M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

22.| heaven

yuri pulled away from victor gently, shaking his head ever-so-slightly so that dark, dark hair tickling victor's face, which was only inches away from his.

what the fuck are you doing, nikiforov?
you're sober.
what the fuck are you doing?

"yuri...i..."

his breath was hot on the circle of circle of skin where victor's top shirt button was undone. and before victor knew what he was doing, he was going back for more of yuri's soft lips, which he hadn't appreciated that night at georgi's house party in a guest bedroom on the second floor that smelt of victor's lemon cologne and yuri's chapstick.

"god, yuri," victor murmured against the smaller boy's lips, pulling himself up to straddle him on the grey sofa and let his lips journey to heaven and back.

victor.
no.
this isn't right.
he's fragile.
he's upset.
people have abused him.
they paid for him to degrade himself.
he wouldn't want this.
no matter how much you do.
it isn't always about you, nikiforov.

victor pulled away, his body screaming for him to take himself back to heaven and taste yuri's lips again.

"victor?" he asked tentatively, his shirt ruffled so that the black print of UGH! was illegible.

"i don't want it to be like last time," victor admittedly awkwardly, before he burst out laughing. "fuck, yuri, i'm not really a guy to talk about what i'm feeling, y'know?"

"i should go," yuri said, pulling up the arm of of his coat which had fallen down, courtesy of victor. "it's getting late."

"don't," victor said quickly, pulling at yuri's sleeve and grabbing his hand. "no, yuri, don't go."

"you are shit at saying what you want," yuri giggled softly, and victor rolled his eyes and pulled yuri down so that they were both sitting in the sofa, makkachin jumping down and victor pulled yuri into his arms and let him rest his head against his shoulder; the feel of him made every nerve in victor nikiforov's body stand on end.

get over yourself, nikiforov.

"you can cry if you want," victor said, absentmindedly playing with yuri's dark, dark hair. yuri didn't complain; he only fidgeted with the plaited bracelet on his wrist.

"no, i'm ok now. all cried out. sorry for bumming you out."

victor laughed gently.

"of course you didn't, silly." he carried on playing with yuri's hair, whilst yuri's breathing returned to its normal, steady pace and his eyes dried.

"i can't imagine you crying, nikiforov," yuri sighed, his lips just brushing victor's shoulder as he spoke.

"because i don't, actually," victor replied, tucking tendrils of dark, dark hair behind yuri's right ear. "not often, anyway. certainly not recently."

"he looks like a fucking girl, anya."
"you aren't going to cut it, huh?"
"is that what you said?"
"i guess i'll just have to do it my fucking self, then, victor."
"stop crying."

"hmm," was yuri's response, before he went back to messing with his bracelet.

victor by his lip, a playful smile on his lips as he went on playing with yuri katsuki's hair.

"so," he began teasingly, "pictures of me in your bedroom wall, huh? and you named your dog after me? cute."

"you trying to embarrass me, nikiforov?" yuri asked in mock suprise. "because it's working," he grumbled.

"aw, don't get like that," victor laughed, "i do think that it's cute, yuri. that and your cursing in japanese whilst you cook."

"yeah, well," yuri giggled at the memory, and continue to lie with his head of dark, dark hair on victor's shoulder, whilst victor continued to be mesmerised by how beautiful yuri was.

"what did you mean before?" yuri asked, after a time of contented silence.

"what did i say?"

"about not wanting it to be like last time," yuri replied, and stopped messing about with his bracelet. victor's fingers stiffened momentarily in yuri's hair, but picked up their pace once again.

"i just...i don't fucking know, yuri...i told you i'm not good about taking about this kind of stuff...emotional stuff...i just..."

victor sighed, and took a deep breath. yuri lifted his head from victor's shoulder.

"i just meant that when i slept with you, it was a late night, rushed sort of thing. i mean...not that i didn't..."

both yuri and victor blushed.

"...but i mean...i wanted to value everything...make the most of it...the most of you...and not in some strange bed surrounded by alcoholics and drug-addicts...i want it to be special...if i ever...if we ever..."

victor scratched at the back of his head awkwardly, flushing a deeper shade of red.

"fuck, yuri, i'm no good at this. there, now i'm embarrassed too."

"don't be embarrassed," yuri whispered, looking victor straight in the eye with a half-smile in his soft, slightly chapped lips. he leant up and kissed victor once more.

"i know what you mean, nikiforov he breathed as their lips unlocked. "i wish you hadn't met me when i was asking you for a price."

victor saw the shame and disgust on yuri's face and grabbed his hands once more.

"but then i wouldn't have had you stuck in my head, yuri, and i wouldn't have stalked you until i found your snapchat."

yuri laughed shakily.

"i how to think of you remembering me as what i am," yuri whispered.

"don't you ever fucking say that again," victor replied angrily, and he let yuri's head fall against his chest as he wrapped his arms around his waist. and victor relished in how good it felt to feel yuri katsuki's warmth against his body, and in his arms, and his dark, dark hair against his neck.

"oh well," yuri said as he pulled away and got to his feet. "you were high, and i was selling my body to strangers. and yet, we still found each other."

"we fucking did," victor said with a smile, and yuri let him kiss his soft, heavenly lips.

"i have to go," yuri said reluctantly, and got to his feet. and victor found himself wrapping his arms around his waist and pressing his face into his back, cheekbones rubbing against the smooth black material of yuri's coat.

"no," victor murmured. "stay. it's late."

"victor, i can't just stay here in your house and be a nuisance and- "

"yuri," victor shushed him, lips settled at the nape of his neck.

"yes?"

"stay with me."