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On Love: Eros

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God of Love, child of Chaos.

Mischievous, passionate and dangerous.

Dangerous in the sense that it becomes addictive. That every small sensation of that which brings up the deepest, bottled up arousal that only leaves one wanting more. Viktor had known this feeling before, eroticism wasn’t something uncommon as he had lived most of his life sexually liberated. He knew his body, knew his urges. And yet there was this childishness in the way Yuuri opened up to him, trying his best figuring out what eros meant to him.

Eros was about letting go of everything, feeling sexually empowered. That was what Viktor wanted to convey, but not by simply coaching the boy. He needed to know, needed to feel what it meant in the rawest sense of it all.

There had been something from the moment he’d laid his eyes on Yuuri, something that ignited a deep longing to be close to this person – the person who had dared his hand at something precious to Viktor. Surprised and intrigued was how he felt, it filled him with a sensation he hadn’t felt for a long time. He had to meet him, right then and there.
Offering his coaching was easy, but connecting with Yuuri physically required a perfectly planned, step-by-step approach. In the end, the result came easier than expected. He had underestimated Yuuri’s capability to find that element he was missing. He had let his eros, his deepest desires, consume him whole.

The first thing Viktor noticed when his slender hands ran down Yuuri’s torso, was how warm he was. Soft to the touch, almost like a woman. His virginity, the purity of his body, was noticeable in the way he trembled against his cold palms. There was no hurry, yet Viktor could no longer wait. Not when Yuuri was right there in front of him, exuding eagerness in the way he gazed at him with undeniable hunger. That night he would know the true meaning of his eros.

Their movements were sensual yet slow. As if they were gliding on pristine ice. It felt natural, it felt real. “Where you thinking of me back then, Yuuri?” Viktor managed to utter. Yuuri could only nod in response, his body curving willingly. Viktor couldn’t help but grin against the crease between his thigh and groin – breathing in his scent. He was barely dressed, all that was left was the thin layer of cotton that separated Viktor from touching Yuuri in his most intimate places. And despite that he quivered whenever Viktor breathed hotly in his inner thigh, his eager eyes followed every move.

“Делай меня ваш, Виктор*…” Yuuri hissed under his breath, unable to wait any longer. The desperation in his voice sounded like music to Viktor’s ears, and he was all too happy to comply. With the precision of a professional he removed the last piece of clothing that kept them apart and feasted on the sight of Yuuri’s pure body.

And in the heat of the moment, Viktor wondered if it wasn’t he himself who had finally found that passionate, chaotic love he had hungered for all his life.