Actions

Work Header

Omerta

Chapter Text

Yuuri swallowed hard as he finished tying the blue tie loosely around his neck and smoothed out the half-buttoned white dress shirt. Glitter coated his skin and his slicked back raven locks. If someone had told him that this would be what would stare back at him in the mirror in the future, he would have laughed. Perfume swirled around his nostrils in an overwhelming manner, his nose wiggling in disgust.

 

“Eros, you’re on in five.”

 

Turning his head just slightly he nodded in acknowledgement. He’d been doing this forsix months now, but it never seemed to get any easier. Not really. It was more of just going through the motions as he zoned out on stage. Most of the women had to work harder and get up-close and personal with a lot of the clients to make money, but Yuuri had been lucky. Men lusted after him from afar and still threw yen his way.

 

If you called that lucky, anyway.

 

This time last year he had been on his way to the Grand Prix of Figure Skating. He hadn’t had the greatest performance of his career, but it had been his first time and he knew he could improve and come back stronger the next year. That was until he had to give up everything. The onsen hadn’t been doing well, but was frequented by a handful of known Yakuza. They had offered to bail out the onsen, but there was a high debt to still be paid. Business had improved. It wasn’t enough.

 

Sucking in a breath through his nose he gave himself a final look over in the mirror before turning and heading towards the stage. The female dancer that had just performed stepped off, money in hand, and he closed his eyes to center himself. Payment was due in two days. Tonight was busy and would be the best chance he had in collecting what they needed. He had to put on a good performance.

 

His name was called and his usual music started to play. Gathering his courage he stepped through the curtain and let his vision glaze over while he went through the motions. Shake the hips, lick his lips, and make those tips. Moving towards the pole he placed his back to it and slowly started to dance his way down it popping another button on his shirt for good measure. Over the music he could hear the cat calls and the lewd comments already being made while he was still dressed.

 

After working the pole just a bit longer to build up anticipation he began to slowly move his hands up and down his chest and undid the remaining buttons. Wiggling his hips down the pole he pulled the tails free from his slacks and threw the fabric off his shoulders leading to loud whistles. Shimmying out of the shirt he let it drop to the ground and ran his palms up and down his bare chest.

 

For a brief moment he allowed himself to focus and his eyes caught blue.

 

A soft gasp left his lips and he could feel himself pause briefly in his dance. The man was clearly a foreigner with eyes like the ocean and silver hair. Unlike the other patrons he was not situated close to the stage and showed no indication of getting up and moving. His legs were neatly crossed and his index finger was pressed against his lips in concentration.

 

He was far too beautiful to be in a place like this.

 

Stepping back into his routine he hooked his thumbs in his waistband and tugged off the slacks leaving him a pair of sequined black hot pants. His legs were very toned from his time skating and always drew quite the crowd at their reveal. With his brown eyes locked on this strange foreigner he moved into the harder portion of his routine. The man looked like had money with that expensive suit. Maybe he could pull in some cash catering to him.

 

Using his strong muscles he climbed up the pole and wrapped his thick thighs around the metal before slowly lowering himself backwards, his taut torso stretched long for the viewers to admire. His stomach wasn’t as muscled as some of the other dancers - there was definitely a softness to it - but he knew he looked good like this. Slowly he allowed himself to slide down, eyes never leaving the man in hopes he could draw him in.

 

He didn’t move.

 

Reaching the bottom Yuuri sighed inwardly and grabbed the bottom of the pole with his hands before releasing his grip with his legs and easily lowering himself into a split. So much for that idea. After a few more spins and his signature z-seat the music ended and he was collecting his money on his hands and knees. He couldn’t help but flick his gaze up once more to the man who was still seated firmly in the velvet chair. For a moment, Yuuri thought he might just be a mannequin.

 

Shoving the extra cash into the band of his pants he rose to his feet and move swiftly off the stage so that the next dancer could take the light. One of the security guards handed him his discarded garments on the way back to his spot in the dressing room. Pooling together the yen in a pile he began to count it. It wasn’t even half of what he needed. Cursing, he shoved it away in his drawer with a loud slam. Fucking cheap crowd tonight, apparently. He’d have to beg someone to let him take their shift tomorrow if there was any hope of making it up. Sure, he had one more slot up on stage, but it was close to closing time when the crowd was either non-existent or too drunk to bother.

 

“Hey, Eros.”

 

Yuuri turned his head towards Goro, his favorite security guard. He was the only one that seemed to really care about the safety of the dancers rather than just treating it as some job. “Hai?

 

Goro was sporting an unusual frown. “There’s a gentleman out here asking for you.”

 

Blinking, Yuuri responded with a frown of his own. Everyone knew he didn’t accept private dances, especially Goro. They brought in the most money, but Yuuri just hadn’t been able to bring himself to do it. Dancing on stage was shameful enough. “You know I don’t do private dances, Goro.”

 

That only caused his frown to deepen. “I know. I said that but...he seemed rather insistent, and the boss told us to do whatever these men asked while they were here.”

 

Yuuri’s back straightened at that. Although the owner of the establishment wasn’t Yakuza, he was a friend. That man...he must have been mafia. Swallowing hard Yuuri turned his gaze down to his hands. They were shaking. He couldn’t say no to this and he and Goro both knew that. Reaching for his shirt he slipped his arms back into it, leaving it unbuttoned and trudged towards Goro and the curtain with his eyes cast down in silent nervousness. Maybe, there was even a bit of fear there.

 

It wasn’t pity that Goro looked at him with, but it might as well have been. The man at least followed him to the private room before he slipped away back to his normal duties. Yuuri sucked in a breath when he looked up and saw the silver-haired man up close sitting just as he had before but this time on a large velvet sofa. He was even more incredible up close.

 

Finally, he moved, waving away the two suited men who were standing near him. Jun, the security guard that managed the private showings to make sure no one got handsy, also left. Yuuri could feel his heart begin to race.

 

“Eros…,” The man spoke softly, a clear accent. “You’ll forgive me, my Japanese could still use a bit of work. Do you speak English?” Russian. Yuuri recognized the accent, now. It had been one he had heard often when he used to skate.

 

With a small nod he answered, “Yes.” This man’s gaze made him want to shrink in on himself, but those eyes also wanted to make him do nothing but drown in blue.

 

The man stretched his arms out on the back of the couch. “I was informed you don’t normally do private dances. Why is that?” Instinctively, Yuuri shrunk in on himself, one arm reaching up to latch on to the other as if to cover himself. The man smiled. “Ah, you’re shy. Not very conducive for someone in your profession. I would think you’d choose another line of work.”

 

“I didn't choose it!” Yuuri snapped, much harsher than he had intended, eyes widening in realization of his mistake.

 

The man only chuckled. “Of course...you need money, right? A sick family member, school, debt…Wouldn’t doing private dances help you get that money?”

 

Yuuri turned his gaze away, his cheeks turning red in embarrassment. “I’m not...people wouldn’t really want me anyway.”

 

With curious eyes the man looked him up and down fully several times, a slight flick of his tongue against his lips. “Tell me...Eros...are you a virgin?”

 

His gut reaction was to gasp and blush madly, and that was exactly what happened despite his best efforts. Maybe at least, that would cause the man to turn him away, ask for someone more experienced.

 

Instead, his pupils only seemed to dilate more with lust as he leaned forward. Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket he pulled out a very large wad of yen and tossed it on the end-table. “I have a lot of money, Eros. Dance for me.”

 

There was something in his tone that was not an invitation, but a demand. His pulse was drumming so strong he could feel it in his throat, his breathing becoming stuttered. When he tried to move his body stayed put, completely frozen.

 

“Eros,” the man’s tone was soft but his eyes were hard. “Come. Here.”

 

The order had Yuuri springing forward and he was straddling the man’s lap, wrapping his hands around his neck. Even though he was shaking he sent himself into his performance daze, refusing to look into those eyes as he slowly began to grind himself against the Russian.

 

There was a moan as the man’s head fell back and his hands moved to Yuuri’s muscled thighs. Brown eyes grew incredibly wide at the touch and he stopped moving immediately. There was no touching. There was no touching ! But Jun was not there. There was no one to stop him.

 

Harsh nails dug into his skin suddenly in warning and he continued to grind, his own fingers digging into the fabric of the couch as he tried to keep the growing panic under control. Hands slid up across his ass and up under his shirt exploring every inch of Yuuri’s hot skin. Yuuri was relying only on what he had seen the other dancers do, and he feared it wouldn’t be enough to satisfy the man beneath him. Hot breath breathed against his neck and a sharp shiver travelled up his spine.

 

The Russian must have noticed because he chuckled. “Oh...you like that? Come on, E-ros,” he dragged out the name like a plea before diving his hands beneath the spandex hot pants and squeezing Yuuri’s ass.

 

Yuuri yelped, his hips being forced forward. One hand stayed where it was and the other moved to his hair, roughly yanking his head back so that he was forced to look at those blue eyes.

 

“I want to hear you moan, Eros,” he breathed, grip loosening and fingertips trailing down his cheek to his lips were he shoved in a thumb.

 

Yuuri tried, but any sound wound up in a ball in the middle of his throat refusing to travel any further. His tongue was forced to press against the digit and the man’s eyelids fluttered at the touch. Pulling it out, he ran the pad against his bottom lip leaving a trail of saliva before moving his hand down to Yuuri’s chest and brushing against a nipple.

 

Yuuri moaned, much to his dismay.

 

“That’s it,” the Russian purred, both hands back on his ass and encouraging him to rock his hips in steady motions again.

 

Yuuri could feel the man’s hardness beneath the cloth, and his eyes grew wide in horror at the realization of just what this was - what this man expected him to do for the money on the end table. His heartbeat was too loud, his breathing was growing out of control. The panic was just too much and with both hands he pushed against the man’s chest and flew off of his lap. “I-I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

 

Those eyes that stared at him were unforgiving. “Do you know who I am?” Yuuri shook his head, feeling the fear grow overwhelming in his stomach. “My name is Viktor Nikiforov. My family is head of the Russian mafia.”

 

A hand flew to his mouth, Yuuri doing everything he could to keep himself from vomiting right there. Mafia. He had been right.

 

“It would be very,” Viktor sucked in a breath, “Unwise for you to refuse me, Eros.”

 

Hot tears stung at the corner of Yuuri’s eyes. “Why…?” His voice was barely audible in the shadows. “Why would you want me? I’m inexperienced. Surely you could-,”

 

“Anyone can go out on the streets and purchase a cheap whore, Eros,” Viktor said, cutting him off. “But purity...that,” an animalistic grin danced across his lips, “Is very hard to come by.” With softened eyes he settled back into the couch. “Come now, don’t look so scared. I hardly came prepared to fuck you. Men take far more care than women in that regard. But,” hands travelled down to his belt and began to unbuckle, “I’m not paying you for nothing. You understand.” Palming himself through his trousers he grinned, “Plus, a mouth like that shouldn’t go wasted.”

 

Yuuri could feel the hot trails of wetness fall down his cheeks. This is what it must feel like to be in a zoo, he thought. To be locked in a cage with no way out and to do nothing but entertain spectators. He could try and run. Viktor would likely do nothing immediate. But he’d learn his real name. He’d find his family. And…

 

With the weight of heavy dread in each step he moved forward and allowed the hopelessness to drag him down to his knees with anything but grace. Like a cheshire cat Viktor smirked above him and widened his legs in invitation. Bracing his hands on the Russian’s thighs he leaned forward and licked a stripe across the clothed member earning him a soft moan. Yuuri had never given anyone a blowjob in his life, but he’d watched porn. It would just have to do.

 

With trembling fingers he reached up and unfastened the button and slowly slid down the zipper. Swallowing he paused, giving himself one last time to try and back out of this, but Viktor’s fingers were in his hair and he knew it was too late. A hand slid under the fabric and pulled out rock hard flesh. Viktor gasped above him and his fingers tightened in his hair. He was thick and long, heavy and hot in Yuuri’s hand.

 

Biting his lip in uncertainty of his next move he began to idly stroke. Viktor allowed it for a moment, but his patience quickly wore thin as he tugged Yuuri’s face forward, his nose brushing against the silver curls at the base of his cock. Squeezing his eyes shut Yuuri opened his mouth and slowly took Viktor in. The Russian let out a loud moan and thrust his hips up causing Yuuri to gasp in surprise and pull off.

 

“Sorry,” Viktor murmured in amusement, but lacking any sincerity. “I forgot for a moment that you’re the virgin here.”

 

Curling his free hand into a fist he focused on the pain of his nails digging into his palm as he swallowed Viktor down again and began bobbing his head. It was an unexpected taste in the way it tasted like nothing at all. Viktor was incredibly vocal above him as he swirled a tongue across the slit tasting salt. With a gasp of air he pulled off with a pop needing to breathe. A trail of spit still linked his lips to the head of Viktor’s cock and that was apparently too much for the Russian.

 

“Fuck, look at you, Eros,” he moaned as he rolled his hips into the air. “You’re doing so well.”

 

It was completely unwanted praise, but Yuuri felt himself react to it regardless. With a little more courage he sucked Viktor back into the heat of his mouth and tried to go deeper. Encouraging hands were on his head, pushing him further down. The more he licked and sucked the saltier the taste started to get and that fear found its way into Yuuri’s chest again. But, he kept bobbing in a steady rhythm, occasionally surfacing for air.

 

Viktor twitched beneath him, but kept his hips steady through his moans and whimpers. “Eros, Eros,” he hummed, hands occasionally moving to his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt before clenching hair again. “So, so good.”

 

“Viktor.”

 

Yuuri froze, Viktor’s dick falling from his mouth with an obscene and wet sound. Terrified, he dared look up at the Russian. His eyes were cold and angry.

 

“What?” Viktor hissed. Something was said in Russian and the man’s face coiled into something even angrier. He responded with a wave of his hand and sucked in deep breath while rocking his head side-to-side as if to crack his neck. Lowering his gaze his eyes softened and his fingers dipped under Yuuri’s chin to raise it. “I do so apologize, my dear Eros, but we will have to move this along a little faster than planned.”

 

Roughly, Viktor grabbed at Yuuri’s hair with both hands and lifted him as he stood. Yuuri let out a painful whimper but followed the movements as best he could. The moment he dared open his mouth Viktor thrust in hard, cock touching the back of Yuuri’s throat with each piston. He felt like he was gagging, unable to breathe around the thick flesh. Tears started spilling from his eyes hard and fast as his hands could do nothing but hold on to Viktor’s thighs desperately.

 

Viktor’s moans grew louder and his thrusts became fast and more erratic before he was slipping free from Yuuri’s lips and hot, white semen was painting his face. He gasped in surprise, cum falling into his eyelashes and into his mouth. Viktor stroked himself through it, getting every last drop out, before taking the head of his cock and rubbing it against Yuuri’s face to coat it with his own release.

 

Another moan and Viktor traced Yuuri’s lips with the head before sliding back in. “Lick.” Yuuri obeyed and cleaned Viktor’s cock of any semen. Satisfied, the Russian pulled out and finally released his hold on Yuuri to stuff himself back into his pants.  Kneeling down he grabbed Yuuri’s chin roughly and kissed him, shoving a tongue in to taste himself. “That was far more incredible than I could have ever imagined, Eros. Thank you.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out another stack of bills and let them fall like rain over Yuuri’s head as he walked away.

 

Yuuri knelt there, eyes wide in shock, for what felt like eternity before his body fell over and he let out an agonizing sob and began to cry. His stomach churned with sickness and with no attempt to crawl to a trash can he heaved. He burned with shame at what he had just done and no amount of money could ever take that feeling away from him. Yuuri felt so humiliated and used and his sobs only grew louder.

 

“Yuuri! Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri looked up through tear-blinded vision and made out the firey mane of Minami. The boy had started working there the moment he had become legal, his family on the verge of living in the streets. “Yuuri, come on.” He frantically began gathering up all the money. “If you stay here like this someone will take all of it.” Shrugging out of his own shirt he began wiping at Yuuri’s face, cleaning it of tears, spit, and cum. “Come on. It’s ok. It’s going to be ok.”

 

Yuuri allowed Minami to help him to his feet and usher him out of the room and back into the club so that they could go back to the dressing room. He could feel the eyes of the other dancers on him. They must have thought he was a joke, freaking out about a blowjob. Some of the other dancers often did much more than that with frequent clients to make extra cash.

 

“Go home,” Minami told him as they finally made it back to Yuuri’s station. “I’ll take your last dance.”

 

Yuuri tried to speak, tried to say thank you, but his throat was raw and silenced. Instead, he settled for a hug, quiet gratitude. He couldn’t bare to have to go out there after that. Everyone would know what he had done. Quickly, he threw on a hoodie and a pair of sweats before shoving all the money into his backpack and heading towards the backdoor.

 

Now, Goro’s look was of pity.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri did not end up taking the extra shift the next day. His parents looked on with wide and happy eyes when he had dumped the bag of yen on the table the next morning. They thought he was just a bartender. A very happy client, he had told them, and they had just hugged him in acceptance. But Mari knew better.

 

“Yuuri,  you don’t have to keep doing this,” she said as Yuuri scrubbed at the floors. “We can find another way to get the money.”

 

He hadn’t bothered to say anything, because there was nothing to say. There was no other way to get the money. Yuuri was it.

 

Viktor was not there when he returned to the club two nights later. Nor was he there the next night, or the next night.

 

“Are you going to see him again?” Minako had asked curiously as she put on her make-up next to him. “He was really hot. I wouldn’t mind having him as a regular.”

 

“Um,” Yuuri’s voice was meek, “I don’t...really know.” He hoped not. Minako meant well, he knew, but it still made his heart ache with fear that every time he stepped out onto the stage Viktor would be there.

 

The Friday crowd had been busy and full of endless pockets. Yuuri’s haul was good. Stacking the yen and throwing it in his backpack he reached for his hoodie, ready to call it a night.

 

“Eros.”

 

Yuuri paused. It was Goro. Another pitiful look. Without hesitation the tears started falling and Yuuri buried his face in his hands as he fell into his seat. Viktor was back. Viktor was back and was asking for him again. What would he want with him this time? Would it be another sloppy blowjob or would it be something worse?

 

“Yuuri. Look at me.” He looked up with a sniff, Minako’s hands on his shoulders. “I know this isn’t what you want. None of us want this life, but we do what we have to do to survive. You don’t realize the blessing this is. That man’s pockets are deep, and he has chosen you.

 

“But not li-like this,” Yuuri sobbed.

 

Minako hushed him and ran a hand soothingly through his hair. “I know, I know. Trust me. I know. The first times are the hardest. But it will get easier, and you’ll eventually realize just how much power you really have. Your sexuality is everything, Yuuri. You think this man is using you, but it’s the other way around. You are in charge. Do you understand?”

 

Shaking his head, Yuuri cried harder. He didn’t understand. How could she be so calm about this? “I’ve never-,”

 

With a sigh Minako let go of him and reached into the drawer of her station pulling out two airplane bottles. “Here. This will help you relax.”

 

With shaking hands he reached out and unscrewed the first bottle before throwing it back. Without even a pause he grabbed for the other and followed suit with it. “Do you have anymore?”

 

Minako blinked but pulled out another, “Shit, Yuuri. I’m so sorry.” She waited until he downed the third bottle and wiped a tear from his eye. “It can be good...if you let it.”

 

“Eros,” Goro spoke again, more urgency in his voice.

 

Yuuri wiped at his tears and sucked in a shuddered breath. “Thank you.”

 

Minako offered a small smile and helped Yuuri to his feet. “It’ll be ok, kiddo. You’re doing this for your family, just remember that.”

 

With one last deep breath to steady himself he worked at unbuttoning his shirt again and followed after Goro. They bypassed the velvet couches of the private room this time and moved towards the back where it was darker, quieter, and held two beds. Yuuri had to bite his lip until it bled to not cry. Thankfully, the three shots were already starting to kick in and he could feel his skin tingle with numbness. He always had been such a lightweight.

 

There was Viktor, cross-legged on the bed but sporting only a crisp dress shirt with rolled sleeves this time. His blue eyes glowed in the darkness and he smirked. “Eros...it’s so good to see you again.” He dismissed the remaining company like he had previously and rose to his feet. With a few steps forward he was uncomfortably close to Yuuri’s ear and leaned it. “Or should I say...Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri froze, gasping. Viktor began to kiss down his neck and he hardly noticed in his shock. This was it. This man owned him now. Of course he would have found out. It probably wasn’t even hard. His boss probably told him without hesitation. When Viktor placed his hands on his bare chest and he didn’t flinch, Yuuri did know if it was the alcohol or just utter defeat.

 

Viktor kissed him, tender this time, though he still pressed his tongue in. He tasted of mint and vodka. “I’ve given explicit instruction not to interrupt us this time.” Breathing in Yuuri’s scent he took a step back and sat gracefully on the edge of the bed. “Well? Dance for me, Yu-uri.”

 

Yuuri’s body felt unsteady and cold. Without any hesitation he climbed into Viktor’s lap and shoved him backwards before grinding up against him.

 

Laughing, Viktor placed his hands on Yuuri’s hips. “Liquid courage? Good. We can take this further, then. Mmm, Yuuri, just like that.” Allowing his head to fall back against the pillow he thrust up, their hips grinding together in a rhythm.

 

Yuuri don’t know what came over him, but he leaned forward and locked lips with Viktor once more, his hands unbuttoning the Russian’s shirt and raking nails over pink nipples. With a gasp Viktor bucked up against him and slid his hands up under Yuuri’s shirt, sliding it off of his shoulders and throwing it to the side. Yuuri arched his back, bracing his hands on Viktor’s thighs as he really went to town, giving the Russian a perfect view of his chest and belly while he rocked.

 

“Shit,” Viktor cursed, hands grabbing Yuuri’s ass roughly and grinding their hips harder together. He was already hard under straining fabric.

 

You are in charge. Do you understand?

 

Yuuri was starting to understand. Shifting his weight he scooted down Viktors legs and nuzzled the bulge with hise nose before mouthing at it tenderly. Viktor was moaning beneath him with every kiss and lick, begging. He had the power.

 

Time seemed to be in a constant battle of fast forward and rewind for Yuuri. He didn’t know how he had gotten Viktor’s cock out already, coating it in his saliva and burying it in the heat of his mouth. It was easier this time. But unlike their last encounter, Viktor was trying to pull him off rather than down. With a pop, Yuuri unlatched himself and looked at Viktor with a furrowed brow.

 

“Take them off,” he ordered.

 

It took Yuuri a moment in his drunken state to realize Viktor was talking about his hot pants. Even in his haze, there was a hesitation before Yuuri obeyed and stepped off the bed to slide down the glittering black fabric. When he stood, he realized he was standing completely bare and he felt a blush creep up on his face.

 

“Beautiful,” Viktor breathed, pupils blown wide. He beckoned Yuuri to rejoin him on the bed and he flipped them, Viktor now on top. Hands against Yuuri’s chest he leaned down and took the dancer’s cock into his mouth. Yuuri couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched the head of silver bob up and down with experience. A moan caught in the back of his throat and he felt heat coil in his stomach as he finally grew hard.

 

“There you go,” Viktor purred happily as he pulled off. “Come on Yuuri. Don’t hold it in.”

 

It can be good. If you let it.

 

Yuuri let himself moan louder as Viktor stroked him.

 

Yes ,” Viktor’s eye twinkled and he was suddenly rolling Yuuri over and shoving a pillow beneath his hips.

 

Yuuri let it happen, his world trying to spin before his eyes. Burying his face against the sheets he allowed Viktor to massage his ass and didn’t even seem to give much thought to when the Russian began sliding his dick between the cheeks. Instead, he lay there, hoping that would be enough to get him off and he could just go to sleep. Occasionally, he’d find himself rocking his hips against the pillow, trying to get some sort of friction on his hard cock.

 

It wasn’t until a cold finger pressed against his entrance did he realize that no, Viktor had every intention of taking it all the way.

 

Suddenly, he was stone-cold sober and he felt himself move to leap off the bed. Viktor was quick and had a rough hand in his hair pressing his face back into the sheets. “Shh, shhh, Yuuri,” he soothed, “You wouldn’t want your parents to miss their next payment on the onsen, would you?”

 

Yuuri let out a pained whimper as a finger breached his entrance. Fingers clenched the sheets painfully and tears stung at his eyes. Viktor knew everything. Minako was wrong. He was powerless. He let out a muffled sob as another finger joined in and began scissoring him. It burned.

 

“Shh, my Yuuri,” Viktor whispered, placing soft kisses against the nape of Yuuri’s neck and down his spine. “Just relax.” He thrust his fingers in deeper, harder, curling them just right sending a jolt of electricity through Yuuri.

 

It can be good. If you let it.

 

Stifling a sob as Viktor entered a third finger he tried to think of something - anything - in order to lose himself in another world. But Viktor kept pressing there and Yuuri kept sobbing and wiggling his hips up against his fingers. When Viktor finally did pull them free Yuuri couldn’t help but whimper at the loss.

 

Viktor’s hand on his head had softened and moved to his neck, thumb rubbing soothing circles against the skin. It was almost enough to have Yuuri relaxed back into his haze before something solid and blunt pushed up against him.

 

“N-no!” Yuuri gasped, hands flailing out behind him desperately trying to get Viktor to stop, but the man above him was far more powerful. One hand shoved his face back into the sheets and the other pinned his wrists above his head as he continued to sink in. Yuuri let out a strangled cry, the stretch overwhelming as Viktor’s length dove deeper.

 

“Fu-uck,” Viktor breathed, “Yuuri, so tight, so hot. Shit.” The moan he let out was deep and long as he bottomed out in Yuuri and started to grind his hips to help the man beneath him adjust. “I’ve never felt anyone so good…” Viktor pulled back slowly, watching as Yuuri’s entrance moved around him, and licked his lips with a hard thrust back in. It was absolutely incredible.

 

With every thrust Yuuri let out a yelp, the pace quick and hard. He felt too full, too stretched, like he was about to explode. His hand was soaked from his tears and the bite marks would probably leave a permanent scar. But then Viktor adjusted his hips and he was seeing stars .

 

“There it is,” Viktor panted, the slapping of skin echoing in the room over the other dancers giving a show and the electronic music booming through the speakers. "My Yuuri...So good."

 

It can be good. If you let it.

 

Viktor’s hands had released their hold on him and Yuuri lay there pliant, soft moans leaving his lips with each hit against his prostate. Viktor’s hands moved to his hips and tightened their hold as his pace quickened, brutal and punishing into him. Yuuri was sure to have bruises for weeks. Viktor’s moans were starting to get louder and he reached beneath Yuuri to begin stroking him. It only took a few pumps before Yuuri found his vision turning white. His hips stuttered with orgasm and his entire body seemed to be too sensitive. Everything was too much.

 

Viktor thrust in once, twice, and then he was coming with a loud groan, his cock twitching inside Yuuri as his cum painted his velvet walls white. It seemed like eternity before Viktor stopped spurting inside of him and finally pulled out leaving Yuuri raw and empty

 

Viktor turned Yuuri over and laced their fingers together above his head. “Incredible,” he breathed before leaning in for a kiss to the lips. Viktor kissed him for a long time before licking up the trail of tears and placing a butterfly kiss to each eyelid. “I have tasted paradise, and I will know nothing else. You are mine, Yuuri. No one else can have you.” Licking his lips he reached over to the bedside and came up with large stack of yen. “I’ll be good to you, Yuuri. Just as you have been good to me.”

 

Yuuri watched through terrified eyes as Viktor left the money and got off the bed, pulling his pants back up and buttoning his shirt. Yuuri wanted to cry again, but he now felt nothing. He felt nothing as he finally rolled off the bed and slid his hot pants back on and pulled on his shirt. He felt nothing as he gathered up the money and cradled it to his chest. He felt nothing as he walked back to the dressing room, warm cum dripping down the inside of his thigh.

 

There was nothing.

 

When he finally walked through the doors to Yu-topia, everything came crashing down on him. He fell to his knees and started crying desperately. Mari was there, taking him in her arms and rocking him back and forth. He was used and he was ruined, now. He was nothing.

 

You are in charge. Do you understand?

 

Yuuri had never felt so betrayed by words in his life.

 

/*/

 

“Thank you for meeting with me, Ito-san,” Viktor spoke calmly as an elder Japanese man in an expensive pressed suit joined him in the vehicle. It had taken several days for Viktor to find the head house of Hasetsu’s territory and coordinate a meeting.

 

“Hmph,” Ito responded from across Viktor, hand firmly grasped on a cane. “I am a busy man, Viktor. Do not waste my time.”

 

Viktor bowed his head in understanding, “Of course. I wanted to speak to you regarding the Katsuki family.” Every since their meeting, Viktor had been unable to stop thinking about Yuuri. Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri. How that name rolled off his tongue so beautifully.

 

“Katsuki?” Ito questioned, confusion in his face. He repeated the family name over and over until the light bulb striked. “Katsuki! The family that owns the onsen in Hasetsu?”

 

“Yes,” Viktor nodded. “I am told they owe you a debt. How much?”

 

Ito’s eyes narrowed in question and uncertainty. “To what interest is it to you?”

 

Viktor laced his fingers together in his lap, comfortably. He would not be denied this.“I am interested in their son. He goes by Yuuri.”

 

Ito sat there, expressionless and silent for several moments before letting out a low laugh. “He is worthless, you know? Worth not even a quarter of what their family owes on the onsen. You could take him easily, and I would not care. Yet, you ask my permission because this is my soil. I have much respect for that, Viktor Nikiforov. Much.”

 

Viktor could feel his jaw clench in anger. Yuuri was not worthless. Yuuri was beautiful, and he was everything. Yuuri would be his. Forever. “We have an agreement, then?”

 

“I will forgive the Katsuki’s debt and allow you their son, should this simple thing bring the Russians joy,” Ito agreed. “Such an easy task, as an act of trust in our relationship.”

 

“It does,” Viktor nodded, gaze softening and inviting. “You have my word that this strengthens our ties.”

 

“It is done, then,” Ito smiled, fingers drumming against his cane. “I will send my men to obtain him. Shall I have him sent to your quarters in Kyoto? Or perhaps all the way to Russia might be best?”

 

Viktor hummed in thought, a finger to his lips. He still had some business to attend to here in Japan, and would hate to have to wait. But, Ito-san was right. It would be easier to move him completely out of the country first and foremost. In a foreign country where he knew no one, Viktor would be all he had.

 

“To Russia.”

Chapter Text

It terrified him.

 

The way that Viktor held him like this, both men curled up on their sides with his chest pressed firmly against Yuuri’s back, arms wrapped tightly around his waist even in his sleep. Viktor always had a hold on him, even when he wasn’t there in person. Maybe he thought he would run? Yuuri thought about it constantly, but what would he do? Where would he go? He had no identification, no money, no phone.

 

It terrified him.

 

It had been almost two weeks now since Yuuri had been stolen from his home in Hasetsu by the Yakuza and brought to St. Petersburg. They had come at night after all the guests had settled in and Yuuri, his parents, and Mari were finishing around the common area doing some clean-up. They had barged in without so much of a knock and had grabbed Yuuri immediately. He remembered screaming at the top of his lungs, kicking and scratching at his captors as he reached out a hand towards his parents, pleading.

 

Your debt has been paid.

 

That is what they had said before they had drugged him with something and he saw what was very likely to be the last image of his family and his home. The next time he had woken up it had been in a bed lined with satin sheets and Viktor sitting beautifully and relaxed in a chair across the room.

 

My Yuuri. I told you I would have you.

 

All he could do was sit there and cry silently at the realization of what had happened. Viktor had shushed him with pretty sounding Russian and a gentle gloved hand to his cheek before shoving his tongue down Yuuri’s throat. He then made the greatest mistake of his life. He had pushed Viktor away and said no.

 

The pretty words and gentle hands disappeared in an instant as Viktor snapped. He had taken Yuuri roughly, fingers tightening around Yuuri’s throat with such force that there were still bruises present even know. Often, Yuuri found himself brushing fingers against the marks feeling phantom touches from that night. Yuuri had tried to fight, this time void of the alcohol that had made him so pliant the first time, and it had only made things worse. When Viktor had finally finished fucking him he had carried his crying and broken body to the shower. Yuuri kept his head down and had watched as crimson trailed down his thighs and mixed with the water that swirled down the drain.

 

“Don’t make me hurt you again, Yuuri,” Viktor said, running his fingers through Yuuri’s hair gently. “I don’t like it.”

 

But it all hurt. Just being here hurt. At least, Viktor hadn’t forced himself on Yuuri since then. For the most part, he had been gone except for at night leaving Yuuri to do nothing but stare at the walls of the large bedroom. The door wasn’t locked - he had checked - but he had been too scared to see what was on the other side. A maid would come in and bring him food - most of which he didn’t touch - and occasionally come in to clean or change the sheets. She didn’t speak much English, but she would smile at Yuuri kindly. One day she had brought dangos as a dessert with his meal. They were far from the best he’d tasted, but the gesture was there and he had broke down crying. Another reminder of how he’d never see Japan again.

 

At the end of the first week Yuuri had finally gotten out of the bed and explored the room when Viktor was absent. There were hundreds of books that lined the far wall, most in Russian. There were expensive sculptures and fine art prints - originals, it looked like - along the walls and on vanities. The amount of money Viktor must have had. Yuuri carefully searched through drawers as if maybe he might find something of use. What, he didn’t know. He found nothing but perfectly folded and pressed shirts and ties.

 

Viktor stirred behind him, his breath hot against his ear. Light was finally beginning to creep through the windows, the snow heavy outside. Another sleepless night. Eventually, he’d have to pass out from exhaustion. Right? Viktor shifted again behind him and he could feel a hard bulge rub up against his ass. Instantly his eyes grew wide. No...please!

 

“Yu-uri,” Viktor breathed heavily into his neck, rutting up against him now.

 

Slapping a hand to his mouth Yuuri muffled the sob as he started to cry and willed himself to remain completely still. Viktor carried on like that, barely audible moans leaving his lips, the man occasionally placing a kiss to the nape of Yuuri’s neck. Then, one of his hands began to creep beneath Yuuri’s sleep pants. A shuddered gasp left his lips when this long slender fingers wrapped around his length.

 

Viktor chuckled lazily with sleep as he began to stroke him. “Come on, Yuuri, that’s it.”

 

Yuuri slapped another hand to his mouth when he let out a whimper at Viktor’s thumb running over the slit of his head. Suddenly, he was being rolled over and Viktor was straddling him, his free hand reaching up and yanking at Yuuri’s wrists firmly.

 

“Don’t be shy, now, Yuuri. Let me hear you.” Viktor gave Yuuri a good pump before going back to focus on the head.

 

He tried so hard to fight it, but a burst of pleasure ran up his spine and Yuuri’s hips lifted off the bed with a gasp. How could this be happening? How could his body betray him like this? He didn’t want it! Turning his head he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to look Viktor in the eye in his shame.

 

“Does it not feel good, my Yuuri?” Viktor purred, a dare in his voice for the man beneath him to say otherwise. Yuuri remained silent and Viktor hummed before he removed his hand and pulled at Yuuri’s pants.

 

Brown eyes shot open in surprise, a gasp caught in his throat as Viktor’s now unclothed member rubbed up against his. Viktor’s own moans grew louder as he ground his hips against Yuuri’s and forcefully grabbed at his chin to turn his head and kiss him. Yuuri could feel his heart begin to thud against his chest as he actually felt himself get closer and closer to release. With a throaty moan Viktor reached between their bodies and began stroking them together.

 

Head thrown back, Yuuri thrust his hips up sharply and let out a sound he wished he never knew how to make. It seemed to please Viktor greatly, his hand increasing its speed until Yuuri’s face scrunched up in pleasure and he was spilling over the Russian’s hand with a cry. Viktor’s face was beaming with pride, his cheeks flushed with his own on coming release. At that last moment Viktor raised himself up off of Yuuri’s chest and braced a hand on the pillow above his head while he stroked himself to completion with a groan, hot come painting Yuuri’s face and neck.

 

Yuuri managed to close his eyes just in time, fists gripping the sheets tightly as the warm and sticky liquid started to drop down the natural curves of his face. A hiccup left his lips as the salt touched his tongue. At least...at least this was it. There was a dip in the bed as Viktor moved off and Yuuri dared open his eyes, watching as Viktor disappeared into the bathroom.

 

He returned with a cloth, wiping at Yuuri’s chest and then straddling him again to move to his face. “I can’t have you soiling my expensive sheets,” he commented before pausing in his motions and changing the cloth for a thumb against his cheek. Viktor was silent, eyes gazing down at Yuuri like some sort of wonder. “You are beautiful when you cry, Yuuri, but there is no need for tears. You will come to realize that I can give you everything.”

 

Yuuri didn’t want everything, though. Not at the expense of this. He just wanted to be back home with his family in Hasetsu, even if it meant continuing to dance at the club for money. He turned his head away as Viktor finished cleaning his face. Viktor placed a hiss to the middle of his chest and was then retreating from the mattress.

 

“You’ll join me today,” he instructed as he removed his clothes and simply dropped them on the floor as he vanished into the bathroom again. “I am not leaving the grounds and it would be good to get you acquainted with the family.”

 

Yuuri rolled onto his side and clenched his jaw. Family. He said that so casually, like he wasn’t referring to the most powerful mafia family in all of Russia. It scared Yuuri, to venture outside the confines of the room and meet these people. These likely murderers and thieves. Would they...would they try and hurt him?

 

Viktor popped his head out of the door with stern eyes. “Yuuri.”

 

Ah, yes...he was meant to join him. With sluggish and forced movement Yuuri rolled off the bed and slowly made his way into the bathroom with his head hung low. Viktor had already stepped into the large shower. As he removed his shirt Yuuri caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. The bruises on his neck and hips were a disgusting yellow now and there were large and noticeable black bags under his eyes. He’d also lost some weight. Well...he probably could have done with that anyway, honestly.

 

Viktor’s voice pulled him from his thoughts and he slipped out of his pants before stepping under the warm water. It felt good. Much to Yuuri’s delight, the shower was uneventful with Viktor’s only touches being mere accident as he reached for soap and shampoo. When they stepped out and dried, Viktor moved to the massive walk-in closet and pulled out an expensive looking henley sweater and pair of khakis for Yuuri to dress in. The sweater perfectly exposed all of his bruises, and Yuuri wondered if that was purposeful.

 

“Come on, then,” Viktor snaked an arm around Yuuri’s waist and moved him to the door.

 

Yuuri let him guide him. The rest of the house was just as expensive and lavish as the bedroom with dark victorian accents. The halls were quiet and the only person he saw was a maid before Viktor let go of Yuuri to open a pair of french doors. A dining room. The table was long and could sit many people, but there were only three that occupied it when they walked in. The man at the head of the table was older with slicked back grey hair and a scowl that instantly had Yuuri looking away. To his right was a much younger man, tall with a ducktail haircut. Across from him sat a beautiful woman with firey red hair.

 

The older man said something in Russian, and Viktor responded in kind, a hand at the dip of Yuuri’s back encouraging him to move forward in the direction of the woman. Just as Yuuri was about to step forward something hard hit him in the shoulder and he fell forward, his glasses slipping down his nose. Pushing them back up his nose he looked up. A tall and slender man - boy? - was glaring at him with wild green eyes. His face looked much younger than he probably was, a feminine touch to it framed by long yellow hair.

 

“So,” he spat in accented English, “this is the whore?”

 

“You should apologize for running into him like that, Yuri,” Viktor instructed. Yuuri’s eyes went wide. Was he really blaming him for what just happened? “Oh,” he continued, “Two Yuris. That could get confusing, couldn’t it?”

 

“What?” The blonde spat. “His name is Yuri, too?”

 

Oh.

 

Viktor sucked in a breath and smiled, “You’ll just have to be Yurio, then, to avoid any confusion.”

 

Yuri scowled, “Why do I have to change my name?! I was here first! He’s just a whore, and not even a pretty one at that! Look at him, he’s a fat ugly pig-,”

 

Yuuri gasped, Viktor’s hand snapping up quicker than he could blink. His fingers dug into Yuri’s jaw so tightly Yuuri worried it just might snap in half. Those blue eyes were very dark as he began to back Yuri up until the back of his thighs hit the edge of the table. “You shouldn’t say such rude things, Yura. It’s not polite.”

 

“Vitya.” The older man was dabbing at his lips with a cloth napkin and pushing back his chair to stand. He gave some instruction to Viktor, who immediately dropped his hand.

 

Smiling, Viktor turned to Yuuri and tilted his chin up gently with his fingertips. “Please, sit. Eat. I’ll return shortly.”

 

Yuuri wrapped his arms around himself, scared and nervous as he was left alone in the room with the two remaining occupants who were both staring him down, although with more curiosity than anger like Yuri had. What was he supposed to do…?

 

“Come, sit,” the woman instructed, patting the velvet seat with her hand. Her accent was heavier than Yuri and Viktor’s. “The blinis are divine.” Swallowing, Yuuri moved towards her and took a seat. “So. You’re what has everyone talking these past few weeks. I am Mila. That’s Georgi.” With a flirtatious smile she wrapped an arm around Yuuri’s chair and leaned in. “Aren’t you just an adorable thing? And so lucky to share Viktor’s bed like that. It’s a great honor.”

 

Yuuri frowned, lowering his gaze and scrunching his eyes shot as he griped his pants. Lucky. If it were such a great honor, then why couldn’t someone who wanted this take his place?

 

“Do you speak Russian?” Georgi asked, his accent less noticeable. Yuuri shook his head. “Good...then you can keep your tongue.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened and Mila scoffed. “Honestly, Georgi, what good would those lips around a cock do, then? Besides…,” her blue eyes looked Yuuri up and down with a seductive smile, “He has a lot of potential. He should learn. It could make him useful.”

 

“Don’t let Viktor hear you speak like that,” Georgi warned.

 

Mila hummed and moved away from Yuuri to turn her attention back to her plate. “He might agree.”

 

“Then that will be for him to decide.”

 

The two fell back into a discussion in words Yuuri didn’t understand and his eyes fell on the food in front of him. He didn’t want to eat, but his stomach was painfully twisting in hunger. Wasting away wasn’t how Yuuri wanted to die, no matter how badly he might have thought about it since that first night. Sighing, he reached out a hand and grabbed for a fork.

 

/*/

 

Viktor slammed the door to his office shut and glowered at Yuri full of rage. “How dare you.”

 

“Vitya,” Yakov cautioned.

 

He was ignored as Viktor moved towards Yuri with purpose. Grabbing a knife displayed on the edge of his desk he grabbed Yuri by the neck and shoved him against the wall, the tip of the blade pressed just under his left eye. “You will not speak to him like that again, do you understand?” Viktor would never allow anyone to speak to him like that. Not without severe repercussions.

 

Yuri’s eyes were wide with shock but also with underlying anger. “He’s a whore!”

 

Viktor growled in anger and dug the blade in, crimson just beading a the tip. “He is my property and will thus be treated just as I am within this family. Do. You. Understand ?”

 

Yakov pressed this time, “ Vitya .”

 

He withdrew the knife and took a step back to return the now bloody blade to its rightful home. With his right hand he smoothed back his silver locks and then pulled down the tails of his coat with a shuddered breath. “Perhaps Yuri should get out of the house for a while, Yakov.”

 

“Yes,” Yakov agreed, eyes watchful on Viktor. “We actually received information this morning on one of the missing drug shipments in Quebec.”

 

“And?” Viktor snapped in impatience.

 

“As suspected, the Leroy family is involved.”

 

Yuri scowled at the name. “I will make Jean-Jaques regret that he ever stole from our family. Fucking shit-head.”

 

“I have already been in touch with our allies in Kazakhstan who already have one of their own on the ground in Canada,” Yakov continued. “He will meet you at a rendezvous point where you will retrieve our shipment using whatever means necessary.”

 

“I don’t need anyone's help,” Yuri spat, a finger reaching up to wipe at the blood that was starting to drip down his cheek. “I will get the drugs and destroy Leroy on my own.” Turning on a heel he opened the door and slammed it behind him, the sound echoing off the walls.

 

Yakov sucked in a breath in the silence. “He is your brother.”

 

“That is not an excuse,” Viktor snarled, still shaking from the anger of Yuri’s actions.

 

“Perhaps not. But, Viktor, you have brought a stranger into our home that no one here knows anything about or trusts. You cannot blame him for being cautious, at least,” Yakov explained. Careful of his words, he continued, “I must admit, I do not understand it myself. What is it about that boy? He is not unattractive, but he is average in looks. He possesses no skill that would be of use to us. He’s meek.”

 

Viktor sneered at the remarks. How could these fools not see it? The beauty that Yuuri possessed? The music that his body made when he moved? “He possesses skill that is of use to me.”

 

Yakov let out a snort. “What, Vitya? A hole and a mouth?”

 

With a loud bang Viktor slammed a fist down on the desk. “Do not speak about him that way!”

 

“Calm yourself, Vitya,” Yakov ordered. “It’s embarrassing that you’ve allowed him to have such a hold on you. I suggest you reign that in. And quickly.” He gave Viktor a warning glance as he excused himself.

 

Viktor exhaled a breath he had been holding, his breathing long and slow as he tried to calm himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so angry. His hands were still shaking as he moved behind his desk and took a seat in the leather chair. Reaching out he laid his palms flat on the wood and closed his eyes.

 

They’d see.

 

They’d all see.

Chapter Text

Yuri tasted copper in his mouth, his head pounding in agonizing pain. With a gradual flutter his eyes opened, the world around him shrouded in a white fog. A bright light hit his pupils directly and he winced, squeezing his eyes shut hard and turning his face away. It hurt to move. He swallowed blood. With a small moan he tried once more to open his eyes, this time crisp grey lines greeted him. When he tried to move he found himself frozen, arms and legs bound tightly.

 

“Ah, the Russian fairy has finally awoken.”

 

Groaning, Yuri turned his head to focus on the voice and his heart dropped to the bottom of his stomach when the mist lifted. Jean-Jacques Leroy was lounging on a metal chair across from him, arms crossed and legs spread wide lazily. Fuck. What had happened? He remembered arriving in Quebec and heading straight for the warehouse in which their contacts had said the drugs were stashed, foregoing the rendezvous with the Kazakh. Yuri hated working with anyone outside the family and he had been so sure he had the element of surprise on his side. Slip in, slit a few throats, grab the shipment, slip out.

 

Something had gone wrong.

 

Jean-Jacques stretched his arms over his head languidly and slouched forward. “I must say, I was quite surprised to see that it was you Viktor sent. I had expected someone more…,” he tapped a finger against his lips, “ Experienced .”

 

Yuri spit out a wad of blood, aiming for Jean-Jacques feet. “Fuck you.” So this had all been a trap? Should have seen that shit coming. Leroy was a nuisance, but he was that way because he was crafty.

 

The Canadian merely laughed, casually moving his foot out of the line of fire. “I’m sure you’d like to. Maybe we’ll do that later. Shove my cock right into that pretty mouth of yours and have you suck me off.”

 

“Looking forward to it,” Yuri grinned, teeth caked in blood, “Makes it easier to bite your fucking dick off you piece of SHIT!” His muscles strained against the restraints in his anger.

 

Another laugh, Jean-Jacques placing his hands on his knees before standing to his feet. “My, my, what a ball of fire you are. You aren’t lacking for enthusiasm, that’s for sure,” he carefully began circling Yuri, a finger brushing against the Russian’s shoulder as he moved behind him and leaned down, “But your recklessness will get you killed.”

 

Yuri huffed, waiting a split second for Jean-Jacques to reposition himself and then he was throwing his head back, the rear of his skull connecting straight with the other man’s nose. “And your cockiness will get your balls cut off.”

 

Jean-Jacques growled low in his throat, one hand covering his bloody nose and the other forming a fist that landed so hard against Yuri’s cheek the chair fell over. Using his foot he flipped the chair over and placed the rubber sole hard against the Russian’s throat. “I will make you beg for mercy and make you wish you were dead. And then, I’m going to take everything from your family and do the same thing to them for daring to come into MY country and MY city and conduct business.”

 

Yuri could feel himself choking on his own blood, the red liquid bubbling out of his lips. Jean-Jacques removed his foot and he quickly turned his head, trying to spit out the excess liquid and keep it from clogging his throat. His cheek burned, opening and closing his mouth an extremely painful process as he desperately tried to get air. A fist grabbed at the front of his shirt and he was being pulled back up, the chair sitting upright again sending his head violently spinning.

 

Wiping the blood from his hand onto his grey slacks Jean-Jacques scowled. “You will tell me when and where the next drug shipments are expected to arrive.”

 

“I’m not going to tell you shit ,” Yuri spat defiantly through a weeze. He wasn’t scared of this asswipe. It was very likely that once he had missed the rendezvous there would be communications. Normally, Viktor would accept the casualty, but despite their strained relationship they were still blood. Someone would come for him. It was just a matter of surviving until then.

 

Taking a fist-full of Yuri’s long blonde hair Jean-Jacques pulled up violently. “I’m going to make you sing.” Letting go, he shoved the man’s head down forcefully and backed away, a door slamming and leaving Yuri alone in silence.

 

They didn’t leave him alone for long, though, clearly eager to get any information out of him that they could. Timing was everything, after all. Jean-Jacques brought two of his lackeys the second time around, a clear bag in one of their hands. Swallowing, Yuri braced himself knowing exactly what was coming. It had been a requirement when he had turned 16 to go through survival training. As Viktor’s brother, he would likely be a target at some point. Georgi had done this to him before, but that wasn’t going to make this suck any less.

 

“When,” Jean-Jacques asked simply.

 

Yuri did not respond and he nodded towards the man with the bag. It was thrown over the Russian’s head and tightened around the neck. Yuri gasped. A rookie mistake. Oxygen dissipated quickly and he was left gaping like a fish, his head crying out in desperation and vision turning white. The bag was removed and he inhaled, coughing once he regained his senses.

 

“When,” the man repeated.

 

Yuri held his silence and was rewarded with another round of oxygen deprivation. This time he had taken a breath just before and calmed his heart. It allowed him to last longer, and that clearly irritated his Canadian captors, a punch to the side of his head to make him gasp. They continued like that, with Jean-Jacques repeating the question and Yuri refusing to answer. Everytime he was able to hold out for just a moment before he had to open his mouth. But the time he was able to last shortened with each take, and the last thing he remembered was hearing a muffled question before he blacked out.

 

When Yuri woke, it was to sheer panic as cold water filled his nose and head. He was drowning. Drowning, drowning. Water was everywhere! It stopped, something removing itself from his mouth and he was rocked forward. Yuri was gasping for air, vision unable to focus.

 

“When?”

 

The only response Yuri could give was strangled breaths. He was tilted back again and plastic wrap was pulled taut over his mouth and water was poured down into his nose again. Yuri could feel himself screaming from his throat, wrists pulling at the restraints desperately. He was drowning. Panic won out, and his body began to ripple with the need to vomit. His body was shoved upright and the plastic removed. Immediately, Yuri was heaving up water in waves.

 

Jean-Jacques grabbed Yuri’s chin forcefully. The Russian didn’t even try and look at him, hair matted to his face. “Are you ready to talk yet? Hm?” Yuri mumbled something. “What was that? Speak up.”

 

“I said…,” Yuri had to pause to let himself taken in several breaths. “Fuck. You.”

 

He was thrown back again and he blacked out as the waterfall flowed.

 

Apparently, out of creativity after only two sessions, Jean-Jacques resulted in straight physical violence when Yuri finally stirred. All he could see was red as punch after punch and kick after kick landed straight on him. He had become Jean-Jacques’ personal punching bag. Still, he said nothing.

 

“Fucking,” slam, “Tell,” smack, “ME!” crush.

 

Yuri thought he might tell him. Something. Anything. Nothing. He was bathing in his own blood, his cheek plastered against the cold ground. There was gunfire in the distance. Screaming. The door slammed and Jean-Jacques was no longer there. He allowed the darkness to take him.

 

/*/

 

Yuri woke with a start, green eyes snapping open and body springing up. Immediately he regretted it, head spinning and chest splitting with pain. Everything fucking hurt. There was an overwhelming desire for him to vomit and he rolled over, heaving nothing but liquid onto the floor. With heavy breaths he steadied himself, eyes staring down at hole tattered sheets and blankets. Where…?

 

“You’re awake. Good.”

 

Yuri slowly looked up as he rolled back over, a man sitting on the floor next to the window a few feet away, a cigarette hanging from his lips. His words were clearly Russian, but he certainly didn’t look the part. “You’re the Kazakh.” He wore a dark blue sweater, the neckline stretched making the several tattoos pop against his brown skin.

 

He looked at him with dark eyes behind long lashes as he took a long drag and puffed out a ring of smoke. “And you’re the idiot Russian who thought he could take on a mob family by himself.”

 

Yuri scowled and instinctively moved to lash out, but his ribs snapped him back to reality. His shirt had been removed, but his entire torso was bandaged, some areas stained red. His broken wrist had been set and he could feel stitches in his forehead and on his cheek. “Fuck you, I had it under control.”

 

The man chuckled and took another drag. “That so?”

 

“Yeah,” Yuri said, brows furrowed as he crossed his arms across his chest with a wince and a shiver. The window was open slightly to allow the smoke to escape, but it also invited the cold Canadian winter air.  Looking around he searched for his jacket. Wherever they were, it was a shit hole. Good for hiding out, he supposed.

 

He didn’t find his jacket, but the other man must have realized what he was searching for as he tapped the ash into a tray and got to his feet. Rummaging through a bag he pulled out a jacket and handed it to Yuri. “The name is Otabek.”

 

“Good for you,” Yuri huffed, hissing as he tried to maneuver his arms into the jacket. Noticing his struggle, Otabek helped him. A blush painted across his cheeks at the touches, a heat left behind in their place. What the fuck was that…?

 

Grabbing the pack of cigarettes Otabek held it out for Yuri, the Russian gladly taking one. He held out a light and Yuri felt a rush of relief over his aching body at the first puff of smoke filling his lungs. Yuri could see his hand trembling and struggling to hold the cigarette. For the first time since being captured he felt the fear.

 

There was a dip in the bed and Yuri’s eyes widened in surprise as the other man settled in next to him, his back propped up against the headboard. Yuri didn’t know this man at all, but somehow...he felt comfortable. Otabek picked up an ashtray from the nightstand and set it down between them on the mattress, knocking off his accumulated ash.

 

“You aren’t what I expected,” Otabek spoke quietly, eyes drifting in the distance like he was lost in thought.

 

Yuri huffed, sucking in and letting the smoke sit for a moment before letting it naturally breathe out his nostrils. Apparently, everyone thought the same thing. “And what were you expecting?”

 

“I’m not sure,” he admitted, obviously taking a moment to think about it. “Maybe...something a little closer to Viktor. Someone a little more...Nikiforov.”

 

If it weren’t for the fact he was injured, he would have turned and clocked Otabek in the face for that comment. That, was an incredibly sore subject and the scowl was ever evident on his face. “My last name is Plisetsky. Not Nikiforov.”

 

That drew a genuinely surprised expression from Otabek. “You are his brother, aren’t you?”

 

“Half-brother,” he corrected, jaw clenching at his own words. That was, after all, why there was so much tension between him and Viktor all the time. Fuck, he didn’t want to talk about this right now.

 

Otabek hummed, brow furrowed in thought. “Interesting. I assume different mother, then? You look just like Mikhail.”

 

“Why the fuck are you asking so many questions?” Yuri growled, angrily putting the cigarette out on the tray. Who the hell did he think he was? Did he think just because he had saved him, he was now entitled to Yuri’s entire life story?

 

There was no response as he, too, put out his cigarette and turned his back to Yuri to grab something off of the night-stand. Rolling back over, he placed a small tray in his lap coated in white powder. With a straw in one hand he bent over and took in a long snort through his right nostril. Stretching up he let his eyes flutter and then close in bliss.

 

Yuri raised an arched brow as he stared at the substance. “Are those my brother’s drugs?”

 

“Yeah,” Otabek confirmed, handing him the straw like an olive branch, “You want some?”

 

There was no hesitation as he snatched the proffered object and scooted closer so he could bend over Otabek’s lap and get his fill of the powder. “Fuck,” he breathed, the immediate high clouding his brain. Plopping back against the pillows he let the euphoria take hold, blocking out his senses and all the pain. Yeah, he needed that big time. Thanks, Viktor.

 

A soft swallow echoed exceptionally loud in Yuri’s head and he turned to see Otabek nursing a full bottle of vodka. His plump lips were beautiful wrapped around the glass... thud thud . Yuri clutched a hand to his heart in surprise. This hadn’t been his first time snorting coke, but this particular side effect was...new. He was overwhelmed with desire. Shifting his position in bed he sat up straighter and waited until the Kazakh set the bottle down before climbing into his lap.

 

Yuri took Otabek’s face in his hands, the Kazakh staring back in surprise. His pupils were completely drowning out his eyes, the drugs in full effect in both their systems. Leaning in he pressed their lips together, the taste of vodka and cigarettes against his tongue. Otabek kissed back, strong arms wrapping around Yuri’s slender torso. Both parties opened their mouths, an invitation for licking and sucking. Yuri wasn’t above biting, either. He could feel Otabek’s hands trailing up his bare back under the jacket, up his neck, and then taking a fistful of his hair and pulling. Yuri gasped with pleasure as his lips were pulled from the other man and his neck was stretched out as a clear invitation. Lips latched onto his skin and sucked hard , a mark surely being left in their wake. Otabek continued to kiss down his neck to the dip in his shoulder, occasionally leaving a bite instead of a kiss against the skin. With a moan Yuri encouraged him, head falling back, and a bold hand reaching between their laps to palm Otabek through his pants.

 

Otabek moaned against Yuri’s lips, but grabbed firmly at his wrist to pull the hand away. “Don’t,” he breathed, a clear tinge of regret in his words.

 

Yuri felt the high drop quickly as he looked down at Otabek in confusion. “What, I can’t say thank you for saving me?”

 

“You’re hurt. You need to rest.” Otabek raised Yuri’s palm and placed a kiss to it, but Yuri jerked it away angrily and climbed off of his lap.

 

“If you weren’t interested you could just say so,” the Russian snapped, grinding his teeth in agitation. So much for that.

 

“On the contrary,” Otabek argued, picking the bottle up again to drink. “I want to fuck your brains out.”

 

Yuri clenched the sheets, a rush of heat washing over him. Licking his lips he looked at Otabek, the man’s eyes meeting his in silent promise. “So when I’m better?”

 

He gulped down a large swig, Yuri’s eyes locked on the way his adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk for weeks.”

 

The Russians breath hitched, visions of Otabek bending him over and pounding into him flashing behind his eyes. “Good.”

 

Otabek closed his eyes, the coke hitting its next stage. “Good.”

 

/*/

 

Otabek and Yuri had successfully handled the exchange of the recovered drugs and stood by to ensure the next shipment was left undisturbed. There had been no sign of Jean-Jacques. The two then parted ways leaving the country, but they had exchanged contact information. Otabek ensured he’d make good on his promise. Yuri couldn’t wait.

 

It was customary to visit the Pakhan and Brigadier after a mission to provide a full report. Georgi had told him Yakov was away on an errand, but that Viktor was in his office. So, Yuri shoved his hands in his pockets and headed to his brother’s office with dread. Without Yakov there to mediate, this could easily get ugly. He stopped just outside the french doors, one slightly ajar. There were heated moans escaping through the crack. Suddenly, the reluctance turned to irritation and he kicked the door open and barged right in. Viktor had Yuuri bent over his desk, both men with their their pants down around their ankles.

 

Viktor turned his head to look at the intruder, but didn’t pause in his motions. “I’m busy.”

 

“I see that,” Yuri huffed, making a bee-line for the chair on the other side of the room and plopping down in it. “I’ll wait.” Reaching into his jacket he pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Viktor hated it when he smoked inside.

 

Viktor’s hands were digging hard into Yuuri’s hips, Yuri able to see the indentions on the man’s flesh. It was a brutal pace, the slapping of skin louder than the moans leaving his brother’s lips. A string of lube and pre-cum connected the back of Yuuri’s thighs with Viktor’s whenever he pulled back before snapping forward. It was filthier than any porn Yuri had ever watched and he would never admit that his cock twitched at the sight.

 

Yuuri’s knuckles were ghostly white as he gripped at the edge of the desk, his body sliding up and down with each thrust. Yuri thought he was oddly silent, and then he noticed the wetness and fog that blanketed his eyes behind the frames. Yuuri was somewhere else completely. That realization had him pausing mid-inhale, smoke swirling around in his mouth patiently. That was...unexpected. Yuuri’s eyes squeezed shut behind his glasses, shaken from his thoughts as Viktor’s hand grabbed hold of his cock and stroked in time with his hard thrusts. His mouth fell open with a silent gasp as the man above him bent over to place a kiss at the base of his neck.

 

“My Yuuri, my Yuuri,” Viktor murmured against his skin and inhaling his scent. “So good...so close.”

 

Thank god. Yuri finally let out the breath he had been holding in to keep himself from getting any harder. It was sad to think that this was far from the first time Yuri had walked in on Viktor fucking someone but...there was something very different about this. Something that made Yuri’s heart pound with a foreboding sense of doom despite his arousal. Yuuri came first, the man biting hard at his lower lip to keep himself from making a sound. Viktor began mumbling nonsense in Russian before throwing back his head with a growl and his own release. Viktor continued to rock into him with short languid thrusts for another full minute - much to Yuri’s aggravation - before pulling out. A stream of white gushed out as soon as he removed his cock, the liquid quickly trailing down Yuuri’s thighs. Gross.

 

Viktor wiped himself off on Yuuri’s shirt - because why ruin his own damn clothes - and pulled up his slacks. Yuuri hadn’t moved, his knuckles still white with an unwavering grip as his body quaked with heavy breaths. Everything smoothed back out and fit for presentation, Viktor whispered something in Yuuri’s ear and the man finally budged. He pulled up his own pants, head lowered and gaze fixed on the ground. He hadn’t acknowledged Yuri’s presence in the room, surely too embarrassed to do so. Viktor kissed him before he curled his arms around his chest and scurried out of the room without a single word, closing the doors behind him.

 

“So. You’re raping him,” Yuri said casually followed by a puff of smoke.

 

“Put that out,” Viktor instructed as he moved to sit behind his desk, ignoring Yuri’s comment.

 

Yuri put it out on the chair leaving a round burn mark in the fabric and flicking it onto the floor. “You always did have a pretty skewed idea of reality, though. I’m sure you think those tears he cries are from his overwhelming love for yo-,”

 

“I heard the mission was successful,” Viktor cut him off. His expression didn’t betray his emotions, but Yuri knew his brother. He had pressed a button. Good.

 

“Yeah. Nice shipment you had. I made sure to do a quality test,” Yuri grinned as he watched a vein on Viktor’s temple twitch. “Should give some to the pig before you fuck him. Might make him think he actually likes it.”

 

Viktor met his gaze with cold and warning eyes through silver wisps of hair. It sent a chill down Yuri’s spine, but he held his ground. “I would have thought being tortured by Jean-Jacques would have taught you to tighten your tongue.”

 

What an eloquent way to tell him to shut the fuck up. Yuri laughed, pulling another cigarette from his pocket and lighting it despite the snarl he received at the action. They sat there like that in silence, each contemplating the next step in their delicate dance. Rubbing a thumb against his bruised lip, Yuri decided to move first. “He obviously isn’t a whore, so what’s the deal, Viktor? It’s not like you’ve ever had trouble getting tail before. Why go through the trouble of bringing him here and having to force yourself on him?”

 

Viktor’s palms were flat against the desk, a good indicator he was about to do something that would likely draw blood. “He just needs more time.”

 

Yuri’s eyebrows shot up to the top of his head and the cigarette almost fell out of his mouth when he let his jaw drop. The sheer audacity and ignorance of that statement had a rousing ball of laughter about to shake through him when he noticed the ever subtle glance to a single framed photo on the desk. Yuri knew exactly what it was a picture of, and the laughter dissolved quicker than it had been created. “So...that’s what this is all about. Something about him reminds you of her.” He waited for Viktor to say or do something, but he was frozen, eyes glued now on the photo.

 

It angered Yuri that Viktor wasn’t going to talk about it. But wasn’t that just so Viktor ? He refused to talk about it, and it was the number one reason the two were always at each other’s throats. The taste of tobacco no longer satisfying, he put the half-used cigarette out and let it fall to the floor as he stood. “I don’t know what the fuck it is you saw, but I also know that you can’t fuck someone into loving you, Viktor. And you know what?” His ribs screamed at the movement as he slammed his palms down opposite Viktor. “She’s fucking dead and no matter how hard you try, that other Yuuri can’t replace her.”

 

He knew it was coming. The angry slam, the swipe of an arm across the desk’s contents, throwing papers, pens, and various other objects flying. “Get out.” His voice was shaking, his hands trembling as they clenched and unclenched at his sides.

 

Wow. He was really restraining himself. Yuri was almost disappointed he didn’t reach across and slug him or attempt to choke every last breath out of body. Sliding his hands off he smiled, satisfied. “Sure thing, Pakhan.”

 

Yuri wondered if there was a mission in Kazakhstan.

Chapter Text

Yuuri felt hollow. There was an emptiness in him now that he wasn’t sure anything could fill. There were no more tears when Viktor fucked him, just an empty shell that laid there and took it with a blank stare. This was what he had been resigned to...this was now officially all he was good for. For those first few weeks, there had been some sort of hope deep down in him. Maybe his parents would contact the authorities and someone would find him? But that was a joke, and he had finally realized it. Even if they had gone to the police, the Yakuza controlled them. They would pay them off to do nothing. The thought of death had become a much more welcome idea.

 

But Yuuri was a coward.

 

As they moved into the second month Yuuri finally did stop eating, but Viktor noticed. His words had seemed kind, encouraging him to eat so he didn’t get thin, but Yuuri had learned to pick up on the undertone. It was nothing but threats doused in honey and it was enough to scare him into eating. If Yuuri was going to end his life it would have to be quick and unnoticed. One afternoon he had searched Viktor’s room, but there had been an unusual lack of any sort of weaponry. Had Viktor suspected, or was there really nothing there? There had been the sheets of course...there was a perfect beam in the ceiling he could tie a noose to.

 

But he was a coward and couldn’t bring himself to do it.

 

He imagined it, though, himself hanging from the beam above, lifeless body swaying just slightly back and forth. Yuuri imagined it the entire time Viktor was on top of him pumping in and out of his body, their pants and moans filling the dark room. Viktor’s thrusts were deep but surprisingly slow, the man spending most of his concentration on kisses and licks. It made it easier for Yuuri to drift, his hands on Viktor’s biceps to ground him just enough. The sex didn’t hurt anymore - or if it did, Yuuri didn’t really notice. Sometimes it seemed like Viktor went out of his way to make Yuuri enjoy it. His body reacted, of course, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. It made his self-hatred worse and the dark thoughts far more powerful.

 

Maybe if he fought back hard enough, made Viktor mad enough, he’d take it one step too far and kill Yuuri himself. For a fraction of a second he thought about it, his fingers tightening against Viktor’s skin. But he was a coward, and his fingers relaxed. The next thrust brushed against his prostate and he threw his head back with a sob at how weak he was. He wanted Viktor to be rough - to be angry. To cover him in bruises and make him cry. When he was like this, brushing back his hair tenderly and cradling his face, it was devastating.

 

Viktor captured his mouth with his own and breathed in as he came inside Yuuri with gentle and short thrusts, his cock twitching with every spurt of white in velvet walls. Silent tears were pooling at the corners of his eyes out of frustration. It was far too soft. Too kind. Viktor broke the kiss and let his dick slowly slide out of Yuuri before crawling down his body to hover above his still hard cock. Brushing back his silver bangs with one hand he leaned in and took Yuuri into his hot mouth. With a cry Yuuri’s hips bucked up and he threw an arm over his face in humiliation. A few angry tears slipped from his eyes as he felt himself grow closer and closer to release, hips thrusting up begging for more of Viktor’s mouth. Why couldn’t Viktor just be cruel?! His tongue pressed against his slit and he was gone.

 

Viktor didn’t pull off like he usually did, but instead swallowed down his release. When his body stopped shaking from the orgasm Viktor reached up and gently pulled at his arm to expose his face and kiss him. Yuuri could taste himself and he wanted to vomit. Curling his arms around Yuuri’s torso, Viktor pulled him up and into his lap as he continued the kiss, tongue raking against the roof of Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri’s arms dangled on top of Viktor’s shoulders, and he resisted the urge to return the embrace. With a content sigh Viktor broke the kiss and buried his face into Yuuri’s chest, tongue flicking out at a nipple before settling.

 

Yuuri ground his teeth together and felt a single tear fall down his cheek and onto Viktor’s hair. He hated this - this trickery that Viktor was capable of anything other than evil.

 

“I have a surprise for you today,” Viktor mumbled against his skin.

 

No. Yuuri didn’t want a surprise. He just wanted all of this to end.

 

“Do you like dogs, Yuuri? My dog is finally coming home today.” Viktor tightened his hold and rubbed his cheek fondly against him.

 

A dog? Yuuri could never imagine Viktor owning an animal unless maybe it were a pitbull or a doberman that was trained to kill. Maybe...maybe that was his way out. Though, that sounded extremely painful and not ideal...there was also no guarantee the dog would actually kill him but just cause more permanent scars. Not the dog, then...

 

“We had a traitor who thought he could hide out in the Khimki forest. In the middle of winter. How foolish of him, no?” Viktor chuckled, the vibrations against his skin sending a shiver up Yuuri’s spine. “My Makkachin has a very good nose. Though, he was already dead when he found him. Russian winters are very unforgiving.”

 

Yuuri wondered how long it would take for him to freeze to death if he could make it outside.

 

Viktor’s palm on his cheek stirred him from his thoughts. “We also have some guests coming this afternoon. I don’t trust them, so stay by my side. They are dangerous people.”

 

Dangerous. Yuuri wanted to laugh. What, then, did that make Viktor and his people? He started to feel Viktor’s cum leaking out of him and he looked away, hoping to try and just move this along. “I’m going to ruin your sheets.” He didn’t even recognize his own voice anymore.

 

That only made Viktor cling to him more, “I can buy new ones.” His hand reached around Yuuri’s ass and between his cheeks before scooping up the leaked cum and shoving two fingers in the loose and raw hole. Yuuri hissed at the feeling, fingers digging into Viktor’s back out of instinct. It just encouraged him.

 

Viktor continued to move his fingers lazily inside Yuuri, the squelching sound of cum and lube ringing so loud in Yuuri’s ears above even the Russian’s voice as he spoke. “I really do hate dealing with the Triad. This particular organization deals primarily in counterfeiting. Doesn’t seem too exciting, but their Dragon Master is coming to oversea negotiations. Why couldn’t he just send his minions? Counterfeiting is such a trivial thing for him to be making the journey over. They want to conduct business around our museums here. I think I’ll ask for a hefty cut for the trouble the Dragon is causing me.”

 

Yuuri didn’t care. He just wanted Viktor to stop this...A sigh of relief rippled through him as Viktor pulled his fingers free and nudged Yuuri off of him. But then he was grabbing Yuuri’s hands and kissing his knuckles, pulling him off the bed towards the shower. Yuuri wanted him to hit him. Yell at him. Anything. Anything but this. They showered, Viktor’s tenderness driving Yuuri mad inside his own mind.

 

They were both in the middle of dressing when there was a scratching at the door and it flew open with a bark. Yuuri’s eyes grew wide in surprise when a giant poodle came barging in and ran straight for Viktor. A poodle . Viktor was talking excitedly in Russian, hugging the poodle close and running his hands all through the curly brown hair. He then pointed to Yuuri and sent the dog his way. Yuuri loved dogs, but the fact that this was Viktor’s dog had him tense. Carefully, he extended a hand for the dog to sniff. His cold nose touched his palm as he sniffed and then he licked it. Viktor gave a command and suddenly the dog was sitting on Yuuri’s feet and leaning up against his legs.

 

“I told him he is to protect you,” Viktor explained, straightening out his shirt that the dog had rumpled. “Makkachin is very well trained. He will keep you safe when I cannot.”

 

But can he keep me safe from you? Yuuri kept the question to himself, of course, a hand on Makkachin’s head. At Viktor’s whistle he moved off of Yuuri and the two men continued to dress while the dog watched them eagerly. Yuuri hated the suit. It was tight, showing off his feminine curves, and he felt suffocated by it.

 

The morning started off like it always did, with him joining Viktor and several other members of the family for breakfast. He would stare at his plate and play with his food, conversations being held around him that he couldn’t understand, until Viktor would scold him and he’d finally eat. Then they’d go to Viktor’s office where he would just exist as Viktor made calls in Russian, English, and sometimes even French and entertained various members of his mafia that strolled in and out. Sometimes Viktor would fuck him - usually after a heated conversation. Sometimes he’d leave him alone. Today seemed to be one of the latter, too busy with the upcoming visit from the Triad, it seemed. At least this time he had Makkachin to keep him company. It was oddly comforting having the dog at his feet.

 

A few hours had passed and Yuuri was still on the same page of the book Viktor had given him. He didn’t know what it was about. Didn’t care. He had tried thinking of more ways to kill himself, his eyes catching glimpse of a few weapons in the room, but Viktor would stop him. There was a knock on the door and Yakov entered, the man sparing an irritated glance at Yuuri before speaking with Viktor. Words were exchanged, and then Yakov called to someone. It must have been Georgi because he entered followed by two additional men before closing the doors and taking post. The Russian looked ready to draw arms. The Triad was here. It was only two men - was that all or were the rest waiting outside? - and one looked young. Too young. Younger than Yuuri with soft brown hair and a splash of freckles on his nose against pale skin. Was he really the leader of the faction? He was distinctly Chinese, but the other man looked maybe Hispanic to Yuuri, though he wasn’t sure.

 

“Dragon Master Gaung-hong Ji,” Viktor spoke first, his bright blue eyes taking everything in with earnest. “Welcome to St. Petersburg.”

 

The younger man bowed his head, “Pakhan Viktor Nikiforov, it is a pleasure as always to see you.”

 

Viktor huffed with a smile, not fooled by the necessary pleasantries. “I see you still bring along your American dog to do all your dirty work.”

 

Guang-hong smiled far too sweetly, “Leo comes and goes as he pleases.”

 

“Oh, I’m quite sure he does,” Viktor responded, a knowing tone in his voice. “I received your file on the specific pieces you are looking to switch out. Impressive work your artists have done. I will require a thirty-five-percent cut from all sales you earn.”

 

“Twenty-five,” Guang-hong countered smoothly.

 

Viktor’s back straightened, and Yuuri could feel his hand tense up on Makkachin at the movement. “You are in no position to negotiate. You either accept my offer or you leave.”

 

Leo leaned in and whispered something in Guang-hong’s ear, the Chinese man tilting his head and  brown eyes deep in thought over whatever was being said. “Very well. I accept your terms.”

 

With opened and inviting hands Viktor beamed. “Wonderful. I would like to hear your plans in detail - perhaps over food and drink for you and your men?”

 

“Your generosity knows no bounds,” Guang-hong accepted. His face was too sweet . “It would be an honor.”

 

“I am sure your travels were exhausting. It is the least I could do. Georgi,” Viktor waved his hand in dismissal and Georgi was escorting Guang-hong and Leo out of the room. He exchanged a few words with Yakov before standing and smiling at Yuuri. “Come, my Yuuri, join me.”

 

Yakov scowled at Yuuri. “He does not belong among these discussions.” He had clearly made a point to speak in English so Yuuri could understand him.

 

“He belongs everywhere that I am, Yakov,” Viktor responded firmly, eyes cold in their glare at the older man. Moving from out behind his desk he approached Yuuri, Makkachin immediately getting up to greet him. Viktor gave him a pat on the head and extended a hand for Yuuri to take.

 

Reluctantly, Yuuri closed the book that had been in his lap and took the proffered hand. Viktor wrapped an arm around his waist the moment he was on his feet, no doubt trying to make a point to Yakov. At least this time Yuuri would be able to understand the conversations going on around him. He’d listen carefully. Maybe there would be something of use.

 

There wasn’t though, and Yuuri was left feeling incredibly uneasy sensing all sorts of eyes on him the entire time at the table. He had caught Guang-hong and Leo staring at him once or twice, but it was pure curiosity. More of a question of who this foreign man was sitting so close to Viktor Nikiforov? Neither made it their business to ask, though. The other members of the Triad had eyes that were something more than curiosity. It had Yuuri scooting unconsciously closer to Viktor.

 

Unable to take the feeling of being smothered by the room’s eyes any longer, Yuuri excused himself for the restroom and left the dining room. Relief immediately washed over him as the chatter turned to silence and he could just breathe again. Anxiety had already been an issue for him without being in a room full of criminals. Unbuttoning his suit jacket he wiped at the nervous sweat that had built up on his forehead and started to walk down the hall.

 

“My, aren’t you even prettier up close.”

 

Yuuri turned quickly in surprise at the broken English, one of Guang-hong’s men licking his lips at him. Those had been the eyes making him so easy. Fear crept up Yuuri’s stomach as he slowly started to back up, the man moving forward with each of his steps. The wall made contact with his back and he suddenly had nowhere to go as he was cornered. God, no, please. He couldn’t take anymore of this! The man was breathing just inches away from his face. “Please...leave me alone.”

 

The man laughed at Yuuri’s pathetic response and forcefully spun him around, slamming him hard enough that his glasses were sent flying and something fell off the wall. “You are too pretty for Viktor to keep all to himself.”

 

Yuuri tried to fight, tried to throw the man off of him, but he was much larger than Yuuri and easily just used his bodyweight to pin him down. The tail of his shirt was pulled from from his trousers and a cold hand trailed up his bare torso. No, no, no! Please! His mind went to Viktor.

 

Viktor, help me!

 

Viktor, please, help!

 

Viktor!

 

Yuuri hadn’t realized he had been screaming it until the man’s hand slapped over his mouth with a harsh “Shut up!” With a fumbling hand he removed Yuuri’s belt and had his pants down over his ass with quick movements. Yuuri wailed in agony as the tears fell hard, the sound muffled by the man’s hand. He could feel the man’s hard flesh slide up against him and Yuuri wanted to die .

 

All of a sudden the weight was removed and the hand was gone from Yuuri’s mouth. The man’s body was slammed up next to him, a gun pointed straight to his temple. His vision was blurry, but the long yellow hair was unmistakable. Yuri. A growl rippled through the halls and Makkachin pushed himself between the man and Yuuri protectively, sinking his teeth into flesh of the man’s leg. A shrill scream left his mouth as he fell to the floor, Yuri’s gun still on him.

 

Gentle hands were on his face and then his glasses were slid back up onto his nose. Viktor. The man was hurriedly pulling his slacks back up, whispering something. Viktor . He had come. Yuuri let out a sob and lunged forward into Viktor’s arms, fingers desperately grabbing at the fabric of his suit as he dug his face into his chest. Yuuri could feel himself hyperventilating, a calming hand rubbing circles between his shoulder blades as he was brought to his feet. Yuuri refused to pry himself loose, Makkachin’s weight heavy against his leg, body vibrating with angry growls.

 

Please don’t hurt me.

 

Be kind. Be tender. Be like this morning.

 

Viktor.

 

“You have come into my home, and you have disrespected me,” Viktor’s voice was low and threatening, arms tight and protective around Yuuri. Yuuri wasn’t sure if it was him or Viktor shaking. Maybe both.

 

“You have my sincerest of apologies,” Guang-hong responded, “And my promise that he will be punished by blade as is our way.”

 

“Fuck your blade! Pakhan, let me put a bullet in his brain and splatter the walls with his blood right here!” Yuri’s voice growled out.

 

“You cannot!” Guang-hong shouted.

 

Viktor was moving, an arm removing himself from Yuuri and the metal sound of click-click-click echoed. Yuuri shifted his head and his eyes widened, weapons drawn from every person in the room pointing at each other. Guang-hong was the only one who didn’t have a gun, Leo having stepped firmly in front of him. The tension was so thick it could have been sliced right through with a knife.

 

Vitya,” Yakov warned.

 

No,” Viktor spat back angrily. “I will not let this go! The Triad wants to do business in my jurisdiction and your man tried to defile mine! I demand justice for this!”

 

Guang-hong stepped forward and lowered Leo’s weapon, much to the other man’s obvious protest with his eyes. “And you will have it. But the punishment for his crime is to be served by my people, our way.” He gave an order in Chinese, and slowly his people lowered their weapons.

 

Viktor’s did the same except for Yuri. Reluctantly, he eventually backed down when Viktor barked at him, but he placed a rough foot on the man’s crotch to keep him in place.

 

After rushed words from Guang-hong, two of his men disappeared and the young leader stepped forward towards the man on the floor, blood oozing out of the bite wound on his leg. Yuri stepped aside. “You have broken one of the 36 oaths, Bohai. You must not take for yourself the wives and concubines of your sworn brothers-”

 

“They are not our brothers!” Bohai spat, earning him a swift kick from Yuri.

 

“They are our brothers in business,” Guang-hong corrected, his voice calm and steady. “In doing so, you have brought upon you death by myriad of sword.”

 

The two men returned with two large black bags. They dropped and unzipped them to pull out several long swords, each member moving to take one. One was handed to Guang-hong who ignored it, Leo taking it in his stead before he moved to grab Bohai by the hair and drug him to the center of the circle the two sides had created.

 

“Dragon Master, please!” Bohai begged, voice cracking in desperation as metal was unsheathed and Leo forced him on his knees.

 

Guang-hong stepped back and allowed his men to surround Bohai with raised swords. He nodded and Yuuri flinched against Viktor, eyes wide in horror as blades implied the man over and over and over. Viktor’s hand was petting his head softly, unconcerned by the gallons of blood pouring out over his expensive floors and carpets. When the execution finally stopped there was nothing left but torn pieces of flesh exposing bone and spilling organs. Yuuri quickly buried his face back into Viktor’s chest, biting his lip to try and keep himself from vomiting at the sight.

 

“The terms have changed. You now owe me half.”

 

“Of course, Pakhan,” Guang-hong settled without argument. “I hope there will be no hard feelings after this has passed.”

 

“There are many hard feelings,” Viktor answered, venom in his words. “Take your men and leave my home. And clean up your mess.” Viktor did not move Yuuri off him, but re-arranged him so that he could lead him away and Yuuri was happy to let him do so, his face now buried into his side as they walked.

 

Yuuri was still shaking when he was set down on their bed. A hand flew to his mouth, but that was it - he couldn’t keep it in anymore. Viktor must have known it was coming, a trashcan perfectly placed at Yuuri’s feet when he bent over and emptied his stomach. He could still smell the blood.

 

“I’m so sorry, my Yuuri. I should have never let you out of my sight. Shhhh.”

 

Pakhan .”

 

Someone else had entered the room. There was a heated exchange of words before Viktor’s fingers trailed through Yuuri’s hair. “I will be right back, my Yuuri. I’ll leave Makkachin.”

 

Viktor’s hands were gone from his skin, and Yuuri felt empty. No. Viktor. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. He threw up again. Makkachin’s nose was cold against his cheek as he heaved. Staring at his own bile in the bottom of the trashcan he felt around for Makkachin and buried his fingers in soft fur. The trash can moved.

 

“What, never seen someone killed before, pig ?” Trembling, Yuuri looked up at Yuri who stood there with crossed arms. He should thank him. Shouldn’t he? But words wouldn’t form on his lips. “You need to decide what it is you want, Yuuri. Do you want to survive? Or do you want to die?” Yuuri didn’t respond, but Yuri continued on anyway. “If you want to survive, then harden the fuck up. You don’t think I’ve had Yakuza and Triad try and stick their dicks up my ass? I have. Many times, and I’ve made each and every one of them pay dearly for even thinking about it.”

 

Yuuri was hearing Yuri, but he was not understanding . Everything was just blood, red, metal, cold. Viktor.

 

Yuri grabbed Yuuri’s chin and squeezed, forcing their eyes to meet as the Russian leaned in uncomfortably close. Makkachin let out a growl in warning at the sudden movement. “But...if you want to die, Yuuri...I’ll help you die.” His fingers let go and he backed off.

 

“Make your choice.”

Chapter Text

Yuuri’s brown eyes stared at the silver blade, its weight heavy in his hand. When Yuri had offered to help end his life, this wasn’t exactly what Yuuri had in mind. But, then again, nothing here ever was. Now, though, he’d have to do it. He’d be the one that would have to carry out the task. The thought didn’t seem as daunting as it had been when Yuri had given him the knife. The fear and cowardice had seemingly disappeared as the seconds counted on. Licking his lips he slowly pushed the tip of the blade to the inside of his wrist and pressed down. He hissed at the initial sting, but waves of relief crashed into him at the sight of crimson. It felt like a release.

 

“This is for you,” Yuri had said, his body pressed close to Yuuri’s as he slipped something inside the inner pocket of his suit. “For when you make your choice.”

 

Yuuri stared at him with wide and confused eyes. “But...I thought you were going to help me?” There was no way that he could do it himself!

 

The Russian laughed. “I brought you a means to your end. That is helping, pig. Oh...you thought I’d do it for you? Suffocate you in your sleep with a pillow? Poison your food? I don’t think so. If you want to die, you’re going to have to earn it.” Yuri leaned in, his lips against Yuuri’s ear as he slid a finger up the inside of the man’s thigh. “You’ll want to cut riiiiight along here. Be sure to go deep. You’ll bleed out in a matter of minutes and then it’ll all be over.”

 

Makkachin was whining on the bathroom floor next to him, like he knew what Yuuri was about to do. Yuuri was glad the dog would be with him for his final moments...it made him feel like at least someone cared. He wouldn’t be alone. Bare skin stared back at Yuuri as he glanced down, the man having removed his clothes except for his boxers. No sense in ruining anything unnecessarily. Blood was impossible to get out.

 

Sucking in a shuddered breath he thought of his family back in Hasetsu as the drops of blood from his wrist fell to the tile. I’m so sorry... He was sorry for everything. Maybe if he’d been a better skater more people would have visited the town. Maybe if his parents hadn’t been so concerned with paying his way through skating they never would have gone into debt in the first place. But most of all, he was sorry for catching Viktor’s eye. None of this would have ever happened if he had just ignored Viktor like he usually did every other patron in the club.

 

With shaking hands he spread his legs and hovered the blade to the inside of his left thigh. This was it. Yuuri thought he might have second thoughts, that he’d chicken out, but the blade dug into flesh and he pressed harder and deeper. Blood began to gush out the moment he nicked the artery, confirmation he had succeeded in his task. Yuuri found it mesmerizing. The blade fell from his hands to the floor with a clang and he watched. Just as Yuri had said, it was quick. Already he felt dizzy and lightheaded. His heart was beginning to slow, each beat an exhausting task against his chest.

 

Yuuri closed his eyes and felt at peace as he welcomed death’s embrace.


/*/

 

Georgi was covered in blood. Yuuri’s blood. He had saved his life. Crimson doused his bathroom and coated Makkachin’s fur. Viktor feared he’d never unsee it. A doctor lived on the premises, but if Georgi hadn’t known what to do he never would have made it in time. Viktor could think of nothing that would be worthy of repayment for his actions. That man had demonstrated the utmost loyalty to their family today. A minute later and his Yuuri would have been dead. Gone to Viktor forever. It terrified him to even think about it. Someone had done this. Someone had purposely tried to murder Yuuri.

 

The knife…

 

Viktor knew that knife. Whoever had done this had also known the meaning behind the blade - the dark and haunting memories it would bring back for Viktor. Blood. So much blood. Yuuri’s body. Her body. Viktor jumped at the sound of the door closing, Mila joining them. Viktor had gathered everyone who had been at the house that day. He would get to the bottom of this.

 

“I secured enough blood from the hospital,” Mila spoke, her voice a calm before the storm. “The doctor said he’s still critical, but thinks he’ll make it. Georgi’s training really is what saved him.”

 

“It was nothing,” Georgi said in dismissal. “He is part of the family now.”

 

“This will not be forgotten, Georgi. Of that, I promise you,” Viktor spoke, his voice unusually soft in the room. His eyes drifted to Yuri who was standing next to Yakov looking bored. Viktor could feel the stab to his heart, twisting . He already knew who had committed this crime. The two would always have their differences, but he never imagined his brother would go this far. It was him, and Viktor knew it. Anger was building in his chest like a crescendo. “Everyone but Yuri get out.”

 

There were exchanged looks. Questions. Concerns. But they all obeyed. All except Yakov.

 

“Get out, Yakov,” Viktor hissed, blue eyes like ice on his brother.

 

Yakov was always one to remain stoic, to never show his emotion, but the old man looked scared. He always had been able to tell when Viktor was about to lose it. “Vitya, I cannot in good conscious leave-,”

 

“Get. OUT!” Picking up the knife on his desk he threw it, the blade passing right in between the two men and sticking into the drywall on the other end. This was between him and Yuri. This would be settled now.

 

Reluctantly, Yakov finally bowed out with a worried glance to Yuri on the way out. Yuri, however, was motionless and showed little concern that a knife had just been thrown near his face. It made Viktor even more furious seeing his half-brother unafraid with no fear to the consequences of the traitorous action he had taken. If anything, his posture was aggressive and ready for a fight.

 

Grinding his teeth in his rage he stormed right up to Yuri and grabbed a fistfull of his yellow hair. “You are the only one who knows about that knife. You are the only one who knows what it means to me and the only one who knows where I keep it.”

 

Yuri smirked up at Viktor. “I thought it would be fitting. Don’t you?”

 

Viktor tugged harder at his hair, finally getting a wince out of him. “You have committed treason against the Pakhan. You attempted to murder my Yuuri!”

 

Laughter rang out of Yuri’s throat, green eyes beaming with some sort of taunting delight. “I may have given him the blade, Viktor, but I’m not the one who made the cuts. Or are you still too naive to believe that no one wants to be with you?”

 

Viktor’s grip faltered, his face betraying his emotions, clear disbelief on his face. No. Impossible. Why would Yuuri try and hurt himself? “You’re lying.

 

“You’re delusional,” Yuri sang, words laced with joy as Viktor felt everything crumble around him. “Everyone around you hates you and will do anything to leave you. It’s ironic, isn’t it?” Yuri jerked free from Viktor’s grasps and laughed again. “Your own mother didn’t love you enough to stick around and then the very person you try and use to fill that void tries to kill himself with the same blade. Yuuri hates you, Viktor. He hates you so much he thought death was his only option.”

 

Viktor was shaking. Anger, fear, betrayal, all swirling together inside of him. No, no, NO! Clenching his fist into a tight ball he slugged Yuri across the face, sending his body flying to the floor with a loud thud. Viktor followed after him, a tight hand wrapping around the pale skin of his throat. “You ruined everything! You filled his mind with poisonous words! I had him! I had him! He was learning to come to me!”

 

Yuri laid there, a maniacal grin on his lips. Lifting his head up as far as Viktor would allow he whispered, “Oops.”

 

Viktor screamed, his pounding fists just missing Yuri’s head before he stood and turned his back, fingers gripping his silver locks angrily. Why was he like this?! Why did Yuri always try and press him?!

 

“Fuck you, Viktor,” Yuri spat at the ground, a hint of blood in the phlegm as he caressed his now free neck. “I have always been loyal to you! I have always done everything you have asked of me and tried to be a good brother and yet you treat me like the lowest scum of the earth! I was not the one who abandoned you and your mother! I was not the one who left! I’ve always been here, but I was never good enough!” Slowly, he got to his feet and wiped the blood from his mouth. “I hope he fucking dies.”

 

The door slammed behind Viktor, his body frozen with deep animosity. The golden frame caught his eye and he reached for the photo. His mother’s smile stared back at him. With a cry he began slamming the photo on the edge of the desk, tears of frustration falling with every crack and shatter of glass. Viktor fell to his knees, the broken frame slipping from his fingers as he broke down.

 

Yuuri was supposed to be the one. He had been so sure, first seeing him on the ice two years ago and then by fate finally finding him at the club in Japan. Bit-by-bit Yuuri had been opening up to him and Yuri ruined it. With a trembling hand he wiped at the tears and breathed in to pull himself together.

 

He could fix this. He had to.

 

/*/

 

Death was loud. It was darkness and screaming and pulling. Yuuri thought it would feel more like drifting in an empty void of nothingness. But it was loud and suffocating and it felt like he was being tugged in every direction.

 

Beep...beep....beep…

 

Yuuri didn’t understand why it was so loud. It made his head pound endlessly in torment. Pain. He could feel pain. Why? Was this...Hell? Was this some afterlife of eternal suffering? Death was supposed to rid of him of all of it.

 

His eyes opened.

 

No.

 

NO.

 

The beeping suddenly got louder and more insistent as his heart pounded in his throat. Viktor’s room was now a clear and focused image. This couldn’t be happening. He had been bleeding. He had hit the artery! Viktor said he had a meeting! An IV connected his arm to a drip hung next to a heart monitor. No, no, no! He had to finish the job! Yuuri moved to rip out the IV and halted.

His hands were bound at his sides. He couldn’t move.

 

A blood-curdling scream echoed throughout the house.

 

Yuuri screamed and screamed, his wrists straining against the restraints and opening the wound he had sliced into the tender skin. The white bandage was already turning red, but Yuuri still thrashed. His vision was completely blinded by tears and he could hear the monitor screeching over his own wails.

 

Silence.

 

Yuuri felt his vocal chords clench and his limbs go soft and numb sinking deep into the mattress. Breaths slowed and his head tilted to the side. Someone was there. Dressed in white. Yuuri tried so hard to fight it, but his eyelids were becoming so heavy. So, so heavy. Please take me away. Darkness blanketed him. It felt warm.

 

The next time Yuuri woke he didn’t scream and he didn’t flail against the thick pieces of leather. Yuuri stared blankly at a spot on far wall listening to the constant beeping of the monitor. Yuuri felt like a heavy weight was resting on his chest leaving him no desire to move or say anything at all. He was broken.

 

The door opened and closed with a soft click and Viktor was standing in Yuuri’s direct line of sight. The Russian looked disheveled with his hair out of place and his jacket gone leaving an un-tucked shirt. Yuuri didn’t move and his eyes did not shift. Crossing across the room Viktor crawled onto the bed and wrapped his body around Yuuri, his face pressed against his chest. Yuuri wanted to scream, but it took too much effort. It was too taxing.

 

“My Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, voice raw like he had been shouting or crying. “You tried to leave me. Why did you try to leave me?”

 

Because I hate you.

 

Because you make me feel empty and tainted.

 

Because I’d rather be dead than with you.

 

Viktor clung tighter, his ear moving up Yuuri’s chest towards his heart. “You hurt me, Yuuri.”

 

Good.

 

A hand trailed up Yuuri’s side and around his neck before gripping his chin roughly and turning his head so he was forced to look at Viktor. The Russian’s kiss was gentle, but his grip unwavering. “You cannot leave me, Yuuri. You can never leave me. You will stay with me. Forever.”

 

Tears fell down Yuuri’s cheeks silently. Forever. Viktor kissed him again, tongue pushing to gain entrance to Yuuri’s mouth. He drew his lips into a tight thin line and refused entry. Viktor squeezed harder and harder until a whimper was finally drawn from Yuuri’s throat and his mouth fell open. A shiver ran up Yuuri’s spine at the sudden feel of cool air and he realized Viktor had pulled down the covers, his fingers ice against his bare legs. Viktor rolled so that he was on top of Yuuri and settled between the younger man’s thighs as he continued to invade his mouth.

 

Even hurt and barely off his deathbed, Viktor was doing this! And Yuuri could do nothing with his body weak and tied down. His free hand travelled up Yuuri’s left thigh and squeezed against the bandage. Yuuri screamed into Viktor’s mouth, his vision turning red with pain. Viktor didn’t let go as he pulled from Yuuri’s lips and looked at him with those cold eyes.

 

“Your body is mine, Yuuri. I won’t have you scarring such beautiful flesh. It won’t happen again. Will it?” Yuuri gasped as he squeezed harder and he quickly shook his head. Viktor smiled and released his grip on both chin and thigh, hand stroking Yuuri’s cheek gently. “Good.”

 

Leaning back in he started kissing Yuuri again, but they stayed soft and without passion. Yuuri dared to hope. Viktor’s hands trailed up Yuuri’s shirt as he moved off of his lap and rolled back onto his side. A breathe caught in Yuuri’s throat, waiting, and then Viktor let out a loud sigh and curled himself back into the curve of the Japanese man’s side. Yuuri had to clench his hands to keep himself from singing out in relief.

 

“Rest, my Yuuri,” Viktor mumbled tiredly. “I’ll protect you.”

 

Yuuri turned his head away even though Viktor’s head still managed to stay tucked under his chin no matter how he moved. It didn’t matter. His tears were a solace that this was all he had to endure today and somehow the thought brought him enough comfort that it lulled him to sleep even with the heavy reminder of Viktor draped around his every limb.

 

When Yuuri finally came to again Viktor was gone, but Makkachin was tight against his side. Yuri was also sitting on the edge of the bed, a cigarette nonchalantly hanging out of his mouth. Yuuri pushed himself up as far as he could, drawing the blonde’s attention.

 

“You’ve got to be either the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the planet or the most cursed fucker I’ve ever met,” he said through a long exhale of smoke. “Georgi is literally the only person in this entire household other than the doctor with any sort of medical experience and he just so happened to be on his way to get you for Viktor. What are the fucking odds, huh?”

 

Yuuri’s fingers clenched at the sheets. Yeah, what were the fucking odds?

 

“Gotta say, though, I didn’t think you would actually go through with it.” His green eyes trailed slowly up and down Yuuri with an interest that made him uncomfortable. “There’s hope for you after all.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes went wide in confusion. What was that supposed to mean? “I don’t…” His voice was harsh and raw. “I failed.”

 

“Not necessarily,” Yuri argued, tapping off some ash, “You can still die. If you want to be reborn, that is.”

 

“I-...”

 

Yuri rolled his eyes and sighed in frustration. “Look, pig, you don’t have a choice anymore in life or death. Viktor isn’t going to let you off yourself now. He’s had someone watching you like a hawk ever since this happened and if he knew that I was in here, he’d put a bullet through my head after finding out I gave you the knife. Thankfully, Alexei is easily bribed to go take a walk.” Standing, Yuri put the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. “What you do have a choice in is how you choose to survive. Are you gonna just lie there and be his sex doll the rest of your life, or are you gonna do something about it?”

 

Yuuri swallowed, unsure of how to respond. “I...why are you doing this? Why are you trying to help me?”

 

“Don’t mistake me, pig,” Yuri scowled, “I still hate you. But we have something in common: Viktor ruined our lives.”

 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut, all the events of the past few months running through his brain like a film. His life hadn’t been perfect before Viktor, but it was a life . “I hate him…”

 

Yuri sucked in a breath in surprise, green eyes wide but excited . “Say it again.”

 

“I hate him.”

 

“Louder.”

 

“I HATE HIM!” Yuuri let a growl ripple through him, his fists pounding as hard as they could against the restraints causing Makkachin to jump. It felt good to finally say it out loud like that.

 

With a laugh Yuri smiled, hands shoving into the pockets of his slacks. “Hate is a powerful fuel, pig. Use it.”

 

“How?!” Yuuri huffed in frustration. “Everytime I try and fight back he just hurts me more.”

 

“You’ll never beat Viktor physically, but you don’t have to,” Yuri began. “You see all these bruises?” He pointed to the nasty black and blue on his cheek. “I can’t beat him in a fist-fight anymore than you, but Viktor is an unstable fuck mentally. Fight him with emotion. You were a stripper, weren’t you? Isn’t that what you did to earn your money? String along men with promise of a good time? Seduce them?”

 

“It’s different-,” Yuuri tried to protest but Yuri cut him off with a scowl.

 

“It’s not. Viktor is already obsessed with you, pig. Now, you just need to give him a reason to become utterly consumed .” Yuri clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. “You have no idea how easy it could be.”

 

“Yuri.”

 

Yuri turned his head, a man standing in the doorway. It must have been Alexei. He exchanged a few words in Russian and then turned back to Yuuri. “Think about it, pig. Do you wanna just survive, or do you wanna thrive?”

 

Yuuri watched him go in shock. He wanted him to seduce Viktor. And what then? What would anyone gain other than Viktor? Yuuri didn’t even know if he could do it. Everytime he looked at Viktor he wanted to cry, to puke, to wallow in self-hatred. How could he ever hope to seduce the very man that had raped and beaten him? Makkachin shifted his head to lay in Yuuri’s lap and he swallowed as he let himself sink back down in thought.

 

Could he do this…?

 

Did he have the strength?

 

Hours passed and he was brought some food and allowed to use the restroom under the close eye of whoever had been unlucky enough to draw the straw at the time. It made him uneasy, but at least his watchdogs didn’t seem to enjoy watching him take a piss any better. The doctor came in and checked on him, replacing his bandages. His English was very limited and he had to speak in words rather than sentences to Yuuri. It was enough to understand: rest, eat, no move much.

 

Viktor eventually returned to the room as night fell looking no more rested than Yuuri, although, at least he didn’t look so rumpled this time. Makkachin jumped off the bed to greet him with a wagging tail. With a pat to his head Viktor began to remove his jacket and folded it neatly over one of the chairs. “Are you feeling better, my Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri watched him closely as he closed the distance and sat on the edge of the bed next to him, a hand reaching out to brush at his dark bangs. “Yes.”

 

A warm smile grew on Viktor’s lips. “I am glad to hear. You look a mess, though. We should shower.”

 

It was a conflicting thought. A shower sounded incredible, but Yuuri also didn’t want to be so vulnerable. Do you want to survive or thrive, Yuuri? He had been thinking about it all day, and he still didn’t know the answer, but agreed with a sigh anyway. “Yeah…”

 

Viktor carefully undid the restraints, fingers caressing bruised skin gently. “They are for your own protection. Hopefully we won’t need them much longer.”

 

Yuuri most certainly did not have a comment on that, rubbing at his wrists once he was freed. Viktor had to help him on his feet, his leg still painful even with the medication. It would be hard to stand in the shower, but he couldn’t soak in water with the stitches so a bath was out of the question. He’d need Viktor. Yuuri felt his nails dig into his palm at the thought.

 

After turning the water on to start warming Viktor began to undress, Yuuri following shortly after. The doctor had left some plastic wrap and he covered the bandages as best he could to keep them dry before stepping in under the hot water with Viktor. He couldn’t help but groan, the dirt, sweat, and blood from the past few days washing off his skin.

 

“I knew it would make you feel better,” Viktor spoke above the pounding water, a tenderness to his gaze.

 

Yuuri locked eyes with him and stared, his pulse throbbing in his throat. Droplets of water clung to slightly parted pink lips, inviting. Sucking in a shark breath Yuuri rose himself up on his toes, chest full of courage, and locked lips with Viktor. The Russian stilled in complete shock.

 

Yuuri had decided. He was going to thrive.

Chapter Text

“Is it really wise to continue pushing your brother like that?”

 

Yuri didn’t answer right away, instead placing the mouthpiece of the hose connected to the hookah against his lips and inhaling deep. After the incident with Yuuri back in St. Petersburg, he had decided it would be best to get away for a bit and had run off to Almaty where Otabek was happily waiting. Colorful thumbprint bruises decorated his milky skin and his long hair was half in a messy bun and half swung over one shoulder. His ass hurt like hell, a pleasant reminder that Otabek had more than kept his word. The two were naked in soiled sheets but too high to give a shit.

 

“Fuck him.” It seemed like the only good response. Or maybe it was just the only thing he could think of in his drugged-out state.

 

Otabek let out a snort as he breathed in his own share of smoke through his own mouthpiece. Grabbing Yuri’s chin gently he turned his face towards him and moved in, lips hovering just over the Russian’s. Once Yuri had parted his lips in a small ‘o’ Otabek breathed out the smoke. With a moan Yuri opened wider and then closed the distance, trapping the white vapor in the black corridor of their mouths. One of Otabek’s hands reached up and caressed the side of Yuri’s face, pushing them closer together as they shared the drug in a heated passion.

 

Breaking the kiss Otabek drew Yuri back down to the bed, the blonde sprawled out on top of his body. “What do you hope to gain by this game you’re playing, Yura?”

 

Yuri moaned when Otabek’s fingers slipped between the crack in his cheeks and started fingering his slicked up hole. It was swollen, red, and raw after the multiple ass poundings the Khazek had been giving him, but the curl of the fingers still made his cock twitch trapped between their stomachs. “You don’t need to be in control to have control.”

 

Lifting his head off the pillow Otabek licked a long, hot trail up Yuri’s bruised neck and then bit at his ear. “So you plan on using the other Yuuri to get to your brother. What then?” Reaching between them he grabbed hold of his cock and replaced his fingers in tight heat.

 

“Ah!” Yuri threw back his head as he sucked Otabek all the way in and wiggled his hips. Lacing his fingers tightly in black hair he pulled and began to rock. “There is no what then. It’s as simple as being treated with respect .” His teeth sank hard into the flesh of Otabek’s shoulder, making his point loud and clear.

 

Gasping, Otabek bared his neck, allowing Yuri all the flesh he desired. “Are you saying I don’t respect you?”

 

“If you respected me,” Yuri licked at the now opened wound he had created, lapping up blood before latching onto Otabek’s lips. A shiny trail of crimson mixed with spit now stained those pretty lips. “You’d shut up and fuck me.”

 

Otabek didn’t need to be told twice, the man planting his feet firmly onto the mattress and grabbing hold of Yuri’s hips before thrusting up ruthlessly into him. Skin slapped against skin, the sound bouncing off the walls of the apartment bedroom. Yuri’s nails were digging into his chest leaving thin red lines in their wake. The Russian’s head was thrown all the way back as he screamed, one hand now bracing on Otabek’s knee as painted his tattooed chest white with his orgasm. Tightening his grip, Otabek pounded as hard and fast as he could before he was coming with a loud grunt deep inside velvet walls.

 

Yuri collapsed next to him in a deep sweat, breaths coming heavily with every rise and fall of his chest. “Fuck , Beka…”

 

Otabek hummed his agreement, shifting his legs so the weren’t as tangled in the sheets. They both laid there in a comfortable silence as they slowly came down from their high of sex and drugs. Eventually, Otabek reached out a hand and began trailing his fingers down Yuri’s smooth thigh. “Are you sure it’s worth it…? Risking everything just to try and gain the Pakhan’s respect? What if he never gives it to you?”

 

Clenching his jaw tightly Yuri reached out and patted the bed until he finally found the hose of the hookah. The coals needed to be changed, but he breathed in anyway. “You couldn’t possibly understand.”

 

Maybe he should have been offended, but Otabek wasn’t, instead throwing back the sheets and getting out of the bed to stretch. Grabbing a towel he lazily cleaned himself off and threw it into a pile of more dirty laundry. Padding over to the stove he grabbed more coals and moved to switch them out on the hookah. “Just promise me, whatever it is you are trying to achieve, that you don’t get yourself killed in the process. It would be a shame…”

 

Yuri swallowed as Otabek’s dark eyes peered up at him through long lashes with a sultry gaze. A warmth pooled in the pit of his stomach and he had to look away, instead turning his attention to working the hookah back to strength with fresh coals. Yuri realized, then, that he didn’t have a plan. He was just making it up as he went and hoped shit worked out. That’s why he hadn’t bothered to think that the pig might actually try and off himself with the knife.

 

No...if Yuri was going to control Viktor, he needed a full-proof plan.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri had fucked up.

 

He had started something he didn’t think he could finish. Despite that moment of courage in the shower, he couldn’t do this. It was far too late to take it back, though, Viktor already having latched onto the small spark Yuuri had given him. Eventually, Yuuri had taken the first moves in bed, rocking against Viktor in his boxer briefs just like he was back at the club. Music played in his head and with closed eyes he tried to escape from the moment completely - to get as far away from St. Petersburg as he possibly could. It had seemed to be working, Viktor laying compliant beneath him, but then Yuuri was rocking against thick hardness and he had immediately stopped and panicked . Brown eyes snapped open in wide horror, hands resting on Viktor’s smooth chest with fingers just brushed up against pink nipples. What was he doing?!

 

“Why did you stop?” Viktor’s eyes were soft, but his voice demanded an answer.

 

Yuuri didn’t know how to respond, biting at his lip in terror as he imagined the worst reaction the Russian might have to this.

 

Rubbing a hand down Yuuri’s side he trailed down to his bandaged thigh and rested his palm there. “Are you hurting? Is it too much?”

 

Yuuri’s heart caught in his throat. Was this a test? His wound did throb, but it wasn’t why he had stopped. Viktor normally didn’t even bother talking to Yuuri during sex, the man far too occupied with just taking whatever he wanted. It was almost easier that way. Yuuri didn’t want to speak to him. It made the whole thing too...intimate. Sucking in a shaky breath he decided on not speaking at all, but instead settling on a nod.

 

Viktor was silent and still for far too long, blue eyes trailing up and down Yuuri’s body. Finally, he settled his hands right above Yuuri’s briefs and flipped them, a knee slotting its way in between the younger man’s legs. Viktor’s bangs dangled against Yuuri’s cheek, a thumb joining them in soft caresses. “I’m so surprised by you today, my Yuuri. Pleasantly.” He squeezed at the wound in his thigh.

 

Yuuri whimpered at the pain, looking away, his heart pounding against his chest. Viktor was onto his act. It was the only logical assumption, and now he was going to be punished for it. He’d fucked up. Viktor gently turned his face and captured his lips carefully, hands trailing up from his thighs to the waistband of his briefs to tug them down. That hand acted like the other wasn’t violently digging into his wound threateningly, still waiting for some sort of verbal response from Yuuri. Clenching the sheets beneath him, Yuuri stifled the moan as a hand wrapped around his length.

 

“I’m still very hurt that you tried to leave me, Yuuri,” Viktor pumped once and squeezed forcefully. “Is this your way of apologizing to me?”

 

What did he say? What did he say ?! A thumb rubbed against the gash in his wrist, a reminder that Viktor was waiting for an answer other than a nod. Conversation was the last thing he wanted with this man, but it was clear it was the game Viktor wanted to play. The pressure on his wound gradually increased, and Yuuri had to give in to the demand of words. “Y-Yes. I-I’m sorry I didn’t-,”

 

“Shhh,” Viktor hushed, his touch gentler as he captured Yuuri’s lips once more and pulled out his own cock from his briefs. “I know, I know...you didn’t mean it. You’ll never do it again, right?”

 

Squeezing his eyes shut he nodded, unable to say it, because given the chance he would . He’d do anything to not have to be a player on this board. Viktor hummed and straddled Yuuri’s waist, pulling his briefs further down around his thighs and then scooting up the bed as far as he could, a hand resting on the headboard. Viktor rubbed the head of his cock around Yuuri’s lips, a silent command. Yuuri wanted to cry, but he had started this, and he had to finish it and act like he wanted it. It made him sick to his stomach. Looping shaky arms around Viktor’s muscular thighs he opened wide and slowly sucked in the man’s length. His tongue ran across velvety skin, the vein on the underside pulsing with each lick and suck.

 

Viktor moaned above him, a hand moving to caress the top of Yuuri’s head encouragingly. “Just like that, Yuuri. So good.”

 

The size of Viktor’s cock made Yuuri’s jaw hurt, small tears forming at the corners of his eyes from the discomfort. When he tried to pull back Viktor’s hand had tightened and he began thrusting leaving Yuuri no choice but to open as wide as he could and take it. Drool trickled out of the corners of his mouth and Yuuri struggled to breathe through his nose as each thrust had Viktor’s cock halfway down his throat.

 

“So close, so close, Yuuri,” Viktor breathed, his grip tightening painfully now. “Your mouth is so beautiful around my cock, the way you take it so good. I’m gonna-,”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened as Viktor increased his thrusts and made no move to pull out. His nails dug into the back of Viktor’s thighs as he tried to pry himself off in a fierce panic, but Viktor’s hands on his head were like a vice grip holding him in place. All Yuuri could do was try and open his throat and try not to choke as Viktor came hot and fast in his mouth. Yuuri tried desperately to swallow what he could, but he still coughed and gagged around Viktor’s cock before he could pull out, some of the come spilling out over his chin.

 

Once Viktor had retracted, Yuuri finished swallowing. It took everything in him not to throw it back up in disgust of himself for his own part in all of this. He had started this. His hand reached up to wipe off what he had missed, but Viktor batted it away as he leaned in to lick the white trails with his tongue before invading his mouth. Yuuri opened, an invitation he so hysterically wished he didn’t have to extend, and kissed back.

 

Viktor breathed a content sigh as he pulled back, hands caressing Yuuri’s face. “That was quite the apology. I accept.”

 

Yuuri shuddered as he watched Viktor pull back up his briefs and swing his legs over the bed to get up, showing no interest in paying any attention to Yuuri’s half-hard cock. Yuuri was glad. Maybe, this was a victory after all. Unsure of what to do or say, he watched as Viktor started dressing himself again. What had he done?

 

“You were so good, Yuuri,” Viktor began as he buttoned up his shirt. “I think you deserve a reward, don’t you? A favorite food for dinner, perhaps? What can I have my cooks make you, my Yuuri?”

 

Growling at the thought, Yuuri’s stomach did flips of excitement at the prospect of something other than Russian food. A reward...That’s what Viktor was calling it. Well, it wasn’t much, but...this was a step. “K-Katsudon.”

 

Viktor looked over his shoulder from the mirror as he threw the tie back around his neck. “Katsudon? I don’t believe I know of it. What is it?”

 

“It’s um, fried pork cutlet with rice and egg,” Yuuri explained, voice small and distant as he reached across the mattress to retrieve his glasses from the nightstand. There was a noticeable crack in his words as he spoke.

 

“I will have my cooks prepare it for you tonight, then. It does not sound like it should be too difficult for them.” Viktor threw on his coat as well as his leather gloves. “I have business to attend to with Yakov and Georgi in the city today. Mila will watch over you while we are gone, yes?”

 

Of course, Yuri had mentioned he’d have a guard at all times now, so it should not have come as much of a surprise. Yuuri didn’t figure Viktor’s question elicited a verbal response, so he remained silent. Once fully dressed, Viktor came over and placed a peck on his cheek before leaving him and Makkachin alone in the room just long enough for Mila to enter. Yuuri gasped at the lack of warning, pulling the sheets up and over himself.

 

Mila chuckled, “Don’t be so self-conscious, Yuuri. Your body is your greatest weapon. Wield it proudly.”

 

Blushing, Yuuri pulled up his briefs beneath the covers. “Is that what you do?” It was perhaps not the best thing to ask, but with the low-cut shirts and skirts that he had seen the woman wear, he wondered just what her role was within the organization.

 

“Of course,” Mila purred, clearly not offended by his silent accusations. “I think you’d be really good at it, too. Such a cute face...there’s no telling what people might tell you for a taste.”

 

Makkachin hopped up onto the bed, clearly impatient that Yuuri wasn’t making any moves to pay him any attention, and laid down across his legs. Yuuri gladly buried his fingers in brown fur, but his eyes were still on Mila, frowning. “What...what do you mean by that?”

 

Laughing, Mila moved to the side of the bed and sat, crossing her long and beautiful legs. “So naive...it’s adorable.” She trailed a finger up Yuuri’s shin through the sheets. “You’ve caused a lot of problems for us since you’ve come, you know? Viktor has become practically unstable and you’ve reignited his and Yuri’s hatred.”

 

Yuuri jerked his leg back and tucked both up underneath him so that Mila could not reach. “I didn’t ask for this.”

 

“No,” Mila hummed in agreement. “Not real good at adapting, either, are you? I could help, if you’d like.”

 

“Why is everyone around here but Viktor so keen on helping me?” Yuuri asked, brows furrowed in a deep frown as he pulled Makkachin close to his chest. All of this didn’t feel right. First Yuri and now Mila. Why?

 

Scowling, Mila reached up and grabbed at Yuuri’s face, Makkachin growling in warning. “Because if you don’t adapt, our problems will grow worse. Yakov worked very hard to keep Viktor together and try and mend his relationship with his brother and you’ve destroyed it all. The Pakhan is very good at what he does and has the potential to be far greater than his father, but he also has the ability to be so ruthless and destructive he’ll take us all down with him.” Her grip loosened to gentle fingers on his skin. “Believe me, Yuuri, things can be far worse for you than they already are. For all of us.”

 

Moving back to her original position, Mila smiled. “We all love Viktor very much, even Yuri though he’d never admit it. We want the best for him. Don’t you?”

 

The What’s Best For Viktor is Best For You went unspoken, but Yuuri felt its presence regardless. Yuuri cast his eyes down, Makkachin licking at his hand. “I can’t...I tried...I…”

 

“Listen to me, Yuuri. The more you make yourself an asset instead of just a bed warmer in Viktor’s eyes, the more he’ll lengthen the leash. Don’t worry about your skills...You have much to work with. My offer to help is still on the table.”

 

Yuuri had promised himself he’d thrive, but so far he was doing a poor job of it. Mila and Yuri’s proposals left more questions than answers, but there were no other options. “...What do I do?”

 

Mila smiled, Yuuri shifting uneasy under her gaze. “You’ll get nowhere until you learn Russian, or at least enough to be somewhat conversational. I’ll teach you. I speak more languages than anyone here. Let Viktor know, too. Make him believe you are interested.” Her blue eyes narrowed in warning, “But not too interested. I don’t trust you just yet.”

 

Clenching his jaw, Yuuri wondered just exactly who Mila thought he’d betray Viktor’s secrets to. It wasn’t like he had any means of communication let alone was allowed outside. But...she was right. If this was going to be his life, he had to learn the language. “Ok.”

 

Khorosho,” she grinned before standing. “I have a few books. We start now.”

 

/*/

 

It was bitter cold outside, but Yuri braved it anyway to look at the Zailiyskiy Alatau mountain range in the distance. They were beautiful, blanked in white snow with the sun slowly beginning to peak over the horizon. It was clear that Otabek was paying for the view and not much else. Shifting the fuzzy blanket over his shoulders he brought the mug of hot tea to his lips and sipped. It wouldn’t stay that way long if he lingered out here.

 

The sliding glass door opened and Otabek joined him, wrapping his own blanket around Yuri and gazing into the horizon. “I have a job.”

 

Yuri hummed in acknowledgment, disappointed that this had to end so soon but knowing it was probably for the best. “Where?”

 

“Local, but it requires planning,” Otabek explained.

 

“I guess I should look for a flight back, then,” Yuri sighed, heart feeling heavy as he tried to wiggle out of Otabek’s embrace to head inside.

 

Otabek caught him as he turned with his lips, breathing in the Russian’s scent as they kissed. “You can stay. One more day, at least. My work isn’t time sensitive. Much.”

 

Yuri allowed his cheek to rest against his chest for a brief moment. “I’ll see what flights are available and we’ll go from there, ok?” Finally pulling away he stepped back into the warmth of the apartment and let the blanket fall from his shoulders. Plopping back onto the bed with a sigh he pulled his phone off the charger and looked at his notifications. There were several from Yakov mostly consisting of: Where the hell are you? Some from Georgi asking him to pick up something unique wherever he had gone that might win Anya back. Pathetic. But then...then there were two from Viktor.

 

Yura...I’m sorry for what happened.

 

Please come back.

 

The phone almost fell from his hands in shock. “What the fuck.”

 

“What is it?” Otabek asked, closing the sliding doors behind him.

 

Yuri’s mouth opened and closed like a gaping fish, unable to answer at first in disbelief. “It’s Viktor...he said he’s sorry . What the fuck?”

 

Laying on the bed next to Yuri and scooping him in his arms Otabek hummed. “Does he normally not apologize?”

 

“No!” Yuri snapped. “Viktor never apologizes to anyone, least of all me. What the-,” that’s when it hit him suddenly, his body freezing in Otabek’s arms.

 

“Yura?”

 

“Shit,” Yuri’s frown slowly turned into a grin. Yuuri. “Beka...I think...that pig might have grown some balls.”

 

“You think this is Yuuri’s doing?”

 

Pulling up the web browser Yuri instantly began looking for flights back home. “Only one way to find out.”

 

Otabek tensed behind him, unconvinced. “Be careful, Yura...you don’t know for sure.”

 

Yuri knew he was right. This could be Viktor being Viktor and trying to sweet-talk him back home before laying down the hammer. It’s why he’d slip in quietly. He’d observe silently before making his presence known. If he was right, though, and this was Yuuri, this was huge.

 

/*/


Mila and Yuuri started simple. She had given him a few books, but had simply instructed him to write out the alphabet over and over and over. He had moved to the lavish living room of the house, tired of being cooped up in the bedroom. The large windows at least made him feel like he was somewhat free. It was snowing again and the fire was roaring in the chimney with Makkachin happily curled up in front of it. Mila was in a chair across from him scrolling through something on her phone.

 

“Does it bother you?” Yuuri asked. “Having to baby-sit me like this?”

 

Mila looked up from her screen orange and yellow light bouncing off her skin. “Viktor tells me to do something and I do it. It’s that simple.”

 

It’s that simple. Was it truly? If Viktor said suck, he’d suck. If Viktor said moan, he’d moan. It’s that simple. Yuuri stared down at his half-filled paper of repeated letters and clenched his jaw. Maybe it was. Picking up his pencil once more he continued to write, the motions already becoming automatic. Makkachin pulled him from his thoughts suddenly with an excited bark as Viktor walked in trailed by both Yakov and Georgi. There was a dusting of snow in their hair and on their clothes as they shed their jackets. In one of Viktor’s arms was a bouquet of blue roses.

 

Viktor handed his coat to Georgi and strolled across the room, bending down to kiss Yuuri on the cheek before giving him the roses. “For you, my Yuuri.”

 

With wide eyes Yuuri took them, nose instinctively inhaling their scent. It was artificial, smelling more like wintergreen, but it was pleasant. The roses had a dusting of glitter on their petals meant to look like snow. “Um, Sp-spasibo.”

 

Viktor froze above him, his eyes going wide as the Russian stuttered off of Yuuri’s tongue imperfect but clear. “...Say that again.”

 

Swallowing, Yuui flicked out his tongue across his lips in nervousness. Was...was Viktor mad? “Spasibo .”

 

Gasping, Viktor fell to his knees at Yuuri’s feet, arms curled around his lower legs. “Say it again.”

 

Yuuri’s heart was throbbing in his throat, his hands tightening on the roses. Viktor Nikiforov, head of the Russian Mafia, was on his knees in front of him. All because he had spoken a single word of Russian to him. “Spasibo .”

 

“Vitya, pull yourself together,” Mila teased, twirling a piece of her red hair around her finger. “Just wait until he can speak full sentences.”

 

Viktor inhaled, eyes wide in delight as he noticed the sheet of paper and book in Yuuri’s lap. “You are learning. For me. Oh .”

 

I’m learning for me , Yuuri wanted to say, but held his tongue as Viktor crawled up his body and kissed him on the lips. “Katsudon and roses could never be enough to repay you for the joy you have brought me today, my Yuuri.” Viktor was back down on his knees, his head in Yuuri’s lap and hugging his legs again mumbling soft Russian words against his injured thigh.

 

Yuuri gasped, eyes growing large behind his glasses as the fire light parted the shadows in the far corner of the room.

 

Yuri was smirking at him, green eyes full of victory.

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Yuuri can almost imagine that he is back home in his comforting bed and that the warmth of the body behind him belonged to someone that actually,truly, cared for him. He would dream that they’d be hopelessly in love and that the light kisses placed at the nape of his neck and on his shoulder meant something other than possession and ownership.

 

Those thoughts were short lived as Viktor shifted and the cock still in Yuuri’s ass twitched.

 

Flinching, Yuuri bit down on his lip to keep himself from making any noise. For the first time, Yuuri had been in control during the entire duration of sex last night. He’d ridden Viktor, but had turned around. It was so much easier to go all the way when he didn’t have to look at the man. But, after he had spilled himself inside of Yuuri, Viktor hadn’t retreated from his body. Instead, he had rolled them over and spooned the younger man, his softening cock still snug in his ass. It had stayed there all night, Viktor’s hold tight on him even in his sleep so he couldn’t slip out no matter how Yuuri had squirmed.

 

Yuuri’s ass ached something fierce from the constant stretch, unable to get comfortable all night leading to a lack of sleep. A part of him was still convinced that Viktor was onto him. That staying inside him all night was his way of indulging his act during sex but reestablishing that control and dominance after the fact. But if Viktor knew, he’d hurt him, wouldn’t he? Maybe. Yuuri didn’t really know. Viktor was an enigma that not even his family seemed to fully understand. He’d considered trying to test his limits by asking Viktor to remove himself, tell him that it was uncomfortable in the nicest way possible, but Yuuri thought better of it, too afraid to risk it.

 

Viktor moaned from behind him, hips giving a small thrust up into Yuuri. His cock was beginning to get hard again. Squeezing his eyes shut, Yuuri sucked in a shuddered breath and started to mentally prepare himself for the inevitable. It was getting easier, although still unwanted. The grinding became more insistent, and it wasn’t long before Viktor was at full thickness stretching his sore rim. The position was incredibly uncomfortable, and Yuuri decided if this was going to happen he might as well dictate something about it.

 

Placing a hand over Viktor’s around his stomach he squeezed in warning before starting to roll over onto his stomach. Clearly now awake, Viktor followed, settling in above Yuuri and immediately thrusting in with earnest as he kissed across Yuuri’s shoulder blades. Burring his face into the pillow Yuuri let his legs spread wider, a false indication of his willingness of the situation. It was enough to please Viktor who hummed against his skin in appreciation as it allowed him to drive deeper.

 

“Viktor,” Yuuri moaned against the pillow, something he’d turned into a forced habit, “Pozhaluysta .” Viktor heard Please, More, but what Yuuri would always mean was Please, Stop.

 

“God,” Viktor breathed, snapping his hips extra hard, a hand moving to grab at Yuuri’s hair and pull back. “Do you know what you do to me, Yuuri? When you speak like that?”

 

He wasn’t pulling overly hard, but the the strain on his neck resisted countered the movement of the thrusts causing Yuuri to wince. Viktor’s free hand trailed down the muscles of his shoulders and back, tracing across the curve of his ass before slipping into the crack. His thumb entered next to his cock, stretching Yuuri even further. A small cry of pain left Yuuri’s lips, Viktor purposely pressing at the rim to get the skin to open further. Viktor adjusted himself behind Yuuri and all of a sudden his legs were snapping shut, the thumb slipping in deeper and his pace increasing. Before long, he was spurting his warm seed inside Yuuri with a loud grunt.

 

Finally, Viktor slipped out, Yuuri hissing in relief at the feeling of being empty for the first time in hours. Viktor nipped gently at the thick flesh of his ass and kissed his way up his sweating skin, eventually grabbing him by the shoulder and turning him over to kiss him on the lips. Yuuri was shocked to see the evidence of his own cum on his stomach glistening. He hadn’t even felt himself get hard.Viktor laid down next to him with a content sigh, his fingers brushing at Yuuri’s bangs almost lovingly.

 

“You’ve made me so happy these last few weeks, my Yuuri,” Viktor beamed, a gentle kiss to Yuuri’s shoulder. “I have something so special planned for you tonight. I hope it makes you as happy as you’ve made me.”

 

Special. To Viktor, special could be anything from sucking him off to bringing him roses. It was an unpredictable statement that only made Yuuri worry.

 

Kissing Yuuri’s cheek Viktor threw back the covers and stretched. “I have some last minute preparations. I’ll be taking Mila with me, but Georgi would be happy to help you with your studies, I’m sure.”

 

Georgi always seemed irritated with Yuuri and he was sure the man would be anything but helpful. Like Yakov, he preferred not to give Yuuri the time of day, even though he had been responsible for saving his life. Sighing, Yuuri swung his legs over the bed and cringed at the soreness and wetness in his rear end. He’d likely feel that for a day or two. He could hear the water turning on and he forced himself into their daily morning routine. It was always the same; Viktor would have his way with Yuuri - sometimes a blowjob, sometimes just rutting, and sometimes full penetration - they’d shower and dress, and then they’d share breakfast. Some days Viktor stayed and some days Viktor left. Some days he’d return just as he had left, and some days he’d come back with crimson stains on his designer suit with disheveled silver locks.

 

When Yuuri had pulled the sweater over his head, he immediately realized he had grabbed the wrong sweater, the sleeves extending past his fingers and the collar stretching wide across a shoulder. It was Viktor’s. Before he could take it off, Viktor’s blue eyes caught his in the mirror, his mouth parted in an excited ‘o’.

 

Stepping in behind him Viktor placed his hands on Yuuri’s shoulders and kissed the exposed skin. “Don’t take it off.”

 

Yuuri hated that sweater. Normally, he loved wearing oversized clothes. It gave him a sense of comfort, especially when it was extremely cold like it was here. But this...it smelled like Viktor. It was a constant reminder that he couldn’t escape. He was granted little choice in the matter, and settled in on his usual chair by the fire once Viktor had left. Another snow storm had come through it looked like. Everything seemed so dark in Russia during the winter...the sun hardly ever came out even as they had reached the end of February. It seemed the perfect weather for Yuuri’s situation. Of course, Yuri had mentioned this was the worst and longest winter they had had in years. Hopefully things would start to warm up. World’s would be coming up soon…

 

“For fuck’s sake, pig. It’s not enough he fucks you but he makes you wear his clothes, too?” Yuri huffed, plopping down far from gracefully on the couch across from him. It was the first time in a while that Yuuri could recall seeing him without a bruise or a bandage. “Or,” Yuri’s green eyes lit up mischievously, “Was it your decision?”

 

Yuuri didn’t answer. Georgi had mentioned he had gone to get them some food. Yuri must have perfectly timed that.

 

“I’m impressed,” the blonde continued. “A few simple words in Russian and wearing his clothes and you have him falling at your feet and calling you moya zvezda to every passing stranger in the street. Told you it would be easy.”

 

Jaw clenching and fingers curling around the book angrily Yuuri scowled. “And what has it done for me?”

 

Yuri scoffed in disbelief. “Are you joking? He’s brought you countless gifts that cost tens of thousands of Rubles and has had the maids make specific food to your liking. The katsudon isn’t half-bad, by the way. What more are you wanting after a few weeks? Your freedom?” The room erupted with Yuri’s roaring laughter. “Don’t get too ambitious, pig.”

 

“I just, for once, want to wake up one morning without him in me,” Yuuri’s voice shook with a sob, eyes cast down on the floor. He had accidentally ripped the page he was on.

 

“So then tell him that.”

 

“He’ll get angry,” Yuuri protested, trying to swallow back the tears and he smoothed out the page like he could somehow put it back together.

 

Suddenly, Yuri’s hands were gripping the armrests on either side of Yuuri, invading his personal space. Gasping in surprise, the Japanese man looked up through his glasses. Yuri lifted a hand and gently cupped Yuuri’s face. “Oh, Viktor, I know you just want to ravish me and fuck me senseless, but I’m feeling a little tired. Could we just cuddle, you think? I just love you so much and just want to be with you like this right now.” Yuri tapped the cheek before withdrawing. “See? Easy. With Viktor, it’s always about just making him think he’s getting something out of it.”

 

Georgi entered with two plates, frowning heavily as he spotted Yuri. They exchanged a quick conversation, Yuuri picking up a word or two, with the older man likely telling the blonde he wasn’t supposed to be here and to leave. One of these days, Yuuri would ask Yuri just what had happened between the two brothers to cause so much disdain. Somehow...it felt very important.

 

Yuri scurried off and Georgi set down the plate of food on the end table next to Yuuri. “What did he say to you?”

 

It had not taken much observation for Yuuri to realize that Georgi was the most loyal of Viktor’s watchdogs. Treading carefully around him was always a must. “It was nothing. It was just...lewd comments.” Georgi didn’t look like he necessarily believed him, but he dropped the subject.

 

The day passed by excruciatingly slow. It was easier when Mila was around because she was engaged, but Georgi ignores Yuuri in favor of Russian television or his own laptop. As hard as he tried, Yuuri couldn’t focus on the textbook in his lap and eventually dozed off with Makkachin at his feet. It was hard to tell what time of day it was when he was finally stirred awake with a shake of his shoulder, but it must have been evening.

 

“You are to join Viktor for dinner.” It was Yakov, much to Yuuri’s surprise.

 

Yuuri wiped at his eyes under his frames and straightened them on his nose. “Oh...I should change, I guess.”

 

“Go as you are,” he instructed firmly, wrinkles growing more defined in his frown. “Vitya won’t be made to wait.”

 

“O-ok,” Yuuri closed his book and set it aside, Makkachin giving a shake as he woke from his own slumber. Uncurling his legs from beneath him he stood, stretching his arms above his head before padding off down the hall. The house seemed far more quiet than normal and his uneasiness grew. When he got maybe ten feet from the door he stopped in his tracks. Beneath his foot was a blue rose petal that turned into a trail leading to the french doors that closed off the dining room. Yuuri’s heart was pounding against his chest as he hesitantly stepped forward and reached out for the handle.

 

Makkachin rushed past him into the room, greeting his master with a wagging tail. Viktor was dressed in an immaculate suit standing by the large window that took up most of the far wall. The room had a soft orange glow from the four candles lit on the table. It was only set for two. Was this the surprise? Ok...he could handle this, probably. Though, Yuuri suddenly felt very self-conscious in the too big sweater and jeans he was wearing, tugging at a sleeve in nervousness. Viktor looked so...perfect.

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor held out a hand, motioning for him to step closer. “Come here.”

 

Swallowing, Yuuri rounded the corner of the table and approached Viktor at the head. He hadn’t noticed he had been looking at the ground until Viktor’s fingers lifted his chin and they were gently kissing. Yuuri kept waiting for the hammer to fall, but his touches were soft and feather-like against his skin. Viktor brushed his bangs to the side before pushing them back and off his face. Just like...when he used to skate.

 

Moving to the buffet table on his left Viktor picked up what looked to be a vinyl record. “I want you to listen to something.” The cover looked well worn, like maybe this particular record had been played many times. Viktor placed it on the player and lowered the arm.

 

A soft melody of a piano and clarinet began to play.

 

Sento una voce che piange lontano

Anche tu, sei stato forse abbandonato?

 

Yuuri’s eyes grew impossibly wide as the familiar melody filled the room. His knees began to shake and he was afraid he might collapse. Stammi Vicino…this had been his free-skate music his last season. How...How did Viktor know about this? Why did he have this record?

 

Viktor’s fingers trailed lightly across the cherry wood of the record player. “I’ll never forget when I first saw you, Yuuri. You were so incredibly stunning that it brought tears to my eyes. I had never in my life seen something so beautiful...so pure. Blue really is your color, don’t you think?”

 

A shuddered gasp filled the air, Yuuri’s body freezing in place. Sochi. Viktor had been there. Viktor had seen him. Viktor had wanted him since the Grand Prix. All these thoughts starting swimming in his head in a destructive chaos.

 

“You took my breath away, Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice was soft, barely audible over the music. “This song...my mother used to listen to it. She studied abroad in Italy for a while and fell in love with the opera. She used to sing it to me when I was a child.” His fingers moved to graze lovingly over the worn cover. “When I saw you skate to this...your body - it made music without the music even playing. You reminded me so much of her...I knew then I had to have you.”

 

Viktor turned away from the record player and stepped into Yuuri’s space, both hands moving up to cup his face in the palms. “The judges were fools. You should have won gold. There was no one who rivaled you on the ice.” A thumb stroked his skin. Yuuri thought he might stop breathing. “I had heard you were taking a break and that you wouldn’t go on to World’s, but that you’d return next season. I rigged the assignments so that you’d have to go to Rostelecom. But...you never came.”

 

Yuuri whimpered as Viktor’s hands applied pressure, his blue eyes an uncertain mixture of anger and grief.

 

“I had read that you had retired,” Viktor’s eyes began to grow glossy in the candlelight.  “My beautiful masterpiece...I wanted so badly to fly to Japan and whisk you away...but relationships with the Yakuza were not good, you see. It took me months to mend it enough we were granted a meeting. And then...then I met this incredible dancer who reminded me so much of you.” Viktor smiled, leaning in so that their nose were brushing. “Imagine my delight, my Yuuri, when I discovered the day after it was you all along. Don’t you see, Yuuri? It was fate. We were always meant to be together.”

 

Hot tears poured down Yuuri’s cheeks, pooling on top of Viktor’s hands. So that was it. Yuuri had been doomed right from the very start. All of the small walls he had been working on building since his failed suicide attempt came crumbling down around him. There was no way out. There had never been a way out. His legs caved out beneath him and he tipped forward right against Viktor’s chest as he cried harder.

 

“Shh, lyubov moya, do not cry. It’s ok. We are finally together,” Viktor cooed as he wrapped his arms around Yuuri and kissed the top of his head.

 

This was his fault. All of this was his fault. If he had just had the guts to go with the program music his classmate had sent him none of this would have ever happened. Why? Why did he let his coach pick that music?!

 

Viktor was whispering something in Russian to him as he sat Yuuri down in an empty chair and fell to his knees in front of him. Yuuri refused to look at him, his hands trembling in his lap. “We are together, Yuuri, and you can finally make music for me again.”

 

Something heavy was placed on Yuuri’s lap and he blinked away the tears that were obstructing his vision. It was a crisply wrapped box. The size..the weight. Could it…? Shaking hands pulled at a tail of the blue bow and it came unraveled. Carefully, he ran his fingers underneath the tape and tore back the silver paper. The box was plain and gave no indication to what was inside, but the top popped off easily with nothing keeping it together. Yuuri gasped. Two brand new black leathered skates were cushioned in white paper, gold blades shining in the candle light.

 

Yuuri thought his heart might have stopped.

 

“I wanted to save this until after we ate of course,” Viktor chuckled, like he hadn’t just shattered Yuuri’s heart into a million pieces, “But I suppose it couldn’t wait. There’s a pond out back. It’s not very big, but it’s solid. Do you want to skate, Yuuri?”

 

Yuuri’s eyes darted up and grew wide, staring at Viktor for some sort of sign that this was just all some sick joke. He would rather endure being forcefully taken and made to bleed than to be lied to about this. “Can-...will...will you let me?”

 

“But of course,” Viktor rain his hand up Yuuri’s thigh. “It is, afterall, what made me fall in love with you.” Taking the box out of Yuuri’s lap he set it aside and rose to his feet. “How about we put off dinner, yes? It can wait.”

 

“N-now?” Yuuri asked in surprise.

 

“I don’t think I could wait another moment,” he breathed, pulling the skates from the box and handing them over to Yuuri. “I’ll go get us some coats and gloves. It is very cold out.”

 

Viktor left the room and Yuuri let out a gasp he had been holding in, clutching the skates as tightly as he could to his chest. What was the catch ? Did Viktor truly think he could take everything from Yuuri, make him suffer, and then let him skate and call that love? This wasn’t love. This was... bribery.

 

Any control Yuuri thought he had felt obliterated.

 

A heavy coat being wrapped around his shoulders pulled him from his thoughts. Viktor took the skates and helped Yuuri bundle up, finishing the look with a black hat, before handing back the previous gift. “Come, then. It is not far.”

 

Yuuri had never noticed before, but the large window had been a door all along, sliding to the side to what was likely a patio when it wasn’t buried in snow. The cold air sliced at his skin like a knife, but it felt like the most wonderful thing since Japan. It was the first time he had tasted fresh air since coming to Russia. Viktor led him down a few steps and to a lighted path, the lawn lanterns barely sticking out in the inches of snow they tread through. Makkachin bounded happily through the white powder. It crunched loudly beneath their shoes, echoing in the silent night air. Yuuri didn’t know if his shivers were from the cold or the anticipation. Maybe both.

 

True to his word, the pond was not far, and Yuuri could already see the slick untouched sheet of ice. It was small, but there was enough space to at least do some circles and a spin or two. Not like he could do too much in so much clothing. It didn’t matter. Just one glide across the ice would be enough. There was a small pile of large decorative stones that Yuuri wiped off and sat on, kicking off one shoe to slip in his foot. It was a perfect fit. Even through the gloves his fingers were going numb, and lacing the skate up proved far more difficult than it should have been to his frustration.

 

Eventually fumbling through to get both sets laced and secured he stood, carefully walking the few steps until he came to the edge of the ice. He hesitated. Was the ice really frozen solid? Was this just an easy way for Viktor to end him if he fell through and drowned? ...Would that even matter if it were true…? Yuuri took his first step and his blade glid across the ice smoothly. The boots were stiff, but they gave way to each motion after a little forced effort, Yuuri eventually able to do some crossovers.

 

He felt free.

 

The wind he created tousled his hair and bit angrily at his exposed cheeks. Yuuri could care less, spinning around so that he was skating backwards. Viktor’s gaze was burning a hole through his chest, a single finger to his lips as he watched. It was ok if Viktor thought that Yuuri was skating for him, because he wasn’t. He was skating for himself. Finally comfortable moving in the new skates, Yuuri lifted his right leg and started into a spin. It was a little shaky, but he came out of it gracefully, left leg extended behind him and arms up for balance.

 

Yuuri came to a stop at the sound of Viktor clapping. “Beautiful...just how I remember. We should find a proper rink for you to skate in so I can see you in all your glory.”

 

Yuuri could not dare to hope.

 

Holding out a hand, Viktor beckoned to him. “Come, it is too cold to stay out here for long. You will get sick.”


Clenching his jaw, Yuuri resisted the call for a moment before finally giving in and pushing off to meet Viktor at the edge. He didn’t want to leave the ice, but he was right. Already he could feel the chill all the way in his bones. It had to be several degrees below freezing. Viktor helped him out of the skates and back into his shoes and they made their way back up the short path to the dining room glass door.

 

As soon as they crossed into the warmth of the room Viktor was on him, lips crashing against his. Yuuri could feel his hardness against his thigh.

 

“You’re so cold, Yuuri,” Viktor breathed against him as he fingers began to undo the buttons on his coat. “We should get you warmed up.”

 

Yuuri stood there, limbs dangling limply at his sides as he let Viktor remove the scarf, hat, and jacket. His brown eyes stayed focused out the window as Viktor kissed down his neck with cold lips, staring at the ice he had just been on. Of course...Viktor would want something in return after his kindness. He allowed the hand on his shoulder to spin him around and shove him against the table, his palms bracing against the top to keep himself upright. The Russian wasted no time in pulling down Yuuri’s pants over the curve of his ass just enough so he was exposed.

 

A wet finger slid between his cheeks and slid right in with no resistance.

 

Yuuri jerked with a gasp in surprise and discomfort. He was still so sore and stretched from this morning, but what on earth was on Viktor’s fingers?! It wasn’t lube, but it was slick. Yuuri bit at his lip and stared down at the plate placed between his hands, deciding it was better to not know what foreign substance was helping Viktor scissor him. The head of Viktor’s cock circled his entrance before sliding home in a quick thrust, shoving him into the table’s edge where it dug painfully into his skin. Viktor grunted into his shoulder, hips snapping in deep and steady as he told him how beautiful he had been on the ice.

 

Yuuri’s eyes caught a glimpse of the abandoned skates out of the corner of his eye and he thought, just maybe for that, he could be bribed.

Chapter Text

Viktor watched earnestly as Yuuri’s body flew across the ice, a beautiful spread eagle leading into a triple axel. He’d been a little rusty at the start, falling a few times and then having to put a hand down to catch himself, but that was to be expected. It had been a while, afterall. Viktor would make sure, though, that Yuuri would be able to skate whenever he liked. Whenever Viktor liked.

 

“Vitya, I didn’t think I needed to voice what a terrible idea this is, but apparently I do,” Yakov’s voice was low and cautious. “Bringing that boy out in public like this is dangerous. Someone might recognize him.”

 

“It’s almost midnight, Yakov,” Viktor dismissed him, not taking his eyes off of Yuuri. “No one but us is here.”

 

“Maybe so, but is this really worth the risk?” The old man questioned. “Taking him out to a restaurant or a shop is one thing, but to bring a famous figure skater to an ice rink?”

 

Viktor ignored his comments, “Watch, Yakov. Do you see how he moves? It’s like I can hear the music being played through his body.”

 

“I see it, Vitya,” Yakov sighed, resigning himself to the fact he was getting nowhere with that topic of conversation. “He moves beautifully across the ice. But just because he can dance gracefully and skated to your mother’s song doesn’t make-,”

 

Viktor’s hand was on Yakov’s wrinkled face, fingers squeezing his chin hard for a quick second before they uncurled and his index finger rested gently against the man’s lips. “Think carefully before you finish that thought, Yakov.” Giving the chapped lips a tap he let his hand fall. Although the older man’s face remained stoic, Viktor had noticed the spark of fear in his eyes. Yakov did not finish his sentence.

 

A door slammed and all three sets of eyes immediately turned towards it, Yuuri stopping mid-spin at the loud noise. There was a clacking of heels and an older woman dressed in a large yellow coat briskly made her way towards the two men watching by the barrier. She grabbed Viktor gently by the arms and leaned in to kiss his cheeks.

 

“Vitya, you look well,” she spoke, ignoring Yakov entirely.

 

“Lilia, what are you doing here? It’s late,” Viktor asked, feeling himself soften at her touch.

 

“Out of nowhere you ask to use my rink in the middle of the night and for me to ensure you’d be completely alone. I had to see why,” Lilia explained, suddenly catching a glimpse of Yuuri who had gone back to skating. Her eyes went wide. “Vitya. That’s Yuuri Katsuki.”

 

Viktor let out a satisfied breath as Yuuri’s back arched beautifully in a Biellmann spin. Gorgeous. “Yes. It is.”

 

A shocked hand moved to Lilia’s mouth, her eyes glued to the skater on the ice. “So when he went missing several months ago, that was you?” Her voice was low and wavering. “Vitya, what have you done?”

 

“Taken what I wanted,” Viktor responded, a feeling of agitation growing in the pit of his stomach. It had been one thing when Lilia and Yakov had scolded him as a child after taking him in, but he was Pakhan now. He would not tolerate being treated like a child any longer.

 

“Vitya, it was all over the news when it happened! The police are surely looking for him!”

 

“And I have paid them handsomely to not look for him,” Viktor scowled, a hand tightening into a fist resting under his chin. “As long as he remains here in Russia with me, the police will ignore him.”

 

“Don’t waste your breath trying to lecture him,” Yakov huffed, brown furrowing in clear dislike of the situation. “I’ve already tried. More than once.”

 

Lilia averted her eyes from Viktor and watched as Yuuri landed a triple toe loop double salchow combination perfectly. “Viktor, Yuuri is welcome to come skate after hours all he wants, but several of my older and most promising students have keys to the facility. On occasion, they’ve been known to come out late. What happens if one of them sees?”

 

Viktor turned to face Lilia, lifting a gloved hand and placing it gently on her cheek to turn her head towards him. His thumb lovingly caressed the worn skin. “My beautiful prima. You and Yakov know more than anyone what I am capable of if I’m displeased. Having one of your students walk in on Yuuri would make me most unhappy.” He turned his hand and rubbed his knuckles against her cheek. “I really would hate to ruin such promising careers.”

 

Swallowing hard, Lilia shivered beneath Viktor’s touch. Lifting a shaking hand she placed it on his wrist and forced a smile. “Of course, Vitya. I will ensure my students know they are forbidden here after rink hours.”

 

Smiling warmly, Viktor stepped back. “I know that you will.”

 

“He could have been great,” Lilia whispered as Yuuri came out of a spin and into an ending pose.

 

“He is great,” Viktor corrected, Yuuri looking up and locking yes with him. A sharp intake of air entered his nose, an electric feeling surging through him as the man’s cinnamon eyes drew him in. He couldn’t wait to get them home.

 

Yuuri stepped into the shower as soon as they returned home. Viktor stripped down and waited under the covers, Makkachin at his feet as he scrolled through urgent emails and texts that couldn’t wait until morning. When Yuuri finally emerged in a baggy long-sleeved shirt and a pair of tight black briefs, Viktor felt his heart stop. Even like this, he was beautiful. Pulling back the comforter, Yuuri tucked himself in underneath the layers, his damp hair spilling around his head on the pillow.

 

The electric surge he felt at the rink turned into a thunderstorm. Viktor set his phone down on the nightstand and leaned down to capture Yuuri’s lips in a kiss, hands roaming up the too large shirt that he wore. God, Viktor loved his plush stomach.

 

“Viktor.”

 

Yes. Viktor sucked in an excited breath as he peppered kisses down Yuuri’s neck, rolling himself fully on Yuuri and slotting a knee between his legs.

 

“Viktor...please.”

 

Viktor groaned, ready pull down their pants and slam home right that instant, but Yuuri’s hands were pulling instead of pushing, and he found his eyes opening. Yuuri was frowning, his gaze immediately looking away from Viktor when their eyes met. Was...was Yuuri rejecting him? Viktor felt his jaw clench and his fingers curl angrily around the sheets.

 

“Viktor, I-I’m so sorry,” Yuuri apologized, voice far too small in their large room, “I’m just...I’m so tired after practice.”

 

Oh. Viktor relaxed, kissing Yuuri’s forehead. “Oh, lyubov moya , of course you are. It’s been so long since you’ve skated like that, and I saw your feet before you got in bed. I will help you bandage them in the morning. You might have overdone it.”

 

Yuuri smiled, so happy and relieved that Viktor was understanding. Viktor curled his arms around Yuuri’s torso and settled his head against his chest with a content sigh. There was always the morning, of course. No need to worry over one missed night. They’d have eternity.

 

Viktor felt Yuuri trail a hand up his back and then settle on his head, fingers gently massaging the scalp. With a surprised gasp Viktor’s heart swelled with warmth at the familiar motion. Being held like this...it was just like his mother used to do. With a trembling lip Viktor curled himself in around Yuuri as much as he could. Yuuri, how could I ever go another moment without you? Sighing, Viktor let himself be lulled to sleep by Yuuri’s gentle touches and embrace.

 

When Viktor woke the next morning, he found he had moved very little during the night. He was a little further up Yuuri, his face buried in the crook of his neck instead of his chest, but their legs were still tangled. Rolling onto his back he stretched his arms over his head and let out a pleased sigh, eventually resting his hand on Yuuri’s bare thigh. The younger man let out a distressed moan and flinched.

 

Gasping, Yuuri woke immediately, eyes wide open like a scared animal. “I-didn’t mean to. I...I’m just...sore.”

 

“Oh, my poor Yuuri,” Viktor frowned, upset that he was hurting. “I told you you overdid it. Hold on. I might be able to help.” Throwing off the covers and disturbing Makkachin, Viktor padded to the bathroom and searched through the various items in his cabinet before reaching in and grabbing one. It was an oil specifically designed for muscle relaxation. Returning to the bed he crawled on his knees to straddle Yuuri and pulled down the covers so that he was exposed. Popping the cap open he poured a generous amount onto his hands and then slid his hands over a thick thigh.

 

Yuuri gasped and immediately bit at his lower lip, trying to keep the moan from escaping. Oh, how Viktor wanted to hear those moans. His fingers began to knead the flesh, trying to work out the knots and tension in the muscles. His fingers brushed across the scar on the inside of Yuuri’s left leg and he paused, his thumb rubbing lightly over the sensitive new flesh. Even still, it felt like that very knife was twisting in Viktor’s heart. But Yuuri was alive, and he was his.

 

Small whimpers filled the air, but it wasn’t enough. Viktor wanted to hear him. He wanted the moans to fill the room until it burst. His right hand reached down beneath the hem of Yuuri’s briefs and pulled out hot flesh, the oil making it all too easy to stroke. Yuuri finally let loose a full blown moan, his head falling back against the pillow. Licking his lips in excitement Viktor continued to pump with his right hand and massage his leg with the other.

 

“Does it feel good, Yuuri?” Viktor breathed, wrist twisting at the base, the younger man finally growing hard in his hand. Viktor could feel his flannel pajama pants growing tight around his own hardening length. Yuuri draped his arm across his face and his his bucked up into Viktor’s hand. “God, Yuuri. Do you know? Do you know what you do to me?”

 

Eventually, he was unable to hold out any longer and he stopped massaging Yuuri’s leg to reach into his own pants and start stroking himself in rhythm with his other hand. Closing his eyes and letting his head fall back with an open mouth he began to stroke harder, the oil against skin making an obscene wet sound as he moved quicker. Yuuri came first, seizing beneath him and crying out silently as white spurt over his chest and onto his sweater. Pushing down his pants he hovered over Yuuri and came moments later with a loud groan, his own seed mixing with Yuuri’s on his stomach.

 

Sitting back on his heels with a sated sigh Viktor released his hold on himself and moved back to Yuuri’s legs. “Do you feel better? More relaxed?” Yuuri’s nod was small, clearly overwhelmed from his orgasm. His legs were shaking beneath his fingers. With a chuckle he pulled back, “I’ll draw us a bath. I don’t think you could stand if we tried to shower.”

 

They soaked until their skin began to prune, Yuuri’s back to Viktor’s chest as he happily washed and combed the other man’s hair. The last twenty-four hours had made Viktor so happy he thought his heart might literally burst from his chest. It was well known in the many interviews and articles that Yuuri was a shy man, but he was finally opening himself to Viktor. He was allowing himself to feel Viktor’s love.

 

They dressed, Viktor in his usual pressed suit and Yuuri in a comfortable but expensive sweater. Viktor found he much preferred the look on Yuuri. Somehow, a suit wasn’t quite right for daily use. Though, he made a note that he should get a tailored suit for a very special occasion. Yuuri would be quite divine in it.  

 

Viktor had their breakfast brought to their room, Yuuri still coming down from their morning activities. It was such a sight that Viktor did not want to share it with anyone else. They ate, Viktor telling Yuuri about the things he had to do for the day. He’d get to stay home, but he’d have many calls and emails to address in his office. At least there, he’d have his Yuuri.

 

Still, it was a bother having Yuuri so close and yet be so unattainable for the day. As much as he wanted to lay kisses all over him he had business to attend to. It was made bearable by the fact he could look at him on his calls, brown furrowed in thought behind large glasses while he studied his Russian. Occasionally, Viktor would ask him a simple question in Russian. Yuuri would mostly answer correctly. He was quite the quick study.

 

Lunch came and went and there was a lull in his duties. It was as good as time as any. Yuri had been back in St. Petersburg for a few days now. Georgi had confirmed he was in the house today. Sending a quick text to Georgi to fetch his brother, he waited. He wanted to do this now. In front of Yuuri. To make his point more real.

 

“You wanted to see me, Pakhan ?” Yuri spat, a horrid looking tiger printed hoodie over his dress shirt.

 

Viktor was very particular about how the people in his organization dressed. Yuri, of course, knew this, but as always he felt the need to push Viktor’s limits with everything he did. Drawing in a slow breath, Viktor simply smiled and beckoned him to move closer. No, this was his moment. It was his day to push. “Where have you been off to lately, Yura? I’ve missed you.”

 

Yuri scoffed, brows furrowing into an angry line. “Yeah right. Cut the shit. What do you want?”

 

Smiling, Viktor stood from his desk and slowly made his way around to the front. He could see where Yuuri looked up from his studies with a curious eye, but his Russian was nowhere near good enough to understand their conversation. Nor would he want to, with what was to come. Standing shoulder-to-shoulder with his brother, Viktor lifted a hand a brushed a knuckle across his cheek, Yuri flinching away in disgust. “I know that you keep going to Almaty, Yura.”

 

Huffing, Yuri stuck up his nose. “So what? I’ve been using your credit card to book my flights. It’s not like I’ve been trying to keep it some big secret. And what does it matter? You haven’t exactly been giving me anything to do.”

 

“Well, you seem far too busy doing someone else, it seems,” Viktor hummed, circling Yuri slowly. That finally drew the reaction he was looking for. “You’ll give Otabek my regards next time you see him, yes? Oh,” Viktor came to a halt in his movements, placing a finger against his lips with a feigned shocked expression. “I forgot. You likely won’t be seeing him again.”

 

“What?!” Yuri’s eyes went wide, a mixture of anger and hurt. “What are you going to do to him?!”

 

“Oh, nothing,” Viktor assured him with a wave of dismissal. “Otabek is far too valuable an asset just to kill him to prove a point to you. I can do that in far more effective ways. Like forbidding you from seeing him again.”

 

“You can’t do that!” Yuri cried, a hint of tears forming.

 

Finally. He’d found what hurt. “Maybe,” Viktor leaned in with a low growl, “You’ll think about what I can do to you next time you try and take something precious from me. Though,” he cradled Yuri’s chin in his hand as he slithered in behind him, turning his face to look at Yuuri who shrunk under the Russians’ gazes. “If he really had died that day, you would have lost something precious, too, wouldn’t you?”

 

Yuri’s whole body froze beneath Viktor’s touch. “...what are you talking about?”

 

“Even though I have strictly ordered you not to be around Yuuri, I am told you are around him quite a bit, Yura,” Viktor mentioned, sliding his arms down across Yuri’s chest to pull him in close. “You always did want whatever I had, ever since you were a child.”

 

“You are crazy!” Yuri exclaimed, trying to wiggle out of Viktor’s embrace but to little use. There was a tremble in his voice.

 

Viktor grinned, forcing Yuri to look at Yuuri again. “I don’t blame you. Look at him. He’s the most beautiful thing on the planet. Especially when he dances on the ice. Wouldn’t you agree? Or was it by accident that you have been looking up all of his skating videos from his competition days?” Viktor could finally smell the fear dripping off of Yuri and he breathed it in, relishing it. “He’ll never be yours, of course, but I can be merciful. I’ve decided to lift my ban on your visits with him.” Viktor’s lips moved so they hovered over Yuri’s ear. “Instead, you’ll spend every waking moment with him knowing that you’ll never have him.”

 

Chuckling, Viktor released his brother and left him to stand in shock as he held out a hand towards Yuuri. “Yuuri! My beautiful Yuuri. I was just telling Yura here that I think we can all put aside our differences with what happened. It was all a misunderstanding and Yuri would like to apologize by helping you with your studies and keeping you company while I’m gone. Isn’t that wonderful?” Wrapping his arms around Yuuri’s arms he pulled the man to his feet and scooped him into a kiss.

 

It was impossible how every time they touched Viktor could feel fire in his veins, and yet, the impossible persisted. Yuuri’s taste was so addicting that Viktor felt like he could drown in it and it would not be enough. Breaking the kiss, he threw a glance over his shoulder to look at Yuri’s shaking body. “Oh, do you plan on staying to watch, then?” Yuri rushed out, slamming the door behind him. A storm of satisfaction rumbled in his core.

 

Nuzzling Yuuri’s cheek he let out a disappointed sigh. “I want to ravish you in a way you most deserve right now, my Yuuri, but there is simply not enough time.” Lifting Yuuri up by the waist he set him down on the desk. “Won’t you ever forgive me, lyubov moya ?”

 

Yuuri’s eyes were cast down and his hand rested gently against Viktor’s tie. “You’ll....you’ll make it up to me, won’t you?”

 

Breathing out a sigh of promise, Viktor smiled. “But of course.”

 

Yuuri was silent for several moments before he wrapped his fingers around Viktor’s tie and tugged. He looked Viktor directly in the eye. “No. I want more than just you. I...I want something.”

 

Viktor’s heart stopped in his chest in surprise and sheer lust at what had just occurred. Yuuri’s eyes were full of want and his breath caught in his throat. Who was this new Yuuri with so much courage? “Like what, Yuuri? Anything. Anything for you.”

 

Yuuri’s jaw clenched, eyes narrowing in thought. “Something... krasivaya .”

 

It took absolutely everything for Viktor not to completely lose himself, drop his pants, and bend Yuuri over the desk right then. It was too much. “Oh Yuuri...there is nothing more krasivaya than you. But...of course. I will bring you something most beautiful and wonderful. You deserve only the grandest.” With a mournful sigh he kissed Yuuri one last time. “Makkachin could use a walk. I have business to attend in here I’d rather you not be present for.”

 

Quietly, Yuuri nodded and hopped off the desk, calling to Makkachin and opening and closing one of the doors to the office as quietly as he could. With a disappointed groan Viktor sunk back into his leather chair. It was hard to be parted from Yuuri but there were conversations best left alone. There was a soft knock on the door and Georgi entered.

 

“Yuri is furious,” he said, casually taking a seat in the chair directly opposite Viktor over the desk. “He’s breaking things.”

 

“Then he will pay for them,” Viktor responded simply. “Good to know I struck a nerve. It’s about time he knew what that felt like.”

 

Georgi’s expression was unreadable, as always. It’s what Viktor liked best about him. “Do you think it’s wise, Pakhan? To leave Yura with Yuuri? Alone? What if you are wrong and he does not care about him? He could very well try and injure him again. I will not take kindly to you being hurt again, Pakhan.”

 

Viktor absently slid his fingers across the loose leaf papers on his desk. Georgi was his most loyal. His most fierce. His most trustworthy of all. “Yuri will not test me further than he already has at this point. I have taken away his only means of escape.”

 

Georgi sucked in a deep breath, unconvinced. “Perhaps so...but Pakhan...what if you are right?”

Chapter Text

There were no bruises or breaks marring Yuri’s skin after the encounter with Viktor, but Yuuri knew that Viktor had said something that hurt beneath the surface. As promised, Yuri was with him the moment Viktor left his side for business the next morning, but he was not his usual talkative self. Instead, the blonde looked like he was constantly about to cry as he stared at his phone.

 

Yuuri pondered for a good while whether or not he should ask, but so much silence with the younger Yuri was unbearable. If it had been Georgi, it would have been welcome, but this was only strange. “Chto sluchilos'?

 

Zatknis' .” Yuri hissed in response, his green eyes unmoving from the screen.

 

Well, at least his attitude hadn’t suffered from whatever happened. That was a phrase Yuuri had made sure to take note of early, knowing it would likely be thrown at him often. “Sorry, I just thought-,”

 

Yuri looked up this time. “Oh, I’m sorry, maybe your Russian still sucks and you didn’t understand that. I said, shut the fuck up. I may have to be here and babysit you, but I don’t have to listen to you. Got it?”

 

Before, Yuuri would have backed down, but Yuri had been teaching him this entire time to stand up for himself. To fight back. “For someone who wants something from me, you sure aren’t helping much, are you?”

 

Slamming his phone down on the cushion, Yuri leaned forward threateningly. “Oh, look who finally grew a pair. Too. Fucking. Late. You took too long to stop being such a pussy and now I’m fucking miserable because of it! So excuse me if I really don’t give a fuck about you right now.”

 

“I’m trying!” Yuuri cried, hands trembling as they curled into a ball. God, he was trying. He had been terrified two nights ago coming back from the rink and turning down Viktor’s advances. Even after Viktor had settled against his chest and showed no signs of taking it further, his hands had still trembled as they stroked silver locks. It was small, and yet, it was still a victory in the end. It had opened the courage to take Viktor’s tie and practically ask for it the next day when he had shooed him out of the office. Thankfully, Viktor had been too tired that night to do much. Yuuri had gotten lucky. The brand new and expensive watch on his wrist was just more proof that he was making progress.

 

“Try harder,” Yuri growled, settling back into the couch. “Fix it. If you want back into my good graces, then you will fix what Viktor has done to me.”

 

“How am I supposed to fix something I know nothing about?” Yuuri spat back. “I have no idea what he said to you in the office. Hell, I have no idea why he hates you in the first place!”

 

Yuri smiled. It sent a chill up Yuuri’s spine, squashing the flame that had momentarily ignited beneath his skin. “You wanna know why Viktor hates me? Alright. Viktor hates me because our asshole dad cheated on his mom with my mom. Viktor hates me because his mom became so depressed over it she killed herself right in front of him when he was nine. Viktor hates me because I look just like our old man and I remind him of that fucker every time he looks at me. And now, that psychopath motherfucker thinks I’m in love with you and has banned me from seeing the one person I actually give a damn about! Does that answer your question?!”

 

Oh. God. Yuuri’s fingers covered the lower half of his face as he tried to process everything Yuri had just told him. Viktor’s mother. So that’s why he especially responded when Yuuri had held him like his own mother used to back in Hasetsu. He was only nine? What an awful thing for anyone to have to experience, even someone like Viktor. Was that why he was like this…? So crazy?  “Why does Viktor think you...love me?”

 

“Because he’s a paranoid fucker that thinks anyone who so much as looks at you is going to steal you from him,” Yuri responded, words full of spite. “Do you still not get it? That’s the sort of power you have over him and you aren’t even using it!”

 

“Fine,” Yuuri slammed his book shut and set it aside, brown eyes dark and locked on Yuri. “Fine. I’ll fix things between you and Viktor. I’ll make him leave you alone. But, then I want something in return.” Yuri spread his arms and hands wide, an invitation for Yuuri to continue. “I want you to help me escape.”

 

Yuri threw back his head and laughed. “So then Viktor could kill me as soon as you were on your way? That doesn’t sound like an even trade to me, Katsudon. I’ve said it once already: escape isn’t an option for you. You had your chance on that one.”

 

As much as he tried to hold it back, Yuuri couldn’t help but release a frustrated whine, tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. “Then why would I bother helping you!?”

 

“Because,” Yuri crossed his legs, “I can teach you how to be just as good as free. Having Viktor wrapped around your finger is one thing, but knowing how to use him is another. You want to skate again, don’t you? Competitively?”

 

“Viktor would never allow that,” Yuuri argued.

 

“Sure he would,” Yuri countered. “You just have to know how to ask. You’d be Russian, now, and skate for our country. You’d have to learn to keep your mouth shut during interviews. When people ask you what happened over the past year, you simply shrug and say you needed a break. Next question.”

 

Would he? Would Viktor really allow it? And could Yuuri even do it? He’d never been a good liar. You didn’t just up and disappear and change your citizenship for no reason. There would be too many questions. But...if there was even that chance. “...Fine. I’ll pull Viktor away from you and in return you help me get everything I want other than my freedom.”

 

Yuri grinned, green eyes dark. “Deal.”

 

There was a sigh of relief that left his mouth, but something still nagged at the back of his mind. A question he needed to ask. “Yuri...if Viktor ever...if he ever died, that would make you Pakhan, wouldn’t it?”

 

A low rumble of a chuckle left the Russian’s lips. “Don’t allow yourself to linger on that thought, Katsudon. There’s no way you’re gonna be able to kill Viktor, and even if you did, you wouldn’t make it past Yakov and Georgi alive. If Viktor is gone, they don’t care if you’re dead or not.”

 

“N-no! No! That’s not,” Yuuri swallowed hard. “I just mean...isn’t that what you really want? Why haven’t you ...you know, tried?”

 

Yuri was silent for a moment, tapping his foot idly in the air. “Who says I haven’t?”

 

Oh. Yuuri looked away, embarrassed that he even thought to ask it. “If...if it ever happened though, would you let me go?”

 

Another laugh. “Sure, Katsudon. I’d let you go. I sure as hell don’t want my cock up your ass.”

 

Yuuri could feel his heart jump.

 

Hope.

 

/*/

 

“This is for you,” Mila dropped something down in Yuuri’s lap.

 

Yuuri picked it up. It was a Russian passport. With wide eyes he opened it and there was a picture of himself with the name Yuuri Nikiforov printed in black. “A passport? Why do I need this?”

 

“We’re going to Milan!” She beamed.

 

Yuri scowled, “Ugh. The Crispinos again? Don’t they hold enough of these parties? All it is is everyone sitting around nervously with their finger on the trigger waiting for someone else to draw first.”

 

“Don’t worry, Yura, you’re coming, too!”

 

“I am not!” Yuri growled, gripping his phone tightly. “I hate Italy, and I hate that family!”

 

Yuuri pointed to himself in confusion. “But why am I going?”

 

Mila grinned and snaked her arms around Yuuri from behind. “Because, it’s your first job for the family.”

 

“What?!” Both Yuuris exclaimed in unison.

 

“These parties are a way of gaining Viktor’s favor. He does control most of Eurasia, but he does that by always being one step ahead. Important intel came in that Michele, the don of the Crispino family, has documents on several of their trade routes for illegal shipments. Viktor wants that information,” Mila explained.

 

“B-but, how am I supposed to get that?” Yuuri questioned nervously. This was too soon! And way too much responsibility!

 

Mila giggled, “By seducing him, of course.”

 

Yuuri almost choked on his own breath. “I thought that was your job?!”

 

“Tch, that hag isn’t Michele’s type,” Yuri hissed.

 

Oh. God. “I can’t. There’s no way I can do that.”

 

Mila gave him a comforting pat on his cheek. “Don’t worry, love, I’ll give you a crash course in the art of seduction and I’ll be in your ear the entire time at the party to guide you through it. I hear he gets flustered over any sort of attention, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.”

 

“This is going to be a great disaster I can’t wait to see,” Yuri snorted as he turned his attention back to his phone.

 

The flight to Milan was relatively short, especially when Yuuri compared it to when he’d have to fly for competitions from Japan. Especially since Viktor had predictably sprung for first class for all of them - including Yuri to his surprise. Without any sort of music or laptop to entertain him, he stuck to sleeping, though he ended up only being able to nod off just as they were starting to land. There was too much going on in his brain. Too much anxiety over what he’d have to do that night.

 

Mila had walked him through some things, and as promised, he had been given an earpiece to wear throughout the night. But, still, he could barely manage to seduce Viktor on any given night and now he was supposed to seduce someone he didn’t even know. Yuri was probably right in that it would be a complete disaster.

 

The hotel they checked into was massive and more lavish than anything Yuuri had ever stayed in before. The bathroom itself seemed larger than most hotel rooms and the bed could realistically fit four people, probably. They had a late lunch at a cafe down the street, Viktor and Mila happily chatting away while Yuri stayed silent with a permanent scowl on his face. As the sun began to set, Viktor and Yuuri both dressed in their tuxedos. Viktor had bought it specifically for tonight’s event and Yuuri couldn’t remember a time he felt more uncomfortable. It likely cost more than Yuuri’s entire closet combined. Yuri looked barely put together, likely on purpose, and Mila wore a sparkling blue dress that showed the entirety of her back.

 

Yuuri walked into the huge mansion arm-and-arm with Viktor, clutching to him like a safety net. They had just entered a house full of mobsters and the only person any of them feared was Viktor. Immediately upon seeing him, Yuuri noticed everyone around them starting to whisper to one another in various different languages. The tone of the entire place seemed to change.

 

“Ah, Viktor Nikiforov! Welcome!”

 

Looking up the stairs Yuuri easily found who belonged to the accented voice that had just spoken. His skin was tanned with light brown hair. A beautiful woman with long dark hair and a violet dress was hanging off his arm as they descended.

 

“That’s Michele and his sister, Sara,” Mila leaned in and whispered to Yuuri.

 

Yuuri could feel his nerves began to grow exponentially as the don and his sister approached them. Viktor released him momentarily to embrace Michele and exchange kisses on the cheek. Yuuri was quick to take back his arm after their greeting, remembering what Mila had told him the day before.

 

“Everyone there is jealous of Viktor. They all want to be him, and they all want what he has. Make Michele jealous of Viktor for having you. Make him want you on his arm. Give him the smallest of glances to catch his interest, but then give all your attention back to Viktor until Michele starts to beg for it.”

 

Their eyes locked, and Yuuri could hear the small gasp that left the Italian’s lips. His gaze lingered for a few seconds before he looked away and smiled up at Viktor. “Viktor, won’t you introduce me?” He snuggled closer to his arm and heard Mila whisper a soft ‘good’ in his ear.

 

“Ah, how rude of me, lyubov moya, ” Viktor apologized, kissing the top of his head. “Michele, this is Yuuri.”

 

Michele held out hand, asking for Yuuri’s. Yuuri hesitated, making sure to give the hand a questioning look before finally giving in. A chaste kiss was placed against the skin. “Yuuri...it is a great pleasure to meet your acquaintance. This is my sister, Sara.” He released his hand and pulled his sister in tightly to his side.

 

“Ciao,” she smiled, her eyes glittering in the light.

 

“I hope you enjoy the party, as always, Viktor. I have brought out only the finest of spumante and wines for your tasting pleasure,” Michele said.

 

“I never leave disappointed,” Viktor responded, taking a glass of spumante from a waitress as they passed by.

 

Yuuri could practically see Michele’s chest swell with pride at the compliment. “You’ll let me know if there’s anything you need, won’t you?”

 

“Of course,” Viktor promised, taking a sip of the liquid.

 

Michele dipped his head in acknowledgement and led Sara away to greet some other guests. Yuuri took a good look around the room, trying to take in everyone and everything as best he could. It was just then he noticed Yuri had run off at some point and was nowhere to be seen. Probably for the best.

 

Mila placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go over to one of the food tables and linger. Keep passing him glances until he really starts to notice you, and draw him in. It’s just like trying to to get a new customer while you're dancing, yes?”

 

Licking his lips and swallowing, Yuuri nodded. He could do that. It was something he’d done many times before when he spotted someone who looked like they were ready to unload their wallets on the stage. Hell, he’d done it with Viktor. This was safe territory. Responding with a nod, he untangled himself from Viktor and walked over to the food table, trying to move like he did when he was just coming out for his performance on stage.

 

Casting a glance over towards Michele he grabbed a flute of spumante and took a large gulp. Just barely, Michele’s eyes darted his directly. Mila had slipped in and started chatting up Sara as a distraction, their conversation a comforting presence in his ear. It was fairly innocuous, the two women complimenting each other’s dresses and looks. Minutes passed, and several more glances between the two, and yet Michele still had not moved. Yuuri sighed out of frustration, quickly growing bored of standing there.

 

Mila laughed in his ear. “Goodness, Sara, it’s like you’re not even trying!”

 

Yuuri immediately felt himself turn hot at the comment that was undoubtedly meant for him. Downing the flute in his hand he set it aside and grabbed another as well as a piece of food skewered on a toothpick. He waited until Michele looked over his shoulder again and then popped it in his mouth, tongue swirling around it seductively as the man watched.

 

Finally , Michele made a move, joining him at the table. “Did Viktor leave you to the wolves already?”

 

“Hmm?” Yuuri hummed innocently as he chewed the food. He had no idea what it was, but at least it tasted alright. “What do you mean?”

 

“He's left you all alone over here,” Michele clarified, grabbing his own piece of food to eat.

 

“Oh, well, he is a busy man,” Yuuri shrugged, although he was sure to keep his shoulders slumped and a pout on his lips. The glasses probably weren't helping his look, but he'd at least slicked back his hair.

 

Michele frowned, “It must be lonely for you.”

 

Yuuri turned, making sure their shoulders brushed as he did so. “No more than it must be for you.”

 

“Oh, very nice!” Mila cooed into his ear.

 

The man blushed, taking a moment to look away. “I have my sister, at least.”

 

“That’s not creepy at all.”

 

Smiling, Yuuri reached out a hand and laid just the tip of his fingers across Michele’s on the table, his eyes gazing up beneath his glasses. “But surely...you crave more?” Yuuri could feel the pulse in his neck beating wildly. God, he couldn't believe he just said that.

 

Michele turned a brighter shade of red than Yuuri had ever even seen on himself, and he coughed, retracting his hand from Yuuri’s touch. “I-I can’t say that I’ve ever really thought about it.”

 

Mila was right. He flustered easily. It reminded Yuuri of some of his clients that had clearly been dragged to the club unwillingly. Many times he had been paid to give them his undivided attention, no matter how unwanted it had been for some of them. Michele looked just like one of them, eyes wide with uncertainty. Getting that reaction always seemed to give him confidence. Maybe that’s why he was always so scared around Viktor? Viktor never seemed to...falter.

 

With a bright grin, Yuuri grabbed Michele’s arm and wrapped himself around the man. “Show me around! It’s the least you can do since Viktor has left me all alone.”

 

“Perfect, Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri could feel a burst of confidence blooming beneath his chest, Michele nervously agreeing and guiding him up the stairs with a string of anxious babbles. God, how was this man the head of a mafia organization?


/*/

 

Well done, Viktor thought to himself as he watched Michele lead Yuuri away. He was only just beginning to uncover the surface of Yuuri Katsuki and all the wonders he held.

 

“Pakhan,” Guang-Hong greeted as he strolled up next to Viktor in a gold and black colored suit. It complimented his pale skin and chestnut hair beautifully. “It's good to see you again.”

 

“Dragon Master,” Viktor responded in kind, sipping his spumante.

 

Guang-Hong watched as Yuuri cast Viktor a glance over his shoulder before he and Michele disappeared, a promise in those cinnamon eyes. “I see your plan to push him into your arms has worked quite nicely, as costly to me as it was.”

 

“Oh come now, Guang-Hong,” Viktor smirked, “That man of yours was a waste of fresh air. Yuuri didn't even have to try to catch his eye.”

 

“He didn't have to try very hard with you, either,” he rebutted.

 

Viktor's jaw drew right at the jab. “And I was ever patient in getting what was mine. You act like I asked you to soil your own hands. If I recall, your American dog did the dirty work, as usual, and I rewarded you handsomely for your flawless acting.”

 

Leo’s eyes met his from across the room. A noticeable blush crept across his cheeks in reaction. “The Pakhan is too kind.”

 

Viktor lifted his hand and brushed a few fingers under Guang-Hong's chin. “Don't ever forget what I do to protect you from the other Dragon Masters, Guang-Hong. If the Triad ever found out that blood had never painted your perfect skin and that an American was really leading your division, well-,” he chuckled, “I can only imagine just how many swords they'd impale you with.”

 

Guang-Hong's brown eyes fluttered shut in defeat and acknowledgment. “Whatever you ask of me, you have my hand.”

 

Viktor smiled, turning his attention back to his spumante flute. “Wonderful. Now, go tell your dog to stop growling at me from all the way over there. If he’s going to get jealous at least tell him to have the courtesy to stake proper claim to you in public.”

 

The Chinese man’s eyes darkened. “Not all our relationships are based on the idea of slave and master, Pakhan. Some simply like to be equal. ” He placed his empty glass on a waiter’s tray and walked away.

 

“I see you're making friends again,” Mila cooed as she strolled up next to Viktor, taking his free arm in hers.

 

“As always,” Viktor hummed behind his glass. “Aren’t you supposed to be watching Yuuri?”

 

“I’m listening,” Mila promised. “He’s doing fine. I’ll follow after in a moment. I don’t want to look too suspicious, now do I?”

 

Viktor lifted a hand and gently brushed a red curl behind her ear. “As if anyone could ever find you suspicious, kukla.

 

Mila purred in appreciation of the gesture. “That boy is here, did you see? The one Yura has been sneaking away all the time to fuck. Did you know?”

 

“Of course I knew,” Viktor replied, giving his head a small shake to move his bangs from his eyes.

 

“That’s cruel, Vitya,” Mila whined, her finger trailing down the side of Viktor’s face. “Teasing him like that.”

 

“Is it? Here I thought I was being merciful by letting them meet one last time.”

 

Mila took the flute of spumante from Viktor’s hand and downed the rest of it before handing it back. “It’s cruel,” she repeated before sauntering her way off towards the stairs Yuuri had ascended with Michele moments before, her hips swaying with purpose.

 

Viktor knew very well how cruel it was.

 

/*/

 

“And this is the office, though there really isn’t much to see here,” Michele blubbered on, a nervous hand scratching at the back of his neck.

 

This was where he needed to be. Oh god, what did he do now?  He really hadn’t planned on getting this far. The laptop was right there, right in front of him. Yuuri smiled politely and pointed to a painting, trying to buy himself some more time. “Oh, what’s this?”

 

“You need to get him out of the room. Make him somehow trust you enough to leave you in there for a moment alone.”

 

How?! Yuuri could feel the nerves coming back with every second of passed and he began to panic. Placing himself in front of Michele he set his palms firmly against the man’s chest and gave him an innocent smile, even though he was screaming inside. “You know, I was thinking, enough of all this small talk-,”

 

The double doors to the office flew open. “MICKEY! There you are!!” Yuuri stumbled backwards in surprise at the sudden intrusion. A man, clearly drunk, with long sandy hair and bright blue eyes was wearing a huge grin on his face, a full bottle of spumante in one of his hands.

 

“Emil?!” Michele squeaked in shock. “What are you doing here?! I told you you couldn’t come tonight!”

 

“Emil?! Shit, I didn’t realize he was even still around.” Mila’s voice crackled, the connection less than stellar in the office. “Ok, we can actually work with this. Offer them a threesome.”

 

“WHAT?!” Yuuri squealed, throwing his hands to his mouth as he realized he said it outloud.

 

“Just get them both outside the room and I’ll take care of the rest!”

 

If Yuuri wasn’t panicking before, he sure was now. Oh god, what was he supposed to do?

 

“Oh, Mickey,” Emil’s eyes widened as he finally took notice of Yuuri. “Who is this?!”

 

With a nervous chuckle, Yuuri brushed back a strand of hair that had fallen back into his face and grabbed Michele’s arm. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realize that you already had someone. How silly of me!”

 

Michele’s eyes grew incredibly wide. “What? No! That’s not-,”

 

Emil wrapped his arms around Michele and rubbed his scruffy cheek against the other man. “He’s really great, isn’t he?”

 

“Ahaha, yeah,” Yuuri was pretty sure he was going to self-destruct and ruin everything. This was a complete disaster, just like Yuri had predicted.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

“We-ell, we can always just, you know, include all th-three of us,” Yuuri blurted out, almost choking on his words.  Michele looked like he was going to faint, and Emil looked like it was Christmas morning.  “Why don’t you two just - um - go get what we need, and I’ll wait, right here?” He tried to take a seat on the desk seductively, but it was downright awful and he ended up knocking something off.

 

Emil only seemed to grow more delighted. “Ok! Come on, Mickey!”

 

“What?! No!” Michele tried to argue, but Emil had a firm hold on him and was slightly bigger in build, easily dragging him out of the office.

 

Yuuri quickly slammed the doors shut and slid down them to the floor with a sob. Breathe, breathe, breathe! Oh shit, he was full on going into a panic attack, wasn’t he? His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode and he’d die right here in this room.

 

“Yuuri, now is not the time to freak out. You still have a job to do.”

 

“I can-I can’t,” Yuuri cried, tears streaming down his cheeks as he curled in on himself.

 

“Yuuri. Listen to me. All you have to do is put the USB into the laptop and it will take care of everything, ok? I promise I won’t let Michele and Emil back into that room until you are long gone.”

 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Yuuri kept listening to himself breathe until he felt himself calm down enough he felt he could stand without collapsing. Slowly, he made his way to the computer and turned it on, taking the USB out of his pocket and placing it in a slot. The login screen popped up, clearly asking for a password. “Mila! It’s asking for a password!”

 

“Just - mmn - let the program - ah - run!”

 

Was that…? Were those...moans? Yuuri could feel himself light on fire in embarrassment. Was she doing something with Emil and Michele?! A muffled voice said something in the speaker. It was not Mila but it was certainly another female. Suddenly, the login screen changed to the main desktop. A pop-up came up with a completion scroll bar, the green rectangle steadily moving from 0 towards 100%.

 

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF MY SISTER!”

 

Yuuri yelped in surprise as Michele’s voice screamed inside of his ear. He stared at the screen, pleading it to move quicker.

 

“Mickey, stop it!” It was Sara.

 

“H-how dare you lay your hands on her like that!”

 

“Why? She seemed to like it.” Mila taunted.

 

The bar reached 100% and Yuuri yanked it from the machine, quickly putting it in his pocket and ripping out the earpiece. He couldn’t take this anymore. Crashing through the doors he ran down the hall back the direction Michele had originally led them. When he came to a fork he saw the fighting four at the end of the hallway on the right. Mila and Sara were both in a state of undress, Sara pulling her garment up over her upper half and Mila not even bothering, the blue fabric still pooled around her ankles. She winked at him.

 

Yuuri ran the other way, stopping at the first set of doors he came to and hiding in the room. He had to get away. He couldn’t be around this anymore! His hand lingered on the doorknob as he shut it, the flesh trembling.

 

“What the fuck ?! Katsudon?!”

 

Yuuri gasped, spinning around. Yuri was there with some other man, dark skin and and black hair with an undercut. He was missing the entire upper half of his clothes and Yuri’s shirt was completely unbuttoned and he was missing his lower half, his erection standing proud smeared with spit.  Yuuri gasped, his heart catching in his throat as Yuri slammed a hand by his head against the door, his dick rubbing against Yuuri’s thigh. “I’m so-sorr-,”

 

“Get, the fuck, out,” Yuri hissed, grabbing onto Yuuri’s collar with his other hand. After Yuuri nodded in acknowledgement he yanked hard, pulling their faces close. “And don’t you dare tell Viktor about this, do you understand me?!”

 

Yuuri whimpered and he was let go, his body quickly slipping back out of the room with a loud and uncontrolled sob. He had to get back to Viktor. It was the only place he felt protected. Felt safe. Wiping at his tears he rose himself back up and tried to make his way the remaining length of the hall towards the stairs and the loud chatter from the guests.

 

Just as he reached the top of the stairs he felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around him, steadying him as they descended the stairs. It was a good thing, because Yuuri was fairly certain he would have fallen and slid the remainder of the way back down.

 

“You were incredible, Yuuri,” Mila smiled, holding him close. At some point, she had put her dress back on. “Viktor will be so proud.”

 

They reached the bottom, and Yuuri finally found his voice again. “You...you and Sara. Why...why didn’t you just get the information from her if you knew she liked women?”

 

“Oh?” Mila’s blue eyes went wide in surprise before she laughed. “I absolutely could have. Sara hates how protective Michele is over her, and honestly he’s an idiot. She should really be in charge, not him. Sara would have betrayed him in an instant to be in Viktor’s favor, had I asked. We’ve had a thing going on for years. But that wasn’t the point, now was it?”

 

The realization hit him like a truck and he lost all focus on the world. Even behind his glasses, his eyes became so unfocused he saw nothing but splotches of color and voices turned into a nagging ringing in his ears. The world around him continued turning while his body hit pause.

 

It wasn’t until he was gasping in pleasure as something inside him burst with bliss that his haze faded. Everything started to come back into focus. The feeling of the silk sheets shifting underneath him, Viktor’s hot breath whispering praise into his shoulder, his thick member slowly sliding in and out of him in a steady rhythm. He let out a sigh of relief. This was ok. This, being underneath Viktor like this, was no longer scary and terrifying, because somewhere along the past six agonizing months of his life…

 

This had become normal.

Chapter Text

Every step forward Yuuri had taken in the past few months was now a distant recollection. Viktor had made a fool of him in Italy and it had broken every last spark that was still buried within him. As soon as Viktor would leave him alone in their room he would fall to the floor and cry against the wall, knees pulled into his chest as he sobbed ugly tears. For the first time he allowed himself to truly feel sorry for himself and the situation. No matter what he did, Viktor always seemed to be one step ahead of him and even Yuri.

 

Controlling Viktor was simply an illusion of hope.

 

This was it now. The life he knew outside these four walls was nothing but a far off and pleasant memory. All that he had ever loved had been ripped from him and there was no going back. Not even skating could bring him any sense of joy or satisfaction any longer. Even if, somehow, someway, he were ever to get free...could things ever go back to the way they were? He was broken and tainted. Soiled both physically and mentally.

 

For a good week after returning from Milan, Yuri had ignored him. He would show up long enough to convince Viktor he was around and then vanish, unable to put up with Yuuri’s perpetual tears. This morning, though, Yuri had shown up like a tornado full of rage.  

 

“You are weak,” Yuri spat at him the moment he walked in, once again finding Yuuri on the floor crying. “Unbelievable to think I ever thought you were capable of a simple task! I hope Viktor fucks you hard every day. Makes you bleed and leaves bruises all over you. I hope it hurts. I was right about you that first day: You are nothing but a whore.” Yuri placed a hard kick to Yuuri’s ribs.

 

Yuuri cried out in pain, curling in on himself with a loud sob. Makkachin barked and growled angrily, but Yuri hissed something at him in Russian and trapped the poodle behind the closed doors of the bathroom. Before Yuuri even had a chance to truly recover from the hit, Yuri’s hands were on his throat cutting off the air to his lungs.

 

“I wish you had fucking died, but no, can’t even fucking kill yourself properly,” Yuri hissed, lifting Yuuri to his feet by his neck. “Not only am I banned from ever seeing Otabek again, but now Viktor has been sending me pictures every day of him and threatening to kill him if I step out of line!”

 

Yuuri’s heart was thumping so strongly against his chest he thought it might escape. Not even Viktor had made him feel this sort of fear in a long time. Air couldn’t find its way in, his mouth gaping like a koi fish as Yuri only squeezed harder. There was sure to be a bruise that Viktor would notice, but Yuri didn’t seem to care. Something clicked then, in his mind, and realized this wasn’t Viktor and he could fight back. With what little strength he had he kicked out connecting with Yuri’s knee.

 

Yuri cried out in pain and dropped Yuuri, but the Russian recovered quickly and was able to grab hold of a wrist before Yuuri had made it more than three steps towards the door. Yuuri’s glasses went flying as he was thrown onto the bed, Yuri crawling on the mattress after him and shoving a knee hard into his back to keep him still. “You little shit! Where was this when I actually needed you to have it, huh?!”

 

Yuuri tried to cry out, but his screams were muffled by the pillow his face was shoved down into. The moment he was able to wiggle his head free enough to cry out, something was shoved into his mouth successfully smothering all his sounds. Panic ripped through Yuuri harder than it had that first night in St. Petersburg under Viktor’s brutal hands. Viktor had never truly wanted to hurt Yuuri even if he had, but the same could certainly not be said for Yuri. Any part of his body that would move he flung, desperately trying to either throw the blonde off of him or grab something that he could leverage.

 

“Are you really such a good fuck? Huh?” Yuri breathed against the back of Yuuri’s neck. “So good that Viktor would keep a pathetic waste of breath like you around instead of hiring a real whore? It’s not like you’re good for anything else!”

 

Yuuri was still wearing his sleep clothes - Viktor gone on an overnight trip somewhere - and Yuri easily slid a hand beneath the waistband of his pants to pull them down just below the curve of his ass. Tears fell harder as Yuuri heard the tell-tale sound of a zipper being undone. With a new found strength he swung a hand behind him and he collided with something, Yuri grunting at the contact. He was not rewarded with freedom, but with a death grip on his wrist and a hard twist.

 

Yuuri screamed into the cloth in his mouth as the bone of his fragile wrist snapped and he was being split open with no preparation and the barest of spit to ease the way. Everything in Yuuri tensed with an immeasurable pain, Yuri’s hold on his already broken wrist tightening as he continued to force himself through the dry passage.

 

Yuri was panting heavily when he finally bottomed out, the blonde leaning down so that his lips were right up against Yuuri’s ear. “Viktor ruined what was special to me, and now I’m going to destroy what is special to him.”

 

With a hard thrust Yuri moved his hand to Yuuri’s hair and started to move, his pistons rough and irregular as Yuuri’s body tried desperately to adjust to the abrupt intrusion. Yuuri was crying so hard his nose started to clog with snot and he was choking around the gag to try and get air. His head spinned from lack of oxygen and his vision started to turn white behind his tears. Yuri’s grunts and moans started to turn to a ringing in his ears and Yuuri felt his entire body go limp, a string pulling him down, down, down into the void.

 

Yuri stilled above him and a painful heat bloomed inside Yuuri as the Russian came within him. Yanking hard enough on Yuuri’s hair to pull his neck up and back Yuri scowled at him, “I’ve had way better. There ain’t shit special about you.” He was less than careful as he pulled out and tore the cloth from Yuuri’s mouth.

 

Inhaling was a mistake, the pain and agony slamming into him again as he regained his senses. There was so much of it he couldn’t tell where any of it came to an end. It was all consuming and he flushed hot in shame through his sobs.

 

Hopping off the bed Yuri pulled up his pants and the reached for Yuuri, grabbing his face and forcing him to look at him. “Tell Viktor that he’s going to get what’s coming to him. All I wanted was to be able to come and go as I pleased and you were too fucking weak to manage that.” Yuri squeezed hard. “You’ve made an enemy out of me, Katsudon. The worst is yet to come.” Yuri spat in Yuuri’s face and let go, not sparing him another look before leaving his broken body alone in the room with a slam of the door.

 

Makkachin was going mad behind the door, barking wildly and scratching at the wood with such a force that chips of it started to break off on the bottom. Soon enough there was a large enough hole the poodle was able to get his jaws around the pieces and snap them off to break free. Approaching the bed, Makkachin nuzzled Yuuri’s hand before sitting and letting free a terrifying howl.

 

Yuuri barely registered the door opening and angry Russian voices filling the room. A warm and gentle hand rested on the middle of his back but it still hurt and Yuuri whimpered into the pillow.

 

“Yuuri? What happened? Who did this?”

 

Yuuri couldn’t even tell who was speaking to him, his eyes focused on the far wall as he stayed as still as he could. Something hot and foreign was burning in the pit of his stomach and he could feel himself shaking with a clenched jaw. Humiliation, torment, misery. He felt all of these things, but most of all right now he felt rage. Curling his unbroken hand into a fist he snarled, “Yuri.”

 

Nayti yego!”

 

Find him.

 

“Call Viktor. Teper'!”

 

Yuuri’s vision turned red.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri didn’t remember much of the hours that came after Yuri’s violation of him. At some point he had been cleaned, stitched, and his wrist had been set and in a cast. His throat was incredibly sore and swallowing was a struggle. Viktor had returned like a typhoon screaming for a manhunt on his brother. Dead or alive. Viktor didn’t care. He wanted Yuri’s head brought to him immediately.

 

Yuuri hoped it was served on a silver platter after what he had done. Viktor had always made his emotional manipulations clear in their intentions, but Yuri had gone as far as to gain his trust. Yuri had promised he wasn’t interested in Yuuri’s body. Yuri had promised he’d let him go if he ever became Pakhan. Yuri had promised to show him the way. Yuri had been the biggest manipulator of them all.

 

Yuuri hoped his death was painful.

 

Viktor was gentle, even in his anger, sitting next to Yuuri on the bed and running his fingers across the side of his face with a lover’s touch. “I will find him, my Yuuri. I promise you that. And when I do, he will wish he had never betrayed me. I will kill him and that which he cares for.”

 

Turning his head to look at Viktor, Yuuri stared at him with darkened eyes. There was no light left to shine in them. “Make him pay, Vitya.”

 

Viktor’s breath shuddered at the use of his diminutive and he placed a chaste kiss to Yuuri’s temple. “Oh...my beautiful Yuuri. I will make him bathe in blood for you.”

 

Yuuri turned his his head and buried his hands in Makkachin’s fur, images of Yuri drowning and choking on his own life force filled his mind. He was still incredibly sore even with the pain medication the doctor had given him. There was a clear limp in his walk and he didn’t even want to begin thinking about how painful a bowel movement would be.

 

“Speaking of baths…,” Viktor brushed back a few strands of hair that had stuck to drying tears on Yuuri’s face, “Let me draw one for you. The doctor said it would help.”

 

Yuuri didn’t say anything, just buried his nose deeper into the curly fur and watched as Viktor headed towards the bathroom. The scraps of wood had been cleaned up, but the hole in the door still remained and likely would for a few days. Viktor took care in removing his clothes, but it still hurt and he whimpered as he was picked up and carried to the tub. The water was so hot it stung, but Yuuri grit his teeth until he adjusted and realized that the doctor had been right and he felt his muscles relax.

 

Lowering his face until just his nose,eyes, and injured hand remained above the water he listened to an angry conversation back in the bedroom. It sounded like Viktor was speaking with Georgi. Yuuri had gotten good enough he could pick up the gist of the conversation, but missed many details. They hadn’t found Yuri yet, though they found his cellphone. Discarded for a burner probably. They’d keep looking. They had all eyes on Otabek but no sign of Yuri yet.

 

Viktor growled something angrily at Georgi before dismissing him and coming back into the bathroom. Yuuri could feel his fury and the hairs on the back of his neck instinctively raised as he sunk deeper in the water as the Russian approached him. But Viktor only smiled - although shakily - and lowered himself behind the tub. With rougher hands than Yuuri would have liked Viktor tugged back Yuuri’s hair from his face and kissed his temple. Yuuri could sense the ticking time bomb behind him and it put him on edge, no longer able to relax in the water.

 

Viktor did nothing but wash and comb out his hair, occasionally rubbing a hand across the bruises on his neck and chest. It would have felt nice, and Yuuri could have imagined himself falling asleep to it, if it weren’t for the warning bell ringing in his mind. Just because he wasn’t Yuri didn’t make him safe. He couldn’t let himself ever forget that. The only person who could ever make him feel safe was himself.

 

Yuuri felt his fingers grip the sides of the bath tightly.

 

/*/

 

Viktor had rearranged what meetings he could and sent Yakov in his stead to those he could not. Until they could find Yuri, he refused to leave Yuuri’s side unless it was absolutely necessary. Viktor had been right all those years not placing any trust in his younger brother despite Yakov’s wishes. Still, this had gone beyond what he ever thought he might do. Always surprising me, aren’t you, little brother?

 

Blue eyes looked up at Yuuri who was settled on one of the window benches with Makkachin curled at his feet watching the rare spring rain outside. Yuuri was supposed to have failed the mission in Italy. It was supposed to have turned into a huge disaster and Viktor was to swing in like the white knight to save the day, pushing Yuuri further into his arms. It was well known - other than to Yuuri - that Michele was a hard virgin and could have never been seduced by anyone let alone his precious Yuuri. Although things didn’t go exactly according to plan, it had still worked. Yuuri had still come running to him because Viktor was familiar, even if it was a familiar horror.

 

Viktor’s lip snarled at the memory of Yuuri soiled by Yuri. Unconsciously his fingers curled into a fist and a seething rage built within his stomach. It hadn’t been an attack on Yuuri - not really. It had been an attack on him. Jealous, jealous, Yuri. Always wanting whatever Viktor had. There had been a worry that everything Viktor had done to build up his beautiful Yuuri had been crushed, but then he had looked into his eyes. There was a darkness that reached out and touched Viktor’s soul. It made his heart flutter in excitement and he had to quell the desire beneath his legs.

 

Maybe he should thank Yuri, afterall. Before he killed him, of course. What he had done was still unforgivable and he would taste blood. This was war.

 

There was a knock on the door and Mila sauntered in throwing a pitiful look Yuuri’s way. She was ignored. “Vitya, you have a visitor.”

 

“I told you I’m not entertaining anyone outside the family unless it involves Yuri,” Viktor said simply.

 

“Even if it’s me?!” A man barged in behind Mila, short blonde hair with a darker undercut and bright green eyes. “I hear I’ve come at a bad time.”

 

Viktor jumped out of his seat. “Christophe! For you, there is never a bad time.” The two men embraced, Viktor truly never happier to see his best friend. Mila excused herself and Chris took a seat, crossing his graceful legs. “What brings you here?” He switched to French so they could converse freely around Yuuri, though the boy didn’t appear to be too interested in listening regardless.

 

“Passing through on my way to Moscow for an auction,” Chris began, the light catching his round glasses just right.

 

“To sell or buy?” Viktor inquired, sitting on the edge of his desk and crossing his arms.

 

“Sell. But we had an unfortunate accident on the way and I’m afraid we lost some of the merchandise,” Chris explained with a heavy sigh. “I was hoping you could help a good friend out of a tight spot. I don’t need much. Maybe four or five quality specimens?”

 

Viktor thoughtfully rubbed an index finger across his chin in thought of the request. “It’s spring. There are far more tourists this time of year. I’m sure we could find something on such short notice. Male? Female?”

 

Chris waved a dismissing hand, “Doesn't matter. A mix is preferred, but one can’t be too picky in these instances.”

 

Normally, Viktor would pull Mila and Anatoly for this job, but Anatoly was away and Chris complained that Mila pulled in the wrong sort of crowd. Blue eyes landed on Yuuri and they widened with an idea. “Yuuri.” Yuuri turned his head and Viktor extended a hand. “Come.” There was an initial limp in his step, but he seemed to work it out by the time he approached Viktor. “Would you sell this?” He asked Chris.

 

A breath caught in Chris’ throat as he looked Yuuri up and down. “My, my, Viktor. He’s exquisite. I could make a lot of money off of him, especially since he’s Asian. When do you buy him? I’m hurt you didn’t come to me for your merchandise!”

 

“I don’t purchase things that are rightfully mine,” Viktor answered simply. “He’d make a fine lure, no? He has a gentle personality and would attract the type of clientele you are looking for.”

 

“Oui, parfait,” Chris let out a pleased hum as he nodded. “How soon do you think wecould acquire them?”

 

“Can you wait until tomorrow to make the necessary arrangements?” Viktor inquired.

 

“Tomorrow is fine,” Chris agreed.

 

Switching to English, Viktor smiled at Yuuri and took his injured hand carefully. “My dear Yuuri,” he purred, “I need you to do something very important for myself and my dearest friend Christophe. I know you are still not feeling very well, but it won’t require too much from you and it’ll be nothing like in Italy. Do you think you could try? Georgi will always have you in his sights.”

 

Yuuri looked rightfully hesitant, swallowing hard, but he nodded. “What do I have to do?”

 

“I just need you to make a few friends,” Chris smiled pleasantly in his own accented English. “About your age, good looking, of course.”

 

Viktor could see the wheels spinning in Yuuri’s head as he frowned. “What for?”

 

Smirking, Viktor ran a thumb across Yuuri’s bottom lip and cupped the side of his face. It was a silent gesture that threatened further action if he asked anymore questions. Yuuri did not push for an answer to his question.

 

“He truly is beautiful, Viktor,” Chris murmured, switching back to his native language. “I’d ask where you got him, but I know better than to ask. No way I could convince you to share him, could I? Those plump lips would be so perfect on my cock.”

 

“No,” Viktor hissed, hand lowering from Yuuri’s face like he had been stung.

 

Chris flinched, clearly not used to such a reaction from his friend. “No need to get snappy, I just asked. You always were so possessive…”

 

Viktor’s jaw clenched irritably as he forced himself to relax. “He’s damaged right now.”

 

“Hmm,” Chris clucked his tongue in understanding. “It’s impossible to miss the bruises. Did you get a little too rough with him? Surely his mouth still works.”

 

“Do not push me, Christophe,” Viktor warned, voice hushed in a calm before the storm.

 

“Alright, alright,” Chris conceded. “Let’s drink and be merry. You could cut your tension with a knife, honestly.”

 

/*/

 

Yuuri bounced his leg nervously as he sat on the ledge of the fountain watching the hundreds of tourists and locals pass by in the Palace Square. He could feel the eyes of Chris and his team on him even though they were well hidden several meters away. He had been briefed in full by Chris that morning: Small group of no more than six, his age or younger, attractive, fit, and most importantly foreign. Convince them to come to a party at a specific bar across the Neva and keep them out until past midnight when the bridges raised so they couldn’t go home. It was clear even to Yuuri that this was a kidnapping, but for what? Viktor had refused to answer his question, only promised that he nor Chris would hurt any of the individuals. That didn’t make it sit any easier in Yuuri’s stomach.

 

It had been almost an hour and Yuuri hadn’t found anyone worth pursuing based on the list. Occasionally there was an attractive couple or two or three friends, but they were always either locals chatting excitedly in Russian or didn’t strike Yuuri as having the physique that Chris was looking for...whatever that even was. Chris had said to use himself as an example, but Yuuri had never really considered himself very attractive. Maybe he was looking for athletes?

 

He spent his time daydreaming about ways he could possibly make a run for it. But how far would he make it? This was the first time he had been out in the city, having been no where else but the rink and Viktor’s house, and Viktor’s people likely knew every street and hiding spot. Even if he somehow managed to lose them, how long would he last? Viktor had every man in the authorities under his thumb in the city and with no idea and only a pocket full of a few rubles he’d never last. Italy had been his best chance.

 

A ring of laughter pulled him from his thoughts and he looked up to see a group of four speaking in English and pointing to various things excitedly. Yuuri could tell from their clothes and their logos they were either dancers or skaters. It wouldn’t be unusual for there to be camps going on this time of year.

 

“Yuuri.”

 

Sighing at the crackling in his ear he acknowledged Chris, “I see them.” Grabbing the tea he had bought himself with a few rubles from a cart he stood and carefully walked over to them, timing it right before he walked past and purposely bumped shoulders with one of them, spilling his tea. “Oh! Mne tak zhal'!” Yuuri apologized the practice phrase, intending to appear as a local. It worked as the girl he had run into stared at him in confusion. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going!”

 

The girl smiled and waved her hand, the liquid falling off her light-weight coat easily from water proofing. “It’s ok! You speak Russian?”

 

“A bit,” Yuuri answered with a small smile, hoping they wouldn’t start asking him to help with any sort of translations. “I’m a student here.”

 

“Perfect!” One of the blonde boys beamed. “We’ve been looking for a good place to party! We just arrived yesterday.”

 

“Hmm, where are you staying?” Yuuri asked.

 

“Vasilevsky,” the boy responded. “I know that most of the stuff is here on the mainland. We’re ok to stay here for the night.”

 

“Well, there’s a bar on Dumskaya street called Poison. They do a lot of American and rock karaoke there,” Yuuri suggested per his set of instructions. “I’m actually going there tonight. You should come! I can give you my number if you want?”

 

The girl beamed and pulled out her phone, “That would be great!”

 

Yuuri let loose the string of numbers he had memorized that went back to a phone Chris controlled. “My name is Ichiro, by the way.”

 

“I’m Casey, that’s Rachel, Ben, and Aaron. We’ve got two other friends that got caught up taking selfies back in the church that’ll probably come, too,” Casey smiled. “Thanks again for the suggestion, and I’ll guess we’ll see you tonight?”

 

“Sure,” Yuuri nodded, forcing a smile. “Sorry again about the tea.”

 

“Well done. Come back to the van.”

 

With a breath of relief Yuuri weaved his way through the crowd to the van parked off to the side of the street. Chris, two of his men, and Georgi were packed in it, waiting for him to open the door and climb in.

 

Chris turned from his seat and grinned. “Perfect, Yuuri. I’ll have to talk to Viktor about being able to use you more often.”

 

Yuuri fidgeted in his seat in response, hoping Viktor would say no to offering him up regularly. This was a favor, after all, wasn’t it? Sucking in a breath he focused on the world outside the window as they drove back to the house. They would lay low until it was time to go to the bar late that night. Darkness was becoming rarer as they grew closer to summer, so they’d only have a short window to get this done.

 

With every passing second as the day went on Yuuri grew more nervous. He was likely about to be responsible for ruining the lives of several innocent people. Even though it wouldn’t be him that decided their final fate, he was just as guilty. This was just as much his doing as Viktor or Chris’. Swallowing hard Yuuri felt his hand shaking. With a deep breath he opened his eyes and tuned out the blaring music of the bar.

 

The bartender handed him a drink with a hard stare. “On the house.”

 

Yuuri swallowed, but took it anyway. Likely, Viktor had paid him off, or he was one of Viktor’s already. For all he knew, though, it was drugged and he was about to killed and dumped in an alleyway. The prospect didn’t seem so bad as he threw the burning liquid down his throat to take off the edge.

 

“Ichiro?”

 

Yuuri turned. Casey was waving at him. Yuuri’s heart sank. A part of him was hoping that they would never show. Even if they hadn’t, it was likely Chris would have him just choose from drunken prospects already at the bar, but maybe that would have been easier. Maybe they would have been assholes and he wouldn’t have felt bad. Putting on a fake smile he waved back. “Hey! Glad you found it ok. First round is on me!”

 

“Wow, thanks!” Ben beamed, quickly spewing out his order to the bartender.

 

“So, Ichiro, what are you studying?” Rachel asked as she was handed some fruity concoction.

 

“Ah, international studies with a minor in Russian,” Yuuri answered as he stirred the new drink the bartender had given him without asking.

 

“Oh, interesting!” She genuinely beamed. Their kindness only made this worse. “We’re all here for an ice skating camp in Sportivnaya.

 

Yuuri’s heart continued to break and he threw back the next drink. Of course they were. Of course he would be able to pick out ice skaters in a crowd of thousands. “I’ve heard Russians are quite good at skating.”

 

“Have you ever ice skated, Ichiro?” Casey questioned, leaning her back against the bar next to him.

 

“A few times,” Yuuri hummed against the rim of his empty glass. “I wasn’t any good.”

 

“Maybe you can come to a public session and we can teach you,” she offered. “One of our friends - who is late as always - is going to enter the Grand Prix series next season! I hope he makes it!”

 

Interesting...then they must have been pretty decent skaters. Maybe if another known skater were to disappear again they’d look harder...It was a nice, but unlikely, thought. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to wish him good luck when he gets here.”

 

“Oh, god, Aaron is already at the karaoke booth, here we go,” Rachel cringed. “He’s awful, truly. Cover your ears.”

 

Yuuri didn’t care how bad he was. He’d become numb to the sounds an hour ago. Every few minutes he glanced at his watch waiting for the hands to all align at the top. Even though it was closing in on eleven there was still light in the sky and they couldn’t move with the cameras on all the cars. It wasn’t hard to keep the group of friends out, though, as they continued to add drinks to Yuuri’s - or Viktor’s - tab.

 

“Are Jorge and Phichit coming or what?” Ben groaned with a slight slur.

 

Yuuri’s eyes grew wide behind his glasses. Phichit? No. A coincidence….but how many people were there named Phichit?

 

“They are on the way!” Casey shouted louder than necessary, her cheeks a nice tinge of pink. “Phichit just texted me. They are outside in a marsh,” she struggled to say the word, “Marsh-rutka. He said the since we already missed the bridges we should just stay out and party.”

 

“Ichiro!” Aaron slung an arm around him. “You should come! Everything is open until forever around here! We can drink until dawn!”

 

“He must be in our van. Louis said he’s outside with two passengers. Agree to go and get them in. We can handle the rest.”

 

Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut and let out a long breath. Don’t do this, don’t do this. “Sure, yeah, I’ll go.” It was a good thing Yuuri didn’t have to settle his tab, because Aaron was grinning wildly and pulling him along through the crowd to the door and outside without a second to spare.

 

The door to the white van opened and a dark skinned figure with a black hoodie and a backwards ball cap grinned. “Get in losers! We’ve got partying to do!”

 

Yuuri came to a deadly halt as he yanked free from Aaron. There, standing in the doorway of the van was his college roommate and long time best friend Phichit Chulanont. No. No, no, no, no! The Thai boy was grinning unbeknownst to him the danger that lurked in that van. Yuuri had to find a way to get him out!

 

“Phichit! Where have you been? You’re already way behind!” Ben pushed his friend aside to climb into the van.

 

“You can’t rush perfection, you know this!” Phichit responded as he took a seat while the rest filed in.

 

“Get in the van, Yuuri. Hurry up!”

 

Yuuri jumped at the sharp voice in his ear and he lowered his head to try and conceal his face as he hopped in and turned his back to the group to close the door. Maybe they wouldn’t mention him. Maybe Phichit wouldn’t notice. God. Phichit! Tears stung at Yuuri’s eyes at the glimpse of a friendly face after all these months. He couldn’t let anything happen to him. No matter what.

 

The six friends were happily and drunkenly chatting to each other, content to ignore Yuuri and the fact that they were suddenly nowhere near any of the bars and had turned down a dark street with shady looking houses. Yuuri caught movement in front of the windshield and a large metal garage door of a warehouse started to lift. He had to do something!

 

“Phichit,” Yuuri reached out and grabbed his friend’s arm as best as he could with his injured hand.

 

“Hmm-Who-,” Phichit’s eyes widened and his jaw fell to the floor. “Oh my god. Oh my god , Yuu-,”

 

Yuuri had the door open and was flinging phichit out of the van. “RUN!” Louis cursed from the driver’s seat and suddenly floored it, flinging Yuuri off balance and back into the seat.

 

The other skaters screamed as they, too, were jolted. The garage door slammed shut behind them and the van came to a screeching halt. Louis growled and turned around in his seat, grabbing at Yuuri’s throat and shouting at him in angry French. Yuuri cried out in anguish, the choke hold aggravating his already painful bruising from Yuri’s attack.

 

The door on Louis’ side opened and Chris frowned at his employee. “Louis, honestly. Put him down.”

 

Louis did so, not kindly, throwing Yuuri back into the seat where he landed badly on his broken wrist. Whimpering, he curled into the seat unmoving, oblivious to the sudden chaos that erupted around him as all the doors were opened and bodies were drug out screaming and flailing. Suddenly, he could hear Viktor’s angry voice, likely yelling at Louis’ poor treatment of Yuuri. Cringing, Yuuri slowly sat up and looked out the open door where each of the skaters were being man handled by one of Viktor or Chris’ men.

 

“He let one of them get away!” Louis growled at Viktor, pointing an accusing finger at Yuuri.

 

“No he didn’t!”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened as Mila waltzed in with a struggling Phichit in her arms. Ignoring the pain, Yuuri surged forward and out of the van. “Phichit!!”

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit cried, tears already heavy in his eyes.

 

“Oh,” Viktor breathed, a curious gloved finger to his lips, eyes darting between the two. “You know each other? Well, isn’t that unfortunate. I do apologize, Christophe, but we cannot risk this one running his mouth about Yuuri to one of your buyers.” Reaching inside his expensive suit Viktor pulled out a gun and stepped forward as Mila shoved Phichit to his knees. “We’ll have to get rid of him. You understand, of course.”

 

The cold metal touched Phichit’s forehead.

 

“VIKTOR!” Yuuri screamed, his body shrieking at him in pain as he sprinted towards the man. “NYET! Pozhaluysta!” Yuuri’s shaking hands grabbed Viktor’s arm and he placed himself between the two men. “ Pozhaluysta. Vitya. Don’t kill him,” he sobbed, begging and pleading for him to lower the gun.

 

Viktor did not move his hand, his blue eyes curious and thoughtful on Yuuri. “My Yuuri, what then should I do? He’d fetch a very nice price on the market, it’s true. Young, attractive, South Asian male. Alas, I could never risk him saying a word to anyone who might alert the authorities of your whereabouts, and I certainly have no use for whores in my bed when I have you to satisfy my every need.”

 

Yuuri’s heart jumped from his chest and his grip tightened on Viktor as he realized just what all of this was. Sex trafficking. Christophe was gathering people to sell off as sex slaves. “Vitya. Please.

 

“While I’m not particularly delighted in losing the revenue off of him, it would be a waste to just kill him,” Chris chimed in. “Is there no one in your family that would like to stick their dick in him? A reward for your most loyal of members? Or a present for a guest? Hell, I’d love a go at him after the auction. I bet he’s tight.”

 

“Ohhh,” Mila knelt down and rubbed her cheek up against Phichit’s as she twisted his arm. “I’d like to have fun with him.”

 

Viktor hummed, tilting his head side to side while looking at Phichit before suddenly withdrawing his weapon. “Well. Who am I to deny my family’s desire for a fuck toy? Should he exhaust his usefulness, though, I will dispose of him.”

 

Yuuri fell to his knees, sobbing into his hands.

 

“Shall we inspect your merchandise, my dear Chris?” Viktor questioned with opened arms. The warehouse filled with screams and shouts as Jorge, Casey, Aaron, Ben, and Rachel were all forcefully stripped naked.

 

Mila released Phichit and he immediately crawled over to Yuuri, embracing him with tight arms and crying with him into his chest. “Yuuri! Oh my god, Yuuri! You’re alive!”

 

“I’m so sorry,” Yuuri sobbed, clutching his friend with a deathly grip. “I’m so- so sorry!”

 

Phichit pulled away slightly, brow furrowing in worry through the waterfalls of tears. “Y-Yuuri...you’re bleeding.”

 

Looking down, Yuuri spotted the place on the crotch of his paints stained red and a small pool of blood on the concrete. Dipping his fingers in the liquid he brought them up to the light and stared.

 

Yuuri feared it would stain his skin forever.

Chapter Text

Yuuri whimpered as Viktor slammed him up against the desk, his chest pressed firmly against his back as he snaked a hand around and grabbed forcefully at his chin. Viktor’s lips brushed against his ear as his grip tightened. Biting at his lower lip, Yuuri tried so hard not to cry. He had to be strong. For Phichit.

 

“Were you trying to make a fool of me today, Yu-uri?” Viktor questioned, drawing out his name like a snake.

 

Squeezing his eyes shut he shook his head as best as he could in the position. “N-no.”

 

“In front of all of my friends,” Viktor nuzzled his cheek against Yuuri’s in a way one might find it lovingly, but Yuuri knew better. It was the calm before the storm. “You know I’d give you anything you ask for, my Yuuri. Most of the time,” he thrust his hips up against Yuuri, shoving him further into the edge of the desk.

 

Gasping in pain Yuuri felt the hot sting at his eyes. “P-please, Vitya. He’s my friend!”

 

“And that’s exactly why it’s so dangerous he be allowed to live,” Viktor responded. “Rest assured, that the moment his usefulness expires around the house, I will shoot him right between the eyes. Do you understand, my love?”

 

Yuuri let out a sob, hot and salty tears streaming down his face. He had doomed his best friend to a far worse fate than if he had let him go at the warehouse. To have let Viktor kill him then would have been merciful. How could he ever forgive himself for this?

 

“Yuuri, I asked you if you understood,” Viktor repeated, his other hand brushing across the cast on his wrist in warning. Yuuri nodded rapidly. Smiling, Viktor placed a kiss to the corner of Yuuri’s lips. “Wonderful. Now wipe those tears, my love, and offer me an apology for what you’ve done today.” Taking a step back he turned Yuuri and forced him to his knees.

 

Without needing to be told what to do Yuuri reached for Viktor’s belt and drew down the zipper, pulling his soft member free from the confines of his boxers and slacks. Yuuri was almost grateful for it as he took him into his mouth - a distraction from reality. The velvet slide of Viktor’s skin on his tongue was as familiar as eating and breathing. The longer Yuuri kept Viktor occupied, the longer Phichit was left alive.

 

Yuuri let that be his motivation and guide as he worked Viktor to a heavy and full hardness in his mouth, salty precum mixing with his spit. Viktor seemed to enjoy the fact Yuuri was taking his time, soft moans escaping his lips and hands gentle in Yuuri’s dark hair. When he finally did start to thrust in his mouth they were languid and lazy. As the burn in his jaw started to settle in from taking too long Yuuri flattened his tongue against the bottom of his mouth and relaxed his throat, taking all of Viktor into him with his nose buried against silver curls.

 

Viktor threw back his head and cried out as his member twitched with orgasm, warm come shooting directly down Yuuri’s throat. His hands cradled the back of Yuuri’s head as he rode through his orgasm, careful to pull out slowly. Yuuri did not choke, and he managed to swallow every last drop. Who knew that shy and virginal Yuuri would become such a pro at giving head? The thought made him sick.

 

Moving his hands around to cup Yuuri’s cheeks, Viktor tugged on him and brought him back to his feet. He kissed him long and deep, tongue licking across his teeth and the roof to take in all of him. “Apology is most definitely accepted. Now. Because I am so generous and kind, I will allow you time to see your friend.”

 

Yuuri sucked in a sharp breath of hope, a clear light shining in his eyes. “Spasibo, Vitya.”

 

Drawing Yuuri into his arms Viktor gave him a peck on the cheek. “Hearing you speak Russian like that...you don’t know what it does to me, Yuuri. Your studies are going so well. It pleases me greatly.”

 

But Yuuri did know. Maybe all too well. It was all that had saved him from Viktor’s assaults some days and was the only reason Phichit was still breathing - for now. Clinging to Viktor’s arm he allowed himself to be led out of the office and down the hallway towards the back end of the house. Yuuri rarely came down this way since it was away from the places he was allowed to go.

 

Entering a code into a keypad Viktor unlocked a door and pushed it just barely open. “If I were you, Yuuri, I would spend time teaching your friend what is expected of him. It might make him last longer.”

 

Viktor had moved so that he was mostly in front of the keypad, but he clearly hadn’t been expecting Yuuri to really be looking. 0317*. Yuuri’s heart raced as he waited for Viktor to walk far enough down the hall and then he was flying into the room. It was small with nothing more than a mattress shoved into a corner. It must have been a small office. “Phichit!”

 

Phichit hopped off the bed and flung himself at his friend. “Yuuri!”

 

“I’m so sorry! I’m so, so, sorry,” Yuuri repeated, over and over again like a mantra against the dark skin of his friend’s neck.

 

“It’s ok,” Phichit squeezed harder, but there was an obvious tremble in his voice. “It’s ok, Yuuri...we’re going to figure this out, ok?”

 

“No! You don’t understand!” Yuuri cried, pulling away. “There’s no getting out of here!”

 

“Yuuri, they’ve kidnapped not one, but two international figure skaters! All the investigations for you are going to get re-opened and they’ll have to double their efforts! People knew we were all in St. Petersburg,” Phichit argued.

 

Yuuri shook his head, wanting so badly to believe it, but knowing it was stupid to hope. Stupid to believe he might one day be free. “Don’t you get it? You belong to the Russian mafia now. They have every person in authority wrapped around their fingers!”

 

Phichit swallowed hard, wiping at the tears that had mostly dried on his face. “So what do we do?”

 

“You…,” Yuuri sucked in a shaky breath, “Do what they ask…”

 

He looked away, a soft sob escaping in understanding of Yuuri’s statement. “Is that...is that what you do?”

 

“Yes,” Yuuri breathed in reply, his voice seeming so far away in that moment.

 

“I don’t understand,” another sob as Phichit fell back onto the bed. “Why? How!? How did this happen to you?! Your parents told me the Yakuza took you! How did you end up in Russia?”

 

Curling his legs beneath him Yuuri joined Phichit on the mattress, trying to figure out where to begin. There were still things that after half a year Yuuri himself didn’t understand about the situation. “I was taken by the Yakuza. For Viktor.”

 

“Viktor? The silver-haired man that wanted to kill me?” Phichit asked, recalling that dreaded moment that seemed so long ago - much longer than the few hours it had been.

 

“Un,” Yuuri nodded, keeping his eyes cast down onto the blue blanket. “He’s the pakhan - their boss. He...saw me skate. In Sochi. Apparently he just…,” Yuuri shrugged, “Decided he wanted me.”

 

“Wanted you?” Phichit squeaked, a hesitancy in the question where he wasn’t sure if he wanted to know the answer.

 

Sighing, Yuuri hugged his knees to his chest. “It’s...it’s just like it sounds.”

 

“Oh god, Yuuri,” Phichit whined, throwing his arms around his best friend. Yuuri was glad to return it, letting his own silent tears run down his cheeks. “How can you be so calm about this?! That man, he - he...he hurts you!”

 

Yuuri nuzzled his nose against Phichit’s shoulder. Because after the hundredth time of someone forcing themselves on you, you lose hope. Because falling to your knees and sucking someone off is just part of the daily routine. Because the feeling of come trickling down between your thighs is such a regular occurrence it feels permanent. Because a reward suddenly became being able to sleep without fear of four fingers forcing you open in preparation. Because now…

 

It just was.

 

“He does,” Yuuri agreed softly. “I guess...I’ve just gotten used to it. He doesn’t hurt me if I just do what he wants. Sometimes he can be nice...he brings me flowers or asks the cooks to make katsudon.”

 

“He broke your wrist!” Phichit growled angrily through the tears.

 

“That wasn’t him,” Yuuri defended, but it wasn’t like Viktor hadn’t made him bleed.

 

Phichit slammed an angry fist down onto the mattress.“So what?! I’m just supposed to let the mafia rape me until I get used to it?! Fight back, Yuuri!”

 

A flash of anger ran up Yuuri’s neck turning his skin hot and red. Pushing Phichit away from him he got off the bed, fists clenched at his sides. “The first time I fought back I was raped until I bled and had a ring of bruises around my neck so dark that they took months to fade away! The second time I fought back I just decided to commit suicide but was caught before I could finish bleeding out! The last time I fought back I ended up with a broken wrist and an anal tear that required surgery from being raped by the very man who told me he’d help me! I’m done fighting back, Phichit!”

 

Yuuri’s whole body shivered with a sob as he finished. Phichit had both hands over his mouth, black eyes wide with fear and shock. “I’m done…,” Yuuri collapsed back onto the mattress, Phichit barely catching him as he fell. “I’m done, I’m done, I’m done…”

 

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, it’s ok, I’m here Yuuri,” Phichit rocked Yuuri back and forth. “I didn’t know. God, I’m sorry.”

 

“I didn’t know,” Yuuri cried, everything going blurry behind the tears, “I didn’t know you were there!”

 

“No, no, I know, Yuuri!” Phichit sniffled, “I know! It’s not your fault!”

 

“I never wanted this for you,” Yuuri continued, face buried in Phichit’s chest. “I would never wish this on anyone!”

 

“It’s ok,” Phichit promised him, chin firmly planted on top of Yuuri’s head. “It’s ok, Yuuri. I’m here.”

 

If only that could mean anything in a place like this. Being in Phichit’s arms was the most comfort he’d had since he arrived here. For once, he didn’t feel like recoiling from another person’s touch. This was genuine. This was real. And it brought forward all the exhaustion he felt in his bones. It was the wee hours of the morning and he hadn’t slept all day. Sobs quieted and Yuuri felt his eyelids slowly begin to droop with sleep, Phichit’s arms feeling like a blanket of protection and he had so desperately craved for months.




A hand firmly grabbed Yuuri’s bicep and he shot awake with a start. Yakov was hovering over him where he was curled up next to Phichit on the small bed. The older man held no real expression, the same dark eyes and thin-line in his lips as he always had. “Vitya says your time is up.”

 

Swallowing, Yuuri nodded and moved to get up off the bed. Phichit stirred awake at the movements. “I have to go,” Yuuri spoke softly, brushing his hand against Phichit’s.

 

“Yuuri!” Phichit grabbed his wrist, pulling him back.

 

Biting his lip Yuuri refused to look back, pulling his wrist free. If he looked back, he’d break down. “Gde?”

 

Tvoya komnata, ” Yakov responded as he shut the door behind Yuuri.

 

Nodding, Yuuri went on ahead and started down the hall, not bothering to check if Yakov was following. There was light shining through the windows, but that meant very little during the spring and summer of Russia. It was likely he hadn’t slept long with Phichit and that it was still early morning. Makkachin greeted him as he opened one of the french doors to Viktor’s room and he gave the poodle a pat on the head.

 

“Ah, Yuuri,” Viktor stepped out of the bathroom dressed in nothing but his boxers. “You look exhausted, my dear. I’ve run a hot bath for you. Soak, and then grab a few hours of sleep with me before I leave.”

 

Yuuri could only sigh and start to strip his clothing as he headed for the bathroom. All he really wanted to do was crawl into bed, but he knew that the hot baths were instructions from the doctor. Would Phichit be better or worse with Viktor gone so soon after arriving? Yuuri would be less likely to sneak off to see him. Yuri still hadn’t been found, so Georgi had become his personal guard. Mila would have been easier to maneuver around...maybe Viktor knew that.

 

The water was far too hot when Yuuri stepped in, but he bit his lip and let the pain take over as he sunk down. You deserve it, anyway, for what you’ve done. Eventually his body grew used to the temperature, but his skin was painted bright red beneath the surface, a distinct line where he kept his wrist above the bath. Exhaustion hit him like a train and his head fell back against the porcelain before his eyes drifted shut.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri woke to Makkachin licking his face. Blinking his eyes open he realized he was dressed in a light shirt and sleep pants underneath the covers of the bed. He’d fallen asleep in the tub. Sighing, Yuuri rolled over to happily see Viktor already gone. Feeling around for his glasses he slipped them on and threw back the covers, Makkachin trotting along at his heel as he opened the door to head for the kitchen. He felt rather than saw Georgi behind him.

 

“Sleeping beauty finally woke up,” Mila purred from her place in the kitchen at the island where she was preparing some plates. She slid one Yuuri’s way. “I must say, your friend was quite the treat this morning.”

 

Yuuri’s hand paused halfway to the plate of food, his heart dropping in his chest and his skin going cold to the touch. W-what? N-no! What had she done?!  

 

Mila giggled, popping a piece of fruit into her mouth. “Oh, don’t look like that. All I did was give him a nice hand job before he was allowed to eat. His skin was sooooo soft. Is he untouched?”

 

Yuuri’s lower lip trembled and he grabbed the plate, picking it up and slamming it down on the counter shattering it into pieces. “Don’t touch him!”

 

Mila squealed in delight and rung out with laughter as Yuuri started to throw the broken pieces and food at her. Georgi grabbed his wrist and yanked him hard away from his ammunition. “Stop this, or I’ll break your other wrist,” he threatened. “You chose this for your friend. Don’t forget that.”

 

“No,” Yuuri whimpered, pulling away from Georgi and walking back until his lower back hit a side table, knocking something off with a crash.

 

Georgi snarled in irritation and grasped Yuuri by his hair, dragging him back down the hall to his room. “He should be so lucky it was Mila that took him his food. The more you make a scene, the worst things will be for both of you.” Shoving Yuuri into the room he grabbed the handle of the door. “Stay in here until you can behave yourself or Viktor comes back. It doesn’t matter to me which comes first.”

 

The door slammed in his face and Yuuri slid down it, drowning in tears. Not even Makkachin’s presence could calm him down as he shook. Georgi had been right. This was all his fault. He had chosen this for Phichit. It was his fault. His fault.

 

His fault.

 

/*/

 

“My, my, this is more money than I’ve made in quite a while after a cull,” Chris hummed in delight as he counted the stacks and stacks of rubles. “Twenty percent, then? As usual?”

 

“Nonsense,” Viktor waved a hand in dismissal, “I’ll only take ten from a friend.”

 

Chris hummed, stroking his stubbled chin in thought before shaking his head. “Take twenty, Viktor. I have some news.”

 

Viktor took the offered wad of rubles, eyeing his friend carefully. “It must be bad, then.”

 

Grabbing a folder from the pocket of the backseat he crossed his legs and opened it. “I did some research on that boy - the one your beautiful Yuuri was so desperate to save. I must say...it was quite easy. Too easy.” He handed a sheet to Viktor, Phichit’s picture plastered on the front.

 

“A figure skater, like Yuuri,” Viktor noticed. It wasn’t too surprising, if he was friends with Yuuri.

 

“Thailand’s number one.”

 

That caught Viktor’s ear. “Thailand…?”

 

Chris handed him another sheet. It was a selfie of Yuuri and Phichit together. “So you know where I’m going with this, then?”

 

Viktor’s back straightened, and an eyebrow twitched in irritation. “The boy is in Russia, not Thailand. I may not be able to pay off their officials, but I can still pay off my own. St. Petersburg will not cooperate with the investigation if it comes to it.”

 

“Viktor, I don’t approve,” Chris jeered, shifting in his seat so that he was better facing Viktor. “South Asia is not owned by you or any of your allies. That is Seung-Gil’s territory, and there is certainly no love between the two of you. It’s very likely he has no interest in this boy, but why risk starting a war over it? Even someone as pure and delectable as that isn’t worth it. We’d all be better off if his body washed up somewhere before anyone started snooping around.”

 

Viktor stared at the photo in his hands, thumbing the paper as he thought with a clenched jaw. It was true. Seung-Gil and Viktor had been at odds for years and any sorts of antagonizing gesture could start something that would be costly to finish. “And what, pray tell, am I supposed to say to Yuuri?”

 

“Flowers and expensive jewelry always had me forgetting my lover’s indiscretions,” Chris smiled. “Think of it as opportunity, Viktor. Who better to be there to pick up the pieces after the poor thing is so heart-broken?”

 

Opportunity. Viktor handed back the pieces of paper and licked his lips. Yuuri was closer than ever to him, but he still teetered back and forth, not quite crossing over the edge. This might be just the thing to get him to take the plunge. “Perhaps you are onto something, my dear friend.”

 

Chris grinned, wide and curious. “Maybe you could be persuaded for a taste, then, if it works?”

 

Viktor smiled forcefully, an irritated jerk of his lips. “I already said no, Chris. I don’t like having to repeat myself.”

 

“Yes, yes,” Chris sighed, just as disappointed as he had been the first time. “Could I watch, then? When he’s healed? It would be a splendid excuse to visit.”

 

Tilting his chin, Viktor let a gloved finger trail the line of his adam’s apple up to his lips, ever so slowly and thoughtfully. If the man weren’t his best friend, he would have slit his throat and left him to bleed out on the expensive leather of their vehicle. “You can watch.”

 

There was a sharp intake of breath in delight. “Oh, Viktor,” he purred. “That, my dear, is almost worth thirty percent.”

 

Viktor did not respond, pulling out his phone. He had calls to make.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri never left his room the entire rest of the day. Occasionally he would open the door for Makkachin, but he never stepped out. His stomach woke him with a loud growl in the middle of the night, reminding him that he had not eaten in over 24 hours. With a sigh he dragged himself out of the bed and opened the door. The house was quiet, and it was dark, meaning it must have been close to midnight. Stepping out he started towards the kitchen. He would grab himself something, and bring extra for Phichit. He’d likely be asleep, but Yuuri knew he wouldn’t mind being woken for a visit.

 

Two plates firmly in hand with several pirozhki he started trudging down the hallway to Phichit’s room. He slowed as he noticed a shadow of a figure walking his way. As the person in question drew closer, Yuuri could make out the disheveled look of a man, hair out of place and shirt untucked. Once he was close enough to touch, Yuuri recognized the man as Vlad.

 

The blonde licked his lips as he came to a halt in front of Yuuri. “I should thank you for having Viktor keep your friend around. He’s a screamer, and very tight. Good thing you’re bringing him food. He’ll need the energy for us to go again here soon.”

 

The plates fell to the ground, bouncing off the carpet and scattering the food everywhere. Yuuri was at Phichit’s door before he even realized he was running, jamming the code into keypad and opening the door. “Phichit?! Oh god!”

 

Phichit was cowering on the bed, desperately trying to pull on his pants but unable to with trembling hands. He was a blubbering mess, tears pouring down his face and snot oozing from hise nose as he cried. Yuuri scrambled onto the bed, hands careful on his friend to steady him. The moonlight that shone through the small window perfectly illuminated the mixture of red and white between his friend’s thighs.

 

Choking down the vomit that threatened to emerge Yuuri frantically looked around the room for some sort of towel or rag. There was a small powder room attached and he grabbed a hand rag, immediately pressing it to Phichit’s skin. “Sh-hh...it’s ok Phichit. I’m-I’m here,” Yuuri’s voice quivered, not believing his own words. This was not ok. This was the furthest thing from it.

 

“It hurts,” Phichit sobbed, curling in on himself. “It hurts so bad.”

 

“I know,” Yuuri whined, hanging his head in shame as he cried his own tears. “God, I know.”

 

“Get that whore to shut up, would you?” Vlad growled, swinging the door open, his voice heavily accented with the aid of alcohol. “I could hear him all the way down the hall.”

 

Yuuri moved so that he was standing between Vlad and Phichit protectively. “L-leave!”

 

“Get out of my way,” Vlad growled, stumbling slightly as he moved forward. “I was told he’s the house whore, now. I can do what I want with him.” Grabbing Yuuri, he flung the much smaller man aside and grabbed onto a struggling Phichit.

 

Yuuri crashed into the wall, his head hitting hard and sending him into a daze. The room was spinning and there was a sharp pain in his temple, the screams only making it worse.

 

“Fuck, even loosened up you’re still so damn tight.”

 

Immediately Yuuri came back to his senses. Vlad was already fucking into Phichit, the smaller boy pinned beneath him on the bed as he moved. “Get off him!” Yuuri lunged forward, using all of his weight to knock Vlad off of Phichit and up against the wall. He caught Vlad by surprise, and it gave Phichit enough time to scramble off of the mattress.

 

Vlad growled in anger and grabbed Yuuri by the throat, lifting him easily off the ground. Phichit approached from behind, delivering a swift kick between the man’s legs and Yuuri was quickly released.

 

“Run!” Yuuri cried, letting Phichit go just ahead of him before he followed. The sleeve of his shirt caught on something and he was yanked back, Vlad throwing him to the bed. Yuuri kicked desperately as Vlad climbed his way on top of him, sloppy hands trying to grab at his pants to pull them down.

 

Angry Russian filled the room and Vlad stopped what he was doing, quickly backing off the bed even in his drunken state. Georgi entered the room, Phichit thrashing around in his arms. He tossed him towards Vlad and jerked Yuuri up by the collar of his shirt, dragging him out of the room and slamming the door behind him.

 

Phichit’s screams seeped through the wood and Yuuri clawed at Georgi to be released. “PHICHIT!” His fists banged against the door, desperately trying to get to his friend.

 

Georgi slammed him hard up against the door, the knob digging harshly into Yuuri’s stomach. “What did I tell you about staying in your room unless you could behave?!”

 

“Let me go!” Yuuri demanded through a scream, raising a foot and coming down hard on Georgi’s. His fingers were immediately back on the keypad and he was back in the room, launching himself at Vlad, fingers tightly around the man’s neck. The Russian was both caught off guard and inebriated, his face diving against the pillow at Yuuri’s action. Yuuri’s fingers tightened, and tightened, and tightened, screaming as Vlad began to struggle beneath him.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

Yuuri pressed down with his entire bit of body weight, tightening, tightening, tightening.

 

“YUURI!”

 

Vlad went still beneath him, Yuuri panting heavily.

 

“Yuuri…” Phichit brushed his shoulder and he jumped, hands retracting back like he had touched fire.

 

A slow clap started behind them, Georgi making his way in the room as Yuuri scrambled off the bed in horror at the motionless body before him, face first into the pillow. “Goodness, Yuuri. I didn’t know you had it in you. I am thoroughly impressed.”

 

A whimper left Yuuri’s lips in realization at what he done and his knees buckled, Phichit catching him and falling to the floor with him. Vlad was dead. He’d killed him. He’d killed him with his bare hands. He killed him. Yuuri slumped forward, vomit spewing out on the carpet.

 

“The first time is the hardest,” Georgi mused, giving the body a nudge to make sure he was dead, seemingly unbothered that his colleague had just been murdered.

 

“What the fuck is all this noise!?”

 

“It seems there was a little accident, Alexei. Everything is under control,” Georgi spoke calmly.

 

Alexei spotted Vlad and immediately drew his gun. “What the fuck?! What the hell happened to Vlad?”

 

Georgi sighed and rolled his eyes. “Put that thing away.”

 

The barrel of the gun was pointed right at Yuuri. “Did he do this?! Viktor’s little shit?!”

 

“Alexei,” Georgi warned, his voice dropping several octaves.

 

“No! That shit is going to pay!” Alexei stepped forward, both hands on the gun.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

A bang filled the room, ringing down the halls.

 

There was a moment where everything froze, and then Phichit fell back hard into Yuuri’s lap, black eyes dark and lifeless. Right at his temple was a hole that would perfectly fit a bullet. Yuuri’s glasses were splattered with blood, and his body began to tremble. He couldn’t breathe.

 

“Oh dear,” Georgi clucked his tongue disapprovingly, eyes locked on Yuuri as Alexei turned and ran away with a curse. “Look what you’ve done.”

 

Yuuri let out a blood curdling screamed.

Chapter Text

“Your master plan almost went completely ary,” Georgi frowned, arms crossed and refusing to sit as Viktor had asked him to on many occasions since he’d entered the office.

 

“And yet, it turned out quite perfectly, don’t you think?” Viktor asked with a tired sigh. Honestly, the constant questioning and doubts were exhausting, especially coming from his supposed second-in-command.

 

“He could have shot Yuuri,” Georgi growled. “Then what would you have done?”

 

Viktor shifted in his seat so that he leaned forward across the desk. “Had your head on a plate right next to Alexei’s. It was your job, after all, to make sure that didn’t happen.”

 

Georgi sucked in a breath, an eyebrow twitching at the underlying threat. “This is getting out of hand, Viktor. We all entertained it when you just wanted to have a fucktoy, but you’re getting him involved now. It’s dangerous for all of us.”

 

“Oh? Are you worried, my dear Georgi? Now that he’s killed a man he might come after you,” Viktor chuckled. True, Viktor never had any intentions of getting Yuuri involved in anything when he had first brought him back from Japan. But now that he had a taste of Yuuri’s potential darkness...Viktor craved it. He craved it far more than he craved fully owning Yuuri’s love. It was better than anything he could have ever hoped for.

 

“I’m serious, Viktor,” Georgi frowned. “Yakov will be furious when he finds out what happened and you know it.”

 

“Well, good thing Yakov isn’t Pakhan,” Viktor sneered, fingers curling into a fist on his desk. “Was the boy disposed of properly or not?”

 

Georgi’s nostrils flared and he looked like he might want to argue, but he thought better of it. “The authorities found his body this morning. A shooting at a club. Tragic accident. All of Thailand is in mourning.”

 

“Good,” Viktor leaned back in his chair, folding his hands together. “Has there been any progress in finding Yuri?”

 

“No sign of him either in Russia or Kazakhstan,” Georgi began, tightening the fold of his arms across his chest. “However...I received news from Guang-Hong this morning. There has been a sighting from one of his stationed men in Seoul.”

 

Viktor’s teeth clamped down on each other, jaw grinding angrily while he tried to keep an outwards appearance of composure. Seoul. Yuri was going to strike some sort of deal with Seung-gil.  “That little shit.”

 

“Viktor, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think it might be wise to rethink keeping that boy around-,”

 

The bang of fists on the table was enough to make Georgi jump, even in all his professionalism. Viktor smiled, even though his body was tense and ready to jump. “Georgi...I’d watch what your next words are very carefully.”

 

Georgi swallowed hard. “Perhaps...then...simply rethink his involvement with our business. Keep him in the bedroom.” He was visibly shaking, as composed as he kept his facial features.

 

Viktor tilted his head at the suggestion. It was not an unreasonable ask for certain. But Viktor had now had a taste of that darkness and he wanted nothing more than to see Yuuri’s darkness for himself. Locking him up in the bedroom wouldn’t give it a chance to blossom. “Your concerns have been noted, Georgi.”

 

With clenched fists, Georgi dipped his head and excused himself. It was not worth the fight, and his second knew that. That was why he was Viktor’s favorite. Alexei and Vlad were easily replaced, but this sort of loyalty was not. It truly would be regrettable to ever have to dispose of Georgi.

 

There was still the matter of Yuri.

 

Seung-gil was dangerous, and both Viktor and Yuri were very aware of that. It was the one region of the world where Viktor held no influence or ties. There were no allies there. If Yuri was willing to risk his life to go there, he truly must have felt desperate. A strange feeling began to emerge in the pit of his stomach and it took a long moment to realize what it was: fear. They needed to find Yuri before it was too late.

 

Uncrossing his legs and standing he grabbed the bloody back that had been resting on the corner of his desk and headed out of the room. If there was anyone that could distract him from his thoughts of Seung-gil and Yuri, it was his precious Yuuri. The room was dark when he entered, all the lights off and the black-out curtains drawn over the windows. Yuuri curled up against a wall into a small ball. He didn’t move an inch at Viktor’s entrance.

 

“Yu-uri,” Viktor purred, crouching down in front of him and holding up the bloodied bag. “I have a present for you.” Yuuri remained still, head buried between his legs and arms. Viktor forced himself to be patient for a moment, to allow Yuuri time to address him, but he didn’t. “Yuuri . It’s not polite to ignore someone when they’ve brought you a gift.”

 

Slowly, Yuuri began to look up and Viktor undid the ties at the top of the bag. The fabric fell down around Viktor’s hand holding the object. Alexei’s head stared back at Yuuri with wide eyes and an opened mouth. The Yuuri Viktor had taken all those months ago would have screamed. Would have panicked and done everything to back away. But this Yuuri...this Yuuri didn’t even flinch, bloodshot eyes void of any sort of spark. A soft sigh breathed out from Viktor’s lips, an excitement pooling in his gut. He thought it was impossible for Yuuri to be anymore beautiful but this....this was exquisite. To think that he’d fall in love with this Yuuri more than the beautiful dancer. What a story this Yuuri might be able to tell out on the ice…

 

“I do so apologize for Alexei’s actions, my love. You should have never gotten involved like that.”
Viktor set the head aside and placed his bloodied hands on Yuuri’s knees. “But I’m so proud of you, my Yuuri, for the way you protected yourself from Vlad. The first kill is never easy, but you did it so gracefully and with your own bare hands.” Viktor leaned in and took Yuuri’s face, kissing him through the tears and the shivers that ran through his body.

 

The kiss started chaste enough, Yuuri not putting anything back into it, but then Viktor suddenly found himself on his back, Yuuri’s hands on his shoulders as he straddled the man. Blue eyes went wide in surprise as he stared up, Yuuri’s eyes nothing but a void. Viktor was rock hard and his heart thumped loudly in his chest as Yuuri began to rock his hips, fingers digging painfully into him. When Viktor lifted a hand to touch, it was immediately smacked away. Viktor growled in excitement at this sudden turn.

 

Yuuri was rough as he jerked Viktor’s pants open, pulling his cock free and stroking it with a spit slicked hand. Digging his fingers into the carpet Viktor thrust up. Yuuri pushed him back down, hard, his hand trailing up towards Viktor’s throat. Viktor flicked out his tongue, waiting for those fingers to crawl up and wrap around his neck. Do it. Yuuri’s hands retracted. He would have been disappointed if it weren’t for the fact Yuuri was pushing his own sweats down to his knees and reaching for the nightstand for the lube.

 

The doctor had told Viktor Yuuri wouldn’t be fully healed for a month at least. It had been two weeks at best, but Yuuri reached back between his thighs anyway and shoved two fingers up there. His face scrunched up immediately in pain, a small whimper leaving his lips, but he didn’t stop in his motions. Viktor put his hands on Yuuri’s thighs, and this time he was not swatted at. Yuuri added a third finger, another whine of pain as he stretched and scissored himself. When he finally retracted them to slick up Viktor’s throbbing cock, there was blood.

 

It didn’t stop Yuuri from grabbing Viktor’s cock and sitting up, and Viktor certainly made no move to stop him. The smell of copper in his nostrils only increased his arousal and he blantaly licked his lips as Yuuri began to sink down. Yuuri’s fingernails broke skin as they dug into Viktor’s shoulders while he bottomed out, teeth drawing blood from his lower lip trying to hold back the screams. Viktor’s eyes rolled back into his head as he thrust up into hot and wet bliss.

 

This was everything, and more.

 

Yuuri’s body shook, his breaths coming out hot and heavy. When he made no move to start riding him, Viktor planted his feet on the ground and started to thrust up, gripping Yuuri’s thick thighs roughly with each grunt. Viktor could feel blood trickling onto his skin and he began to move faster and harder. The fact that Yuuri was completely flaccid would normally make him angry, but he paid no attention to it as he increased his pace. The moment he felt his orgasm building Viktor slid his hands up to Yuuri’s waist with a grip that would surely leave bruises. The sound of skin slapping on skin vibrated against the walls with Viktor’s grunts before he finally threw back his head and came up and into Yuuri.

 

It was the most satisfying orgasm Viktor could ever remember having in his life. More than that first night with Yuuri, even. Yuuri halfway collapsed on top of him, cheeks stained with tears as his body’s trembles increased. This was the first time Viktor could recall Yuuri had taken initiative in anything more than a blowjob and he had certain never topped like that before. Usually he was so pliant and submissive and boring in bed, even if his body felt incredible around Viktor’s cock. Like no one else. Viktor was truly falling in love all over again.

 

As Yuuri lifted so Viktor’s cock could slip free, a stream of dark pink fluid dripped out and a chilling laughter filled the room.

 

He had created a beautiful monster.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri’s body shook with pain. He couldn’t remember ever hurting this badly in his life and he had endured many falls on unforgiving ice. His wrist ached from overuse and there were thin red scratches all over his biceps and shoulders from where he’d scratched. Then there was his rectum which he’d surely ripped open again, a healthy amount of blood having stained Viktor’s pants that continued to trickle in the shower.

 

He deserved it.

 

Yuuri deserved every bit of pain he experienced for the rest of eternity. He’d killed a man. He’d killed Phichit. Even though the bullet didn’t come from a gun that he had fired, Yuuri felt every bit responsible for those lifeless black eyes that haunted his sleep. It might as well have been him that pulled the trigger.

 

Death would be far too kind for what he had done. He deserved this.

 

The blood and semen between his thighs. The bruises on his hips. The cut on his lower lip and the scratches on his skin. The broken wrist.


He deserved this.

 

Stepping out of the shower, Yuuri almost collapsed, his legs feeling incredibly week after practically impaling himself on Viktor in some pathetic effort to punish himself. Maybe it hadn’t been so pathetic. It had done the job, hadn’t it? It had made Yuuri bleed and gotten Viktor off. Whimpering, Yuuri grabbed for the vanity to steady himself. The towel slipped off his hips and pooled at his feet. He made no effort to bed down and pick it up, instead working the plastic covering off of his cast. Knees buckling, his body finally fell victim to his self abuse. Silent tears fell down his cheeks as he pulled the towel up and over his legs, his back falling against the vanity to support him. There was a nice red stain on the fluffy white cloth.

 

Yuuri didn’t know how long he sat there on the bathroom floor before the door opened and Georgi hovered over him with a disgusted look. Yuuri’s eyes flashed dark and he returned the glare. Georgi could have stopped everything that happened that night. He could have saved Phichit, and he didn’t. Yuuri wanted to kill him.

 

“Are you just going to sit there and bleed all over the floor?” Georgi questioned, kneeling down in front of Yuuri. “You did this to yourself, you know? You were the one that chose your own friend to be put into sexual slave-,”

 

Yuuri’s hands were on Georgi’s neck, squeezing tightly with a scream. It caught the Russian by surprise, allowing Yuuri’s hold to last several seconds before he came to. Georgi was much larger and stronger, and he lunged to wring out Yuuri’s neck, slamming his body up against the vanity. Yuuri’s hands immediately dropped.

 

“It was entertaining to watch the first time, but I’m certainly not enamored of it when you turn me into your victim,” Georgi growled, another forceful shove. “Listen to me, and listen to me carefully, Yuuri. Viktor is not stable. I don’t need to tell you that. He let’s his feelings cloud his judgement. He did it with Yura and now he does it with you. Maybe it’s something about the name,” he huffed. “I need Viktor stable. We all do, including you. So I need you to stop trying to be useful in our business, and just lay back and spread your legs for Viktor like a good little boy while the grownups do the real work?”

 

“You’re the ones that keep forcing me to do it!” Yuuri spat.

 

“Yes, and you’re the one that somehow keeps being awkwardly good at it,” Georgi snorted. “So start being worse at mafia dealings and better at sucking cock. And if you can’t do that, then tell him you love him so he’ll be so wrapped around your finger you can tell him no to his requests. Do I make myself clear?”

 

Tears fell hotter and angrier down his cheeks. That’s all he was. A tool for everyone to use to try and play Viktor - including Viktor himself. “Are you going to rape me if I say no like Yuri?”

 

“You’re not my type,” Georgi assured him with a look of disgust. Slowly, he lowered his hands from Yuuri’s neck and stood. “Why won’t you just play the role, Yuuri? If you gave into Viktor he’d give you everything. It doesn’t have to be real. He just has to believe it. Yet, you continue to torture yourself. Why?”

 

Why.

 

Why?

 

Because despite everything, Yuuri had always had a small part of hope - even if it was as simple as the hope of being true to himself. It was stupid to think that was even a reason....it had done nothing but cause him more suffering in the end. Maybe if he had sacrificed that part of himself from the start he could have helped Yuri become Pakhan. He could be free.

 

“Because you cannot love a monster,” Yuuri responded, letting himself fall limp in defeat.

 

Georgi huffed. “Even after everything you’ve witnessed, everything you’ve done, you still can’t help but try and cling to that sweet innocence that attracted Viktor in the first place. Adorable.” Sucking in a breath he smiled. “Let me ask you, Yuuri: Do you even feel bad about killing Vlad?”

 

No. In fact, Yuuri wishes he could have made the man suffer far more than what he had for what he had done to Phichit. What he had wanted to do to Yuuri. Yuuri knew his eyes said it all when Georgi’s smile widened.

 

“There’s a reason, Yuuri, that darkness is considered a temptation, and the light is not. I’ll fetch the doctor. Viktor would not appreciate it if you continued to bleed everywhere.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, Georgi walked out, leaving Yuuri alone once more in the bathroom.

 

Yuuri curled in on himself, pulling the towel up to his face as silent sobs wracked through his body. They continued as the doctor prodded between his legs on the bathroom floor, patching him up the best he could - which mainly consisted of just shoving cotton up his ass to stop the bleeding -  and putting a new bottle of pain pills in the locked cabinet. Wouldn’t want Yuuri to try and overdose, would they? Georgi picked him up and carried him to the bed after, but left him there naked and alone.

 

Viktor eventually came in and found him, still laying in the same position Georgi had left him in. Viktor sat on the edge of the bed, gently brushing away the bangs from Yuuri’s face. “Dinner is ready, my love.”

 

Yuuri laid there, unmoving, while Viktor continued to stroke his hair. His conversation with Georgi had been on replay through his mind ever since. Placing a hand on Viktor’s, he looked up. “I love you.” The lie slipped easily from his tongue. Far easier than he could have ever imagined.

 

Viktor’s hand froze on Yuuri’s cheek and his eyes went wide. Yuuri thought for a second that Viktor would know he was lying, that he would reach up and hit him, fuck him, hurt him. But instead, Viktor’s lips parted ever so lightly and he let out a sigh of relief, eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, Yuuri….Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri...I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.” He leaned in and captured Yuuri’s lips. It was gentle. Moving from his lips, he placed several kisses down his neck. “I will give you everything, Yuuri. Everything you could ever ask for.”

 

Yuuri placed a gentle hand on Viktor’s head and stared up at the ceiling, allowing Viktor to kiss down his chest, stomach, and down his cock.

 

Yuuri had never felt so empty in his life.

 

He didn’t even know how he had gotten clothes on his body or how he made it to the dinner table with a smiling Viktor, a grinning Mila, and a knowing Georgi. But he continued to repeat the words throughout the night. I love you, I love you, I love you. Viktor all but ravished him in front of everyone, but it was gentle. Soft. At some point, a diamond necklace found itself draped across his neck as Viktor kissed across his clavicle. If Yuuri drank most of the bottle of wine at the table, no one bothered to say.

 

/*/

 

It should have been strange that Yuuri fell asleep immediately upon crawling into bed for the first time since Phichit had died, drunk or no. It should have been strange that Viktor, too, fell asleep without any request for sexual favors. He should have known something was wrong. But what was wrong and what was right in a place like this? Even if his instincts had kicked in, there would have been nothing he could have done to stop what was happening around him.

 

The stench of blood filled the room and even in his heavily groggy state, Yuuri could make out puddles of blood and dead bodies lying motionless on the floor. He had never hear gunshots. Had there even been any? He moaned, trying to figure out what was happening, when he realized he was being dragged along the floor by his feet. The cotton shirt he was wearing was half-way up his chest letting the carpet burn against his skin. As much as he willed himself to move or cry out, he couldn’t. He’d been drugged.

 

Voices. Strange voices. The words were muffled, but even in his state Yuuri could tell it was not Russian or English. What was it…? Yuuri felt like he had heard it before but just couldn’t quite place it. The person dragging him stopped and dropped his legs. Yuuri somehow managed to open his eyes just enough to realize his glasses were gone, but he could make out dark figures. Something cold pressed against his head.

 

“Hey! Don’t kill him!”

 

Yuuri’s eyes widened. He recognized that voice. His heart started to race and he whimpered, wanting desperately to flee from that voice. Blurred bright yellow hair stood out stark against the sea of black. It was Yuri.

 

“That’s Viktor’s slut,” Yuri spat angrily. “He might come in handy.”

 

Handy? Handy for what? Who were these people? Why was Yuri here? What was going on?

 

“Viktor cares for him?” A cold voice asked in accented English. It was distinctly Asian.

 

“Tch,” Yuri scowled. “More than he ever cared for me.”

 

“Fine, then. We’ll take him, too.”

 

“So then a deal’s a deal, right?” Yuri questioned firmly. “I got you Viktor so now Otabek and I are granted your protection.”

 

“I do not go back on my word,” the cool voice responded calmly. “But this is still dependent on you and your Khazak lover working for us when you are needed.”

 

There was a slight pause before Yuri conceded. “Fine.”

 

“Then you are protected.”

 

Yuuri heard soft footsteps and then his chin was being grabbed, forcing his head straight. A man hovered over him with dark hair and eyes.

 

“Unfortunate for you,” the same cold voice spoke. “Death would have been much kinder than what is in your future. Geuleul delyeoga la.”

 

His face was let go but another pair of hands grabbed his legs and he was being drug across the floor once more. Everything started to feel heavy from the drugs and even his heart full of panic started to slow.

 

“Enjoy hell, pig,” Yuri spat.

 

Yuuri slipped into a deep darkness.



Chapter Text

Yuuri absolutely regretted waking up. His head throbbed with pain worse than any sort of hangover he’d ever had. Had someone hit him? Then there were his muscles, sore and pin pricked with imaginary needles. Moaning, he somehow managed to open his eyes to a dim light. Everything was blurry, his glasses lost in the chaos in the house. Slowly and painfully lifting his head he saw nothing but bare empty grey walls. When he moved a hand to his temple there was a loud clanking sound. His hands were bound and chained to the wall. The shackle around his cast was painfully tight.

 

With a groan Yuuri finally looked around and found a slumped over figure tied to a chair in the center of the room. The silver hair cascading around the face was unmistakable. He wasn’t moving. “V-Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice was rough and scratchy like he’d been yelling for hours. Viktor didn’t move.

 

Yuuri’s jaw started to shiver and he drew his knees to his chest, hugging them tightly in order to pull some warmth into him. He hadn’t realized at first how terribly cold the air was. Likely on purpose. What was going to happen to him? Would he be tortured? Killed? Turned into a sexual slave for this new mafia organization? Burying his head between his knees he tried to cry, but there was nothing. No tears, no sobs, just an emptiness. At least if he had died in St. Petersburg his body might have shown up somewhere eventually. His family might have finally been allowed some closure. Now? He’d likely end up in a body bag in a pit never to be found.

 

The door opened with a loud creak, a stream of light flooding in until it was shut behind the intruder. They were dressed in all black, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Yuuri thought it might be the same man he had seen at the house, but it was too hard to tell without his glasses and the dim light. The man didn’t seem to care to pay Yuuri any attention, carefully circling Viktor’s unconscious form. He came to a pause behind Viktor and held something invisible in his hands. They moved up and over his head and suddenly was it was jerked back. The man was suffocating him. Yuuri gasped and Viktor’s body finally started to thrash in panic at the lack of air. The man stopped.

 

“Ah, good. You’re awake,” he spoke so casually, letting the plastic wrap fall to the floor. “It’s so good to see you again, Viktor. It’s been too long.”

 

“Not long enough, Seung-gil,” Viktor growled through his gasps, trying to catch his breath.

 

Seung-gil continued to circle Viktor slowly and methodically. “I always knew your cockiness would be your downfall. Treating those below you like trash only causes rebellion, Pakhan. I suppose you know that now, don’t you?”

 

Viktor jerked at his bound hands behind the chair angrily. “I assure you that after I finish letting you hang upside down and bleed dry I will go after my brother and make sure he suffers the most painful death known to man.”

 

Seung-gil threw back his head and laughed. “And who will come for you, Viktor? Did you not notice I slaughtered your household? Don’t worry, though, I left your dog. I’m an avid animal lover, after all. He should be able to survive off the bodies for a while.”

 

Yuuri could see Viktor’s entire body tense up. “Yakov was not at the house.”

 

“Hmm, no,” Seung-gil agreed. “But what good is one old man going to do you here? Face it, Viktor. I finally have you after all of this time.”

 

Viktor huffed, tilting his chin in defiance. “Then stop wasting my time and just kill me. I will tell you nothing.”

 

“Hmm, it was disappointing how little Yuri knew about your organization,” Seung-gil started as he turned, carefully walking towards where Yuuri was curled up against the wall. “But I suppose that’s to be had when you never trusted him.” Seung-gil knelt down in front of Yuuri and grabbed his hair forcefully, pulling a whine from him. “Maybe this one knows? It is, after all, usually the whores that know the most.”

 

There was a hesitation in Viktor’s voice. Almost...worry? “He knows nothing.”

 

“I suppose we’ll find out, won’t we?” Seung-gil pulled back a fist and before Yuuri could comprehend what was happening it connected with the side of his face, knocking him completely onto the ground.

 

Yuuri gasped, the pain in his jaw rippling through him as his hands stopped him from hitting the concrete and injuring something else. He had never been hit like that, and it hurt. A hand grabbed at his shirt and hauled him back up, Seung-gil looking him straight in the eye. Yuuri tried to speak, but no words came out.

 

“What do you know?” Seung-gil asked, his voice gentle compared to his rough hands jerking Yuuri around. “He must tell you all about his work while he’s whispering sweet words into your ear after you make love.”

 

An angry twitch caused blood to trickle from Yuuri’s mouth. “You mean while he rapes me?”

 

“Yuuri-,” Viktor breathed, a flash of hurt in his eyes.

 

Seung-gil’s hand softened just slightly. “Oh. So that’s what this is. Well, that truly is unfortunate for you - that you’ll suffer extremely for someone I’m sure you hate. Tell me something useful and I promise to kill you once it’s all said and done.”

 

“I don’t know anything,” Yuuri whispered softly, a soft cry of disappointment at a promise that was so close and yet so far.

 

“Hmm,” Seung-gil hummed softly, considering something thoughtfully while he eyed Yuuri’s bloodied face. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” With a swift kick to the chest he turned on his heel and returned to Viktor’s side, leaving Yuuri doubled over and moaning on the ground. “Do you know what I hate more than disloyalty, Viktor?” He grabbed Viktor’s chin roughly and shoved a heel into his crotch. “Rapists.” Viktor cried out as the hell dug harder into his flesh. “True men are able to rise above their animalistic instincts.” Using the force of his leg he knocked Viktor’s chair all the way back, the sound of the collision vibrating loudly in the small space. “Don’t worry - what was your name? Yuuri? What a coincidence.” Seung-gil flashed a glance to Yuuri, but he kept his mouth shut and face pressed to the floor. The man huffed with a smile, “My men only fuck willing whores. You’ll be safe from sexual desires here. For whatever comfort that may or may not bring you.”

 

Viktor groaned, clearly having knocked his head when the chair was kicked back. Seung-gil returned his foot to the man’s crotch once more. “Tell me, Viktor. Do you just enjoy raping helpless boys or do you actually think he liked it? Do you actually he thinks he loves you?” The Korean chuckled when there wasn’t a response. “Hold on to that thought, Viktor, as I beat your whore senseless for your wrong doings and all the grief you have caused me over the years.”

 

Yuuri’s heart lept into his throat with fear and he used his heels to scoot as far away as he possibly could but he was chained and bound in a closed off room. There was no where to go. He knew he looked like a frightened child, body curled and arms wrapped around himself protectively. Viktor was a cruelty that Yuuri know. Viktor was predictable in his unpredictability. This man...Yuuri didn’t know this man and that terrified him most of all.

 

Seung-gil laughed at the show of weakness and sauntered back to Yuuri, kneeling down in front of him. Pulling a switchblade from his pocket he exposed the knife, pressing the sharp tip to Yuuri’s already bruising cheek. He flinched beneath the cool metal as the man started to drag it down his face. “You are going to be so easy to break.”

 

There was a ‘clunk’ as Viktor managed to turn the chair over so that he was on his side facing Yuuri and Seung-gil. “He doesn’t know anything. You are wasting your time.”

 

“Am I?” Seung-gil asked, tracing the cut he’d made with a gloved finger. “Somehow I feel like you might tell me something if I ruin him enough. I’m very good at what I do, Viktor. I will make sure he does not die until I have what I want. So how long he suffers is entirely up to you.” Reaching for the end of the chains bolted in a few meters away from Yuuri, Seung-gil shortened the length Yuuri had to roam, his hands flying up above his head and physically lifting his body up off the floor until he was made to kneel with a stretched torso. “Hope you are comfortable.” He flipped a switch by the door and the room went completely dark as he opened and shut the door, leaving them entirely alone.

 

Viktor and Yuuri’s breaths seemed amplified in the darkness and a rush of cold blew across his skin causing a full bodied shiver. The way he had been maneuvered by the chains would soon become very uncomfortable. If he tried to stretch out his legs it would put an overwhelming weight on his wrists and shoulders, but if he stayed kneeling his thighs would start to cramp. His wrist was starting to ache excruciatingly. The chains rattled as he shifted, already psyching himself out with what was to come.

 

“Stop moving,” Viktor instructed, voice unusually soft and worn out. He must have still been on his side. “Survival is dependent on conservation.”

 

Yuuri accepted the order, body stilling and sinking down into his crouch. It didn’t stop his heart from pounding, though, the breaths through his nostrils sounding far too loud. He needed a distraction. Even if it was Viktor. “Y-you sound like you have been captured before.”

 

Viktor snorted, amused by the statement. “I have.”

 

The room was getting colder. Yuuri bit at the inside of his mouth trying to keep himself from shivering so much. “N-no one is going to c-come for us.” Viktor didn’t answer. Hanging his head, Yuuri tried to close his eyes and drift into a sleep but he couldn’t. Eventually his thighs started to burn with an incredible ache and the tears finally fell. He wanted to die.

 

Please just let me die.

 

A drop of water splashed against the top of Yuuri’s hand. Drip, drip, drip. Yuuri knew that this was where he would lose himself completely.

 

/*/

 

Yuuri was drowning. There was water in his mouth, nose, and throat. It was everywhere. And it was ice cold, down to his bones. The freezing liquid doused him and he was able to reach air once more, gasping for it with only seconds left to spare. Immediately his teeth chattered, his soaked hair blocking his vision.

 

“I want China, Viktor,” Seung-gil’s voice came through garbled, like Yuuri was still under water.

 

“Too bad it’s mine,” Viktor answered, his spark having returned, voice confident and boisterous.

 

There was the distinct sound of flesh connecting with flesh, and even though Yuuri couldn’t see it he knew Viktor had been hit. Yuuri was wheezing, desperately trying to catch his breathe. A bag was put over his head this time and he was thrust immediately back into suffocation. He clawed a thin air, hysterically trying to find air for his lungs.

 

“China,” Seung-gil repeated.

 

“No,” Viktor responded.

 

“I’m starting to think your brother was wrong after all,” Seung-gil stated, and Yuuri was suddenly hit over the head as the bag was removed. Everything was spinning as he clung to consciousness and something warm was trickling down the side of face. “I don’t think you care for this boy at all.” Seung-gil gripped Yuuri’s chin tightly, enough to pry his jaw open. Some sort of rod was stuck in his mouth almost far enough to make him gag. “Maybe I should find someone to fuck him. Some man out on the streets desperate for a whore. It might be the only way to grab your attention.”

 

The rod was removed from his mouth and Yuuri started coughing. Viktor was oddly silent after that proposal.

 

“Oh, now that got your attention,” Seung-gil lit up. “Don’t like dogs peeing on your property? Give me China and I won’t have to.”

 

Viktor didn’t respond.

 

Yuuri felt something hard strike his temple and his vision went black.

 

/*/

 

Drip. Drip. Drip.

 

Yuuri let out an agonizing moan as he came to, water splashing on his hand and his muscles burning with a fire he couldn’t put out. It was worse than any soreness after any practice or competition and it made him long for the onsen. To soak his muscles in the hot water and to enjoy the laughter of his mother and father again. He ached for it. But could he ever go back? Could he ever return after everything that had happened? He could never be the same. He could never be normal again.

 

Seung-gil had been at it for days. The first few days it had been freezing in the room, an unbearable ice that kept Yuuri from sleeping at all. Then it had been hot. Oh so hot. His skin was kissed with fire and he was drowning in his own sweat. Now, the temperature felt normal, but Yuuri felt weak. So unbearably weak.

 

His hands clenched and unclenched as he listened to the dripping of the water. Drip, drip drip. It was driving him crazy. Yuuri swore he was now seeing things in the darkness, things other than Viktor’s silver hair that he sometimes could just make out the outline. It was like someone else was a constant presence in the room. But there was never anyone but the two of them.

 

Drip, drip, drip.

 

Yuuri screamed, yanking at his chains with as much force as he could, but he only moved forward a few inches.

 

“Yuuri, listen to me,” Viktor began, voice soft and almost lost in the room over the sounds of the chains rattling. “I’ve freed my hands from the chains and Seung-gil left you with slack in yours.”

 

Yuuri weakly lifted his head to gaze in Viktor’s direction, even though he couldn’t see anything in the pitch black. Is...is this why he’d remained so calm during all of this? He had some sort of plan from the start? Why hadn’t he started it sooner?! Why had he let Seung-gil torture him endlessly?! Why was he hanging from the ceiling now instead of being bound to the chair? Why-

 

“The next time they enter the room, draw one of their attention towards you. Use the slack of the chains. Can you do it?”

 

With not an ounce of uncertainty Yuuri swallowed, “Yes,” and in that moment he knew he would forever hate Viktor for this. For what he had become. For what he had to become. Yuuri’s breaths increased with determination, his fingers curling around the chains in anticipation. It could be hours - days - before they were visited again by Seung-gil or his lackeys, but Yuuri was ready. There was a thirst deep down in his throat that needed to be quenched.

 

It was a long and silent wait, Viktor releasing no further information on his plan or what would happen once Yuuri had supposedly choked the life out of one of their captors. It didn’t solve the problem that Yuuri was still bound or the fact they had no idea how to navigate their location or then what would happen once they got free - if they made it. Viktor didn’t seem worried. Viktor never seemed worried. Viktor was always somehow all knowing...all too aware of everything going on in the world. Even now.

 

Maybe Viktor had known all along that Yuuri truly hated him.

 

When the door finally opened, Seung-gil was absent, but two of his lackeys entered in his place. Viktor looked passed out, though Yuuri had an inkling that he was simply waiting. The smaller of the two men looked at Yuuri and smirked. It just took a flick of his angry eyes to draw him in. He knelt down and ran a finger across Yuuri’s lower lip. “ Maechunbu, ” he laughed.

 

Somehow, even though Yuuri didn’t know a word of Korean, he knew what this man had just said to him. Whore. Slut. Nothing. With an angry snarl he flung the chains up and over the man’s slightly bowed head and crossed his wrists with a tight tug. The man’s hands flung to his throat in surprise and he stumbled back. Yuuri used that leverage, placing his foot on the man’s chest and pushing at the same time he tugged. It didn’t matter that his muscles were fatigued and his body frail, he had that leverage on his side.

 

Everything was chaos. Yuuri didn’t know if his screaming was just so loud it drowned out everything, or if Viktor might be screaming,too. His victim thrashed about frantically, trying to dislodge Yuuri, clawing into his skin and drawing blood. But Yuuri only pulled harder until finally the body went limp. Breathing hard he untangled the chains and started to pat him down desperately trying to find a weapon or better - keys. Briefly he glanced up and saw Viktor caught in a hand-to-hand struggle with the much larger man. Something jingled and Yuuri’s heart flipped, feeling the brush of cold metal against his fingertips. In the same pocket as a switchblade was a ring of keys. Yuuri’s fingers fumbled and he dropped the keys several times before he was able to keep them steady enough to start switching through them to try on the cuffs. On the third key he finally got it to turn, the cuff sliding off his wrist and landing on the concrete with a loud and echoing thud.

 

Switchblade firmly in hand he stumbled to his feet, assessing the situation at hand quickly to determine his next action. Even though his wrists had been unbound from the chains on the ceiling, Viktor’s hands were still bound to each other and it had put him at a clear disadvantage. Yuuri waited until the attacker’s back was to him and then he made his move, lunging and jumping onto him with the switchblade eagerly slicing through his flesh. The attacker let go of Viktor with a howl, turning his attention to Yuuri and throwing his smaller and weaker body to the ground.

 

Yuuri landed hard, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. He recovered just in time to drive the knife into the side of the man’s neck with a scream, knocking him back and flipping their positions. Blood doused Yuuri’s hand and he could feel his pupils dilate at the sight. The knife sliced through flesh over and over and over, Yuuri unable to stop even as the body beneath him went completely cold and still.

 

Finally, the knife slid from Yuuri’s hands, his breaths rapid and frantic. There was a crater in the man’s chest, fabric completely torn to shreds along with the skin beneath it. Yuuri was certain those were organs peaking out in the mess. It didn’t scare Yuuri. It didn’t make him sick. A palm rested in a warm pool of blood and Yuuri craved more.

 

“Yuuri,” Viktor’s voice purred, soft and longing. His hand reached out and rested gently on his cheek, turning Yuuri’s face towards him.

 

Yuuri reached out his own hand in kind, smearing Viktor’s pale skin with the red liquid. Viktor looked good in red. When his fingers traced over pink lips, Viktor’s tongue darted out, tasting the coppery substance from his skin. Yuuri watched with curious delight.

 

“Beautiful,” Viktor breathed, closing his eyes.

 

An angry voice bellowed in Korean and the door swung open, Seung-gil starring on wide-eyed at the massacre in front of him and his hand reached beneath his jacket. Yuuri was quicker. He had a hand on the gun tucked away in the dead man’s belt before either Seung-gil or Viktor could realize what was happening, the barrel pointed straight at the Korean in an instant as he started to back himself into a corner. Yuuri’s hands were visible shaking.

 

“Shoot him, Yuuri,” Viktor ordered, a smirk on his lips. “Make him pay for what he has done to you.”

 

“What I’ve done to you?” Seung-gil’s eyes narrowed, his hands up in surrender. “I was not the one who kidnapped you from your family - from your country - and forced you to be my sex doll. I did not take away your freedoms and your innocence. All of that...that was Viktor.”

 

Yuuri’s breaths shuddered, his lips trembling. Seung-gil was right. He was right, he was right, he was right. But no matter how hard Yuuri wanted to point that gun at Viktor, his hand remained steady in Seung-gil’s direction. That man was a threat, too, and that threat was immediate.

 

“Shoot Viktor, Yuuri, and I will let you live,” Seung-gil offered, hands spreading wider in offering. “Kill your captor, and I will personally return you to Japan.”

 

Such a promise months ago might have had Yuuri pulling the trigger on the Russian without hesitation. The promise of freedom. The promise of life. But Yuuri had been in this too long. He knew that when he looked into those silver eyes he saw deceit and betrayal. The man was lying.

 

“Yuuri,” was all Viktor said in response, feeling no need to even try and defend himself or offer up something better in exchange for his own life.

 

Because he didn’t have to.

 

“You were right,” Yuuri sobbed, teeth chattering as his hands steadied. “I did break easily.”

 

Yuuri didn’t need to physically shoot someone to know he was a terrible shot. In fact, he’d never shot a gun before. He’d been aiming for Seung-gil’s head when his finger pressed back on the trigger. The sound reverberated off the walls, making Yuuri flinch back in shock. Seung-gil stood frozen, a hole the shape of a bullet in the middle of his neck slowly seeping blood. With a soft thud the body fell to the ground.

 

Yuuri gasped, unable to breathe, quickly backing fully up against the far wall deep into the corner.

 

“Yuuri-,”

 

The gun was immediately pointed towards Viktor, Yuuri grabbing his chest with his free hand to try and stop his hyperventilation.

 

“Yuuri, let’s go home,” Viktor said quietly, hands lowered.

 

“Fuck you!” Yuuri screamed, jabbing the gun forcefully in his direction. “I hate you! You took me from my family, my friends, my life, and ruined it! You ruined me! ” Those words stung. Yuuri could see it in Viktor’s eyes. The realization of the truth he fought so hard to ignore and bury all this time. Good. Tears ran hot down Yuuri’s cheeks, and he slowly drew the gun towards his own temple. “I hope you suffer as much as I have.”

 

Viktor’s eyes went wide and he reached out his bound hands, “Yuuri! No!”

 

Click.

 

Click. Click. Click.

 

Yuuri screamed in frustration, an empty chamber delivering no final blow no matter how many times he pulled the trigger. Letting the gun fall from his flingers and clank against the ground he fell to his knees, sobs yanking themselves from his throat. He just wanted to die. Why couldn’t he die?!

 

With a horrifying scream he bound forward, hands latching onto Viktor’s throat with a terrifying force. Their bodies went tumbling to the floor and Yuuri was on him, squeezing and squeezing. Viktor’s hands latched onto Yuuri’s wrists, pulling at them just enough to gasp for air. Blood was everywhere, painting their skin and hair like it had always belonged. A permanent fixture.

 

“I hate you, I hate you, I hate you, ” Yuuri sobbed, his grip loosening but staying firm around his neck. Drops of tears landed on Viktor’s cheeks leaving trails of cleared skin against red. “But I can never go back. I can never go back to the way things were. You killed me and turned me into a monster.” With a sob he retracted his hands, leaving them on Viktor’s chest. “And now...now I don’t know how to live without you.”

 

Viktor’s eyes closed, his brow furrowing. Relief. “Oh, Yuuri...my Yuuri….” He reached up with his bound hands and slicked back Yuuri’s hair, the blood acting like a sort of gel to keep it out of his face. They then cradled his cheeks, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into the red liquid paint. “I will give you everything. Russia. The world. You will be my consort with equal power in our great kingdom.”

 

Yuuri’s eyes flashed dark and his hands were on Viktor’s throat again, a violent choke. “No.” Yanking Viktor’s face up to meet his he stared into those blue and frightened eyes. For the first time, Viktor was frightened of Yuuri. Yuuri would no longer be the victim. He would no longer be anyone’s toy. No more being pat on the head and being told he was a good boy. No more laying back and spreading his legs. Yuuri Katsuki was dead.

 

“I am Pakhan now.”

 

END.