Chapter Text
Viktor was at a turning point. Or, at least, that was what it felt like. He could either let this whole thing go and tell Christophe that perhaps he had imagined things all along, or he could continue to pursue something – he was already starting to understand this – that was a lot bigger than what one man could handle. Either way, the choice was his to make, and he was at a loss.
Mainly because he did not want to let go of the dream that was Yuuri. Eros. Whatever.
Each time he came into the club, he would move almost automatically toward where the android was, clad in a variety of skimpy outfits and dancing to raunchy music. Sometimes, Eros would stumble and give him his doe-eyed stare, one that made Viktor’s heart leap and his pants tighten in unmentionable places. Sometimes he danced as if nothing was wrong; as if he had no idea who Viktor was and why he was supposed to be flustered around him.
There was no pattern to it – every time Viktor came, he did not know what he would find. The only thing that did happen – or did not, rather – was that Yuuri never fully awoke since their first and only meeting. Viktor searched for recognition in his eyes, for a glimmer of humanity in them, but all he got was a wide, brown-eyed stare and a tongue running over glistening, pink lips.
Nothing more.
Eventually, it started to bug him. Well, no, not even eventually – about a week after his conversation with Phichit, actually, he began to realize that he was getting a little bit irritated with Eros, because how the hell could he not remember a snack like Viktor? Especially one that, according to his best friend, he had lusted over for years on end?
And that was how he ended up in the uncomfortable position of talking to Christophe about renting Eros for a private dance. His friend could hardly hide the look of glee that threatened to take over his face.
“So, changed your mind about androids, huh?” He cooed at Viktor as he drew up the transaction and handed his fingerprint reader to the man.
“You could say that,” Viktor replied, sighing inwardly as he parted with a hefty sum of money. “I think they’re fascinating.”
"That one in particular, huh?" Chris asked, smirking at Viktor. "It's not like I haven't noticed the way you look at our naughty little bot. You always had an eye out for the stranger stuff, Vitya."
“Strange?” Viktor asked, his insides going cold. He wasn’t sure he wanted Christophe to know anything about Eros’ true nature – not until he could be sure that the club owner would stand up to protect his workers, and not send them all to the junkyard.
"Y'know, he's a little glitchy, especially around you," Christophe said with a shrug. "Dunno what that means. I had the techies look him over dozens of times, and they came up with a buttload of big, fat nothing. So maybe he's just got some inherent hard drive issue. I bought him with a huge discount so I wouldn't be surprised."
Viktor tried his best to keep his face neutral. “Oh? Where did you get him?”
Christophe gave him a smug smirk. “Thinking of getting yourself one? You’re out of luck, Vitya. The person I got him from assured me that Eros was one of a kind. The only model with this face and this particular set of… well, characteristics, I suppose.”
“N-no, I just… uh, that’s why I asked. He doesn’t look like your standard UMBRA fare. Y’know? He looks so… real,” Viktor replied. He felt his palms begin to sweat and he slipped his hands into his jeans pockets to surreptitiously wipe them.
"Yeah," Christophe said wistfully. "Flawed. He has a bunch of birthmarks, even. Freckles. Who the hell gives androids birthmarks and freckles?" He paused. "UMBRA's been trying to make them more realistic, I guess. I suppose it makes sense for work like this. Maybe that's why the ones I get here are all a little… you know, flawed? Not like the basic models that do housework and stuff."
“Flawed?” Viktor asked.
“Some of them even have scars,” Christophe replied. “I asked the vendor, but he didn’t know what that was about. It’s not like they’re actually damaged on the inside – we checked. So… I didn’t push it. Like I said, realism can be a selling point for guys like you.”
“Yeah…” Viktor said with a frown as his Holo pinged to confirm his payment. “For guys like me.”
Gods, this room was stuffy. Viktor tugged on his collar to make room for some air as he waited for Eros to show up in the smallest, pinkest room imaginable. Everything was covered in some sort of velvety material which made the air smell of sweat, dust, and patchouli.
I don’t even know what I’m doing here.
“Mister Nikiforov?”
Fuck, that voice. Viktor closed his eyes slowly and opened them only to hear the click-clacking of heels as Eros strode into the room, doing a little twirl as he came to a halt next to the pole.
Viktor’s jaw locked when he saw the android. Looking this good should have been illegal, and it was a good thing that androids were technically exempt from obeying human laws because Eros – Yuuri – looked like a whole meal. He was wearing a dark robe of some sheer material that shone with silvery holographic flowers that seems to slither and change shape over his skin. Beneath the gown was a single pair of black briefs, nothing too ostentatious, but somehow that modesty made it better. Viktor's eyes slid down, and he briefly experienced a mini-stroke as all the blood went from his brain to more interested regions.
Boots.
Eros was wearing black leather boots, laced all the way up to his thighs, lacquered to perfection and equipped with a deadly-looking stiletto. They wrapped around his pale skin in the most sinful way possible, creating the illusion that his legs were positively suffocating.
“H-hello,” Viktor uttered hoarsely, his eyes wide as Eros wrapped a delicate hand around the pole. The artificial muscles beneath his skin rippled with unseen strength. Viktor suddenly realized that this ethereal-looking android was probably strong enough to bench press him. Somehow, that was a turn-on.
"I am here to indulge in your fantasies," the android said, his eyes hooded with stimulated lust, and Viktor swallowed thickly, his treacherous body urging him to give in to the desires of his body and just let Eros take care of him.
“I am here to make your dreams come true,” Eros continued. Music began playing from gods only knew where and the android swung one leather-clad leg over the pole, allowing himself to revolve around it once. He tossed his head back and looked at Viktor with his back arched, and then the little shit winked.
“Um, Eros–,” Viktor began, his mouth dry as the Gobi Desert. The android ignored him and continued to twist and turn around the pole to the steamy and sticky beat that somehow made the room seem even stuffier.
Viktor could do nothing else but sit back and watch the android dance, his movements becoming more particular, more intense, more deliberate. A shake of a hip, a toss of a hand, his heel hooked around the pole, his artificial ligaments flexible and pliant as he eased one leg over his head as if it were nothing. All the while with the same sultry and yet dispassionate look on his face.
“Eros, please–,”
This got his attention, and the android slinked off the pole and toward the man, his hand settling on Viktor's shoulder with practiced ease.
“Did I displease you?” He pouted, offering Viktor the look of a kicked puppy. Shit, he was adorable.
“N-no, Eros, I just–,”
"Would you like me to do something else?" Eros asked, cocking his head to the side, the same confused almost hurt look on his face.
It’s just part of his programming, Viktor told himself, his teeth grinding against each other with how hard he gritted them. He doesn’t actually want to do this. The real Yuuri would be horrified by this, he wouldn’t want–
His thoughts weren’t allowed to run their course as the next thing he knew, Eros was fully seated in his lap, and his crotch was rubbing right against the involuntary bulge in his pants.
“Ero-oh!-os!”
"Tell me what you want," Eros breathed, leaning in closer to whisper into Viktor's ear. His artificial breath was a little off – just cool enough to feel inhuman – but it felt like heaven when it washed over the shell of Viktor's ear, sending shivers down his spine. "Tell me, and I will make your dreams come true."
Viktor closed his eyes, praying to the gods he didn’t believe in for resolve he didn’t have.
He reached out to settle a hand on Eros' thigh, but the android smacked it away playfully, a small smile on his face. "I'm afraid that is not allowed, sir."
Sir, Viktor’s mind echoed. Fuck me sideways with a chainsaw.
“S-sorry,” he managed to grit out. “I just… I want to talk.”
“Talk?” Eros replied, his smile growing wider. God, he looked so beautiful, even underneath the artificial lights, even among all this fake luxury, he was still so, so fucking beautiful.
“Why would we talk?” Eros asked, smiling still. “When we could use our time so much better.” His hand inched downward to dip between Viktor’s thighs playfully, not quite touching him where it mattered. “When we could let our bodies do the talking?”
Somehow, that was sobering. The fake lines seemed unnatural coming from Eros’ – Yuuri’s – angel lips.
“Please, Eros–,”
“Let me take care of you,” the android insisted. “Let me–,”
Viktor screwed his eyes shut, feeling like he was about to make the worst mistake of his life if he allowed this to happen. He grabbed at Yuuri's wrist, but the android was, indeed, a lot stronger than he was.
“Eros– Yuuri–,”
“What did you call me?”
Suddenly, the music stopped. Viktor found himself heaving as he panted through his arousal and the shock of Eros’ behavior. Gingerly, he peeled his eyes open.
Eros was still seated in his lap, his arms slack at his sides. He stared at Viktor through almost unseeing eyes, wide open and empty. Viktor was about to ask whether he was alright when what looked like an electric shock went through his body and Eros’ eyes focused once more.
They were different eyes.
They were Yuuri’s.
Viktor couldn’t stop himself from smiling when he saw it – he saw the change, and he was the one who had made it happen. He had managed to bring Yuuri back with barely a word.
“Hello, Yuuri.”
The android blinked slowly as if working through some sort of internal error.
“Viktor Nikiforov?” He finally asked, his voice taking on a surprised quality he could definitely not have faked. Surprise was not something androids experienced – they had no expectations; therefore, there was nothing in the world that could wreck them.
“I remember meeting you,” Yuuri finally said in a rush. Slowly, his eyes slid downward and a split-second later, he was off Viktor with a wild yelp.
“W-why am I naked on top of you?! What the hell is happening with me?!” He squeaked, his hands going to cup his chest of all places as if he were a damsel trying to hide his modesty. Somehow, ridiculous as it was, it was also endearing.
“Yuuri, calm down,” Viktor said quietly, sticking out his hand in a soothing gesture. “It’s okay, I can explain–,”
“Did you kidnap me?!” Yuuri accused indignantly. “Did you dress me up like this?! Are you a pervert?!”
Viktor couldn’t help it – he burst out laughing. Yuuri’s facial expression became even more scandalized.
“Trust me, kid, if I wanted your company, I’d be a perfect gentleman about it,” the older man said with a grin on his face. “And I do want your company, for the record.”
"You do?" Yuuri asked, confused. Then his eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer. "You do, don’t you? So you did kidnap me!”
Viktor fought the urge to sigh. “Just… come here. Sit down, let me explain. As, uh… much as I can.”
“I’m okay here, thanks,” Yuuri said with a frown.
Oh no, he’s hot when he’s mad.
“Just… please,” Viktor said. “C’mere. You have my permission to knock me out if you feel like I’m being inappropriate.”
“You bet your ass I will,” Yuuri grumbled.
He's definitely hot when he's mad, and I am so, so fucked.