The streets of St. Petersburg were silent. The only noise was the wind whistling through the darkened buildings as moonlight gleamed off the shattered glass of nearby windows and cast shadows on the bricks of alleyways and asphalt of the streets. All was still, including a blond-haired boy propped against the darkened wall of a narrow alleyway, standing still in an attempt to blend into the shadows around him - to go unnoticed to the untrained eyes of the common citizens who occasionally passed by the entrance of the alleyway. The boy remained for a long time, watching and listening attentively to each movement of every passerby, waiting to pounce into action at the first sign of danger. There were none.

Instead, time ticked by and the moon rose in the sky like an ever-watchful eye. It was then, and only then, that he appeared. He was much more intimidating in the late of night, silvery moonlight cascading over his form to transform him into a still silhouette blocking the entrance to the alleyway.

"Agape," said the other, addressing the boy carefully for fear he might anger. It was no use; the boy was always quick to anger.

"You're late," Agape snarled, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a silver flash drive. "Again."

Aria smirked, amused at the young operative's anger. The man closed the gap between them with long strides, stopping before the much younger, and much shorter, boy, "And that shocks you?"

"No," Agape said, bottle green eyes flashing briefly in the low moonlight. "It doesn't."

The boy pushed the flash drive into the man's hand, determined to get rid of it before it caused him any more trouble than it already had. Aria accepted the flash drive, examined it for a moment, and tucked it inside his jacket, securing it for later in the night.

"Mania will be at The Prix in four hours. Orders are to deliver it to him and get out, Mania will do the rest."

"Why not do it yourself?"

Agape quirked an irritated eyebrow and crossed his arms in front of him. Stubborn silence hung in the air before he tsk ed and spoke again, "Do I look old enough to be in a club? Jesus, old man, your mind really is going."

Aria pursed his lips, choosing not to respond to the fifteen-year-old and his insults. He'd been down that road and knew exactly how it ended, with a lot of cursing and two hospital trips.

"Go home, Agape," Aria said to the boy, turning his back and taking several steps toward the mouth of the alleyway. "I'll make the drop."

"Fucking finally," Agape grumbled underneath his breath, shoving his hands in his pockets to fight away the bitter cold. "It's freezing out here."

The boy turned down the alley without another word, disappearing into the streets of St. Petersburg before Aria could say any more.

Aria's eyes narrowed childishly, watching the boy's quickly retreating back.

"Thanks, Aria," the man whispered sarcastically underneath his breath before answering his own impersonation. "You're welcome, Agape, I'm happy to help."

Viktor Nikiforov walked out of the alleyway, shoving his hands into his pockets when the cold winter air began to nip at them.

The Prix was a popular nightclub, new to St. Petersburg and already known for its affinity to infamous clientele and a 'no questions asked' policy. Viktor had already been there a couple of times himself, determined to see what the hype was all about. What he found was a stoic DJ, a cheeky bartender, and an incredibly alluring atmosphere made of lights, music, alcohol, and dancers. He'd never seen anything quite like it.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, Viktor made his way down the darkened streets of St. Petersburg and towards the small corner storefront that held the entrance to The Prix. It only took minutes for the club to come into view, the silver light of an inconspicuous, unmarked doorway acting as a beacon for The Prix's street entrance. Viktor had no problem slipping inside, only to immediately be met with a long line queued down a steep staircase.

Viktor couldn't help the groan that escaped him at the sight of the packed stairway. He crossed his arms and leaned against one of the walls, listening to men and women, dressed in skimpy clothing, chat to pass the time away while they waited for the bouncer to let them in. Around them, the low thrum of music vibrated through the air, teasing the queue of what was to be when their patience paid off.

So he waited, and waited, and waited, inching forward with every person allowed entry into The Prix. Each beat of the music steadily pulsed through the stairway, growing louder with each passing moment and each step forward that took him deeper into the nightclub.

After what felt like ages, Viktor finally saw the entrance, guarded by a smug-looking, loud-mouthed bouncer.

J something , Viktor thought as the man waved him through the door.

Viktor immediately put all thoughts of the bouncer aside when the flashing lights of the club grazed over him in brilliant colors of blue, red, and purple, streaking across the room in ever changing patterns. With time to kill until Mania arrived, Viktor pushed his way through the throng of people dancing wildly to the beat of the music to get to the bar, where he saw a familiar face in a sea of strangers.

Christophe Giacometti tended the bar diligently, serving customers with colorfully swirled drinks, unfazed by the chaos around him. Viktor sat down on an open stool and waited for the bartender to notice him. After making several drinks, and definitely showing off his mixing skills to a few patrons, Christophe turned his way, green eyes glinting mischievously in the flashing lights before a sly smirk cocked its way onto his face. He sauntered over and leaned against the bar to talk with Viktor.

"Hey there, stranger," he said loudly in an attempt to speak over the music as he snatched an empty glass from underneath the bar and set it in front of Viktor. "Long time, no see."

"Yeah, I've been a little busy," Viktor replied, pushing the empty glass back towards Chris. No drinking on the job. He had also been there and done that. That too, did not end well. "Sorry…"

"Well, you came at the right time." At Viktor's confusion, the bartender shot him an amused smirk. "The dancers are about to go on."

He jerked his head towards the empty stage, where poles shone brilliantly in the flashing lights.

"Believe me, you're in for one hell of a time."

At Chris' words, the music cut out and the lights died down, allowing for the voice of the DJ to announce the night's entertainment. After the DJs last words had rung through the room, the music began again and dancers took the stage, each strutting across the floor like unpracticed runway models trying too hard. That is, until the last dancer glided onto the stage with practiced grace.

His movements were fluid as muscles rippled steadily underneath his costume, made with black strips that crossed his chest and swirled down one arm, barely covering him in just the right places while hugging him perfectly in others. The dancer came to a stop in the middle of the stage, twirling in front of the pole as the crowd cheered and whistled. The hip cape on his costume fluttered and flashed the red underneath as the man soaked in the lights of the club, which glinted off the glitter highlighting his lips and cheekbones and slicking back his onyx hair. The man grabbed the pole, using it to lean against as he cocked a sharp hip to show off his gentle curves.

Viktor could feel his mouth go dry and the air leave his lungs as the man on stage looked down on the people in the crowd. His eyes searched for something, scanning each face in the crowd before locking suddenly on Viktor. Immediately, he froze, locked in place by beautiful brown eyes that melted into warm honey in the light of the stage.

Then he smiled. Dangerous and seductive, like a predator who had caught its prey.

Viktor would gladly be prey.

"W-who…"

Behind him, Chris chuckled, snatching the empty glass to tuck away underneath the bar before leaning closer to Viktor.

"He goes by Eros," Chris said, "Nothing else. He just showed up one day, much like yourself. I can't complain much, though. He's brilliant to look at."

Viktor could do no more than nod in agreement, to dumbfounded for words and impossibly lost in the man's movements.

Then, music filtered through the speakers and Eros began to dance.

The music was slow, sensual in every sense of the word, and Eros swayed easily with it, rolling his hips in tempting waves while his body curved around the pole. None of the other dancers could possibly stand in comparison.

And God, if Viktor could've fallen any deeper, he would've. Because Viktor was completely and utterly intertwined in this beauty that danced center stage that he didn't even note the passage of time or the changing of the songs, only feeling the loss when the music faded completely and the DJ announced the end of the dance.

Eros placed both feet on the ground and placed his hands on his hips, his lips parted in breathlessness as he searched the crowd again, capturing Viktor in his glowing honey eyes almost instantly. His parted lips pulled up in a smirk.

Viktor watched with rapt attention as Eros walked down the stairs and onto the floor of the club, the sea of people parting for him as he glided toward the bar.

"Good luck," Chris muttered to him, also watching Eros closely. He clapped Viktor on the shoulder and quickly dismissed himself, nodding to Eros in acknowledgement as he approached. Eros nodded back, slipping onto the empty stool next to Viktor as the bartender retreated. They sat in silence, Eros purposely avoiding Viktor's gaze while Viktor's eyes studied every detail of the dancer up close. Pinballs of sweat dotted his forehead and his chest rose a little quicker than it probably had before the dance, contracting against the fabric of his costume which, Viktor noticed, was partially made of skin tone mesh. The glitter, however, stubbornly remained, still shining a brilliant gold along his cheekbones and lips and sparkling silver in his hair.

Viktor suddenly lost the ability to even function as a human being.

He could've sat there and stared forever at the absolutely stunning man before him.

Chris returned, a glass of water in hand, and offered it to Eros, who graced him with a soft smile. "Thank you, Christophe."

At the sound of his voice, Viktor's heart skipped a beat before pounding heavily in his chest.

"Of course!' Chris said in return, waving off the thanks like it was nothing.

Eros lifted the glass to his lips and eagerly began to drink the water. Viktor couldn't help but watch, intent on seeing everything the dancer had to offer. The man looked at him out of the corner of his eye, now a warm brown in the absence of the spotlights, and lowered the glass from his lips.

"Friend of yours, Chris?" Eros asked, placing the glass back down on the counter and fully turning his body towards Viktor. Chris smirked, eyes glistening mischievously at the question.

"Friend of mine and fan of yours."

"Oh?" Eros answered, raising a curious eyebrow as a rather victorious smirk painted his face. The dancer stood quickly and closed the gap between himself and Viktor, throwing one leg over Viktor's lap to straddle him. Eros' warmth invaded every morsel of Viktor's being and he was close. So, so close and so incredibly warm. And he was sitting in Viktor's lap.

Viktor bit his lip, trying to will himself to not spring an erection with the dancer on top of him, when Eros took his hands and placed them on the bare skin of his thighs. Eros, himself, placed his hands on Viktor, slipping them underneath his jacket to run his hands up and down Viktor's clothed chest. Viktor was suddenly very aware of how much clothing he had on.

Eros chuckled, low and deep in his throat as he shifted in Viktor's lap, leaning forward until their noses were brushing lightly against one another. "And to what do I owe the honor, Mister…?"

He opened his mouth to answer, fully intent on giving his full name to the man above him. Viktor would willingly give him anything he wanted. There was no request too big, nothing that Viktor would not do for this man.

"Eros."

A voice cut through the moment, crystal clear and even more annoying. The dancer pushed away from Viktor and turned to the speaker, a young woman who stood casually to the side and looked at the couple in a bored fashion.

"They want you back stage," she said, pointing a thumb towards a darkened doorway tucked discreetly behind the stage.

Above him, Eros huffed and pouted.

Viktor decided then and there he would easily die for the man.

Eros leaned in further, his warm breath tickling Viktor's lips. What Viktor would've given to simply close the gap between them.

"Until the next time," Eros whispered, his brown eyes glowing a warm honey in the light once again, before peeling himself off Viktor with great reluctance. Abandonment swirled in his chest as Viktor watched the dancer retreat with the woman; at least until Eros looked over his shoulder one last time, his face lit with regret and filled with a promise of 'next time'.

After Eros had fully disappeared into the doorway, Chris gave an impressed whistle.

Viktor turned to him, his appearance completely wrecked as he shot his friend a look of complete disbelief.

"What - "

"I have no idea," Chris interrupted, looking almost as stunned as Viktor, "but you are a lucky man."

Viktor nodded numbly.

And he sat there like that, his mind attempting to process the events without actually managing too, until the appearance of Mania, who sat in the seat where Eros had been.

Mania waved a hand in front of Viktor's face, attempting to get him to respond.

"I think he's broken," he heard Chris tell Mania. If broken was the word to describe absolutely and indescribably in love, then yes, Viktor was most definitely broken.

"Aria!"

Viktor's vision came into focus on Mania's hand and his fingers snapping in front of his face. Finally, he looked at Mania, who looked back with concern and expectancy. "The drive?"

"Oh, yeah," Viktor managed, the words coming out breathless and raspy. Viktor's hand slipped into his jacket, reaching for the silver flash drive he had tucked away earlier. Only to find the pocket empty.

Viktor's heart skipped a beat in his chest as panic steadily began to boil in the pit of his stomach. Immediately, he pulled his hand out of his jacket, patting himself down and making sure, double sure, triple sure that it wasn't somewhere on him and he wasn't just imagining that the flash drive was gone.

At the sight of his panic, Mania's eyes widened and then closed, as if trying to will the situation away. "Please tell me you have it."

Viktor most certainly did not have it.

He continued searching for it on his person anyway, because that was the only place it could possibly be. There was no other option. It didn't fall out and no one had…

A phantom feeling came over Viktor, the weight of a body above him and the warmth of hands slipping beneath his jacket to paw at his chest.

Eros.

Viktor looked around wildly, searching for the backstage doorway and rushing towards it as soon as his eyes landed on it. Together, Mania and Aria pushed through the crowd, unworried about the offended patrons they'd left behind, and shoved their way through the stage door, shocking the dancers that lingered behind the stage. Eros, however, was not among them.

Katsuki Yuuri had already disappeared into the night with a silver flash drive in hand.

Hiya friends! This was something else that has been kinda just sitting on my computer so I decided to post it! I have a weakness for Eros Yuuri, and just badass Yuuri in general, and I hope I did it justice and that you all enjoy!