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With a small grunt, Yuuri slides from the vent and lands on the plush carpet floor, crouching low for a moment to observe the room. The office's opulence would leave a lesser man wary, but Yuuri has been sitting in the lap of luxury for some time now, and he doesn't bat an eyelash at the gold and crystal fixtures, nor the satin upholstery. With the amount of 'commerce' that the Nikiforov family manages in the ports, not to mention their rather illegal drug trade, Yuuri suspects that he could destroy everything in this room and it could be replaced in less than a day.

He doesn't care about chaos and destruction, though. Not today.

On quick and silent feet, Yuuri crosses the room to the desk, ignoring the laptop for the moment and kneeling down to look underneath. Two safes, a panic button, and several locked drawers. Yuuri makes a face, then reaches for the first drawer that can slide open, beginning to rummage.

If he can just find some good information to give to Yamada, then maybe, just maybe, Yuuri could escape this miserable life. If only Yamada would think more of him than just a simple toy, an ornament to take out for parties and then shove back into his cage after the spotlight is turned off... then he could work his way out of the yakuza and escape back to his family. Back to home.

Or, at least, get the hell out of Russia, before he gets murdered.

The first two drawers produce nothing interesting, merely office supplies that include a large number of fancy fountain pens. The third drawer, though, has something very interesting -- a single folder with a picture inside.

When Yuuri opens it, though, he drops the folder in shock. The picture is of him.

Seconds later, the door knob rattles with the sharp click of a key in a lock. Yuuri goes into a blind panic and throws the folder back in the drawer, shutting it silently, then ducks under the desk, his heart beating furiously in his chest. The door opens a moment later, and Yuuri closes his eyes in horror to hear the voice of Viktor Nikiforov, leader of the biggest crime family in Russia.

He was supposed to be gone this morning!

"...don't understand why this has even become a problem." Viktor is still on the other side of the desk, and Yuuri can hear rustling of cloth; he must be taking off his coat.

"It's a problem because you haven't visited the warehouses in two months," says Christophe Giacometti, Viktor's right-hand man, who has followed Viktor into the room. Yuuri has only met him once, and the results were not enjoyable. Christophe had shown a good deal of interest in Yuuri's scantily clad person, and that had pissed Yamada off fiercely.

Yuuri still has the scars from the lashing.

"My presence shouldn't be necessary for my men to do their jobs. Have Mila look into it. She'll straighten them out." The door closes, and Viktor crosses the room in measured steps, closer to Yuuri's hiding place. He swallows, slowly sliding a hand to his back, where a knife is hidden.

"Fine," Christophe sighs. "Now, what's this about you ordering another suit for next month's gala? I thought you just received one from the tailor."

"It's not good enough," Viktor says, and his footsteps stop right beside the desk. Yuuri's eyes widen when he sees the shiny toe of Viktor's expensive leather loafer. "I want to dress to impress for that night. It's not like I can't afford it," he laughs. He sets something on the desk, a faint thud, before pulling his chair back and sitting down.

Yuuri presses back against the underside of the desk, gripping his knife tightly. So far, Viktor has not noticed him. If Yuuri can stay still...

"That wouldn't happen to have anything to do with the rumor of a little bird dancing at said gala, would it?" Christophe asks, a note of exasperation entering his tone.

Viktor's voice turns sly. "Would it be a problem if it did? I want to see him."

"Viktor. You can't go seducing Yamada's latest toy. Just because Yuuri Katsuki is pretty..."

Yuuri freezes, not believing his ears. What?

Viktor laughs, and now he moves closer to the desk, closing off any escape. "My little bird isn't just pretty, Christophe. He is amazing, and it is a waste of his beauty and talent, to sit in Toshirou Yamada's gilded cage and sing on command. That fool doesn't know what he has."

Christophe is silent for a moment, papers shuffling. "What would you even do with him? Keep him in a bigger and more expensive cage? He is lovely, I'll give you that, but the boy can barely speak Russian, let alone handle a gun."

Yuuri, past his furiously beating heart, straightens a little with indignation. He understands Russian just fine -- Viktor and Christophe have been using Russian this entire time, and Yuuri hasn't misunderstood a single word.

"You don't see what I see, Christophe. Then again... it's not like he should matter to you. You're not attracted to him, are you?"

The deadly silence that follows Viktor's direct question makes the hair on the back of Yuuri's neck stand up. In the moments that follow, Viktor reaches into one of his drawers and pulls out a gold fountain pen, twirling it in his long fingers, wrapped in sleek black gloves. As he leans forward, his knee moves a few inches closer to Yuuri, who holds his breath.

"Not at all," Christophe finally says, his tone smooth, as if he hadn't slid his hand down Yuuri's backside two months ago. "He's just a bird in a cage."

"Good," Viktor murmurs in reply. Yuuri hears the sound of his laptop clicking open, followed by the taptaptap of his keyboard. "Are there any other issues I should be aware of?" He leans to the side, and a moment later, the gold fountain pen rolls off the desk. Yuuri watches, silent and unable to move, as Viktor leans down to pick up the pen, and almost immediately, his attention catches on Yuuri.

Blue eyes meet his gaze, then widen. For a long moment, as Christophe's voice drones on in the background, Yuuri and Viktor only stare at each other. Yuuri sits frozen, gripping his knife tightly, blind terror holding him captive in the vivid color of Viktor's eyes.

Viktor blinks once, then slowly smiles. Then he sits up, without ever drawing attention to Yuuri, and rolls his chair back, giving Yuuri a view of his face. "Sounds great. Isn't it time for you to go collect the reports from our traders? Take Yurio with you, he could use some fresh air. And cancel all my appointments for today."

"What? Viktor, you have several important meetings --"

"Cancel them," Viktor repeats, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Lock the door behind you, if you would. I want no interruptions for the remainder of the day." After a moment, Christophe agrees, before quietly leaving the room. Almost immediately, Viktor's gaze drops to Yuuri again, staring at him with an intensity that should make Yuuri uncomfortable, yet doesn't.

"So the little bird has flown his cage," Viktor murmurs, his lips curling. "You can come out now. That's a terrible position to sit in for so long."

Yuuri shifts uncertainly, then slowly crawls forward from under the desk. Viktor doesn't bother to move his chair any further back, and so Yuuri uses Viktor's knee to pull himself up, his gloved fingers trailing across the hard muscle of Viktor's thigh before he stands. Viktor spreads his legs obligingly to give him room, looking every inch the indolent king, and Yuuri trembles, gripping the knife tightly in his hand. One wrong move, and he will die. The right move, and Viktor Nikiforov's empire will fall apart.

He doesn't move at all.

Viktor glances at the knife and smiles. "Have you come to stab me in the heart, little bird? I doubt it should be so easy."

"I haven't come to kill you," Yuuri finds himself saying in Russian, his eyes narrowing. Then he tilts his head to the side, before bringing the knife up to Viktor's neck in a flash, just a scant hair's width away from cutting him. Viktor doesn't move; instead, his smile widens. "Did you want to die? I can oblige."

"Such charm," Viktor breathes, his eyes widening with something bright. Fascination, perhaps. "You must know that you would die if you did. Thirty heavily armed men will pour into this room and shoot you full of holes. There wouldn't be enough for dear old Yamada to recognize your face."

"I know," Yuuri says softly. He stands up straight and slides the knife back into its sheath. "I think I'd prefer that to going back to him, though. But you knew that."

"It's not hard to see when someone is trapped," Viktor replies, never taking his eyes off Yuuri's face. He sits up slowly, his knees brushing the sides of Yuuri's legs, and rests his hands on Yuuri's hips. His thumbs press briefly into the bone. "I see you've been thinking of me, too."

Yuuri has. Viktor Nikiforov had walked into his life four months ago in an alley where Yuuri had nearly died. He had shot the remaining two thugs intent on kidnapping Yuuri, raised an eyebrow at the pile of thugs Yuuri had already killed, and given him a smile before walking away. Yuuri hadn't known who he was until Yamada took him to dance at a party two months ago, the same party where he met Christophe Giacometti.

He had ended up dancing for Viktor Nikiforov, and Viktor hadn't taken his eyes off him once then, either.

"If I don't go back to Yamada-sama tonight, he will send someone after me," Yuuri murmurs. Viktor chuckles, drawing Yuuri closer, into his warmth. Instead of revulsion, Yuuri only feels enthralled, the same he had felt when he had first looked Viktor in the eye months ago.

"You don't need to speak of him in such a way. He doesn't deserve it."

"When your master tells you to speak to him with utmost respect, you do what he says," Yuuri replies evenly. Viktor's expression darkens, that heady violent aura from earlier returning. Slowly, Yuuri lifts his hands to cup Viktor's face, stroking his platinum locks back. "You... see me. Everyone else sees a pretty toy, but you see me."

"You're not a toy," Viktor whispers, fierce and dark. "You are the sun. You can burn every single one of them with only a look. Only a touch." His hands tighten on Yuuri's hips, hard enough to leave bruises. Yuuri thinks he would enjoy looking at those bruises later.

He leans down a little, and Viktor lifts his face, his eyes going dark with want. Yuuri hesitates just before they kiss, lowering his gaze to look at Viktor's lips. "Shall I burn you, as well?"

"Please," Viktor breathes, and Yuuri leans in to reward him. Their first kiss is a sensual slide of lips, unhurried, until Viktor groans into his mouth and Yuuri shudders, parting his lips and delving his tongue into Viktor's heat. Viktor's hand slides behind him, urging him forward, and Yuuri follows the motion into his lap blindly, settling his knees on either side of Viktor's hips and resting his hands on his shoulders.

"Perfect," Viktor murmurs, kissing his lips, then across his jaw to his neck. Yuuri whimpers when he feels the drag of Viktor's teeth beneath his ear. "Sublime. My beautiful Yuuri."

"So you would keep me in a cage, too?" Yuuri whispers, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling. "I'll be trading one master for another."

"No!" Viktor presses kisses urgently to his skin, his hands touching Yuuri's back, his hips, his legs. "No, I would see you fly free. No cage can hold you. No cage should ever hold you, my sun. The world will be yours."

Yuuri gasps when Viktor's hands delve beneath his shirt. "I have, I have scars, though. Every person who has owned me has left their mark --"

"I'll pay for the surgery to fix it," Viktor says, his hands tightening on Yuuri's waist. Below his backside, Yuuri can feel Viktor pressing against him, hard and throbbing, and his body gives an answering shudder. "I'll give you all the tattoos, every medical formula on earth to erase it all. Stay with me, and I will give you everything."

Yuuri thinks back over the past several years, when he has been traded from one trafficker to another, ending up in rich men's beds for years until he was brought before Yamada. Stolen from his family, sold into slavery, shaped into an incubus ready and willing to serve...

He should be running screaming the other way. Viktor is the most dangerous person in Russia, and Yuuri wants to be -- what, his boyfriend? His lover?

"I'll have a target on my head. They will hunt me down," Yuuri tries weakly, but Viktor leans up to kiss him, silencing the doubts.

"They will have to get past me."

Yuuri had come here to find an escape, anyway. Viktor can give him that and more, and... for the first time in his life, Yuuri thinks he might actually find life worth living.

He swallows, wetting his lips, and meets Viktor's gaze again. "Okay, Viktor," he whispers. Viktor's face lights up, and he captures Yuuri's lips again in a fervent kiss. It quickly turns heated, and for a little while, Yuuri forgets where he is and what he was intending on doing, his hands and mouth focused on Viktor's little sighs of pleasure.

The sound of voices near the door makes him startle back, twisting around in Viktor's lap to stare at the door in horror. A moment later, the phone rings.

Viktor's expression fades to nil. He reaches past Yuuri and presses a button on the expensive machine. "I thought I said no interruptions. What part of 'I'm busy' do you not understand?" he growls. Yuuri shifts a little uncomfortably, Viktor's tone of voice going straight through him to his cock, making him shudder. Viktor's gaze lands on him again, and his mien softens just slightly.

"I am very sorry, sir," says the assistant on the phone. "Mr. Leroy barged in and..."

"I see. Very well," Viktor says, making Yuuri sit up in shock. "In two minutes, escort him in." He ends the connection and looks up at Yuuri, a smile returning to his lips. "I am sorry, my little bird."

Yuuri might be panicking, a little. "I don't want them to see me."

Viktor squeezes his waist, then leans in to kiss his ear. "Get under the desk, then," he whispers, sending another heady shiver through Yuuri. "I won't tell."

Yuuri swallows. "Okay." He slides off Viktor's lap, holding his fierce gaze for a moment before sinking to his knees and crawling under the desk again. The door opens as Viktor pushes his chair in, and this time, his knees settle on either side of Yuuri, caging him in with heat. Yuuri barely notices as voices fill the room, because Viktor has reached down with a gloved hand to adjust the bulge in his pants.

Yuuri's mouth goes dry. He wishes more than anything that they had not been interrupted.

"Mr. Nikiforov! I couldn't believe it when my assistant told me you had cancelled our important meeting!" booms a voice in English, a Canadian accent if Yuuri is not mistaken. He pays the invader no mind, remaining absolutely silent, not wanting to piss Viktor off or get caught. Yuuri wants to avoid Yamada finding out about his betrayal for as long as he can.

"Indeed I had," Viktor agrees, his voice darkening dangerously. "Yet here you are anyway, Mr. Leroy."

"Nonsense! Our families have such an important trade agreement, surely you would not turn me away."

"Mm. As you say." Viktor's knee presses against Yuuri's shoulder, and he moves a little closer, enough that suddenly Viktor's scent fills his senses. Yuuri stiffens a little, his body giving a little throb, and his attention returns to Viktor's hand, which is resting beside the hot, hard bulge of his erection. "Well, since you so kindly thought to visit me on my day off, I suppose we should discuss said agreement. Shall we?"

Jean-Jacques Leroy must be an idiot not to hear the fury in Viktor's voice. "Of course, of course! Now, as I was telling my parents..."

Yuuri listens with half a mind. The other half of his focus is on Viktor's heated scent and the sleek black leather covering his hand. After a moment, Viktor moves his hand forward a little, his fingers spreading.

Yuuri cannot resist. He leans in to press his cheek to the buttery soft leather, closing his eyes briefly as Viktor's fingers twitch. Slowly, Viktor's fingers caress his face, until they come to rest on his lips. Without hesitating, Yuuri opens his mouth and lets the leather-clad finger slide inside, feeling rather smug when Viktor's breath hitches.

He lets Viktor's finger rest on his tongue, the taste of leather overpowering, before he slowly closes his lips and gives a long, hard suck. He wants Viktor to know exactly what he really needs in his mouth.

Viktor gets the message immediately, but he doesn't do anything about it just yet. Instead he presses his finger against Yuuri's tongue, before adding a second finger, making Yuuri swallow a moan. He hollows out his cheeks and pulls Viktor's fingers deeper into his mouth, undoubtedly leaving a mark on the leather. A moment later, Viktor gently slides his fingers out and reaches up to his zipper.

Yes, Yuuri thinks, watching as Viktor drags the metal down, ever so slowly, enough that the sound never makes it past Yuuri's confined space under the desk. Leroy is still talking, and so Yuuri reaches up and dips his fingers into Viktor's open fly, gently nudging Viktor's hand away and undoing the button at the top.

His eyes widen slightly when his hand finds Viktor's cock completely uncovered, and he realizes that Viktor is not wearing any underwear. His entire body throbs with want, and Yuuri has to press his cheek to Viktor's sturdy thigh, his face flushing with warmth.

He taps Viktor's leg, twice. Are we really doing this?

In response, Viktor takes his own cock in hand, fisting it slowly, before opening his palm and holding it up for Yuuri, an offering. His legs spread wider around Yuuri, giving him room to move closer, and Yuuri leans in without a second thought, parting his lips for Viktor to slide onto his tongue.

He tastes of leather and musk and salt, and Yuuri begins to suck softly, not daring to move too hard or make any noise. Viktor is large enough to stretch his mouth open, and the girth of him leads Yuuri's thoughts to other activities, making his sex ache. Viktor's gloved fingers, slightly damp, slide into his hair and close into a fist, before tugging Yuuri's head forward gently.

Yuuri allows the movement, letting Viktor's cock sink deeper into his mouth, opening his mouth wider and carefully breathing through his nose. When he tightens his lips and swallows, Viktor's fingers twitch against his head. Yuuri can feel him shuddering faintly, and he would dearly love to see Viktor keeping a placid expression while his unwanted associate prattles on, at the same time that Yuuri is giving him a blowjob.

He sucks harder at the thought. Yuuri would love to see Viktor lose control, but he also loves the thought of Viktor maintaining that strong façade, all the while he struggles inwardly not to thrust into Yuuri's mouth, hot and wet and desperate for more. He is aching in his pants, and he spreads his legs a little to relieve the pressure, imagining coming just from Viktor's cock in his mouth.

His fingers clench on Viktor's thighs. Slowly, carefully, Yuuri begins to move his head back and forth, drawing Viktor deeper into his mouth every time. He could spend all day down here, sucking on Viktor, caught in this limbo of pleasure and the thrill of hiding. It should terrify him. Instead it excites him.

Viktor's hand tightens in his hair again, and abruptly he pushes Yuuri's head down. Yuuri pushes back briefly, then breathes in deep through his nose and lets his throat relax, sinking down until Viktor's zipper brushes his cheek. Viktor shudders, holding him still for a long moment, before he loosens his grip and lets Yuuri move back before he chokes.

Yuuri can't help a little gasp when Viktor's erection drops out of his mouth. In the same moment, Viktor presses his shoe between Yuuri's legs, right against his aching sex, and he turns his head to muffle his moan in Viktor's leg.

Leroy abruptly stops talking. "Mr. Nikiforov... is there someone under there?"

For a moment Yuuri holds still, terrified of being caught. Viktor touches his cheek gently, reassuring him, and Yuuri leans forward to press his lips to Viktor's cock again. Viktor rewards him by sliding his gloved fingers back through Yuuri's hair, away from his face. "I did say I was busy. Is there a problem, Mr. Leroy? You did intrude on my personal time, after all." His voice hitches with a husky chuckle as Yuuri drags his tongue along the side of his cock, before taking him into his mouth again.

"I -- I hadn't realized --"

"No, you hadn't," Viktor says, his voice going cold. "I may rethink our agreement, Mr. Leroy, if you continue not to mind your manners. My assistant will show you out."

The door opens and closes, and a second later, Viktor wraps his fingers around the back of Yuuri's head and tugs him further down. Yuuri moans, feeling Viktor throb in his mouth, realizing wildly that he must be close. The leather of his gloves creaks in his ear, and a moment later, Viktor comes, his hips spasming as he grips Yuuri tightly.

Yuuri swallows him down, sucking hard until Viktor lets him go, feeling his head ache from the force of Viktor pulling his hair. He sits back on his heels and reaches up to wipe his mouth, lifting his head from under the desk and looking up at Viktor.

"My naughty little bird," Viktor whispers, gazing down at Yuuri with a satisfied expression. "God, you look so good like this. Thank you for chasing away the rubbish."

Yuuri smiles up at him, leaning into his hand. He feels a little unsteady, overwhelmed by desire. "You're welcome, Viktor."

Viktor's smile is brilliant. A moment later, his gaze drops, and the smile twists into a smirk. "Looks like my little bird needs some assistance. Shall I help you out?"

"Please," Yuuri breathes, leaning up to kiss him.