chronic life crisis battler @professional-giver-uper - Tumblr Blog

professional-giver-uper

Aug 2

Pairing: Vaughn Morozov x Yulian Dimitriev

Summary: Vaughn and Yulian have been away from each other for too long—10 days and counting.

What should he do when his Mishka isn't around and he craves his attention? Fall into bad habits.

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Yulian would like to call bullshit, thank you very much.

It's been 10 days, 20 hours and 45 seconds since Vaughn was here. Well, in person.

Vaughn’s been busy with bratva crap, a cartel of goods gone missing, turf wars, traitors or whatnot. Yulian doesn’t know. Vaughn didn’t elaborate and he doesn’t care. The other man hadn’t trusted him enough to confide in him, so fucking what?

He’s only had the moving image of the man on his phone and the sound of his voice coming through a speakerphone for the past few days—Vaughn’s voice was hot, no doubt in that, but the static quality filtering it just reminded Yulian that he wasn’t home, lounging on the living room sofa, reading a book or boring reports with his reading glasses perched on his nose (Yulian usually couldn’t resist jumping his bones for more than 30 minutes. He hadn’t even lasted 30 seconds the first time he saw it)—and he feels like a junkie cut off from his drug. He's been taking his hits in intervals.

Right now he’s sitting in their penthouse, the one Vaughn asked him to move into with but never asked his ex to (ha! in your stupid face Danika), and waiting for his phone to ring with a call from his jerk of a boyfriend like a dog waiting on its master.

Okay, logically he knows the other man loves him but it hurts how he doesn’t sound as affected by the distance, doesn’t need to stay on the phone longer, doesn’t seem like he’s losing his damn mind. He’d also told him not to drop by and for some damned reason Yulian complied. The ache behind his ribcage just got worse after that.

He can’t fathom what fucking insecurity’s preventing him from going to his literal boyfriend, but his self-conscious brain is playing with his mood like a fiddle and he’d just love to smash something.

His Vaughn would drop everything and run to him, he’s already proven it with the whole “wedding” nonsense. He knows he will choose him. Still unreasonably he wants his Mishka to come to him. Just one more time. To cement the fact that Yulian is chosen by him, that he’ll keep him.

And damn it all to hell.

Yulian wants to be kept.

Jesus, he really is a dog.

He rushes to check his phone when it pings with a notification, typing in his password and trying not to get side tracked by his home screen (It’s a picture of Vaughn sprawled on their bedsheets with his tanned skin on display for him and the sun sneaking in through the blinds.

Yulian could salivate all over it, and he has in these 10 days. Many times, in fact. In the company of his memories and his hand and the scent of Vaughn on the bedsheet.)

He shakes himself out of his reverie and the message he sees cools his rapidly heating body right down.

Mishka

I can't call tonight. gonna take a couple more days. I’ll message you when I can.

Oh like fuck he will. If V thinks he’s gonna sit at home and look pretty (which he does. He has guns, baby) he’s got a big storm coming. A damn hurricane. Yulian’s so ready to burn this whole damn building to the ground but he’ll compromise. Oh yes he will.

It’s time to mess with his Mishka.

*****

Vaughn’s one more problem away from pulling his own hair out in frustration.

He settled score with the staff responsible for the fuck up and killed a number of deluded waste of spaces thinking they could get away with touching the goods belonging to The Morozov empire. He even took care of a bunch of paperwork while running around their territory trying to stabilize everything. His dad entrusted this to him and he never did anything if not done to perfection.

He feels no gratification.

To say he looks like death is no exaggeration.

He needs to get back home, preferably by tonight, because hearing the teasing deep voice of the little wolf he left there wasn’t enough to fuel him anymore. The first few days had been okay. He’d expected to be done with the mess soon. However as the hours dragged and days came and went, he could no longer be satisfied with seeing his Yulian on the screen. It wasn’t enough. (The bastard had sent him so many videos of him enjoying himself while moaning and grunting and calling for his Mishka. Vaughn was teased half to insanity and really wanted to punch his face in…after kissing it.) He had to miss another call tonight and he felt like the walls were closing in. He could barely breathe.

“Boss” a heavily tattooed muscled man calls jogging towards him. Talk about being a stereotypical hooligan. Vaughn doesn’t know his name. Probably a new recruit. He doesn’t care.

“Not your boss, yet” he lets out a frustrated breath “You better be here to tell me you’ve caught the rest of the culprits or you’ll find yourself with an extra hole in you and six feet under.” He feels ire itching beneath his skin and he wants to scratch and bleed it out. He almost wants a cigarette, and that’s not a thing he’d allow himself. Still he’s glaring and his hair is finger raked and his clothes are wrinkled and he knows it. Smelling like ash and smoke and fucking up his own lungs is the least of his worries right now.

The guy gulps. Vaughn sees his throat moving and has the urge to reach out and crush the thick neck. All he needs is a reason.

Just waste my time. I dare you.

“We did. We dragged the group to a warehouse” He answers hesitantly, definitely less loud than he was a second ago.

“And?” He prompts through clenched teeth. He feels a vein throbbing at his temple.

“And, uh, the big boss is already there and said he’ll take it from here.”

Vaughn pauses for a moment.

The big boss. His dad.

This shit’s taken so long his dad had to step in?

Before he can feel like a fucking failure his phone vibrates with a call from his father. Speak of the devil. Kirill Morozov is a straightforward man, a quality his son mostly inherited. He updates him, in his usual calm deep tone, about what’s happening in the warehouse, praises him for a job well done and orders him to get his ass home. Before Vaughn can voice out a protest his dad cuts him off with a terrifying threat of “don’t think I don’t know about the all nighters kid. go home or I’m telling your mother” and that’s that.

So he lets out another heavy sigh and dismisses the man sweating buckets next to him with a nod. As he turns around a notification from a certain app pops up and he can’t help checking it immediately. Maybe putting a tracker on his boyfriend was creepy (he begs to differ), but he simply needs to know where the other is and if he’s safe. That man is danger-incarnate and has no regard for his own safety. Combine it with his sneaky nature and love for violence and you get a migraine inducing concoction catered to Vaughn alone. It drives him crazy daily.

Personally he thinks it’s a very smart move to monitor him and it’s not like he needs anyone’s approval to do it anyway.

He checks the app and confusion furrows his brow. The dot isn’t in its usual place on the map. And he doesn’t know where it is. Not at home, that’s for damn sure. The crease between his brows deepens as he zooms in on the location. Atlantis–a fucking night club.

It’s unusual because Yulian quit those places the moment they got together. Vaughn can’t stop his brain from parkouring to the worst case scenario. What if something happened to him? Did he get kidnapped, again? That couldn’t be possible. Not with the security detail in place and the elimination of Yulian’s father.

With a feeling of pending doom, another possibility worms its way through his racing thoughts.

What if he got tired of what they had and took his chance with him being away to try something new?

No.

He has to forcefully push away the last traitorous thought. He respects Yulian too much to assume the worst of him.

He gets into the car, puts on the seatbelt and sets the GPS destination to the damn night club his damned boyfriend is currently at.

Yulian better have a good fucking reason because once he gets there the bastard has some explaining to do.

*****

The speaker booms over the crowd and terrible vibrations of rave music almost split Vaughn’s eardrums open. The music’s loud enough to rattle his bones. If he didn’t know this was a mating ground, he’d wonder how the fuck anyone was enjoying it. He’s barely adjusted to the flashing lights before his senses are attacked with the terrible amalgamated stink of smoke and sweat and shit liquor. Couldn’t Yulian pick somewhere less messy?

Vaughn pushes through sweaty grinding bodies, barely avoiding getting hit in the face by swaying body parts and has to swallow down a bile of nauseating discomfort to find his motherfucking boyfriend. He's going to take like 5 showers when he gets home and then he’ll throw Yulian in a bucket of ethanol before he can drag all this nonsense into their home.

He climbs the stairs to the second floor two steps at a time. Finding higher ground is the first order of business when looking for someone, right? Vaughn wouldn’t fucking know.

He’s never had to track down anyone like this and certainly not in a sweaty pit of people jumping about like monkeys in the dark. This isn’t a place he’d be caught dead in, hating the feeling of being caged in and touched by insignificance and he sure as hell didn’t like the smell and loudness of the place. This boyfriend of his has him running around unusual places.

Drunk people keep pawing at him. Sultry glances are sent his way. He’s lost count of how many times he’s been approached with sticky touches and mumbling breaths of “hey handsome” tonight. Revolting.

Good thing he’s a grumpy son of a bitch. Most of them ran away when he glared and the rest he dealt with by pushing physically away.

As he’s making his way around the dance floor again, since the higher ground plan didn’t fucking work, he gets this nagging feeling of the other being close. He thinks he hears the other’s voice. Which is ridiculous. He just lost his ear drums, there’s no way he could hear anything in this madhouse. But he turns toward the direction anyway and lo and behold.

There he is.

That motherfucker.

The bane of his fucking existence.

The knots in Vaughn’s chest detangle and he can finally breathe, even if taking that huge inhale meant getting a lung full of smells he’d spent the rest of his night scrubbing away. He swipes a quick cursory look up and down the other’s body to make sure he's fine. And what do you know? The prick who had him running about like his ass was on fire is completely okay.

What's not okay is the people draping themselves all over him.

Yes, Yulian looks good with his pretty mismatched eyes and soft looking hair and tight jeans—and holy shit is that Vaughn’s black shirt?— but that doesn't mean others can touch. Or even fucking look.

The discomfort is back inside him full force. His jaw reclenching and throbbing with the old sore of the past two weeks.

Ten days of being apart and holding on by a thread, holding on only with the thoughts of existing in the other man’s vicinity, and this is the reunion he gets?

The newfound anger aids his strides forward. He can feel reason leaving him gradually with each step. It drops off him the same way he’s gonna rip the culprit away, fast and violent without time for contemplation.

Yulian’s eyes widen when he spots him. Vaughn catches the glimpse of delight in the mismatch of them and finds the telltale signs of him concealing a grin.

So he does have some self-preservation.

Good. If he lets out a single smile here Vaughn will not be responsible for the following mass mutilation. And certainly not responsible for the fire that’ll burn the place down.

Nobody gets to see that smile. He's made that clear.

Vaughn’s detected the manic glee in his boyfriend and knows he’s fallen into the bad habit of messing with him again.

They can’t have that.

“Baby!” He reads the words on the other’s lips. Extremely kissable lips, moist with whatever disgusting liquid is in his cup. A manicured hand enters his view and touches his infuriating little wolf’s jawline. He snaps.

Pushing forward, he finally reaches the man and gets a hold of the shirt Yulian’s wearing (his own fucking shirt, hugging the other’s body in ways that aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes but his) and pulls him out of foul smelling shithole and towards the exit before he can break the delicate wrist bone. Or better yet, kill someone in plain sight.

Yulian grins widely the whole way. Touching him and sticking to his back. Dropping kisses on his neck only to be pushed away and come back again and again and again. His breath smells like cheap vodka and Vaughn can smell his own cologne sticking to the other’s skin. Unfortunately for whatever goes on in his boyfriend’s head, he’s getting angrier by the second. Every graze of fingers on his face, every hug and smile is boiling under his skin and he’s about to erupt.

Crisp fresh air finally surrounds them as they stumble out of the building. Vaughn has to take a big gulp of it to calm himself down. He strides toward where he parked the car with his grip firmly on the other’s hand. Yulian’s giggling behind him. The sound is too young and carefree for what he pulled tonight. It somewhat helps with the loosening of his muscles but the ire is not gone.

Alas the other just has to open his fucking mouth.

“Why did you cut my fun short?” The joy in his voice is unmistakable.

Vaughn sends a warning glance his way but that does nothing to deter the other man.

“I was enjoying myself, you know? a girl on my right, a pretty boy on my left, and–”

That’s it.

He throws Yulian against the passenger’s side, hard, and cages him in between his arms. “What the hell did I say about touching other people, Yulian?” He struggles to get the words out through clenched teeth and heaving breaths.

“Not to do it?” Yulian hums into his ear, completely ignoring the madness he’s unleashed. Maybe this is exactly what he wants—to drive him mad out of his mind.

The way he’s treating the situation is driving Vaughn insane. Is this fucking entertaining to him? They are together. They both love everything they do together and all that they are to each other, so why were they here, again? Why did he touch someone else? What’s the point of Vaughn confessing and staying and trying when they always end up in the same cursed situation?

“You know baby you could’ve joined us” The man continues, crooning against his neck, never knowing when to shut the fuck up. Something breaks inside Vaughn’s head. This asshole always pushes him to the brink as if Vaughn can’t dish out the same hand he’s dealt.

“Would you be able to handle it if they started touching me? If I started touching THEM?” He snaps. The last word is almost a shout. The only thing keeping his voice down is his refusal to let anyone in on anything they have. Even if it’s a fight.

Yulian finally quiets down.

“What?” is the answering whisper, a clear warning hidden in it. Vaughn should probably care, but fuck him. Fuck him all the way to hell. Always pulling the same shit, knowing full well he’d go insane if Vaughn was the one in his place. In fact, he did go insane with the one girlfriend Vaughn had his whole life.

He doesn’t stop.

“Would you let them rub themselves all over me? Put their mouths on me? Will you let me take them over and over while you fucking watch?” He hisses each word out. Yulian’s hand shoots out and wraps around his throat. He can see him shaking with the effort of not suffocating him.

“Stop talking” He warns again, his voice shaking with the rest of his body. There’s a glint of madness in his eyes and he’s panting alongside Vaughn now. The joy is gone.

Vaughn can’t be bothered anymore.

He pushes the other away with a hard shove. The hold on his neck comes loose and a stricken look comes over Yulian’s face.

“Get in.” he gives a curt order while walking to the driver’s side. Throwsing himself behind the wheel, he shuts the door with enough force to break anything less expensive. His body goes through the motions of putting on his seatbelt and starting the car on autopilot. He contemplates just driving away for a moment but pushes it away because there’s no point mulling over something he physically can’t do. The other man finally opens the door and slides slowly into the seat next to him.

“Baby–”

“Not now” Vaughn shuts him down. He sees something akin to fear encompassing the other’s body. Vaughn’s never seen him fall into himself like this, avoiding eye contact, or even struggling to find words to say. Yulian’s always been self-assured, larger than life. Untouched by what mere mortals would call doubt.

Seeing him like this is giving him whiplash. He doesn’t want to care, but the unusual way the other’s acting has him on edge more than he’d like to admit. He might just fucking die if the other doesn’t stop the unwarranted pity party.

“We’ll talk when we get home.” He adds after a bit, his voice low. It’s all he can offer right now.

As he puts the car in reverse and gets out of the parking spot he sees him nod hesitantly in his peripheral view. It makes him even madder because how dare he act like a lost puppy and how dare his own heart betray him like this—soften, even just a bit, before he’s dished out his retribution.

He sighs and Yulian flinches. He looks at the other and he avoids his gaze. Vaughn can see him pull his hand back from reaching out to him again and again and he. just. needs. to. get. home.

At least Yulian’s stopped shaking. Thank god for small mercies.

It's a quiet, uncomfortable ride back.

*****

The penthouse’s door barely clicks shut before Yulian finds himself thrown against the wall next to it. His breath leaves him with a whoosh, and he barely muffles the groan climbing up his throat. With all the manhandling he’s gone through tonight he’s starting to feel like a ragdoll. Normally he loves the aggression.

It feels different this time.

The picture frame he hung up in the entryway rattles and falls to the ground. It's a photo he took on one of their bike rides back on the island, the sun rising in the background, Vaughn’s silhouette leaning against Chaos—the bike he got for Yulian. He’d framed it the week he moved in with Vaughn and hung it up himself when the other guy was out on business.

Vaughn had loved it.

He spotted it the second he got home and then proceeded to shower his face in kisses and ravage him—and get ravaged in turn—for hours. His heart had felt so full that day. Now he could feel it spilling at his feet the way the picture frame had.

“Mind telling me the reason behind what you pulled tonight?” Vaughn’s voice caresses his skin. The authority lacing his words in unmistakable. His face is a breath away and it sets an unreasonable fire in his belly. His body’s warming up rapidly and his heart isn’t listening to him anymore.

Now is not the fucking time Yulian.

He wills himself to look into the brown eyes holding him captive. They look darker than usual, the hints of green are almost lost. Yulian adores them. There's a deeply set shadow under his eyes that wasn’t there 10 days ago and it’s unfair how the man still looks gorgeous, sleep deprived and unkempt in a way he normally won’t allow.

He draws in a lungful of the man’s smell, and it’s divine. Pine and whiskey and dark chocolate. Yulian wants to burrow himself in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and just breath him in, huffing and puffing like a panting predator.

“Yulian”, Vaughn calls him in that husky measured voice. A hand comes up to cup his jaw, the thumb rubbing against his lips and Yulian realises mortifyingly that he’s been drooling a little. Probably gaping like an idiot the whole time.

“Tell me why you were at the club tonight.” The warning is transparent in the command. Goosebumps arise all over his body from the thrill of it. He can’t let himself be carried away with the waves of anticipation when the other asks him something.

It's a holy mandate to give Vaughn what he wants, he didn’t make the rules.

He contemplates his answer. Should he joke and answer as usual, he knows Vaughn will be mad enough to fuck it out of both of their systems.

But a bed is where they end up anyway, happy or mad. What if this time he was…honest?

The words admitting his vulnerability abandon him though.

He's only ever been strong in front of others, letting problems roll off his back like sweat. Vaughn likes him because of it, right?

The only time he was pathetically weak in front of him he hadn’t known where they stood in their relationship and he was injured and beaten nearly to death at the hands of his sperm donor.

They're together now and somehow he feels lost again.

Truthfully, Vaughn’s never given him a reason to feel uncertain. No action to even indicate he was tired of what they have, and yet Yulian’s mind ran away from him.

What the fuck was he thinking?

Was he thinking at all?

“Yulian, you better start answering right now or I might do something we both won’t enjoy.” Vaughn’s inquiry makes him realise he’s been quiet for longer than he thought. He has to clear his throat before talking and the words still croak out from disuse,

“What will you do?”

The familiar cockiness is gone. Vaughn pushes impossibly closer to him. He sees the vein on his neck pulsing hard, almost matching his own fluttering heartbeat.

Usually they’d snap and physically shove each other about. This feels like a cold war coming and Yulian doesn’t know how to handle those. He’s never seen the other guy so…still.

The drawn taut shoulders and the clenching and loosening of the hold he has on Yulian clue him on the other holding back by sheer power alone. The control’s visible in every flexed muscle and the slow methodical way he’s breathing.

He reminds Yulian of a panther, a trigger away from pouncing on clueless prey.

(He might’ve watched a nature documentary last week when the quiet of their shared space got too loud. Interestingly enough the hunters reminded him of his boyfriend. Quite cute. Does this mean he’s a furry now?)

Fuck. His dick loves the imagery, it truly does, but his heart is beating distractingly loud. He might be a certified adrenaline junkie but not if it means losing Vaughn.

“Nothing seems to scare you, huh?” Voice still soft and unsettling, his hold on Yulian’s jaw tightens, the thumb rubbing his cheek absentmindedly “How come the moment I’m not around you completely forget yourself?”

He wants to protest but only a little wounded noise leaves before Vaughn continues,

“I might just leave.”

It’s like a bucket of cold water is poured over his head and his Mishka, the rude bitch that he is, doesn’t stop there “I won’t call. I won’t see you. I’ll disappear.” The harsh words are accompanied by a self deprecating scoff, “I’m your favorite toy, aren’t I, baby? If I take myself away will you come to your fucking senses?”

Yulian feels the other lean away. He can’t think. Body moving unconsciously, he lurches forward and knocks both of them down. A loud thump resounds from the impact as Vaughn’s body hits the ground but he doesn’t have time to worry because what if he moves and the other actually leaves.

“Hell no! You’re not going anywhere.” The objections stumble out incoherently. His lungs aren’t functioning if the choking’s any indication. Why is air not working?, “What motherfucking bastard said you’re a toy? wha–”

“Then why do you keep playing with me?” Vaughn shouts. He sounds faraway.

Something’s ringing somewhere in his head and it’s loud and Yulian needs it to stop.

His fingers claw into the other’s shoulder, refusing to let go and he struggles to inhale, coughing out each exhale like smoke gone down the wrong pipe. There's a halo of red surrounding Vaughn’s eyes. He can hear his teeth grinding into each other so he struggles to open the other’s jaw and stop him from hurting himself even as he’s bereaved of air.

His hand is pushed away cruelly.

“Tell me Yulian” The other man reaches for him, crushing their bodies together. He’s pulling him towards himself not away—his brain supplies helpfully—and he finally gulps down a mouthful of air. Vaughn switches their positions and he’s the one looming over him now.

“Are you not mine?” It’s a desperate whisper, mumbled into his forehead as the other buries his nose in his hair.

Yulian feels as if he’s smacked in the face.

What the fuck, of course I’m his. and he’s mine. all mine. wha–

“Tell me you’re mine” Vaughn begs, and Yulian is hit by lightning, hard enough that he deliriously thinks my skeleton was visible for a moment there, wasn’t it?

He tries to sit up frantically, his sweaty hands sliding on the floor and his legs not fucking cooperating. Vaughn refuses to let him up and Yulian’s strong, damn it, but it’s gonna be a dark day when he refuses to be held by Mishka.

He has to make sure the other knows that everything he’s ever been and everything he has and everything he will be, all the baggage and joys and the crazy, belongs to the other and he’ll never be able to wash himself clean of him. Never.

Cradling the other’s face in his hand and cheering inside his head when he manages to keep them from shaking, he holds the other’s gaze as he utters “You will never leave me”.

The words are a whisper at best. He decides he needs to do better, so he lands a kiss on the other’s lips, one that goes unanswered unfortunately, and declares louder “You will never leave. I won’t let you”. He tries to swallow down the knot of unease in his throat “You are mine, just as I am yours.”

The words set Vaughn in motion. He dips down and catches his lips into a searing kiss that has him gasping in no time. Their tongues slip out and get tangled together and the first brush has Yulian groaning into it.

Fighting the need to let his eyes flutter shut and just feel, he peers at the other’s face through half-open eyelids.

There's a tiny frown there—the one that says Yulian’s got him completely.

Vaughn’s hair is falling into his face in soft albeit messy curls. The sight is hypnotising enough that Yulian finds his fingers tangled in there, pulling at his nape just the way they both like. The other’s hands aren’t idle either. They move up from where they’re resting on his thighs. Caressing his face, fingers tapping gently at the corner of his mouth to signal him to open wider, tugging at his ear lobes and making their way back down under his shirt—the one he stole from his boyfriend’s side of the closet and reveled in smelling like him the whole night—to stroke his stomach.

Vaughn gives a hard suck on his tongue, the smacking sounds of their mouths deafening in the silence. He traces Yulian’s teeth and dives deep towards his throat, making him groan loudly in response to the deep moans he lets out into the kiss.

His thighs come up on their own accord to hug the other’s waist when Vaughn pulls back. Yulian lets out a huff when the kissing stops and pinches the other’s nape in complaint. Gathering him up in his hold, the other man stands up, the muscles in his biceps and back bulging and Yulian can feel them through all the layers between them, under his own calloused hands.

“Brat”. The word’s nibbled into his lips and he can feel the grin forming against it.

His own lips twitch in response as the man navigates his way to their bedroom (They almost crash against a vase Vaugh’s cousin bought for them when they moved in together. Yulian wouldn’t miss it if it’s gone. That thing is gaudy) while carrying him because God forbid they do it on the floor.

His man has a weird strict no floor sex policy. One that Yulian will break one day.

That day is not today.

The world tilts and he’s dropped on the bed unceremoniously. The mattress is soft beneath his panting body but he still grumbles half-heartedly (it’s the principle of the thing) before Vaughn is on him, pushing him to the center of the bed and taking his shoes and socks off on the way.

Yulian just lays back and lets him do all the work.

“If you’re going to just lay there, I might as well swap you with a sex doll” The other grouches like the grouchy fuck he is and gives him a disapproving look as he wrestles the rest of his clothes off.

“As if that could satisfy you.” Yulian snorts, taking him as seriously as homework—he doesn’t have those anymore. “What will that do for your insane libido, baby?”

“Less pissing me off and about the same pleasure. I call that an investment.” Vaughn matches his insolent tone and leans down to lick a stripe on his cheek.

“You better treat me like the prince I am, Mr. Grumpy” Yulian just grins at him, all teeth and full of glee. He sees the corners of Vaughn’s lips twitch as he hides a smile. The sight of it has him tingly all over. He’s caught off guard when a plea falls from his mouth involuntarily,

“Smile”.

Vaughn freezes in the middle of pulling his own shirt over his head and looks at him. There are so many emotions stirring in his eyes. Lust, love, exasperation and a couple more Yulian has no time to decipher because one of them harpoons into his heart and refuses to let go. He is absolutely floored by the tenderness overshadowing everything else.

The pause isn’t long. Vaughn finishes stripping and throws their clothes off the bed. Slowly, because there’s no rush, he reaches for him, making sure Yulian follows every move and locks their lips into a needy kiss. He slides into his mouth and Yulian lets him explore and taste as much as he wants. The taste has Vaughn sighing deeply inside his chest. His whole body shivers with the rumbling sound of the other.

This guy must like the taste of cheap vodka, He thinks deliriously.

The other shifts and Yulian follows, chasing after a sensation that’s got him stupid in no time at all. He’s stopped with a hand on his throat. Gulping down the saliva not running down his chin, he watches how Vaughn follows the movement beneath his fingers. The gaze slides lower, towards his heaving chest and tightened nipples, and lower yet at his achingly hard cock, already leaking and making a small pool on his stomach.

Yulian sees the other’s nostrils flare and his eyes close momentarily before he looks up again. The hand on his throat moves to hold his cheek and caress under his eyes. Vaughn loves his freaky mismatched eyes, and knowing that he’s started to hate them less.

“Want me to smile, hm?” He murmurs absently, his tongue coming out to wet his already red and bitten raw lips.

Yulian nods hesitantly in answer and has no time to brace himself before a small, but genuine smile grows on the other’s lips.

Yulian is breathless.

Fucking awestruck.

Absolutely floored.

You know what? If begging gets him this smile, he'll beg everyday for the rest of his life. In fact the asshole better not stop smiling at him, ever.

Vaughn plants a firm smiley kiss on his lips and before Yulian’s found his bearing he starts making his way down. Kisses rain down on his chin, his neck and linger on his chest. Pleasure zips through his body as his nipples are toyed with.

Soft hands stroke his hips reverently while the other gnaws on his skin and nibble his throbbing nipples before probing at it with his tongue and Yulian hopes to find an abundance of bruises on his body in the morning.

Marked for everyone to see. Property of Vaughn Morozov. Trademark.

The man continues downward, tongue flicking out to dip into his navel and licking cum off his completely lathered stomach. Yulian thrusts up towards the warmth hovering over him, and is pressed down gently as Vaughn feasts. He gets comfortable between his thighs, ignoring his throbbing cock, which is honestly such a dick move, and Yulian informs him as much.

“You dick.”

Vaughn grins and bites down on his left thigh, looking absolutely feral. This is a side he reserves for Yulian, young and uninhibited and so far from the calm and collected image catered to the outside world. Yulian feels it imprinting on his soul, leaving him intoxicated. Starving yet full, like gorging yourself on water after going thirsty for days. (Which he had in his father’s care.)

“You taste so good” Vaughn rasps as he thumbs the bite he just made. The other thigh gets the same treatment. He moans through the clench of his jaw on him “Why do you taste so good?”

The appreciation in his voice sends tendrils of arousal over his body. He feels suffocatingly hot and bothered and his hips move in tiny unconscious thrusts. All that talk and his boyfriend is not doing anything.

“Are you complaining?” Yulian huffs, a little frustrated and more gone than he’d like to admit.

He gets another bite for his troubles, this one on his hip and hard enough that it nearly breaks skin. Yulian can feel blood welling under the coolness of the other’s breath on the spit covered spot. A breathless laugh leaves him and he thinks deliriously that, for all his complaints, if Vaughn so much as moves in the direction of his cock, he’ll make an embarrassment of himself.

“Baby, c’mon. Do something.” He keens and has to wonder how he got here.

Let’s make some things clear. There are few areas where he outperforms everybody and leaves them in the dust. Shooting, fighting, making terrible decisions, being an absolute gremlin. The list is quite extensive. But sex? Sex is where he fucking dominates.

Yet, lying here beneath the other man, he already feels wrung dry and they haven’t even gotten to the good part. He could flip them over and pamper the other in return, pull him into his lap and ram his cock into that tight hole and press into his sweet spot rapidly. Fuck him just the way he likes.

But he won’t.

Let the record show he’d gladly lie here and let Vaughn have his way with him.

Getting that pillow princess treatment is a plus.

Vaughn doesn’t make him wait anymore. His lips wrap around the head of cock, tongue pressing firmly into the slit and Yulian cries out.

Fucking fuck of all fucks. This feels so good and it’s been so long. He won’t forgive Vaughn for the 10-day-long forced celibacy.

His hold on the bedsheet doesn’t suffice anymore. He reaches down with both hands and Vaughn holds them, comes up to drop a quick kiss on his knuckles and then guides them into his hair before diving back down.

Yulian's hold on him is unrelenting even though his sanity is slipping through his grasp. The other devours more of him, steadily making his way to the base, letting his saliva ease the slide and when Yulian thrusts up this time he’s not stopped. The head of his cock hits the back of the other’s throat and makes him gag but he just opens his jaw wider and breathes through it.

Letting him in.

The thought of being inside the other in any way has him dizzy. The constriction of that god-sent throat has him writhing. He plants his feet more firmly on the bed and his thrusts grow frantic. Vaughn’s mouth is wet and warm and holy shit, this is where he belongs.

The other lets him chase after his peak, his tongue digging into the side of his cock, and hallowing his cheeks on every pull out. The slide feels heavenly and sporadically Vaughn traces his teeth over him and the threat of a bite that never comes has him howling. He’d be worried about the force he puts into each thrust if his brain wasn’t completely offline.

Vaughn’s hands roam freely. They grab at his chest. One stays there, rubbing his nipples raw as the other descends to clench at his forearm. Before Yulian can hold the hand with his own, it’s gone, digging into his thighs and moving them farther apart. Yulian is on the brink of insanity.

Spit and precum slide down his cock and balls and his hole and he can feel how damp it is under him and fuck these bedsheets are absolutely ruined and Vaughn will bitch about that later–

A finger is pushed inside him using the spit gathered there and rubs at his prostate insistently. His brain short circuits, His orgasm hitting him like a train wreck.

“Baby!” He whines and shakes his way through it, still thrusting inside the wet willing mouth of his boyfriend. His legs are flailing about and he’s clawing his fingers into Vaughn’s free hand. He hadn’t even realised he was close. With what little strength left in his hands he pushes at the other’s shoulder to get him off. Vaughn gives a hard suck that has him whimpering in delightful agony before pulling off with a soft peck at his spent cock.

Yulian opens his jaw wide open in anticipation as his boyfriend comes up. A perfect eyebrow is raised at him in question, as if he can’t see the other’s bulging flushed cheek. If the other even thinks of not sharing he’s causing a riot.

He pulls at the other and opens his jaw wider with a whine, and gets a mouthful of cum and spit in answer.

Making sure the other gets a good view before gulping it all down, he licks his lips after with relish, theatrical enough that his ass gets swatted playfully.

“I didn’t tell you to swallow”, Vaughn reprimands indifferently before folding over him again. He sucks the leftover taste on him, latching on to Yulian’s tongue. The first taste has him groaning. That’s his taste making Vaughn dig his tongue deep into his mouth and swallowing all that he can reach. The taste of his spend and Vaughn’s own spit and the shit alcohol he downed tonight.

Jesus, he feels deprived.

Vaughn’s body glides against his own sweat covered skin. He’s suddenly very aware of the hard cock sliding against his groin. His own dick wasn’t going soft despite the very intense, very recent orgasm. No surprise there. That thing knows no limit when it’s around Vaughn.

Has he professed his love for the other’s currently pulsing dick enough? He’ll say it again.

Vaughn is the perfect specimen, dark eyes and hair, sculpted face and muscled body. To top it all off, he’s absolutely packing, about the same size as him with a curve that hits his sweet spot with every thrust. The perfect cock to suck and frot and most importantly lose your virginity to.

Fuck, he really loves the pretty dick.

The owner and the thing.

He’s here working himself up into a frenzy and the fact that the other has enough inhibition not to fuck Yulian’s brain out is getting very insulting.

So he takes the matter into his own hands.

Literally.

Sneaking a hand between them, he manages to stroke the other’s cock a couple of times. It fits perfectly in his hand—clear proof that he was made for him. The touch earns him the most beautiful tortured sound before his hand is dragged aside.

“Don’t want to cum in your hand, Volchonok.” The man mumbles his plea into his collarbone, “Inside you yeah, baby? Please?”

Yulian’s going to combust. His insatiable libido is ablaze with the words, adding to the urgency of needing to feel the other inside, trembling and pounding and growling.

He’d bend over backwards, though frankly he’s not very bendy in the physical department, for him and he’s here saying please?

as if he wouldn’t let the other man fuck him raw and dry and use him anywhere anytime and the only thing stopping them is Vaughn’s own stupid intercourse conditions policies–

“Volchonok don’t space out on me now” He feels a breathless laugh on his skin, the other sounding aroused beyond relief. Vaughn’s been so smiley tonight, he doesn’t even care that it’s at his own expense.

“I heard you. You want to fuck me.” Yulian drawls in his usual annoying manner and pushes his legs as far as they can go. ”What I don’t get is why you’re still talking instead of getting to work”.

He frees the hand Vaughn’s holding down, the one that was doing him a favour before being pushed aside because you know philanthropy is a thankless job, and brings the others hand up before spitting into it. He pushes the spit covered hand between the cleft of his ass, holding his fingers and making him trace his rim.

“I’m gonna go soft at this rate”, He lies like the liar he is.

His dick is a Vaughn superfan. He won’t be going soft around the other man, not in this life.

Vaughn just sends him the most deadpan look he’s ever seen. Without breaking eye contact he flicks harshly at the tip of his cock with his free hand which has Yulian hissing in pain and leans down to push his cheeks apart before spitting directly on his hole. Yulian’s whole body seizes. Why was that so fucking hot?

While Yulian contemplates the meaning of life the other pushes two fingers in. It’s a bit of a stretch but it’s not horrible enough for him to ask for a break.

“Looser than expected” comes the extremely clinical observation. Yulian looks up dazedly, the other’s smirk barely coming into focus albeit it’s clear as day in Vaughn’s voice, “Been having fun by yourself, baby?”

“Don’t act like you weren’t aware of me masturbating to your voice everytime you called, Mishka” he snorts, and demands the other to go faster.

Fingers force him open, fast and relentless. Admittedly, the slide is dry and it burns, the spit not enough of a lubricant to ease the way but he loves it. Vaughn is here, over him and inside him and his gut’s about to be rearranged to fit the shape of the other. He can deal with a bit of burning. Before long a third finger is added and then a fourth.

He whines when they’re removed from him and comes to the sound of a cap popping off, witnessing the glorious moment Vaughn wraps a hand around himself to lather it in lube.

His boyfriend drops down to land one last hard suck at his hole, letting spit drip into him and finally he feels the familiar shape of the other’s cock.

Vaughn doesn’t stand on ceremony and pushes in with one forceful shove that has him drowning the other’s deep groan in his own scream. It burns where he’s forced open. But the pain means Vaughn is here and it just heightens his pleasure. He brings the other down by his shoulder for another kiss, “Just move” are the only words he can manage.

The other doesn’t waste time being polite. He pulls Yulian’s legs up and folds him as far as he goes, setting up a brutal pace from the get go. Every slide lands with a resounding slap, his hole clenching on every pull back. His hips work tirelessly thrusting himself back onto the cock ramming into him, and it feels like his prostate never stops being stimulated. He’s stuck in the neverending phantom feelings of release.

Floating in and out of his surrounding, Yulian tries to focus on the man fucking him through the bed. Their shared scent lingering on the bed and the smell of sweat and sex envelop him, his lips throb with the reminder of every kiss they’ve shared. Words erode him; he's too far gone to tease. He’s left only with the sounds of immense pleasure, loud and broken.

“Eyes on me Volchonok”, A choked command forces his eyes open. He gets a gentle pat on his stomach for obeying. The movement has him following the hand to look down at where they’re connected. His mouth dries at the sight of Vaughn’s sweaty skin, the muscles of his abdomen rippling as he drives into him. The other is disappointingly barren of Yulian’s own hickeys, the only marks he managed to leave on him all night are the rosy lines clawed into his skin. He’ll have to redeem it next round. His insides constrict at the thought.

“Fuck, sweatheart. Not so tight.” The other sobs and the sound makes him clench tighter, “You’re gonna snap my dick off, baby.”

Yulian whines at the prospect of not having this dick to bounce on. This is one tool he won’t break, damn it.

Vaughn changes the angle and he throws his head back, baring his neck as a new spot is hit. The other wastes no time in latching on to the vulnerable offering.

“Fuck. Fuck me, Mishka, Right there!” He gets an animalistic growl in answer and the pace of the other driving into him gets brutal. Hard and fast, leaving him no space to breath.

“Baby, Come on. Come with me.” Vaughn murmurs the words as he ruts into him, hitting his prostate dead on and the second orgasm of the night washes over him.

He cums hard. Each snap of the other’s hips makes his own cock hit his stomach, prolonging the release. It gets everywhere, landing on their stomachs and chests and his own face. His man licks it off him. A few more abrupt off-rhythm thrusts and Yulian feels the tell-tale signs of his pending orgasm with the way he pulses and grows inside, his breath panting out and the hold on him shaky.

So he clenches as the other slides out and Vaughn finally lets go. A familiar warmth fills him inside. There isn’t enough space in him for all the cum—there’s so much of it. Clearly Vaughn wasn’t as lucky as him, rubbing one off anytime he got horny—and the other’s huge cock. It dribbles out of him. His insatiable dick gives a violent painful twitch.

Vaughn sprawls over him without pulling out, caging him in between his arms. Yulian returns the hug. He finally has him right where he wants him. The sound of their breaths fills the air and the feel of their bodies coming down from their highs grounding them.

“Will you believe me this time if I say you’re the only one for me?”

Yulian startles. These aren’t the words he expected to hear after having his mind blown, fucked filthy and rough into the bed. Maybe a you’re beautiful or you’re the best fuck of my life or he doesn’t know maybe I need to fuck you again. Whatever happened to common courtesy?

Vaughn doesn’t seem to like the lack of response. He pushes up with his arms on both sides of his head and pulls his dick out of him, which just tells Yulian that his boyfriend’s lost all common sense—what kind of idiot leaves “the best place they’ve ever been”.

He stares at the man hovering next to him. The lights in their room are dim and shadows stretch across the other’s skin. Somehow he looks more devastating for it. He briefly catches the sight of Vaughn’s tattoo. The coordinates inked into his thigh.

In all this madness he’d forgotten about it. The tattoo Vaughn got for them. For him. Etched into his skin forever. In a previous moment of weakness he’d actually checked the coordinates. Just to see if the cave would really show up.

It did.

He’s been doubting this man too much. Vaughn didn’t deserve it, not with the amount of sincerity he’s poured into what they have.

“I believe you” He says firmly, his voice coming out steady and sure.

Whatever the other finds as his gaze lands on him must make him happy because a toothy grin, one he’s never seen on Mishka before, appears on his face.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Vaughn starts kissing him all over his face. His eyelids, his nose, his cheeks, forehead and lips. Nothing goes unappreciated and he reciprocates as many as he can. This is the sweetest moment of his life. So sweet he can taste it on his tongue, running through his bloodstream.

He might as well quit sugar after this if he doesn’t want diabetes.

The pleasant moment is interrupted by his horny hindbrain. Not getting the memo his cock hardens.

This is probably not a battlefield you bring a hard dick to.

The other feels the stiffening cock against his thigh and pulls away to send an unimpressed look its way. He answers with an impish grin of his own.

“Baby I need to–”

“Fuck me. Yes, I know you minx. Give me a minute.” He sighs and plops down next to him but Yulian’s impatient and let's be real nobody would be able to resist his Mishka when he looks freshly tousled and sweaty and just lying there in all his naked glory. Not that anyone else will ever get the chance to resist. He’s all his.

“Nope. Too long.” He rolls atop the other and gets to work.

Vaughn laughs and he swallows it down in the dark.

#vaughn x yulian #vaughn morozov #yulian dimitriev #rina kent #hunt the villain

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