M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

113.| intoxicated

the hall of the hotel was all the more quiet and their ears rung as they made their way to the elevator courtesy of that god-awful pulsating music. they didn't talk as it started to slowly go up the floors, just stood beside each other. yuri brushes his hand against victor's, softly entwining their fingers. victor smiled to himself and wondered if he'd shot up too much this time; wondered if perhaps the victor nikiforov had at last taken his final hit.

he looked at yuri, in his jacket, and the dried blood on the denim and the softness of his bottom lip after his bit it. he looked down at yuri's fingers just touching his.

this isn't real.
this isn't real.

the doors slid open. victor's hand were cold when yuri dropped his and they started down the corridor.

this can't be real.

the hotel room was quiet and dark when victor opened the door. the sheets were barely touched; he hadn't got much sleep the night before. he turned the light on. yuri stayed by the door and looked at him like he wanted to say a thousand things. victor looked at him like he understood every single one.

then he kissed him like he was going to kiss all the air out of his lungs, and until it was just the two of them alone in the room, yuri's back against the door, victor's hands either side of his face brushing his hair as he was kissing him. he could taste salt; there were tears going down his face he didn't realise were there.

not just from his eyes, either. he pulled away, and saw yuri's cheeks shining and his lips smudged pink and soft and there was that scent of bubblegum and victor knew this couldn't be real but yuri leant up and kissed him again, again, and everything went rushing through victor's head like polaroid pictures, every song by the 1975 playing at once. their lips parted once more and they paused for breath, not one word said, before victor leant his forehead on yuri's shoulder, breathing in the scent of him, taking in the feel of him that he'd missed for so long. one hand on his waist, yuri leaning his head so that his cheek brushed the top of victor's head, playing with the collar of his shirt at the male of his neck.

victor kissed his neck; god, did it feel good. he kissed it again, that warm, tender skin, and hearing yuri's restrained sigh made him shiver.

"i love you," victor murmured against into his own jacket, then looked up and into yuri's eyes.

"i know you do," yuri said, voice quiet, eyes still shining with tears and a breathless, quick smile. victor shook his head, and didn't bother to roughly wipe his eyes.

"i mean it," he said, and now his voice was shaking. "i-i fucking mean it. really fucking love you - i love you."

yuri looked at him without saying one word, then he kissed him so softly victor felt himself falling.

"i love you," yuri said in the softest voice, one hand on victor's face, thumb on his jawline and tears running down his face. victor leant into his warm palm, eyes closed, and kissed it.

"i want you," he said, breathing out slowly, taking yuri's hand from his face and holding it; god, did it feel good to just touch him again. yuri gripped victor's hand, then stepped away from the door and kissed him hard, eyes tightly shut, as if he were holding his breath.

"i want you too," he breathed out, looked up at victor with those chocolate eyes that he'd first seen in chris giacometti's apartment months ago. victor laughed, sniffed hard, then stepped back and pushed his hair away from his face. he was shaking his head.

"why did you come back?" he managed to say, tears taking up his throat like cigarette smoke. "you can't want this - fuck, yuri, think of what i did to you..."

he shook his head again, and looked away from the boy in front of him he ached to kiss again, to touch again, to see wearing his shirt in his bed again.

"i can't stop loving you," victor whispered, tears running down his face without him blinking. he looked up at yuri again. "but i don't expect you to come back. don't you understand?"

he went forwards but didn't touch him. one step forwards.

"i don't expect you to be mine," he said, as much as the words burned like alcohol down his throat. and now it was yuri who took a step forwards in that hotel room, and didnt touch him.

"but do you want me to be?" he asked, voice scarcely audible. "because i want you to want me to be, vitya."

victor's heart ached to hear him call him that.

"don't you see?" yuri went on, voice soft with tears and the quiet. he leant up and whispered to him, like he had done downstairs surrounded by those drugged-up rich kids,

"i am yours," he said, and victor sighed, closing his eyes.

"god, baby," he breathed, and touched his cheek. yuri kissed his fingers softly.

"i love you," yuri whispered, looking up at victor. victor pressed his eyes shut to stop the tears coming.

"but you can't want this, yuri - "

he was cut off with a kiss that showed him "an encounter," bedsheets, hands showing what words couldn't and lips doing the rest.

"...sex is a way of showing someone how much you care about them without words..."

"i want this," yuri said, running his thumb over victor's bottom lip so gently. "i want you."

"god, baby, i want you so fucking badly i feel like i've lost my fucking mind - "

victor kissed him again, again, getting drunk of his lips, intoxicated by him, everything about him. one hand went down to the small of yuri's back, the other staying on the side of his face and immersing him in the feel of soft, delicate skin. and yuri's hands were around the back of his neck, fingers in the hair at the base of his neck, warm and soft. yuri stepped back, and then he was lying on the bed, on those sheets that had been hardly touched, wearing those black jeans ripped at the knees and victor's oversized denim jacket.

victor thought somebody couldn't be more fucking beautiful even if angels kissed them countless times over. he leant down and kissed him, yuri propping himself up on his elbows with one hand on the back of victor's neck, knees going up. god, the very sight of him was intoxicating, and victor couldn't get enough of it. the feeling of kissing him, the feeling of hearing him sigh with every touch was sending flowers bursting through his skin. his hands ran along yuri's thighs and held them to his waist, before he started kissing along his collarbone, hands slipping bodies entwined like their fingers in the elevator.

and every touch was like an angel had reached out to him.

"don't leave me," victor murmured into his neck, lips leaving splashes of lilac on

"mm...yuri..." he murmured against his lips, as yuri took victor's hand and moved it to his hip, under his shirt. victor stopped, and leant his forehead against yuri's.

"are you sure you want to do this?" he asked, rubbing his cheek with his thumb as if it were the most precious thing in the world, as if it would vanish given a second chance. yuri kept his hand over victor's, and nodded.

"i want to be yours," he whispered again, "and i want to you to make me feel what you make me feel."

yuri looked up at victor from the bed, so close to him, like a fucking angel under his fingertips, and said those words again in the softest voice.

"i want you."