
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11250318.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Victor_Nikiforov/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Additional Tags:
      sb_Victurio, for_we_need_one_as_a_fandom_and_bad, Sugar_Baby_Yuri,
      Relationship_Negotiation, Canon_What_Canon, Frottage, Blow_Jobs, Pizza,
      Victor's_fourteen-inch_dick, because_fandom, First_Time, Viktor_Nikiforov
      Is_A_Financial_Genius, surprisingly_Victor_is_a_decent_human_being_in
      this_one, eh_save_for_how_he_sleeps_with_fourteen-year-olds
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-20 Completed: 2017-07-17 Chapters: 2/2 Words: 4855
****** Bubblegum ******
by neuroglam
Summary
     It's exactly what it says in the tags.
***** Chapter 1 *****
Fourteen-year-old Yuri is slouching on the locker room bench, still in his
ballet gear. His hair is in his face, his nose is in his cell-phone, and his
black yoga pants cling to his tiny hips and muscled thighs, lie snug against
the bulge of his cock.
He's quite enjoyable to look at.
“I want an iPhone,” Yuri says and stares brazenly at Victor. The little shit.
And here Victor thought he was being subtle with his ogling.
Yuri pops a chewing gum bubble and keeps staring. “This one is old.” Pop. “The
screen’s broken.”
That’s ‘cause you smashed it in the wall, Victor doesn’t say.
He looks at Yuri scrape his bottom lip with his teeth as he swipes the popped
gum bubble back into his mouth.
Yuri looks at him.
Victor tilts his head. “And if I want you to come to my place tonight after
practice?” he asks nonchalantly as he sits on the bench next to Yuri.
“When you buy me an iPhone.” Yuri shrugs and blows another bubble, eyes back on
the screen.
“You know where I live, yeah?” Victor says.
“Aa.”
“Six thirty.”
Yuri glances at him from the corner of his eyes. “Aa.” Pop. “I’ll need cab
money, too.” Pop. “For after.” He turns to Victor and fixes him with a stare.
“Fair enough,” Victor says. “Though you’re selling yourself short.” He digs
into his bag and pulls out his wallet. “Here.” He holds out two 1000-Ruble
notes. “For your way there.”
Yuri looks at him, then at the notes, and raises an eyebrow—then snatches the
notes and gets up. “So I’ll see you later, yeah?” he says on his way out.
“Wear the yoga pants,” Victor calls after him.
"Aa." Yuri says and pops a bubble.
***** Chapter 2 *****
When Victor steps out of the cab with a brand new Apple Store bag, Yuri’s
already sitting on the front steps. He’s doing that thing where he pretends he
can’t be fucked because he’s too busy staring at his phone—except for how he’s
leaning against the wall, one of his legs folded at the knee, the other
stretched out just so. Victor appreciates the effort—and the visual result.
He’s not wearing the yoga pants (probably changed out of them specifically to
annoy Victor), but his usual ratty trainers have been replaced by a pair of
knock-offs. They’ve got red suede, leopard print fabric, and black patent
leather, and hot-pink Adidas stripes. Victor tries to set them on fire just by
looking.
Sadly, it doesn’t work.
Yuri sees him and gets up, still hiding behind his phone. It’s easy to see
why—he’s blushing hard enough to match his shoes.
“Hi,” Victor says.
“Hi.” Yuri’s eyes shift from his phone screen to the Apple Store bag in
Victor’s hand.
Victor smiles at him and touches his access card to the front door of the
building. “Go ahead.”
Yuri’s not dumb; he climbs the stairs ahead of Victor. Victor won’t even
pretend he’s not looking at his ass. The ass is absolutely excellent, but the
skinny jeans it's in are one-size-too-tight and have started to rip. Absent-
mindedly, he starts a mental shopping list.
They climb to the second floor. Makkachin’s shuffling and yipping loud enough
for them to hear as soon as they step on the landing, and puts her front paws
on Victor’s chest as soon as he opens the door. Victor couches to scratch her
behind the ears. It’s their thing: every day, without fail, he takes the time
to tell her what a good girls she is. She’s a very good girl, so it takes a
while.
Next to him, Yuri toes off the shoes from hell and stares like Victor’s lost
his mind. Which he probably has, seeing how he’s bribing fourteen-year-olds
with iPhones for the chance to feel them up and suck their dick.
“Here, girl!” He gets up and claps. Makka enthusiastically follows him to the
kitchen, where he distracts her with a copious amount of treats.
By the time Victor’s dealt with his dog, Yuri is on the couch with the Apple
Store bag, tearing wrappers and digging into boxes. His expression is
absolutely priceless—he doesn’t manage to hide how happy he is even when he
notices Victor look. Victor smiles to himself. He didn’t expect how satisfying
it would be to see that something he did makes Yuri so uncomplicatedly happy.
“Hey, at least pretend you’re not only interested in the iPhone,” Victor teases
as he sits down. “C’mon,” he says and pats his leg.
“I’m not your fucking dog,” Yuri grumbles, but he does put the phone aside and
comes to straddle him. He’s a little shy, and a little awkward, so Victor
doesn’t rush him.
Yuri settles himself across Victor’s lap gingerly and fidgets with his arms a
little before putting them around Victor’s neck. He’s looking down and blushing
crimson.
“Hmm.” Victor splays his palms on Yuri’s thighs. He can get used to this: the
weight on his lap, the feel of firm muscle. Fifty-five kilos of shy,
embarrassed teenager—though if Victor knows Yuri at all, this last part
wouldn’t last long and Yuri will be back to sassing him in no time.
Victor relaxes into the couch. “Scoot forward.”
Yuri does, back to blushing like mad. Victor smiles at him and slides his hands
up his thighs until they’re on both sides of his hips. “Really nice,” he says.
He rubs his thumbs back and forth over Yuri’s jutting hip bones. “Settle down,”
he says, voice a little lower and quieter.
Yuri relaxes his full weight on top of him.
“Good,” Victor says and keeps rubbing.
Yuri’s looking down, trying to hide behind his hair, but that makes it almost
better. Victor can take his time. Look everywhere, for as long as he wants to.
Yuri wets his lips and bites them, nervous. This is definitely worth an iPhone.
His t-shirt is black and faded and slightly threadbare, falling over his
nipples where they’ve pebbled in the slight chill. Victor was born in
1990—exactly on time to get scouted during one of Russia’s worst economic
crises. He remembers this part: how the only socks without holes he owned were
the ones he used for skating, and how his clothes were half in tatters but it
was kinda fashionable so he tore them up better and called it grunge.
Yuri’s feet are bare, he notices, in spite of the chill.
His socks can be seen from here, balled up in his new shoes.
“You shouldn’t have bought these,” Victor says and points with his chin towards
them.
“Fuck you. It’s my money, I’ll spend it on whatever I want to.”
“Hnn, true.” Victor keeps rubbing his thumbs up and down Yuri’s hips. “But you
could have kept the two thousand rubles and asked me for a pair of real ones
next time.”
“Next time?” Yuri swallows. Victor brushes the front of his jeans with his
fingers. Up and down. Up and down.
“Of course next time.”
“How do I know there’ll be a next time,” Yuri says, his dick firming in his
pants, because he’s a fucking teenager and a stiff wind plus someone else’s
fingers is all it takes.
“You’ll start earning real sponsorships, soon. You should always negotiate like
there’d be a next time.”
“Ugh… please.” Yuri tries to buck into Victor’s hand.
“Please, what?”
“Shut up and take it out, fuck, do something!”
Victor laughs. “Oh, I will.” He unbuttons Yuri’s jeans, then puts his palm on
his dick through his boxers. The thumb of Victor’s other hand presses on Yuri’s
lips then sinks between them.
Yuri moans around it and sucks, trying not to be too obvious about rubbing
himself against Victor’s hand. Victor lets it go for a while, because the view
from where he’s sitting is everything he’d hoped it would be and some.
He’d expected the initial shyness and embarrassment. He’d even expected Yuri to
put up a snarky brat act. But the abandon with which Yuri gets into it—how his
lips chase Victor’s thumb when Victor pulls to remove it; how they’re so close
now, as Yuri unconsciously scoots forward on Victor’s lap as he tries to press
harder into his hand—he hadn’t expected that.
He doesn’t regret dropping one thousand bucks on an iPhone in the slightest.
(It has full three-year warranty, including unlimited screen replacement.
Victor asked).
“Gorgeous,” Victor says—and then he pulls his hand away from the front of
Yuri’s pants.
Yuri keens around his thumb and sucks on it harder, lips locked around it while
glaring bloody murder. “Asshole,” Yuri spits out and closes his eyes, chest
heaving. “Bloody, fucking, stinking asshole.”
Victor’s hands are pinning his hips in place. They still twitch forward
involuntarily.
“Fuck.” Yuri concludes with a sigh. “You fucking sadist.”
“Not yet,” Victor says.
“You’re fucking evil.”
“I’m not evil. I just got you an iPhone ‘cause you batted your lashes at me.”
One of Victor’s hands pets Yuri’s hair, then rests at the back of his neck
before sliding down his spine.
“Whatever,” Yuri says but leans into the touch.
“Clothes off. Let me see you.”
“You’ve seen me.”
“Not with a blush half-way down your chest and your dick this hard, I haven’t.”
“Ugh,” says Yuri and gets up, tossing away first his t-shirt, then (after some
peeling) his skinny jeans. They’re definitely too small, Victor thinks as he
pulls a very naked Yuri back into his lap and traces with a finger the ridges
that the seams have dug into Yuri’s thighs.
Said thighs are wonderful to touch. There’s something about how full they are
compared to the rest of Yuri body that makes Victor want to dig his fingers in
and squeeze, then move his hands up and repeat on Yuri’s ass. In the middle of
it all, Yuri’s tiny dick stands firm and red, pointing up like only a
teenager’s would. Victor strokes it lightly with the back of his finger. It
looks like it’d be delicious. Like Victor would able to fit all of it in his
mouth.
“Do it, asshole, fuck-“
“What did I say about negotiating like there’ll always be a next time?”
“Whatever, you’re not a fucking sponsor.”
“Am I not?” Victor raises an eyebrow and points his chin at the half-unpacked
iPhone on the couch.
“Fuck you,” Yuri says.
Victor keeps tracing his finger up and down Yuri’s cock.
Yuri keeps breathing hard and looking at Victor like he wishes he could kill
him.
“The way you’re doing it right now, you’re giving me all the power,” Victor
says, still teasing. “You’re telling me I’m the one who’s got something you
want. And I can choose to give it to you, or not.”
Up and down. Up and down.
“If you show your hand like this, people will sniff it out and they’ll give you
a bad deal.”
“Fuck, whatever,” Yuri pants and his hips jut forward.
“It’s not whatever,” Victor chides, his voice even, and puts his hands on the
sides of Yuri’s hips until Yuri stills. Then because he’s an asshole, he sucks
on his index finger and makes it very, very wet, and starts drawing patterns on
Yuri’s dickhead with it. “What if I were to say, ‘He’s obviously gagging for
it; I bet he doesn’t even need an iPhone and he’d still do it,’ hm? What if I
asked for it back? You’ve got to be stronger than this.”
“Then stop fucking teasing me for a second!”
Victor laughs. Should he? On the one hand, delivering Yuri from his misery will
be so easy right now. Victor probably just needs to get a proper hold of Yuri’s
dick and give it a good squeeze, and that would be that for round one. (Or make
Yuri lie back on the couch as Victor’s nose bumps his balls on its way up? So
many choices.)
On the other hand, Victor likes teasing Yuri. Yuri is cute. Yuri’s tiny dick is
cute, though Victor would never say that aloud. He’s been a fourteen-year-old
guy himself; he knows it won’t go over well.
On the third, and probably the most important hand, there is a teachable moment
here, and Victor thinks he might be doing Yuri a disservice if he were to let
it go.
“Are you really gonna take your iPhone back?” Yuri asks in a small, anxious
voice.
“No. It’s your iPhone now,” Victor says. “I was just making a point.”
Yuri lets out a breath of relief. He’s still too vulnerable. Still shows too
much of what he wants and what he’s scared of. Victor tilts his head and
thinks, index finger on his mouth.
“Make me come, you asshole, make me come, make me come, make me come,” Yuri
rants, eyes and fists clenched tight. “Can I at least jerk myself off? Please?”
“Yuri.” Don’t be this open with your desires, Victor wants to say. Don’t be
this desperate. I know what it’s like when life has taught you that good things
are scarce and can be taken from you at a moment’s notice. You don’t bother
with long-term plans. You want everything now, because you know there might not
be a later. But-
“Please,” Yuri says softly, his eyes still closed, and it does something to
Victor.
“Come here,” he says and pulls him close, one hand on the back of his neck-
-and they’re kissing.
Yuri kisses awkwardly but eagerly, like he cares about kissing Victor much more
than he cares about his iPhone. Victor slides his hands up his thighs and
clutches his ass, rumbles into his mouth. And this is his mistake, right there:
while he wasn’t paying attention, Yuri has somehow managed to sneak down a hand
and give himself the two tugs it must have taken for him to moan into Victor’s
mouth and cover the front of his shirt with come.
“Brat,” Victor chides, but holds Yuri’s languid body close against his chest.
“I was gonna suck that.”
“Hmm. You can suck it later,” Yuri murmurs next to his ear. “For free, even.
Won’t ask you to buy me anything.”
Victor laughs. “So generous.”
“Aa.”
Yuri’s weight on top of him feels nice—warm and relaxing as it presses him into
the couch. He’s thinking: this is the same mistrust. ‘I can’t rely on others to
give me what I need; they may say they will, but they won’t. I have to sneak
around, find my opening, so I can grab onto it before it manages to slip away.'
In his mind, he starts a different kind of “shopping list”. Teach Yuri to
believe he’s good enough to be given what he asks for, and to negotiate from a
position of power. Teach Yuri to trust that good things in life don’t have to
be provisional.
“How are you not hard?” Yuri asks incredulously.
Victor laughs at the bony hand that’s worked its way to the front of his pants
to check. “Don’t worry about it. You’ll kiss it better, and I’ll be.”
“Can I see it?” Yuri asks, very obviously trying not to sound too eager.
“Yes, you can. Unbutton my pants if you want.”
It’s kind of flattering, how Yuri bites his lip and tries to hold back his
excitement as he gets up and squats between Victor’s legs. Other than how messy
his hair is and some come on his chest, you wouldn’t even know he jerked
himself off not five minutes ago.
Fucking fourteen-year-olds, and their energy, and their stamina.
“Oh, wow,” says Yuri wide-eyed, and feels up Victor through his boxers. It
feels nice. “I mean, I knew you were hung. It’s kind of impossible to be around
you when you’re in your practice gear and not to know what you’re hung. And
then there’s how Georgi and Mila giggle. But… wow.”
Victor chuckles. “Yeah. I’m hung.” He relaxes into the sofa and spreads his
legs. “And I like that thing you're doing. How you’re just touching it and
rubbing it through the fabric. And pressing it with your hand… yeah, like
that…” Victor says, as Yuri does it more.
“Oh wow,” Yuri says when Victor’s bulge starts to grow.
“Very nice,” Victor rumbles and slouches a little.
“Is it because you’re old that it takes this long to get hard?”
Victor makes an uncoordinated swat for Yuri’s head, but Yuri is faster and just
giggles at him when his hand flops uselessly into the air. The little cheeky
shit: when Victor can be bothered with talking again, he’s totally telling Yuri
his dick is tiny and cute. Sweet revenge.
But not yet. Now, he hums and presses into Yuri’s hand. It’s nice. He’s always
loved this part.
Yuri doesn’t ask—he just licks his lips and pulls down Victor’s boxers. “Holy
shit,” he says and goggles. “That’s, like, gonna take two hands when it’s
completely hard.”
“Hmm. And a fuckton of lube.”
“Wow. How big does this fucking thing get?”
“Thirty centimeters. Kind of. Thirty-one, maybe, I don’t know.”
“Shit, that’s never gonna fit,” Yuri says, and it warms Victor’s heart how
earnestly disappointed he sounds.
“It’ll fit, if we take our time to work you up to it.” He spreads his legs
more. “Do you want it to fit?”
Yuri looks up at him and gives the tiniest, intimidated nod.
“Come cuddle with me a little,” Victor says. Because what they don’t tell you
about big dicks—about properly big dicks that you can barely close your fingers
around—is how few people actually want to fit them. The fantasy of it is
tantalizing, sure. It makes sense to people’s lizard brains that if dick is
good, a whole lot of it must be a whole lot better. But the truth is, it’s
uncomfortable. It stretches you so much it hurts—and that’s girls, with lube.
“How about this,” Victor tells Yuri as he stretches out across the couch and
Yuri settles on top of him. “If you can fit it, I’ll buy you a new pair of
shoes. The most hideous ones, whatever brand you want.”
“Two pairs,” Yuri says cheekily.
“Okay, two pairs,” Victor chuckles, because good for Yuri, learning his lesson
and driving a bargain.
“And an MCM Honshu Tantris backpack. And a leopard print leather jacket. And
Ray Bans.”
And a couple of pairs of jeans, and some socks, Victor adds in his head.
“You’ll need to take it for a long time, to earn this many presents.”
“Then I’ll earn them,” Yuri says, resolute. It’s Victor’s turn to be a bit
intimidated, now—because this is Yuri Plisetsky, and he has just accepted a
challenge.
Yuri shifts a little. He’s hard. Again. “Oh,” Victor teases. “Did you enjoy
talking about that? About taking all of it up your ass?”
Yuri doesn’t say anything, just moans and ruts into Victor. Well, then.
“Do you know how difficult it is?” Victor continues. “Not many people can do
it. You’ll need to work for it.”
Yuri likes the thought of working for it, judging by how hard he grinds himself
into Victor.
“It’ll take at least a month. Maybe two. Getting you used to taking it harder,
and taking more.” Yuri moans. “It’ll stretch you so wide and so deep. You’d be
able to fit a fist in there by the time you can take my dick without blinking
an eye.” It doesn’t seem to matter what Victor comes up with, all seems to
sound like a great idea to Yuri.
“I’ll ride you so hard, old man.”
“Will you? Are you sure you’ll be able to handle it?”
“Oh, fuck, yea,” Yuri groans as he comes on Victor’s shirt.
Victor holds him as his breath subsides and his heart settles. Ridiculous dirty
talk, check: namely, about the amount of dick he can fit in his ass. Yuri
Plisetsky and a challenge, indeed: if he overachieves at anal the same way he
overachieves at skating, Victor doesn’t know if he should be excited or a bit
scared.
“You don’t want to come?” Yuri says when he comes to, and squeezes Victor’s
dick—now fully hard, all thirty centimetres of it.
“Hnn, I like this, do it more,” Victor says lazily. “Spit in your hand.”
Yuri does, right under Victor’s nose, looking up at him through his lashes.
Then he lowers his hand back down to his dick-head and rubs.
“Slower… slow down a little…”
Yuri looks up at him, incredulous.
“It’s nice when you take your time. Makes it better in the end.”
“Yeah?”
“Aa. The more you tease it, the harder you come. Plus you get to enjoy it
longer.”
“That’s why you did this shit to me!” Yuri concludes like he’s just had a
revelation. “You actually like being tortured! Weirdo.”
“Hnnn… not weird at all. I’ll show you next time.”
“Yeah, yeah. ‘Next time.’” Yuri says, a bit suspicious, as he scoots down
Victor’s body. Victor finds he’s okay with this plan. “Next time when?” Yuri
asks from between his legs.
“Next time, Wednesday after practice. We come here, we go upstairs, and I’ll
show you.”
“Oh, yeah? What are you gonna do?” Yuri says as it grips Victor’s dick with
both hands, one over the other.
“Don’t squeeze so hard-“
“Like this?” Yuri says and loosens his grip a little.
“Yeah. I like it better when it’s softer. I’ll tell you when to speed up.”
“Okay.”
Yuri spends some time just… caressing his dick. Victor lies back, enjoying
himself. It really is a treat, just being able to relax and feel.
And then Yuri starts with the kitten licks. “Hmm, this is really nice,” Victor
growls low in his throat. “A little more, now. Suck on the head. All of it.”
Yuri does, and moans on it for good measure. Victor starts to feel it build. He
wills himself to let go of the urgency—just feel each individual sensation and
be a good example for Yuri. Yet he can’t help thrusting up into it, lightly.
It’s just— it’s wonderful.
Yuri moans onto his dick-head again, and one of the hands on Victor’s dick
disappears. He’s really hoping it’ll go to his balls, but it doesn’t—instead,
Yuri breaks the rhythm of his sucking a little and moans harder.
“Don’t-” Victor takes in a big gulp of air. “Keep it for me, I want to do you
later… finish me now, if you can’t wait. C’mon, Yuri, harder—don’t hump the
couch, you little…”
Yuri whines unhappily but scoots over. Victor can’t be fucked to pay attention
to anything else but the way Yuri’s sucking on the head of his dick and pumping
his shaft with both hands, his grip firm and steady. He can’t help but
think—imagine Yuri on all fours, asshole stretched so wide it’s gaping as
Victor lines up his dick and sinks in. Yuri’s tiny, bubbly ass. The globes fit
in Victor’s hands, when he grabs them.
“Harder,” he tells Yuri and humps up into his fists to set the rhythm he needs.
Yuri’s doing his best to take in as much of his dick as he can—Victor can feel
it bumping into the back of his throat. “Soon,” he tells Yuri, and hopes his
panting and the fast, short thrusts of his hips speak for themselves.
He comes into Yuri’s mouth with a groan, and Yuri, god bless his work ethic,
gathers it all into his mouth then looks up at victor as he spits it all over
his dick and proceeds to rub it all over it as it softens.
“Shh, enough, enough,” Victor says as he tries to pull Yuri up with whatever
coordination he’s got left. “This was such an excellent blow-job,” he says as
Yuri climbs up and settles on top of him. Victor sighs and lets Yuri’s weight
press him into the couch. “So good.” He puts one hand in Yuri’s hair and the
other one across his back, and holds.
He must have dozed off, because the next thing he knows, there’s a bony elbow
digging in his ribs and an unhappy teenager going, “Wake up, you geriatric
idiot, it’s my turn, you fucking promised—”
Yes. Yes, he did promise, even though in all honesty he’d much rather sleep
with Yuri on top of him right now.
It really was an excellent blow-job.
Victor tries to think of how to square his promises with his laziness. In the
end, Yuri ends up straddling his chest and fucking his mouth while Victor
squeezes his butt. If Victor tilts his head a little, Yuri’s (tiny, cute) dick
fits inside completely. It’s pale, the skin is so soft, the head is so
pink—it’s an absolute joy to suck, especially with how Yuri’s eyes roll back
and his mouth goes slack. Victor would definitely be doing this more, he thinks
as Yuri’s come hits his tongue. He swallows it down and licks Yuri’s dick back
to softness.
“Hmmnh,” Yuri says as he rearranges himself on top of Victor, his eyes falling
closed as soon as his head hits Victor’s chest.
Nap time, Victor thinks as he wraps his arms around him and closes his eyes,
too.
 
__________________
 
When Victor finally wakes up, Yuri’s still on his chest. As usual, his nose is
in his cell phone—this time, the new one. Victor envies him his rapt
concentration.
“Is everything working fine?” His voice comes out a little rumbly with sleep.
“Aa.” Yuri says, not looking up from the screen. Victor takes the time to study
his face.
“So, I was thinking this?” Yuri finally says as turns the screen to Victor.
It’s a neat row of black butt-plugs in ascending sizes. “That way, when you
work me up to one I can take it home and keep it in overnight or something-“
Victor almost rolls his eyes. It’s kind of like Yuri’s still in juniors, but in
his mind, he’s already medaled at Pyeongchang: he hasn’t even had fingers in
his ass, but he’s already planning his training programme to Monster XL Dildo
or whatever the last one in the line is called.
“Hmm,” Victor ruffles his hair lightly and earns himself a glare. “Leave it for
now, and don’t send me any links,” he says softly, because the last thing he
needs between himself and his fourteen-year-old boy toy is an electronic trail.
“I’ll do some research later, too, and I’ll get you something.”
“Can’t we do it now?” Surprise: Yuri is impatient. Of course he is; he landed a
quad sal at twelve. It’s not like that’s news. (And there was that thing again,
grasping onto any opportunity and seizing it now, lest it somehow slips away.)
“We’re taking this slow, and we’re doing this right,” Victor says evenly. “It
will happen. But it will happen on its own time, without it impacting your
ability to practice. I need you to trust me, and I need you to trust that I
want you.”
“It’s not going to impact my practice!”
“It’s tissue,” Victor says. “If you force it and you overwork it, it gets sore.
It’ll hurt every time you need to jump. And you will wince, and Yakov will
notice, and we’ll get busted.” He gives Yuri a pointed look. He doesn’t need to
explain the consequences of that: Yuri’s tabloid fodder and Victor goes to
jail.
Yuri’s face falls.
“What?” Victor asks and puts a hand on Yuri’s cheek. “What is it, now? It’ll
happen, I promise,” he says softly.
“But who are you going to fuck in the meantime,” Yuri mumbles. “If it takes
forever before I can do it… I want you to fuck only me.”
Victor had forgotten what teenagers are like. It’s been six hours, and they’re
already In A Committed Relationship. “I’ll fuck only you,” he says, because
it’s not like it’ll be a hardship. “I promise. I’ll wait. We’ll do it properly
and you’ll still be ready in no time.”
“But you said a month!”
Victor laughs. A Month! It might as well be infinity.
What he doesn’t tell Yuri is that it might take longer than that. “I’ll wait
for as long as it takes,” Victor says. “That was a really good blowjob you gave
me today. Then, there’s other things we can do. It won’t be that bad, waiting.”
“Other things like what?”
“Like lubing you all up and fucking between your thighs. Or you fucking me
while I jerk myself off. Or me lying back while you work me with my Fleshlight.
Possibilities are endless, kiddo.”
“Don’t call me that,” Yuri pouts.
“Okay, I won’t. But there’s still things we can do, and you don’t need to
worry.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Yuri appears to give this some thought while chewing on his bottom lip. “Can I
have pizza?”
Victor laughs. “Not exactly on your meal plan, is it?”
“Yeah, but it’s my first time. I want pizza.”
“Then pizza it is,” Victor says and reaches out a hand for Yuri’s phone.
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