M.O.N.E.Y • viktuuri ✔️

37.| scent

"no one will want to fuck you if you look so fucking mopey, yuri."

celestino pushed yuri's face away harshly, and yuri rubbed his jaw.

"i want at least sixty tonight. eighty would make me smile, eh, sunshine? think you could do eighty for me?"

yuri looked at him with wide brown eyes, as the rain picked up its pace outside.

"eighty?"

although the car was devoid of light, the streetlamps revealed to yuri that celestino's expression had darkened.

"you know what? since you've whine like a little bitch about going out tonight - which i don't understand because it's one of those parties where you'll make a large sum - i want at least eighty."

"what?" yuri asked, his voice wavering at the thought of four different men putting their hands on him, and that not one of them would have the scent of vanilla that he held in his fantasy.

"what?" celestino mimicked. yuri sat quietly in the passenger seat of the stationary car, listening to the pulsating music from inside the house he had been in before, and slept on the grey sofa he could see through crowds of people on victor's familiar front room with victor's arm around him.

"you going to get out?" celestino asked with an eyebrow raised, gesturing to the car door. yuri looked up into the car mirror to see if phitchit had applied enough concealer; the mascara on his lashes distracted attention from the faint lilac patch around one eye, and the lip gloss from the split in both of his soft lips.

he reached for the handle, but celestino stopped him.

"show me that smile," he teased, grabbing yuri's jaw the same way and turning his face roughly towards his, pressing into the cut that was covered by makeup on yuri's cheek. he forced himself not to cry out, and gave celestino the small smile he was looking for.

"good boy," celestino leered, and put one hand on yuri's inner thigh. by now, yuri had learnt to ignore his touch, and barely batted an eye as celestino moved his hand further and further up yuri's skinny ripped jeans.

"i still don't know why you're complaining so much, yuri," he said with a deep-throated laugh. "here, you can get fucked by that victor you're so in love worth and even get paid for it. what's there to complain about, huh? you're ol' celestino ain't that bad, is he?"

his voice hardened at yuri's tearful, shameful silence.

"i said is he?"

"no," yuri managed to say, in nothing g more than a whisper. he started picking at his lilac-painted nails to distract his focus from the stinging in his eyes; if he cried, the makeup would run away, and celestino would be angry.

"go on then," he said with a fake, paper thing smile, and leant across from yuri to open the car door.

the smell of him made yuri shrink away; the feel of his breath so close to him made it hard for him to breathe.

celestino winked at yuri as he stepped out of the car and into the rain. "make me proud, eh, babe?"

yuri nudged the car door shut with his arm, and ran up the three marble steps of the front door of victor nikiforov - the victor nikiforov.

maybe he loves me.
maybe this is the last time.

yuri looked at the black porsche who's sound he hated hearing outside his and phitchit's flat turn a corner and disappear, and yuri wondered if that was the last time he was ever going to see celestino, and allowed himself a small smile.