Door unlocked. Either Victor was getting careless or he was expecting someone. Yuuri had more than an inkling who that someone might be. This was his fifth time trespassing in Nikiforov's personal residence in St. Petersburg. The dozens of times he'd broken in - which was much more difficult that this - it had been in hotel rooms of in his place in Moscow. If he was resting in this big house it must have been a very special occassion. Yuuri smirked.
He turned the door knob, poking his head in to find the foyer not only empty but sunken completely into darkness. Not a single sign of a light through the entire house. His intel said that the Pakhan was definitely here tonight; the million messages and missed calls on his phone confirmed that. So why was the house in this state? Ever the cautious man, Yuuri reached a hand into his suit, gripping the handle of the gun in his jacket like a comfort blanket. This wasn't normal. At least, not by assassination standards. But when had Victor Nikiforov ever been normal? When had Yuuri been, for that matter?
Yuuri stepped in, acutely aware of the sound his shoes made as he stepped on the expensive tile floors. He shut the door behind him, as quietly as he could, before heading deeper into the foyer, looking for a sign of human presence anywhere. Yuuri didn't find footprints or askew furniture or smell any unsafe gases - any of which might signal a sneak attack of some kind - but when his foot stepped down and was muffled by something small soft and flat he found a most pleasant hint: rose petals.
Yuuri pushed the first delicate petal he saw softly with his foot. Leaning down, he picked up the trodden piece of flower and sniffed. It was real. Of course it was real. Victor using plastic roses, the very idea sounded ridiculous. Looking up ahead Yuuri found the petals leading up the stairs.
Yuuri stood, following the trail and placing his hand on the smooth oak banister. As he took the first step two cylindrical electric lights came to life, nearly shocking the young man enough to stumble back. Motion sensor lights? Really?
Yuuri took the next step only to find two more lights to his left and right lit up on the step. Victor was determined his guest make an entrance, it would seem. He chuckled, climbing up to the second floor, lights blooming in his path, rose petals guiding him. He reached the hall only to find the electric lights had been replaced by equally garish scented candles on hall tables and more petals leading to a room at the end of a long hall.
The door was half open and the closer Yuuri got the more his heart raced. His blood was singing in his veins and he was sure his mark could hear from inside his room. Yuuri let himself picture him for the briefest if seconds. What was he wearing? One of his ever flattering tailored suits or his favourite blue V-neck with that stunning leather jacket. Maybe he'd decided to forgo the clothes this time, get straight to the point with some lace and stockings.
Yuuri gulped, taking one deep breath, removing the gun from its cradle and stepped inside to find yet another surprise for himself.
"Pakhan," he'd nearly wheezed out the title.
Victor stood beside a small, round table for two. A single candle shone above a meal, katsudon in two bowls. The Pakhan smiled, pulling one of the pretty antique chairs out for his assassin. "Quickly, Yuuri. It's getting cold."
Yuuri didn't think himself a docile creature by any stretch. Other men of his profession often remained silent, remained willing, weren't picky about the work they took or the damage it did to them. They were pawns for the rich and powerful. Yuuri had thought himself different once, but standing here, weak in the knees for the richest and most powerful man in Russia made him question that; it made him question everything.
Yuuri stepped forward, making a point of holding up his weapon, a short insistence that he wouldn't holster the gun. Victor's smile only widened as he waited for Yuuri to take his seat before sitting down across from him.
Yuuri hadn't been far off with his first guess; Victor was wearing a suit. Parts of a suit, at the very least. A crisp white dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and top two buttons undone. He was showing off. Yuuri didn't blame him. As they say, if you've got it...Victor certainly had it. He was sculpted nicely. Sometimes Yuuri wondered if he worked for a figure that could kill or if he just got it by killing. Over that was a silver waistcoat, slick and silky. It was cut to accentuate the widening slope from his abdomen to his broad shoulders.
"Remind me to ask for the name of your tailor," Yuuri said, clearing his throat and folding his hands over his crossed legs in an attempt to look dignified. "Before I kill you, I mean."
"Of course," Victor rested his jaw on his hand, biting his bottom lip as he looked Yuuri up and down. "You'd look stunning in Francesco's work, darling. I'd pay good money to see it."
"None of the money you have is good , Pakhan," Yuuri laughed. "But you'll be dead soon anyways, so that doesn't really matter."
"Hmm," Victor hummed, eyes sharpening as he sat forward. His forearms rested on the edge of the table as he leaned towards Yuuri. His breath smelled like mint and cigars; not what Yuuri would pin as pleasant but it certainly brought back memories. Memories of complaining about the smoke in Victor's room as his bed fellow rose to open a window. Memories of Victor chewing what had to be a pack of gum in an attempt to make himself more presentable for his Yuuri. "You're really going to kill me this time?"
Yuuri only nodded.
Victor sat back, jovial twinkle returning to his eye as he chuckled. "Let's make this a good last meal then. I'll pour the champagne, you dig in."
Yuuri did just that, savouring the flavour of a dish he hadn't eaten in years. It tasted just like his mother's cooking. He hadn't seen her since he taken on his family's debt, which was...so long ago.
Victor made small talk as always, sipping at his drink when Yuuri did, picking at his food. He told Yuuri how awful the winter weather had been lately. He described a snowstorm he'd been stuck in for an entire day after his scheduled departure from a safe house. He recounted every second of his last pleasure trip which, God, had been months ago. He'd taken a ride on his barge in the caribbean. He wished Yuuri could have been there. By the looks of it, he says, Yuuri could use some sun and rest.
Yuuri's quiet, catching himself smiling at the end of every word Victor says. Victor never talked to him like an enemy, a colleague in the business or even like a lover. He talked to him like a man welcoming another man home, like a husband. It made Yuuri want to laugh, it made him want to weep.
"You cleaned that up fast," Victor noted, taking another long sip of champagne.
"You know it's my favourite," Yuuri said, looking down at his finished dish with what he could describe as dread.
"I do," Victor smiled fondly, voice slow and sweet like syrup. "I'm glad I got to make it for you at least once."
"You made this?" That fact - small and simple as it was - shook Yuuri's core. He could see it, Victor fussing over pots and pans, running about the kitchen in a huff. He was such a perfectionist that cooking would hardly be an elegant affair for him. Frenzied would be a better word.
"I called your mother for the recipe," Victor was beaming. Victor had one last surprise for Yuuri before he died.
Yuuri had one too.
Yuuri snuffed the candle, plunging the room into the blank, the nothing. He just made out the sound of Victor's breath hitching as the table dumbled over and the silverware clattered across the wood floor.
Yuuri's lips stumbled over Victor's skin in the dark. He felt out the dip between his clavicle, tender and vulnerable, before pecking and sucking his way up Victor's throat. Unmistakably long, sure fingers wound themselves in the thick coils of Yuuri's hair as he traveled up. There was his jaw, strong and angular, his chin, his bottom lip. Catching those lips in his own felt like coming up for air. Yuuri hadn't even known he was drowning when they were apart. Now though, now he could breathe.
Rough and indelicate, Victor rolled, clutching at the back of Yuuri's knee, flipping them over. Yuuri felt the edges of his spine rolling over the floor as Victor sucked at Yuuri's lips. He was desperate, wanting, as he parted his mouth for Victor. Thoughts of control and power and dignity went out the window. He just needed to feel Victor here with him.
Clumsy fingers tore at fabric urgently giving Victor the clue. He sat up, Yuuri returning to pressing kisses in his neck, and unbuttoned the waistcoat and the shirt. Yuuri pushed the clothes over those broad shoulders he loved so much and clung to the skin there like a lifeline. It wasn't long until Victor was doing the same. Yuuri pulled at Victor's belt as the other man stripped Yuuri down to nothing but flesh and hunger.
"Yuuri, the bed," Victor panted, parting his lips from Yuuri for the barest of seconds.
"Here's fine," Yuuri answered desperate, crashing them back together before Victor pulled away again.
"Yuuri, the condoms."
"I trust you," Yuuri muttered between kissed to Victor's cheek.
"Yuuri," Victor was laughing a loud, boisterous laugh that Yuuri could feel rumble in the chest pressed against his. "The lube!"
"Fuck!" Yuuri groaned, head falling against Victor's shoulder. Yes. Yes they did need that.
Victor chuckled above him, planting a gentle kiss to the crown of Yuuri's head. He stood, walking around Yuuri to the bedside table. Yuuri had lost this battle to logic it would seem. Naked and eager, Yuuri climbed his way onto the bed, crawling over the plush covers to sit rested against the headboard.
Victor was still in pants, Yuuri noticed grumpily as he watched the man rifling through the drawers beside him. He was grinning ear-to-ear, he was glowing, radiant. He always was. Everytime Yuuri came to see him Victor would blossom like a flower. Yuuri hoped, deep in the most selfish parts of him, that Victor wasn't so happy with anyone else.
"Here," Victor said, breathless. He placed a bottle of lube by Yuuri's thigh before ascending to the bed. Yuuri saw the small, square packet between Victor fingers, the outline of its round contents visible. One swing of his leg and Victor was straddling Yuuri, his hand tracing lightly down his abdomen. "How do you want this?"
"It should be your choice," Yuuri said, his lips pressing into a thin line. "You're…"
"Hush," Victor interjected, his forehead resting against Yuuri's. "You'll kill my boner."
Yuuri couldn't help the amused scoff that broke past his lips. He couldn't help laughter ripping through his lungs with a vengeance. He couldn't help the hot water gathering in his eyes. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say."
"Well, I am pretty stupid," Victor let out a relenting breath as he uncapped the bottle of lubricant and squeezed the bottle, coating two of his fingers. "I once tried to feed a bear while I was hiking."
Yuuri opened his mouth to speak but Victor silenced him with a kiss before pulling away to continue. "Once I left a bucket of chocolate over the door of my father's office. I doused the Oyabun in chocolate sauce. Theoretically, I should be dead."
Yuuri stayed quiet as another kiss was pressed to the planes of his chest. Victor hovered there, pulling Yuuri down so that his head lay back in the comfort of the pillows. Yuuri gasped as he felt the two wet fingers circling simmering patterns around his entrance. He puckered beneath the touch.
"I shot a man when I was sixteen just because he called me kid," Victor went on, leaving his next peck on Yuuri's abdomen - right above the aching swell of flesh Victor was so pointedly ignoring. He pressed his fingers insides Yuuri, dampening the sensitive muscles inside.
"But the stupidest thing I've ever done was falling in love with a man whose job is to kill me," Victor smiled, his fingers curling and hooking to hit just were they needed to. "Thank God he's so bad at it."
Yuuri cried out, throwing his head back, unsure whether it was from the swipe of a wet finger pad over his prostate or the aching in his chest. His eyes closed and a tear poured over the brim of his eye. Victor's hand wrapped around the base of Yuuri's cock, already leaking precum down his length, and rubbed.
"Please," even Yuuri was surprised how like a sob the word came out. He raked his fingers through Victor's hair, head rocking forward to look his partner in those cloudy blue eyes. Victor met his eyes, needy, as he spread his fingers inside Yuuri, spreading out the rings of muscle deliciously.
"Please what, Yuuri?" He asked. Something pained was in Victor's gaze, something Yuuri had never seen before. Yuuri didn't know what to call it; all he knew was he wanted to fuck it away. "You have to tell me what you need, baby."
"Love me," Yuuri pleaded, words rushing between them before he had time to correct himself.
"I do, baby," the pain in Victor's eyes wasn't hidden anymore. His stormy gaze moistened as he continued to quicken his pace and spread Yuuri out. "I love you, Yuuri. I do."
Yuuri's fingers grabbed at the condom beside the bed, flinging the foil off the furniture, as for from them as he could get it. "Please!"
Victor pounced, his hands grabbing Yuuri's thighs wrapping them around his hips as he kissed his lover. Yuuri's arms coiled around Victor's neck like a thirsty vine as the their hips rocked against eachother's, members hard and wanting.
"Victor," Yuuri moaned into the kiss.
Victor took the hint, feeling around the bed for the bottle of lube. Fumbling and far from the grace he preferred to show, Victor opened the bottle and readied himself for the first steady push.
Yuuri clenched only the slightest bit when he felt the blunt head penetrate. He pulled Victor back into the their shallow stream of kisses, humming as he pressed deeper and deeper. The rest of the world halted then, sheathed in side him Victor wasn't Pakhan; Yuuri wasn't a hired gun. They were two bodies tangled together meshing in the most natural way they knew how to. Taking Victor, rocking his hips as he gasped and groaned above Yuuri, felt like being submerged. It felt like dunking his head in the hot springs. It felt familiar and right. It felt like home.
Victor pulled back before letting himself slide in again, the motion sweeter this time. He let himself sink into Yuuri's body: chest-to-chest, mouth-to-mouth, hips rolling like a steady current. Victor felt warm and reborn. His body felt the gentle waves of pleasure building in his gut, flowing up his spine. He pushed as deep as he could, wanting nothing but for Yuuri to feel it too.
"More," Yuuri pleaded. "More, baby, more."
Victor adjusted himself, shifting his weight to his knees so he could spur on their rhythm. Yuuri's head rolled back, his mouth gaping and letting out deep, loud moans that reverberated through Victor. He moved his hands from Yuuri's thighs to the line of his hips, pulling Yuuri's body to meet his own.
Victor could feel the spring in his gut tightening, ready to loosen and burst. He ran himself ragged into Yuuri, hearing the moans turning into screams. Yuuri was chanting Victor's name like a prayer. He'd have to reward him.
With just enough pressure to increase the intensity, Victor pumped his fist over Yuuri's throbbing shaft. Yuuri clenched around Victor. Yuuri could feel his sweet-spot being hammered at, his cock being pleasured. He wasn't sure how much longer he could hold on for but, judging by how increasingly vocal Victor was getting, he wouldn't have to wait long.
"Yuuri," Victor called his name out, burying himself in Yuuri's shoulder. "Oh, fuck, Yuuri."
Victor was gone, His orgasm shattered him as he made his last hard thrusts and tugs at Yuuri's cock to bring him over too. Victor hated cumming first but he mentally forgave himself this once. It had not been a normal night.
Victor kissed Yuuri's cheek, gasping for air as he rolled over, curling against Yuuri's body as he did. His eyes fluttered. Alcohol and sex were a potent mixture; they could make anyone tire. Yuuri cradled Victor's head against his shoulder, his lover muttering sweet nothings in his ear until he closed his eyes, still awake but soft and pliant.
Unguarded. Either Victor was getting careless or he expected to wake up tomorrow, alive and well. Yuuri sighed, kissing the Pakhan. He felt the man hum and smile against his lips. His eyes fluttered open as they parted.
"Will you be gentle, love?" Victor asked, stroking a hand through Yuuri's hair.
Yuuri sighed, kicking his legs over the other side of the bed. "I can't tonight. I'll do it next time."
"You'll come see me again?" Victor asked, his fingers trailing down Yuuri's spine. Even in his relaxed post-sex haze Yuuri couldn't repress a shiver.
"Don't look forward to it," Yuuri said, getting up and searching for his clothes in the dark bedroom. "I'm going to kill you next time."
"I know you will, baby." He could hear the smile in Victor's voice. The affection. The satisfaction. Yuuri was ashamed. "You know, my offer always stands. I'll buy out your contract if you want me to."
Yuuri managed to slip on his boxers and pants in one go before standing. He looked at Victor - bare, naked, beautiful Victor, who loved him with everything left in his heart - and gave the answer he always did. "You're an evil fucking man, Nikiforov. I don't work for evil men."
Yuuri dressed himself, tucked his gun back in it's holster and walked briskly towards the door. Only the blissed out voice of Victor - uncaring of Yuuri's previous words, as usual - was enough to stop him.
"I love you," Victor called out one last time.
Yuuri squeezed his eyes shut. "I love you too."
Thank you so much for reading! More is on the way with this one. Reviews and feedback are always helpful and always welcome!