this wasn't supposed to take so long but

a breathtaking duet staring victuuri

Victor wasn’t expecting Yuuri to take control of the kiss, but he certainly has no mind to stop him once he does, never tries to take it back. He’ll have anything Yuuri gives him, no questions asked.

It starts slow and soft, as it always does with Yuuri. Victor can taste the hesitation in his tongue, licking his bottom lip, shyly requesting entrance (as if Victor could ever deny him anything); feels it in the quivering of his fingers running through silver locks with reverent adoration.

But there is so much more to Yuuri than insecurities and self-doubts and no one knows that better than Victor; no one loves it more. Thus he’s not surprised when Yuuri’s hands stop trembling as they trace down his neck, press on his shoulders to push him down, his back on the mattress, and he’s not ashamed of the needy whimper that burns his throat when their lips part, Victor does, after all, quite like to remind Yuuri how weak he makes him, how much he affects him.

Yuuri’s lips are on his before he can linger on that thought too much, and this time, there’s no asking or requesting, just taking, and Victor has no qualms in giving himself up entirely, not to Yuuri.

His fingers ghost over Yuuri’s chest, travel up his neck to cup his cheek, the other hand on Yuuri’s waist and he pulls him even closer, because with Yuuri it’s never close enough, even when they’re melting into each other.

Yuuri’s hands squeeze Victor’s shoulders tight and move up his arms, slowly, as if he wants to map every curve of hard-trained muscle and commit it to memory. Then he finds Victor’s hands, pulls them away from his body (and Victor whines into Yuuri’s mouth because he wants and needs and loves), and laces their fingers into each other. They’re not perfectly fit –no two pairs of hands could possibly be- but Victor knows there are no other hands he wants to hold -there will never be- and that’s all that really matters.

As their breathing grows shallow, Yuuri pulls their laced hands, stretching Victor’s arms over his head, towards the headboard. He breaks the kiss then, his soft pants warm on Victor’s skin, and when Victor tries to chase after his mouth, he pulls further away and stays still for one, two, three heartbeats. His brown eyes are ablaze and Victor realizes he’s not going to be able to move as long as those eyes are looking at him like that. And then Yuuri’s fingers untangle from his. Victor whimpers at the loss, wants to protest, he needs, needs and Yuuri’s too, too far, but then Yuuri speaks for the first time.

“You’re not allowed to touch.”

A shiver runs down Victor’s spine and he swallows, his skin burning, the commanding tone ringing in his ears.

“Shouldn’t you tie me up then?” he asks, with the last bit of bravado left in his body, but even that dissipates with the little tilt in the corners of Yuuri’s lips.

“I could certainly do that.” He leans closer again, his mouth ghosting over Victor’s, tempting him to breech the breathe that separates them, but Victor knows it would be a mistake. “But I trust you, Victor. If I tell you you’re not allowed, I trust you can follow that simple direction and that I don’t need to physically restrain you.” He pulls back again, his eyes never leaving Victor’s, the tilt on his lips turning to a subtle, teasing smirk. The next words roll off his tongue like the promise of something forbidden. “Am I wrong to trust you?”.

He shakes his head as a response, he’s lost his voice altogether, for he’s realized that this man will be his utter ruin, and Victor has no intention of stopping him.