmate to notice his presence. Yuuri looked up from his phone, thankfully shirtless. His stomach flexed as he got into position to admire Viktor before giggling at Viktor’s dramatics.
“I can’t believe people paid for this,” Yuuri muttered between the crevices of his fingers, as he laughed into his hands.
“Excuse me, are you saying you wouldn’t pay top dollar for this ass?”
But Yuuri only laughed harder, as Viktor crawled up the bed between his legs and pushed Yuuri back with an audible oof against the mattress. He blinked up at Viktor owlishly, eyes wide as comprehension dawned on him that this was what Viktor had meant by “bossy.”
His lips parted. Viktor watched as he wet them with a pink tongue. Yuuri pulled at the tie of his robe to reveal what lay underneath — nothing but bare skin that came alight under his caresses. Viktor clutched at Yuuri helplessly as the other man kissed along his jaw and pushed the robe off his shoulders, curious hands trailed up and down the expanse of his back. Every exploratory touch made him moan and find new ways to press himself against Yuuri, until he was straddling his partner and breathing in the smell of Yuuri’s hair.
He squirmed in Yuuri’s lap, enjoying Yuuri’s groan and how he seemed to grow more aroused from the stimulation. It was mere moments before Yuuri was erect against his ass, rock hard against where Viktor wanted him most.
This went on for some time, until they were gasping and panting against each other’s mouths. Yuuri broke away at one point to reach for the lube in his bedside table. Viktor pouted at the necessary interruption, until Yuuri reached between them to slick Viktor’s cock with a firm grip. It was a hint too rough, but Viktor was too engrossed in kissing Yuuri’s jaw to mention it.
“Want you in me,” Viktor panted against Yuuri’s lips. In response, Yuuri drew him into a kiss, licking into his mouth and tangling their tongues as the heat between them grew hotter and higher. Viktor sadly had to part from him to get into position on his back, taking the lube with a smile from Yuuri and opening his legs to give his flatmate a view other men had once paid exorbitant amounts of money for.
He slid one lubed up finger into himself, sighing as it went in past his second knuckle. After sliding it in and out a few times, he added a second finger, and gasped as he felt the stretch. Yuuri was watching him the whole time, leaving kisses on his knee until he tilted his head and asked, “Can I help?”
Viktor nodded, biting his lip. It didn’t stop his surprise when a third finger joined his own in stretching him open. Even worse was Yuuri’s rapt expression, watching their fingers move in and out of Viktor’s ass drenched with lube, and that he leaned over between Viktor’s legs to tongue and nibble at Viktor’s nipples until they were dusky pink and pert.
When Viktor started to thrust his hips to take in their combined efforts, sadly that was when Yuuri withdrew.
“I’m ready,” Viktor panted, but Yuuri simply shook his head with a small smile, and reached over to his bedside table to pull out a chrome buttplug. It was not the biggest Viktor had ever taken but certainly large enough that it would leave him open enough to just slide into.
“I want you more open,” he whispered against Viktor’s cheek. “Can you be good and hold your legs up for me?”
What else could Viktor do but nod when Yuuri asked so sweetly?
The stretch of the plug was far more than their combined fingers, in that it was unrelenting and constant. But when he had made it through the thickest part and the pleasure-pain that came with it, it sat surprisingly easy inside of him, a dull if intoxicating reminder that Yuuri wanted to slide into him with no resistance.
“That feels good,” Viktor sighed against Yuuri’s kisses. In response, Yuuri tugged at the butt plug, making Viktor cry out as his rim caught on the thickest part. He kept fucking him with it, pulling at the base to savor Viktor’s pitiful whimpers.
“Please, please just fuck me—I changed my mind, I want you now—come on, Yuuri!”
“Do you?” Yuuri taunted. It stoked the flames of impatience inside Viktor, until he was gripping Yuuri’s forearm with nails digging into the muscle to get the point across that he wanted dick and not metal. At this juncture Yuuri finally relented and made to grab a condom off the box in his bedside table.
But Viktor wanted to be as close as possible. No barriers, not even the protective layer of latex between them. A condom simply wouldn’t do. Viktor reached out to stop him.
Yuuri took one look at the hand on his forearm, then back at him, eyes wide.
Viktor fluttered his eyelashes, putting on a coy expression. “I’ve seen your recent test results. You’ve looked at mine, right?”
Yuuri nodded slowly. His cheeks grew a little pinker. “Do you want to…”
“Go without?” The mere thought of it made his voice breathy. “Yes. I want to feel as close to you as possible.” And maybe later, when they were done with round one, Viktor could talk to his flatmate at length about filling his heart and not just his ass.
Yuuri backed away from the bedside table, refocusing on Viktor and taking in all of the skin on display, before letting his eyes settle on Viktor’s bottom.
“You sure?” Yuuri asked, voice quivering.
Viktor nodded, breath quickening. “Yes. Yuuri, I want you to fill me up.”
Yuuri took a deep breath, and got into position between Viktor’s legs. After warming up the lube in his palm, he placed one hand on Viktor’s inner thigh, rubbing the skin there as he stroked himself off to full hardness. Viktor watched his face with rapt attention as Yuuri seemed to lose himself in each jerk of his fingers, noticing how his eyebrows drew together on the upstroke.
And when Yuuri finally started to push against his entrance, the blunt head sliding past the softened muscle of his rim, Viktor held his legs open with his knees to his face. All the while, he studiously watched Yuuri’s expression transform to a mix of bliss and concentration. In the next moment, Yuuri slid into him with one smooth thrust, and the sudden feeling of being completely filled was enough to make Viktor shout.
“Oh, bozhe. Yuuri, fuck, I need—”
“I’m here,” Yuuri gasped, hips stuttering into Viktor. He put one hand against Viktor’s inner thigh for purchase, and began driving into him, as Viktor rocked his hips to make sure Yuuri’s cock slid into him whole. Viktor couldn’t help the way his legs shook, or how they burned as he tried to hold them close to his face the way Yuuri had taught him how all those weeks ago. He was losing his mind over how full he felt, how sexy the sheen of sweat looked on Yuuri’s well-cut pectorals, how strong Yuuri was to hold him down and fuck into him like all he wanted was to use Viktor’s body and dump his cum into him until it dripped onto the bedsheets.
It should have been impossible with how taut the tension was between them. Viktor had already lost all his ability to speak. But somehow, between short gasps, Yuuri somehow still had the presence of mind to ask “Does it feel good? Do I go harder? Slower?”
Yes, it felt amazing, like Viktor was melting slowly into the bed from the force of Yuuri’s thrusts. Yes, Viktor was open enough. Of course, Viktor loved it when Yuuri held him down like this. Yes, he wanted Yuuri to fuck him until he could neither think nor talk, and he said as much.
“Your ass—it’s so soft and wet around me, Vitya—” Yuuri grunted, as he kept pounding into Viktor, the slap of his hips against Viktor’s filling the room. All his compliments added to the thrill of their intimate connection, as he bottomed out again and again and pressed up against right Viktor’s prostate, enough to make Viktor cry out from his body’s spasms of pleasure.
It was all too much, taking in Yuuri’s expression. He was completely focused on Viktor, watching every shift of his expression, and at the same time relentless in how he pounded Viktor’s ass. Viktor began to feel the telltale burn of tears in his eyes, and all at once a sense of embarrassment at being overcome by the sensations rushed through him that he forced himself to look other corners of the room for visual reprieve, only to realise that the full length mirror near the door showed the two of them, wrapped together in a tangle of legs and dewy skin pinkened with exertion — and a very clear view of Yuuri’s chiseled ass flexing as he fucked Viktor.
“Oh god, Yuuri, wait, slow down until I say so—I want to get a video of your ass, it’s so delicious to watch.”
Yuuri couldn’t help his disbelieving laugh. “And you call me a pervert?”
But he still waited as Viktor grabbed his phone and got into position, before resuming his efforts at using Viktor’s body, all while Viktor tried to hold his phone still enough despite the force of Yuuri’s thrusts.
“Oh god, Yuuri, that’s so good, just like that, come on, harder, please please please—”
Viktor couldn’t claim to be the best videographer already, and in all likelihood his footage got even worse when his hands started shaking as Yuuri found the right angle at which to slide into him, right up against his prostate.
At this point, all hope was lost, as the combination of Viktor’s shaky grip on his phone and Yuuri’s unrelenting pace with his hips and hands meant that the phone clattered to the ground.
But Viktor didn’t care. Viktor didn’t care!
He let out a cry as Yuuri slid into him again and then pulled out, his cockhead still inside Viktor’s ass. Yuuri did this again and again, leaving just the tip in as he slid out only to thrust back in. Viktor held on, pulling his one leg up high by the flesh of his thigh until it began to ache unbearably and Yuuri had to rest it against his shoulder.
“You’re being so good, Vitya.”
“Yeah? Am I being good for you?” To prove his point, Viktor clenched his ass cheeks, watching with glee as Yuuri stopped and groaned.
“Keep doing that,” Yuuri ordered. “And jerk yourself off. I want to watch.”
As Yuuri laid kisses on his calf, Viktor felt the orgasm start to build inside him. Locking eyes with Yuuri plus a few strokes of his own cock had him whimpering, gasping and whining through the slow build of heat in his belly. With soft whimpers, he gave himself over to the unrelenting waves of pleasure and ecstasy, of being completely surrounded by the man he loved, until there was a wet mess all over his hands and his ass muscles ached.
Soon, Yuuri followed too, filling him inside with stuttering hips until he stilled. His eyes were wild with the force of his own orgasm, and he was gasping for air, as if he’d been whisked away somewhere by the strength of their connection only to have to come back down.
Perhaps it was the quiet domesticity and affection of the last few days, or even how Yuuri focused all his attention on making sure Viktor would remember the meeting of their bodies, but it was all too much. Viktor felt the burn again in his eyes. When he blinked, remembering that Yuuri was still inside him and had made him wet and messy, they began to flow down his cheeks, accompanied by gasping laughs that turned into half-sobs.
How embarrassing to shed tears when Yuuri’s cock was still inside him to the hilt!
Yuuri’s pleasure turned to concern almost immediately. “What’s wrong? What do you need?”
“You,” Viktor half-laughed, half-sobbed. “Hold me. Now.”
He stewed in quiet as they both wiped their hands down, as Yuuri repositioned their bodies such that he was still inside Viktor, but able to lay on top of him and hold him. They lay together for some time, their bodies sweaty and flush against each other. Occasionally, Yuuri had to adjust himself, and Viktor was quickly reminded of where they were still intimately connected when Yuuri would twitch inside him.
Turning his head to look at what he could see of Yuuri’s face on the pillow, Viktor whispered, “Hey.”
“Hm?”
“That was mindblowing.”
Yuuri gave him a sleepy grin. “You think so?”
“You were so relentless. And a little mean.”
Yuuri’s grin grew wider. “You get so whiny when I’m rough with you, I almost think you like it.”
Viktor giggled. “I do. And when you’re bossy.”
“I can be, uhm, bossier next time. If you want? Maybe later?” Yuuri blushed, as if embarrassed by admitting he wanted a second round. “But maybe after a snack. Actually! That sounds like a great idea. I’m going to get a snack first. Do you want one too? I can make us food.”
Had Yuuri always been this sweet with him? So caring and thoughtful? The tears, which had stopped falling at some point as they came down together, threatened to fall again. Viktor blinked a few times, willing them to stop, but they overcame the little willpower he had left and fell. So did his defenses.
“Yuuri. I love you.”
“Oh. Uhm.” Yuuri pushed up from the bed onto his forearms, and gawked at Viktor. “That wasn’t exactly on the menu but…”
Yuuri didn’t respond right away. He stayed quiet, looking at Viktor, tears falling down his cheeks with his mussed up hair and sweaty forehead. The nerves began to rear their head. Had Viktor said the wrong thing? Was Yuuri now going to get awkward and standoffish because he didn’t want feelings mixing with what supposed to be just sex? Viktor had never thought he’d have to steel himself for rejection while Yuuri was still balls deep inside him.
“But?” Viktor repeated.
Yuuri glanced at him again before looking away. He couldn’t quite meet Viktor’s eyes. “But it can be. If you mean it.”
Viktor bit his lip, before shyly admitting, “I do.”
Idly, he wondered if he was being a bit too on the nose using that phrase, but he meant it. He said, “I love you, Yuuri,” watching as his friend with benefits began smiling from ear to ear, and groaned as Yuuri’s arms gave way so that they were, once again, flush on top of one another and completely intertwined in each other’s arms.
Viktor gasped as Yuuri moved. “Hngh, I think I can feel you dripping out of me…”
“Ah, let me pull out–”
“No,” Viktor said, hugging him tight before Yuuri could leave. “Stay a little longer. I like it.”
Yuuri settled into the hug with a sigh, nestling his face against Viktor’s neck. In a few minutes it was going to feel more disgusting than hot and sexy, but Viktor wanted to savor the connection for a little longer.
Yuuri had been nuzzling Viktor’s neck for more than a few minutes when he stilled. In a small voice, he asked, “You’re not just saying all this because I top, right? …I know it’s hard to find tops in London.”
“What’s so wrong with liking you because you’re a top? I love having sex with you, you know I love having sex with you because you’re a bossy top who enjoys being mean to me.” Viktor pouted, even though Yuuri couldn’t quite see his expression. “Besides, it’s not like I don’t have other options. You make me food and you take care of me when you don’t have to, and I want to do more of the same for you.”
Viktor tried to blink back more tears, but they fell down anyway. “And before you ask, I don’t want to date other people. Just you.” He felt extremely vulnerable laying all his feelings out on the table for Yuuri to inspect, but that couldn’t be helped when they were both still naked and wrapped up in each other. He looked Yuuri straight in the eyes, and said with as much feeling as possible, “I choose you. I love you.”
To Viktor’s surprise, Yuuri squeaked and moved to pull out. Viktor tried to stop him with a weak “Wait, don’t leave!” But he couldn’t stop Yuuri from pulling away completely to lay at a distance from him, his back to Viktor. Viktor whined at the sudden loss of warmth, and rolled over to snake an arm and leg around Yuuri’s waist. He wheedled at Yuuri’s shoulder, but Yuuri refused to budge, clutching the pillow tighter.
“Yuuri, why are you hiding from me? I just admitted my feelings for you! Are you having second thoughts?”
“I’m not! But how is any of this real? I was scared it was just me,” Yuuri admitted, his voice muffled into the pillow. “Wondering if you just saw me as convenient because we lived together and were already friends. Just yesterday I dreamed about baking biscuits together and … ”
“That sounds like my dreams too.”
Yuuri stilled, and turned over until Viktor could see his handsome face, his brow pinched as if wondering whether to reveal the extent of his imaginings. Viktor reached out to smooth the crease. Yuuri let him, but did not speak up.
“What else did you dream about?”
Yuuri closed his eyes. Was he afraid of Viktor’s reaction? He was quivering like a leaf when he admitted, “And adopting a poodle puppy together.”
The specificity of it made Viktor’s heart sing with glee. A poodle! He had talked at length about wanting one, and now Yuuri admitted he wanted the same? How could this all be real?
“I want that too, Yuuri.” Viktor let his hand drop to stroke Yuuri’s cheek and jaw. “I love you.”
In response, Yuuri kissed Viktor straight on his cupid’s bow. When he drew back, his eyes were shining with unshed tears. “I love you too. I have. Since the exhibit.”
Viktor was this close to bursting with joy. “That was just last week! Really? When did you realise? Was it when I found you at the painting of the harlequin?”
“Yes.” Yuuri nodded, eyes alight. He came close enough for their lips to graze each other. “I love you, Vitya.”
Not even the time Viktor had gotten a donor to give the museum an eight-figure donation nor the six-figure deposits he’d gotten from clients in his 20s could compare to the incandescent happiness of hearing Yuuri’s admission. Then there was also the reality of the aftermath to contend with: Yuuri’s cum was still dripping out of him in a slow wet ooze. And when Yuuri reached fingers down to touch him again, his flatmate discovered this too.
“Fuck.” Yuuri grazed curious fingers around where Viktor was still moist and open. With how relentless he’d been in pounding him, Viktor was also still sensitive, and he shivered as Yuuri toyed with his soft entrance. “Can I…”
Did Yuuri want to fuck him again? Viktor wasn’t sure he could get it up that quickly as he was pushing mid-30s, nor take another load of cum so fast without feeling absolutely terrible the next morning, so he said as much.
“No, that’s not what I meant. I want,” Yuuri started, and then stopped, leaning in to kiss Viktor’s cheek. “I want to eat you out. Here.” And he dipped his finger into Viktor, to emphasize his point. “Would you like that?”
Viktor was momentarily speechless, heart pounding away in his chest. That was an option right now? They’d just admitted their feelings to each other, and now Yuuri wanted to lick his cum out of Viktor’s hole? He felt like a glutton for even considering it seriously, but he wanted it too, wanted Yuuri’s tongue inside the place where they’d just been connected moments ago. Perhaps this was far too much a lust-driven start to a new relationship, but if Yuuri was offering, Viktor wasn’t about to say no.
“Yes,” Viktor breathed. “Eat me out.” Snack momentarily forgotten, Yuuri hungrily turned Viktor onto his hands and knees to clean him out with his mouth.
It was in the post-orgasmic daze of a second round that Yuuri, suddenly concerned and serious, cajoled Viktor and his weak jelly legs into putting on some pants and eating a midnight snack of cheese and crackers and hummus in their kitchen. As they settled in to nibble on their food at the teak dinner table, Viktor spotted their original contract where was held to the fridge by a magnet, stained at the bottom by a stray drop from Yuuri’s tea.
“Yuuri, now that we’re officially dating …”
Yuuri swallowed and glanced at Viktor, grinning shyly at the phrasing. “Mmhmm. Now that we’re officially dating, what of it?”
Viktor gestured to the contract. “Considering that tonight, you’ve not only come inside me raw but also eaten it out of me—” to which Yuuri almost choked “—and admitted we don’t want to date other people, that contract’s no longer relevant, you think?”
Yuuri puffed his cheeks out, looking far too cute to be considering what to do with an out-of-date friends with benefits contract. “Well. It isn’t. Should we rip it up? Void it?”
Viktor tapped at his lips with a finger. “I feel like something more dramatic would be appropriate.”
Bubble butt
What’s this video you sent me?
It better be something hot
SACRÉ BLEU
What are you setting on FIRE in that cast iron griddle?!
Is that paper???????
How did you not trigger the smoke detector?
Viktor
We had the window open
Goodbye friends with benefits contract!!! 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Yuuri and I are dating!
You were right
I owe you drinks
Bubble butt
🍆🍆🍆🍆🍆🥵🥵🥵🥵
And details, you sly dog!!!