Victuuri | complete

Pleasure !

Word Count: 689

"Mm," I harness my nervous energy in favor of converting it into torrid charm. "Am I?"

"Ohh, Yuuri," he groans, seemingly wrapped around my finger.

I firmly press against him, our chests touching and my length grazing dangerously close to an intimate pleasure region. His breath hitches, helpless to do anything but beg and make desperate promises. I'd like to listen longer to the electrifying sound of his voice riding the razor's edge between ecstasy and tortuous desire, but he is simply too compelling. My hips begin to circle into his, grinding into him and pushing him backward. His hands suddenly find my wrists and clench hard.

"Yuuri— oh!— Yuura, please." A breathless pause. "Yuuri— anh. Fuck." It's an instruction, I realize.

By a cool tilt of my chin, I motion for Victor to roll over. Slave to my command, he flips onto his stomach, waiting for my next action with bated breath. Without any sort of warning to Victor, I lower my face and utilize my tongue to wet him down. I don't need to speak Russian to understand that Victor is saying some very unholy words in a very unholy manner.

"Ohh— Yuura," he can hardly start, "Your tongue is exhilarating," he manages.

This being all the encouragement I need, I slowly push my tongue deeper. I'll admit I expected this to be an awful experience for me, worth only the pleasure of Victor. But I'm not assaulted by any single smell or taste, a fact for which I am inexpressibly grateful to my lover. Victor showers and cleans well, luckily for me, otherwise I may have stopped by now. I finally get to the point where I simply can't take not being inside of him, though.

My length is turgid with apprehension, throbbing painfully at the idea of finally pushing inside of Victor. I do as Victor did for me, grasping the base of his erect want and cogently fondling him as I enter him. The immediate groans and near screams that erupt from him almost cause me to stop. I fear that I could damage him or hurt him beyond the ability to feel pleasure.

"Keep going, Yuuri, please," he begs, nearly airless.

I obey readily and without yield, but I want to be cautious. His face streams with tears, as mine did, although he shows not nearly as much discomfort as I felt. Victor seems to be enjoying the pulse of the moment, allowing me to refocus on my own pleasure. If there was ever any doubt of my sexuality, I am discovering now that I am indubitably into Victor Nikiforov. The thought brings a shameful smile to my lips.

I can feel liquid pleasure begin to rise in my body. I know what's coming so I do my best to let Victor know above the swamping sounds of two young men passionately making love.

"Victor," I pant. "Victor, I'm gonna come."

"Don't hold back anything," Victor arches his back in pleasure. "Fuck, Yuuri, you're amazing."

"Good God," I gasp. "Oh— Victor!— I love you," I groan.

I recognize a few Russian phrases mixed with the return of "I love you, too, Yuura," and I can't believe I can actually still blush under all this preexisting heat in my body.

The combination of overwhelming heat, passion, and pleasure send me careening over the shelf of self-control into a sea of rhapsody. Victor, throbbing and dripping, also appears ready to give. Still positioned firmly inside of him, I move my thumb ever-so-slightly to cover his urethra, thus rendering him completely plugged and doomed to erupt. I didn't think it was possible for his moans and verbalisms to become even less godly, but he now demonstrates for me otherwise.

His body yields almost violently, a deeply gratified sigh leaving his lips, as if finally relieved of an engulfing demonic possession. We, and the bed, are drenched in bodily fluids. Before either of us are ready to pick up and clean up, neither can resist just one more messy, steamy, tempestuous kiss.