Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

“He took you, tiger.”

The words hang in the air between us.

Your silk-covered fingers touch my lips gently before you trace ‘em over my cheekbones an’ brush them through my muttonchops.

I can smell that you’re curious an’ confused an’ that those scents are fightin’ with the fact you’re also curious an’ aroused.

It’s drivin’ me crazy—Christ, you’re drivin’ me crazy by just bein’ in the same room as me after years apart. My blood’s boilin’ but I gotta take it slow even though all I wanna do is tear your clothes off an’ claim you right here on this couch.

Make you mine again.

I never been a prayin’ man.

Gave up on God pretty early in my life ‘cause there was no devine bein’ up in the wild blue yonder helpin’ out ol’ Victor, that’s for damn sure.

I ain’t never prayed for anythin’ in my life; if I wanted it, I went out an’ got it myself. Didn’t wanna waste time on my knees for someone or somethin’ I knew wasn’t listenin’, but goddammit, right now with you in my arms studyin’ me an’ touchin’ me—fuck, am I prayin’.

I’m prayin’ with everythin’ I have that you’ll remember me, that you’ll look in my face an’ see the love there, the need, an’ the want.

Please, tiger. Please see me.

The beast is roilin’ under my skin; the desperation it’s givin’ off, the sheer cravin’ … it’s pungent an’ your closeness is startin’ to make it restless.

Beastie wants to take but I won’t let him out.

Gotta take it gentle and slow.

It is you.

You are here but you are not mine—not ours.

I am agitated; why will Victor not let me have control?

He has done so once before when another man laid claim to you.

You now carry the stink of him. I don’t like it.

We don’t like it, but yet, Victor continues to push me down.

Our chosen one, our mate sits before us and he will not let me out.

Does he not know how much I want you, how much I need you?

There is a part of you that I can touch—a small part.

I slowly unfurl my primal, animalistic instinct to find yours.

It has gotten smaller, blacker, twisted and this angers me but I must keep that anger under control.

It is still intact, still whole. This is good.

I reach out and stroke it; it shivers under my contact. It recognizes me.

I caress it again and again.

It begins to open, expanding sluggishly, still cracked and raw from misuse but I am there to coax it, to nurture it.

I will always be there to nurture it.

I will make you complete again because I am not complete without you.

Your fingers drift back to my lips, tracin’ ‘em with your silk-covered fingers an’ then you whisper the word I’ve been dyin’ to hear for the past two years:

“Victor?”

If there’s a heaven, I’m there right fuckin’ now.

You trace his fine lips with your gloved fingers again, a million visions of him flashing through your head. There’s a flicker, a tickle, and everything becomes clear, clearer than it’s ever been.

You belong here.

“Victor?”

All of the tension in the room leaves in one gigantic rush, and for a moment you feel dizzy so you tighten your grip on his dress shirt—you don’t want to get pulled out too.

You never want to be apart from him again.

“Baby,” Victor whispers stroking one of his large hands down your back, “you don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ to hear you say that.”

But this doesn’t make sense.

The last time you saw him, he was a blackened and crisp husk having been electrocuted; now he’s here, fully whole, his hands …

Goddamn, his hands …

“How long?” you breathe as you look up into his eyes. The jumble of emotions and feelings and images rushing through you are intense. You start to tremble as they begin to overwhelm you.

You turn into Creed’s chest, burying your face in shirt. He smells fucking incredible, like a mix of wood smoke and the spicy tang of a citrus aftershave. Goddamn, you want to rub that smell all over your body—you want to rub HIM all over your body.

“Two years,” Victor murmurs against your hair. “There’s an ache in my soul where you useta be, tiger.”

You can feel it, an empty void within yourself that suddenly surfaces, causing tears to prick the corners of your eyes. How did you not notice he was missing? This is the man you’d move heaven and earth for; this is the man you’d kill for.

He’s yours.

You tilt your head back so you can see his face. He’s so fucking beautiful. How could you have forgotten him? How could you forget his scent, his smile, his laugh …

You touch your lips to his in a chaste kiss and you know you’re gone. You want Victor to own you, to claim you body and soul so that every single inch of you belongs to him.

Before he can pull away, you wrap a hand around the back of his neck, refusing to let him pull away. You kiss him more firmly, a small moan escaping from you. Victor feels so fucking good and you want to keep touching him.

You need to keep touching him.

There are things you know you have to deal with: the last two years, Felix, what Felix did to you, what he made you, but right now all you want is Victor.

You want to feel his body under your hands, to kiss every part of him, to make up for the past two years and you want to do it now.

“Victor,” your growl against his lips as you fumble with the buttons on his dress shirt. “Take me upstairs.”

He makes a sound of surprise before he pulls back gently. “Tiger, we should wait,” he says, his voice strained.

“I don’t want to,” you whisper, nibbling on the tip of his pointed ear—you’re sure he liked that.

Victor’s hands convulse on your waist; you were right about him liking that. “You’re wounded. I could hurt you.” He’s panting, unravelling under your touch.

You know he wants you as much as you want him and it won’t take much to make him lose his grip on his tenacious resolve. 

“You’d never hurt me, Victor, never.”

He crumbles, pulling you flush against his body with a growl to press a hungry kiss to your mouth. Both of you stay like that for a few moments, lost in each other, lost in the kiss before you pull back gently.

“Upstairs,” you snarl. “Now.”

Your wish is granted.

I stroke your instinct gently, carefully.

The savage passion of want spills over me.

It makes me growl with desire.

I let you take charge of our first coupling for I am busy making sure you that you come back to us intact and unbroken.

I will not let you be broken.

You are perfect.

A guy like me ain’t destined for heaven.

I know it, you know it, fuckin’ strangers on the street know it. Shit, even Bob and Doug McKenzie know it. I ain’t a good guy—I don’t read to the elderly, I don’t return my library books on time, an’ I wouldn’t even curb my dog if I had one.

But when I’m holdin’ you in my arms, I wonder if I’m bein’ givin’ heaven on earth because when I’m there, I ain’t a vicious murderin’ bastard, I ain’t a guy who’ll set fire to a face I don’t like, I ain’t a guy who’s proud of the nickname Der Schlӓchter.

I’m only Victor Creed, a guy who’s completely and utterly in love with you, a guy who’s allowed to just be because you don’t care about what I do or how I do it.

I ain’t ever gonna be redeemed; I’m a bastard through an’ through an’ I can’t see me livin’ my life any other way.

It’s only in your eyes that I’m absolved of all my filthy, dirty sins ‘cause even though you know I’m no angel, you love me anyway.

That’s all I could ask for.