“Is… Is he performing tonight?”
Sara looks up from the glasses she’s polishing. A customer is nervously standing at the bar, angling their body towards the scenario so she can’t identify them. Even though they hadn’t mentioned a name, she immediately knows who they are talking about.
She smiles knowingly and continues her polishing. “Oh, he most definitely is.” She trains her eyes towards the stage and lets out a little giggle. “Eros is the star tonight.”
The music booming through the speakers suddenly stops and the lights on the stage dim until they’re completely off. The entire club starts clapping and whooping.
“He’s starting now, so you’d better take a seat near the stage if you want to catch a glimpse,” Sara says and winks to the customer.
The customer gives their thanks with a nod and a pull of their hat and quickly walks towards the stage as Sara begins to hear the familiar notes of Eros’ first act. And, just like that, another night in Aphrodisia has begun.
“You do realize this is, like, the worst place to hide, right?” Yuri spits out as they’re trying to walk between the dozens of people filling the streets. “It’s literally known as a criminal hub. Like, you know, where criminals gather?”
“Oh, calm down, Yuratchka!” Viktor says, sparkling, big eyes looking around and drinking everything in. He’s never been in a moon-base like this before, the neon lights and bodies on the streets completely foreign to him. Viktor reaches out to pat Yuri on the shoulder and says, “Nothing will happen. I assure you.”
Yuri huffs and slaps at Viktor’s hand.
“Titan works exactly because only criminals gather here, Yuri,” Mila chips in. Yuri glares at her and she shrugs. “This place is too valuable for the people here to rat it out to the Sentinels just for a few thousand credits. The trades and work being done here are worth far more than that.”
Viktor smiles. “Yes, exactly that! Stole the words out my mouth, Milya!”
Mila rolls her eyes at Viktor’s reply while Yuri keeps muttering something to himself about how they’re all going to get caught and all the work they’ve done so far will be going down the gutter. Viktor is way too enthralled with his surroundings to notice either of their reactions.
After a few more minutes of walking and perusing some of the black market stands along the street, Viktor starts seeing a pattern in the way people are heading towards a certain place. Curious as ever, he immediately perks up and pulls both of his comrades along with him as he follows the crowd. It brings him to a big, dark building with bright pink neon lights spelling out a word on the front: Aphrodisia.
“Oh,” Yuri lets out, shuffling uncomfortably next to him. If the lightning from the neon lights wasn’t so pink, Viktor would swear he could see him blushing. “This is… one of those places, right?”
Viktor cocks his head, confused. “One of those places? What do you mean?”
Yuri rolls his eyes and untangles his arm from the one Viktor had wrapped around it, seemingly somewhat embarrassed. Now Viktor’s convinced Yuri is blushing and his curiosity is more than piqued. Yuri huffs and crosses his arms defensively.
“You know. One of those places. The other reason Titan is very famous?”
It clicks in Viktor’s head instantly, but it’s always fun to push Yuri’s buttons, so he says instead, stone-faced and feigning innocence, “You’ll have to spell it out for me because I’m not getting it.”
Yuri throws his arms up in the air and yells, “Oh my Goddess!” to the sky, turning away from them.
Mila laughs openly as she watches his little tantrum. She tugs on the arm she still has wrapped around Viktor’s and winks at him. “A strip club, he means. Sex work.”
“Oh, my!” Viktor says, his mouth stretching wide and heart-shaped around a smile. “How could I have forgotten?!” He winks at Mila and watches as she silently laughs, then reaches his arm out to Yuri again and forcibly links their arms once more. “We’re definitely going in now!”
As he’s getting dragged along by Viktor; Mila, ever the accomplice in his crimes against Yuri’s sanity, Yuri wails to the sky in case anyone’s listening, “Goddess, please help! I can’t take this anymore!”
Viktor laughs at Yuri’s dramatic antics and barrels in, somehow getting himself through security and cutting in front of the huge line of people waiting to be let in. If anything, Yuri will never stop being surprised at the power he somehow holds, given that the mere mention of his name does wonders in getting everyone to give you whatever you want.
“Oh, come on, Yura,” Mila says, turning to him as they walk the long, slim corridor that gives entrance to the club. “It’s not like you’ll die.”
Yuri glares at her. “Fuck you. You don’t know that.”
Outfit changes used to be a messy spectacle, but between him and Phichit and the months they’ve spent working together, they have gotten an efficient routine down to a T. Yuuri shimmies out of the staple one-piece bodysuit he always wears for his first act and loses the heels along the way as he walks towards the corner of backstage where Phichit is preparing his next outfit.
“Today’s second act is the Retro one, alright?” Phichit says as he turns Yuuri this way and that, pulling up zippers and fixing mistakes invisible to Yuuri’s eyes. “I know it’s still kind of new, but you’ll do great.”
Yuuri smiles nervously as Phichit fixes his hair for the tenth time. “I mean, the last time we rehearsed it I still made some mistakes, but…”
“But nothing.” Phichit’s hands squeeze Yuuri’s face and he looks into Yuuri’s eyes, dead serious. “You are the star of this club, Eros. Don’t forget that.”
Yuuri exhales, closing his eyes. The fake eyelashes are heavy and keep him from opening his eyes longer than he would’ve otherwise—or so he tells himself. “Right. Kinda hard to remember when you keep making stupid mistakes over and over and your stomach turns into knots before every performance and—”
“Yuuri!” Phichit whisper-yells, squeezing Yuuri’s face harder, effectively shutting him up. The use of his name startles him and he quickly opens his eyes. “You’re a star, okay? I don’t care what you say. I know for a fact you’re one of the, if not the best performer out here in the galaxy cluster. There’s a reason all these people keep coming back and it’s for you.”
“30 seconds until curtain call!” A voice yells into backstage and Yuuri snaps back into reality.
“Okay. Time to go out. Nothing else matters right now but the performance,” Yuuri says out loud, like a mantra. It’s hard to remember sometimes and saying it out loud helps, especially when Phichit is there to listen and smile in response.
“That’s right, Eros,” Phichit says, nodding. Heturns Yuuri by the waist and sends him over to the curtain that covers the stage with a little push and a quick slap to his butt. He yells to Yuuri’s back, “Go get ‘em!”
Yuuri can’t help but laugh at that before he trains his face into what he has practiced as his “sultry” look.
Nothing else matters right now but the performance. Nothing else matters right now but the performance.
The curtain draws open.
Hands on his hips, Eros smirks.
“I can’t see shit,” Yuri complains as soon as they’re out the corridor and inside the club. There’s a dim light running along the length of the bar and it becomes his beacon of hope. “Hey, the bar is there. I’ll be there, bye!”
Yuri tries to escape but he’s much too slow and Mila manages to catch him by his shirt collar. He chokes, coughs, and then mutters insults under his breath.
“Now hold on, you’re not allowed to drink yet,” Mila says. Yuri thinks she’s frowning.
“I wasn’t planning to, old hag,” Yuri spits, pawing at her hands around his shirt collar but she doesn’t budge. “They must also sell soda or something and if not I’ll just hang out there. Better than being around you two as you woo over some pretty people in shiny clothes.”
Mila narrows her eyes. “Ok, I’ll accompany you.” She turns to the side, where Viktor is still standing, bright, big eyes scanning the room and obviously fixating on the dark stage. “You can take care of yourself, right, Vitya? You can use the comm if anything happens.”
“Of course, Milya! Who do you think I am?” Viktor asks with a smile.
Mila grimaces. It says all that’s needed to say.
As they’re walking away from Viktor and to the small strip of light that is the bar, Yuri yells behind him: “If you’re getting laid, don’t ring us up! Just get lost!”
Viktor is somehow still able to hear him over the noise and music of the club, and Yuri watches as he laughs, the asshole, and flashes him an ok sign with his hand and a wink. Yuri flips him the bird.
When they arrive at the bar, there is a pretty lady behind it polishing glasses and preparing drinks and Yuri curses at himself mentally. What he wanted to avoid was having to stay and watch as the two idiots lusted over pretty people, and he ended up bringing the lesbian to the place with the pretty girl. Just his luck.
Whatever. At least one gay idiot is easier to ignore than three gay idiots, because Viktor is so loud he counts for two.
Yuri orders a glass of some weird soda that he has never even heard of before while Mila is somewhere further down the bar flirting with the bartender. They’re both so lost in each other that they don’t seem to notice when the lights on the stage start to come up and the curtain starts to rise. Yuri looks at the stage with both curiosity and apprehension.
Once the curtain fully rises, his eyebrows shoot up.
That’s a show for sure.
Viktor somehow manages to get one of the tables in the front-row, off-center to the stage and in the corner where the runway protrudes out from it. The Nikiforov last name is known far and wide and will get you access to a lot of things, something Viktor appreciates, especially when it gets him closer to pretty boys on a stage.
The lights turn on gradually and the audience around him starts cheering wildly, clapping so loud it’s thunderous. Viktor watches the stage with avid eyes as the starting notes of a song begin floating in the atmosphere and the curtain starts to slowly rise. The first sparkles of an outfit comprised of almost solely crystals from the way it shines start to appear from behind the red curtains, and Viktor’s head starts spinning the moment he can take a full look at the person onstage.
There, tall and proud in a bodysuit of the most shiny jewels he has ever seen, with his hands on his hips, stands the prettiest boy that Viktor has ever laid his eyes upon.
And then Prettiest Boy lays his eyes upon him as well.
For the two seconds that their stares meet, the music and the noise and the whooping all fade. For a moment that stretches forever, it’s just him and the boy onstage, existing at the same time in the same place, and there’s something magnetic pulling them to each other.
If Viktor believed in faith, if the years of being chased by the Union and the Peace Sentinels for committing an action that should not be classified as a crime hadn’t jaded him so badly, he would be completely sure that this moment was written to be. He would believe that this was already decided, his previous steps having just taken him to the place and time where he needed to be for this to happen.
But Viktor doesn’t believe in faith. Viktor doesn’t believe in destiny and a grand plan being executed by someone out there, because if there was a plan, it was a shitty plan and he’s going to do his damn best to ruin it. The slaves he and his crew freed were not destined to live like that and The Union was not meant to be an institution that took but never gave. A destiny specifically written like that cannot exist; Viktor refuses to believe it.
But here? In this dead-end moon where he found a boy that shone brighter than any newborn star ever could, Viktor finds himself believing for a second that maybe, sometimes, destiny doesn’t sound so bad.
It’s him, Yuuri knows, as soon as their eyes meet.
He keeps performing, of course, his lips never faltering and his feet never missing a beat. He’s a professional after all, or so would Phichit say. The audience came for a show and he will deliver them a show like every cycle, but tonight Yuuri’s mind is wandering.
He can’t stop thinking about the striking icy blue of the stranger’s eyes, the way his fringe covered up one of them and yet, the blue still shone through the curtain of hair, a beacon calling for Yuuri, moth to flame.
So, when it comes time for the last act, the grand finale, Yuuri knows exactly where he will finish his show today.
Sinuously and imperceptibly, he moves his trajectory along the stage as the song goes on, dancing along to the rhythm. He returns all the way back to his starting point, the middle of the stage, and the spotlights make his skin feel alive with the heat as he strikes his final pose, arm outstretched and palm open.
Pointing. To him.
Fifteen minutes later, Viktor finds himself ushered into a strange, barely-lit hallway on the backstage portion of the club.
“You’ve been chosen!” Another attendee had told him as the performer walked out of the stage. “Eros has chosen you!”
In any other situation, Viktor would be fearing for his life right now. The door in front of him, old-fashioned dark wood with a plaque over it reading Eros , is a siren’s call: beautiful and tempting but most likely dangerous. Viktor knows siren’s calls, has been courting with death for the last few rounds every time he stays in one place for just a little too long, every time he flies just a little too close to a Sentry Station. He has learned to pick his battles with time, to gauge the enemy at a glance.
A playful smirk on his lips and an excited glint in his eyes, Viktor turns the doorknob and pushes the door open.
Eros is laying on the chaise, the red velvety fabric of the couch contrasting against the silky, black robe loosely tied around his last stage costume. He hasn’t taken any of the make up off and the eyelashes have become even heavier somehow, but he’s ready. It’s not Yuuri who’s waiting for the strange man he picked out of a crowd, because Yuuri would never wait for a strange man he picked out of a crowd.
“What brings you here?” Eros says, voice silky and dripping with seduction. His lips part in a smirk.
The man in front of him smiles nervously. “You?”
Yuuri can’t help but laugh at that, and it’s Yuuri laughing, snort and all. He tries to compose himself as quickly as possible, trying to hide the blush on his cheeks behind his hand, but he can’t completely erase the smirk.
“Okay, let’s start with an easier question instead,” Eros says, and there’s still a little bit of Yuuri slipping between the cracks. “What’s your name?”
“Viktor!” The man says. Yuuri is surprised for a moment because it doesn’t seem like he’s lying or like he’s dishing out a fake name, which is a death sentence on this moon. But then, the man says, “My name is Viktor Nikiforov.”
Oh. That’s why he probably doesn’t care about giving out his name. Everyone on this moon knows who he is: the number one name on the Peace Sentinels wanted list, followed closely by his accomplices Yuri Plisetsky and Mila Babicheva at number two. Yuuri has seen his name on wanted posters and big screens when he visits his family on the mainland, has caught glimpses of the silver hair and the sharp jaw. Now, with the man who has started a revolution in front of him, Yuuri can finally put a face to the name.
“It’s very nice to finally meet you, Mr. Nikiforov,” Eros says, fully composed once again. “You’re very famous,” he says and then smirks mischievously, glancing at Viktor out of the corner of his eye, “or should I say infamous?”
“Well,” Viktor says, playful smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I’m glad to see my reputation precedes me.”
“It does, indeed. My name is Eros, in case you didn’t know that already.” Eros watches as Viktor’s eyes start shining with curiosity. He motions to the chairs in the middle of the room, all four tucked in neatly under a table. “You may take a seat if you’d like. There or… wherever else you might like.”
Eros smiles at Viktor, seductive and sly, his arm very obviously pointing to the bed on the opposite end of the room, but Viktor doesn’t seem to get the hint, only smiles nervously again, his lips stretching in a wavery heart-like shape as he drags one of the chairs out from underneath the table and sits down on it.
Frowning, Eros gets up from the chaise, very deliberately letting his silk robe slide down one of his shoulders to expose part of the outfit he’s still wearing underneath, and walks to the bed. Either Viktor is really dense or he actually has no interest in Eros at all, which can’t be, not after the way he looked at him onstage, not after the stare they shared.
He sits down at the foot of the bed and crosses his legs, the silk robe sliding up with the motion to reveal just the smallest amount of the lace trim of the panties of his costume. He watches as Viktor’s eyes are drawn to it, following the motion until he seems to remember himself and quickly snaps his eyes back up to Eros’ face, gulping.
Eros smirks, cat-like. Perfect.
“So. I invited you here; you are my guest,” Eros begins, swiping one arm wide to encompass the entirety of the room. He taps his hand on top of the comforter lightly. “What would you like to do?”
“I…” Viktor blushes slightly and Yuuri bites at his lip. It looks adorable on him. “Could you tell me about yourself?”
“Excuse me?” Eros sputters, taken completely by surprise.
“Yeah, well. I know nothing about you. But you’re really pretty and I would love to get to know you?” He says the last sentence like a question, like he’s beginning to lose confidence. He grimaces like an afterthought. “Sorry if that sounds sketchy, you don’t have to talk about yourself if you don’t want to, I know how life is out here.”
“No, that’s fine, I just…” Eros trails off and his position slouches a bit, his spine more relaxed. Yuuri scratches at his head sheepishly as he continues, “conversation is not exactly what generally goes on back here.”
Viktor frowns, looking genuinely confused. “Then what happens back here?”
Yuuri laughs and he thinks it’s justified. Nobody would ever think that Viktor Nikiforov, the man who started a revolution against The Union, would be so goddamn naïve. He hides his smile behind his hand once again, peeking through his fingers at a still-confused Viktor.
When Viktor catches his stare, he smiles again and there’s no trace of confusion left in there. It’s warm and inviting, like Yuuri has finally found a place to call home, and his heart skips a beat.
He starts talking without thinking much about what he’s saying, without giving much thought to the fact that he’s disclosing so much information to an almost complete stranger. He doesn’t stop talking because if he does, he’ll stare at Viktor’s eyes for a beat too long or his ears will linger on the beautiful ring of his giggle, and his chest will ache.
With Viktor Nikiforov in the backroom of Aphrodisia, eyes eager like a puppy and ears hanging onto his every word, Yuuri feels the homesickness that has become part of his being slowly fade away. The room starts to fill with the warmth of Viktor’s laugh and the heart of his smile and Yuuri starts to think that maybe people were right when they said that out here in space, you can’t call a place a home, but you can find a person that will make every moon and every satellite feel like one when they’re with you.
After eons of looking, Yuuri thinks maybe he’s found home.
And he looks like the naïve, over-eager owner of the number one name in The Union’s wanted list. Because, of course, he always needs to complicate his life even further.
“I don’t think Viktor’s coming back,” Yuri mumbles, looking down at his wrist and pulling up the control panel of his comm. Viktor’s face and name appear in his contacts, offline. “It’s been like 30 minutes since the show ended and he’s nowhere to be seen.”
Mila looks back at him, taking her eyes off the bartender for the first time in what feels like an hour. “Maybe he actually hooked up and listened to your petition to not call us.”
Yuri’s face contorts in disgust at the thought. He stops his train of thought before it goes further and his imagination conjures up some images that he will never be able to get out of his brain, not even with that memory-erasing technology The Union’s been tinkering with lately.
“Whatever,” Yuri says as he types out a message in the comm for Viktor.
i’ll be at the ship. we’re getting out of here tomorrow at 1000 sharp, with or without you.
“I’m going back”, he announces once he’s sent the message. He hops off the bar stool and turns back to Mila. “You coming?”
“I think I’ll stay,” Mila says, glancing at the bartender while she prepares some weird drink with rosé wine and whiskey.
She slides the drink to the customer and walks back to their end of the bar, cleaning up her supplies on the sink. Like she’s thinking nothing of it, she casually comments, “My shift is ending in 20 minutes.”
Yuri watches as Mila smiles and winks at the bartender, who seems to fluster and blush in response. He rolls his eyes. Of course.
“Yeah, I’ll stay. You go on without me and take good care of Makka, alright?” Mila says, blowing a kiss in Yuri’s direction.
“I will,” Yuri huffs out indignantly. “Because she’s the only one who won’t abandon me for a pair of pretty eyes and attractive thighs. Unlike you two idiots.”
Yuri can see Mila roll her eyes, but she says nothing more as he turns and starts to walk away.
It’s almost a round later when they dock back onto Titan.
Three exact cycles have passed, three cycles that Yuri has spent in peril and anguish. Both Viktor and Mila seemed somehow unable to stop daydreaming about whoever it was they’d spent their time with that day in Aphrodisia and Yuri was panicking because not only was the ship’s pilot not being himself, but neither was the ship’s navigator.
They’d barely made it out alive from the one encounter they’d had with the Peace Sentinels, encounter which had mostly consisted of Yuri manning the weapons and screaming his way through the fight as Viktor and Mila barely helped through the whole ordeal. He’d called it after that, made Mila set their course straight to Titan. He couldn’t keep going like this; his heart and mind wouldn’t survive.
They docked in Titan at exactly the right time, the lights inside the dome that made living possible in the moon dim to indicate something akin to night. There wasn’t exactly night and day out here in space, not like there was back on Earth, but the people living in the moons made an effort to help maintain the humans’ natural sleep cycle.
“Come back when you’ve figured all your shit out,” Yuri says as he pushes them both out of the ship. “I’ll stay with Makka and wait for you. If you take too long, I’ll start screaming your names all over the moon until you come back.”
Both Viktor and Mila nod. They know what Yuri is capable of when he put his mind to it. They are both terrified of the potential.
“Good. Now go.”
The show is no less fantastic than the one Viktor had seen before. It’s all new acts and Eros keeps appearing in sparklier and tinier costumes. They all seem carved out of stardust from how brightly they shine. And Eros shines too, something more than the spotlights lighting a fire inside him, his smiles and winks and dance steps melting the audience like the core of a star.
He’s chosen again tonight, of course, and Viktor feels chosen. Times are tough, especially for the head of the rebellion, and if you want to take the risk to love someone, you have to make a conscious decision. Love isn’t a strange concept, not even out here in the most dangerous criminal hub this side of the charted galaxy, but it’s a weapon that can so very easily be turned against you. So when Eros stands in the middle of the stage, arm outstretched and palm open, pointer finger stretched directly in Viktor’s direction, Viktor’s heart soars because he has been chosen.
When he finally crosses the threshold of Eros’ room backstage and closes the door behind him, Eros is right there, wastes no time with flirty winks and smiles, just walks right up to him and holds his face in his hands, softly and almost nervously. There’s something different in him, the slight blush on his cheeks and the shy tilt to his smile betraying a different person underneath Eros.
“You came back,” he says, voice soft like he’s afraid of everything vanishing if he admits it out loud. His smile is warm and Viktor’s chest aches.
Viktor raises one hand up to his own face to cover Eros’. He softens, the hard shell of Captain Viktor Nikiforov dropping.
“Of course I did,” Viktor replies, voice soft just like Eros’. He can see Eros’ eyes switching from his eyes to his mouth and he knows. Viktor smirks, playful once again, and asks, “Are you going to kiss me or not?”
He gets the delight of watching a blush blossom under Eros’ skin, staining his cheeks red when he realizes he’s been caught in the act. His smile turns shy.
“Yeah, I am,” he says. And he does.
The first contact of their lips feels like puzzle pieces slotting into place, the magnetic force that has kept them orbiting around each other finally becoming too strong to ignore, pulling them both out of orbit and crashing right into each other. It’s a collision of sparks and stardust and new beginnings and it’s a beautiful chaos.
They kiss until they’re out of breath and then they kiss some more, curious hands wandering over unexplored territory. Viktor’s hands move from Eros’ back to his waist and to his hips, mentally mapping out the shape of his body. Eros’ hands wander from Viktor’s face, downwards to his neck and over his collarbones, feather-light touches that make Viktor gasp with the need for more contact.
It’s almost like a blur from there on out. They slowly make their way towards the bed in the corner, Eros leading them with careful backward steps. Once the back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, he flips them and pushes Viktor down so he sits on it, swooping down in one fluid motion to his knees right in front of Viktor.
Viktor is blushing and out of breath and embarrassingly hard from just a make-out session. Eros looks up at him from where he kneels between his legs and smiles devilishly, which makes Viktor’s heart jump and his dick twitch.
“Can I?” Eros asks, hands ghosting over Viktor’s erection through his pants and sending shivers of anticipation down Viktor’s spine.
“Please,” Viktor begs, and it comes out as a whine.
Eros giggles and turns his eyes down to Viktor’s crotch in front of his face, lightly touches him over the fabric with the tip of his nose. Viktor’s hands bunch up the sheets and he holds back a moan. Eros makes quick work of his zipper and Viktor’s pants are quickly shoved down to his thighs, his underwear now the only piece of fabric between Eros’ mouth and his cock.
Viktor watches with avid eyes as Eros lowers his face down and licks a strip up his cock with the flat of his tongue, the sensation of the fabric dragging along his sensitive skin eliciting a moan from Viktor. His hips buck involuntarily in the direction of Eros’ face and he looks down at him, alarmed and apologetic. Eros is frowning, one hand immediately going to Viktor’s hip.
“You need to stay still, alright? I have a show next cycle, I can’t have my throat all messed up.”
Viktor brings a hand up to his face to cover his eyes, and says, “I know, sorry.”
He feels Eros’ lips delicately kiss his erection over the fabric and he talks in between kisses, “I will tie you up if I need to, but you can be a good boy, right?” He looks up at Viktor, his lips still hovering right above his erection, his eyes steely.
Please tie me up, Viktor can’t bring himself to say, so instead he says, “Yes. I can be a good boy, Eros.”
Eros smirks and he finally, finally, lowers the waistband of Viktor’s underwear, freeing his dick from the fabric. Goosebumps appear on his arms as the sensitive skin is exposed to the cold air of the room, but Eros’ hand is quickly around it, warm and just the right amount of friction.
“Good,” Eros says, then seems to think something over in his head and adds, “And call me Yuuri,” before he dives in.
The wetness and warmth of his mouth feel like newfound glory to Viktor, pulling a breathy moan right out of him as Yuuri goes down and down until his lips meet the fist his hand has formed around the base of Viktor’s dick. Viktor’s eyelids close and he swears he has found God: he looks like a pretty boy in sparkly clothes out in the garbage pile that Titan is.
Yuuri’s mouth moves up and down his length, lets go of the head with a wet pop that resonates obscenely in the room. He licks a long strip up Viktor’s cock with the flat of his tongue, the skin under his mouth velvety and hot, reaches the top and takes his sweet time playing around with Viktor’s slit and the underside of his head.
Viktor’s head spins as Yuuri wraps his mouth around the head of his dick and sucks, tongue playing with his slit, and he moans.
“Ah, ah. Yuuri.” It comes out of Viktor so naturally, his moans rising in a delightful staccato. His mouth molds around Yuuri’s name like it’s already used to it, like his tongue has been saying it for thousands of times before this, the sounds already familiar and engraved into his vocal chords. “Yuuri, please.”
“Please what, Viktor?” Yuuri asks once he’s pulled off again, his hand still stroking Viktor at a slow pace.
Viktor bites his lip because he doesn’t even know what he was asking for. Just more. More of Yuuri, around him and above him and surrounding him in all possible ways. Right now, though, he probably means that he wants to come. Desperately.
“I want to come,” he says and it comes out needy. He blushes and bites his lip.
Yuuri smiles like he’s proud of him, and says, “Of course. You’ve been a very good boy up until now. You can have a reward now.”
His mouth envelops Viktor once again and he’s relentless now, his free hand coming up to play with his balls and massage his thighs, slithering up to pinch his nipples. His head moves up and down Viktor’s length, sucking as he goes up and releasing as he goes down. Viktor’s back arches as Yuuri has one of his nipples between his fingers and he’s moving up his dick, his gut tightening with the impending orgasm. And then Yuuri’s teeth come out, just a little bit, softly graze Viktor’s skin on the way up, and he completely loses it.
Viktor’s coming before he can warn Yuuri, the only sounds he’s able to make being the whiny and soft moans he’s incapable of not letting out as he comes inside Yuuri’s mouth.
Yuuri pulls off completely once he’s finished and Viktor shivers as he lets go, oversensitive. He lets himself fall down onto the bed under him and just breathe for a couple of moments to revel in the best blowjob he has ever received in his life. He lets out a big exhale.
Yuuri giggles. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, I just…” Viktor waves a hand in the air vaguely. “That was so good. Give me a second.”
When he sits back up, Yuuri is still kneeling between his legs with a blush high on his cheeks. He’s smiling almost shyly and Viktor thinks back to Eros and his confident smirks and playful eyes, and he thinks, He can really do everything, huh? Viktor reaches for one of the hands Yuuri is now wrangling nervously in his lap and tugs on it.
“Come on up,” he says.
Yuuri does. With their height difference, Viktor’s head ends up level with Yuuri’s collarbones and neck and he buries it there, inhaling the delightful scent he’s only gotten hints from so far. It’s very unique, a combination of Yuuri’s natural scent with something else, clean and fresh and warm.
“You smell wonderful,” Viktor says, nosing against Yuuri’s neck and mouthing along his collarbones.
Yuuri flusters. “Perfume! It’s my perfume, you know? You gotta smell good in this business.”
Viktor tries not to, but he laughs anyway. “Of course.” He backs away from Yuuri’s skin and takes a pointed look towards his crotch, where a hard-on has been straining against his stage costume this whole time. “Do you need any help with that?”
“I mean,” Yuuri begins, avoiding Viktor’s eyes. “It’s okay if you don’t want to, you really don’t have to—”
“Yuuri,” Viktor interrupts him. The sound of his name startles him and Yuuri turns his eyes back to Viktor’s, and they’re icy blue and serious. “Of course I want to. I would be honored if you let me help you.”
Yuuri bites his lip and his eyes soften. “Th-Then… yes, I want your help.”
“Great!” Viktor smiles, his lips stretching heart-shaped around it. “Is my hand okay? Do you want me to blow you too?”
“Just... Just your hand is okay,” Yuuri says. His eyes dart quickly to the side and then back. “We can leave the other stuff for another time.”
Viktor’s smile widens and his heart leaps. He stretches up to place a kiss on Yuuri’s lips and whispers, “Yeah. We can.”
They have to find their way around Yuuri’s stage costume because, while very pretty, it’s not very conductive to sex unless it is completely taken off. They find a way, though, and Viktor’s hand wraps around Yuuri, who breathes out a sigh. Viktor spits on his hand in lieu of lube—which he probably should start carrying around now—and then returns it to Yuuri’s erection, slowly builds up a rhythm that has Yuuri arching inwards and letting out little sighs of pleasure against Viktor’s head.
Viktor tries to play coy once, speeding up his hand to try and bring Yuuri over the edge, and then completely stops. Yuuri lets out a little growl and it’s the sexiest sound Viktor has ever heard in his life.
He feels a hand around the back of his neck and Yuuri’s head lowers down to whisper into his ear, “Be a good boy, Vitya.”
Viktor positively melts at the nickname. He gulps and nods, breathless, his body running hot. “I will be, I’m sorry. I promise I’ll be good.”
“Alright,” Yuuri says, and the slight pressure around the back of Viktor’s neck disappears as Yuuri’s hand moves up to tangle in his hair instead.
The movement of Viktor’s hand starts back up and he shelves the teasing for later, focuses on giving Yuuri the release he deserves, takes notice of the movements and touches that make Yuuri’s soft gasps come out a little rougher, and repeats them until Yuuri is bent over him, hands buried in Viktor’s hair and clutching it so tightly it starts to hurt.
“Ahh, Vitya. So good,” Yuuri mumbles against his hair and Viktor wishes he could see his expression. “You’re doing so good.”
Viktor feels himself glow from the praise, speeds up his strokes until Yuuri’s moans rise in pitch and suddenly he’s coming, white hot spurts decorating the front of Viktor’s shirt and running down his hand.
After he’s finally come down and Viktor has wiped his hand on the bedsheets (he doesn’t think Yuuri will mind), Yuuri finally looks down and realizes the mess that he created on the front of Viktor’s shirt. He blushes madly, his entire face scarlet red, and starts apologizing profusely immediately.
“Oh my God, I came on your shirt, I’m so sorry. I-I can give you one of mine instead, oh my God, I really am sorry, I didn’t think—”
Viktor starts laughing almost immediately even though he doesn’t want to seem insensitive. He hurries to clarify, “It’s ok. I will keep this as a treasure.”
“You…” Yuuri starts, but he never finishes his sentence because an alarm starts blaring through the establishment. His whole posture changes in a beat, his eyes turning alarmed. He looks back at Viktor with panic. “It’s the Peace Sentinels. They’re here.”
“Fuck,” Viktor gets out, suddenly at the ready. He finishes pulling up his pants hastily and zips them up.
“You need to get out of here,” Yuuri says, walking in a hurry to a door in the room opposite from the front door. “You can leave through here, it goes backstage and leads to a secret exit on the side of the club.” When Viktor stands next to him in front of the door, Yuuri takes his face between his hands and looks into his eyes pleadingly. “You can’t get yourself caught. I’ve barely gotten to know you and you have a very important thing to finish.”
“I know,” Viktor says, eyes soft. He covers one of Yuuri’s hands with his own again, pulls him close for a short and chaste kiss. When they separate, he brings their foreheads together and, in the small space between their faces, whispers his promise, “I’ll find you again.”
“I know,” Yuuri repeats his own words back to him and it makes Viktor smile. He leans in again for another quick kiss and then ushers Viktor outside the door and into the corridor. “Now go. We’ll see each other soon.”
The moon is in chaos when Yuuri finally manages to get out of Aphrodisia in commoner clothes. There are plasma guns being fired everywhere he looks and the Peace Sentinels are pouring into the dock by the dozens. This is a raid and they should’ve seen it coming, they really should’ve, but somehow they didn’t and now they have been caught surprised.
The dock is a mess of people trying to get into their ships and fly away, so Yuuri has a hard time getting to his and Phichit’s small pod, but he makes it unscathed. Phichit is already there, because of course he is, control panel lit up and ready for flight.
“Two minutes for departure!” Phichit yells as Yuuri gets in and strapped to his seat.
“Let’s just go now.”
“Aye, captain!” Phichit replies, smile on his face as he takes off the dock and up into space.
Yuuri rolls his eyes but says nothing, looking out the window at the outpouring of ships from Titan’s main exit port as they cross it. In the distance, he can recognize the warm brown of Makkachin, Viktor’s ship, as they’re engaged in combat with a fleet of Peace Sentinels while trying to make their escape.
His hand comes up to his lips as he remembers how Viktor’s lips felt against his own mere minutes ago. His hand slowly turns into a fist as his eyes light up with fiery determination.
There is something between Viktor and him that is inevitably pulling them together and he won’t let anything in this universe and all others keep them away for any longer. They have finally found each other. Yuuri will make sure they keep finding each other, even if he has to fight destiny itself.
His smile flashes in the dark of space.
The universe is vast and scary, but so is his will.