The moment their lips touched, something ignited inside of him. Soft and wet, a gentle kiss soon became so erotic his dick immediately stood up for attention.
Banging shouldn’t be the only important thing in a relationship, no matter how sex-crazed you are. But Viktor had been so down for the past year, way more depressed since he’d come back home after visiting his family in Ukraine, they hadn’t fucked each other’s brains out in five months. Which was a lot to say; they’d started dating eight years before and had been all over each other almost every day from the start. So Marc was going to take advantage of the sensual atmosphere flooding all their senses.
Marc lay on top of Viktor and accommodated between his legs, the dry humping getting real as their cocks grew to full-mast. He was dying to rip off the stupidly sexy grey sweats he always wore around the house and do the filthiest things to him, but he wanted to prolong his agony. Make him pay for all the weeks he’d had him practicing unwanted celibacy.
Tonight was the night.
Or so he thought.
“Marc... Wait, babe. Wait.” Viktor panted, grabbing his face, forcing him to stop and look him in the eye.
Ugh.“What?” His voice barely above a growl.
“Annoyed much?”
“I’m not annoyed,” Marc said as he sat up again, readjusting the painful erection straining his jeans. “Well, yes. We haven’t had sex since before you went to Kyiv, and you seemed so into it…” He ran a hand through his hair and slicked it back. “What’s wrong?”
“I just—We need to talk.”
The air between them changed abruptly, putting the bassist’s world upside down. That sentence was always a fucking bad omen.
Suddenly feeling restless, Marc downed what was left of his drink and got up to grab two more since Viktor was finishing his, too. “What is it?” he asked from a distance.
“It’s my mom. She fell down the stairs.” Viktor rubbed his neck.
Shit. The bassist stood there, paralyzed on the spot as he closed the fridge door.
One of the things that had his boyfriend in such an emotional slump since he’d come back was that his mother didn’t recognize him anymore. This was why Marc hadn’t pushed his needs into his face, and why he couldn’t stop feeling selfish for secretly wanting his undivided attention. Yes, it was normal. That’s the way Alzheimer’s works. She still had lucid moments where she remembered having three kids, and where she could recite the long conversations she’d had with her husband. Most days, from what Viktor had told Marc, she wasn’t really there, though. And to top it off, this had to happen.
“They say nothing other than her hip is broken, but she needs help. She needs someone to watch her twenty-four-seven and my father is too old to take care of her by himself… And there’s also not enough money to pay for a residence or for someone to come in to do it for us.”
Marc sat on the couch again and mirrored Viktor’s position as he interlaced his fingers with him. “I love you for being so considerate and always putting everyone else first, but—”
“I don’t always put everyone first,” Viktor cut him off, taking his hand away and running it through his hair. “If I did, I wouldn’t have left Ukraine when I was eighteen.”
“You traveling to pursue your dreams changes nothing,” Marc told him, the lump in his throat growing by the second.
Vik had always been an energetic person. He rarely acted impulsively, was strong and untamed. However, his mother’s sickness was making him question every decision he’d made. The bassist couldn’t stand hearing him blaming himself like this, as if he had no right to be happy when others were suffering.
“You were just trying to live your life,” Marc continued. “Living for everyone else is as unhealthy as living to work. You have your own goals, and it’s not like you’ve neglected them all this time. Even when you were eighteen, studying in college and working part-time, you always managed to save money and send it to them when they needed it instead of using it to party every weekend like most people that age—”
“I can’t keep failing them over and over.”
“What?” Marc tilted his head to the side. “Vik, your family loves you and has always supported your dreams. Why do you think you’re failing them?”
The Kravchenkos loved Viktor with every cell in their bodies and openly expressed how proud they were of him every chance they got, which was a lot, considering the country they lived in.
Listen, Marc didn’t have anything against Ukraine. It was a beautiful region filled with hard-working people. And while they might seem cold on the outside, it was just their distrustful nature. They were really affectionate humans. Historically, however, their negative attitudes towards the LGBTIQ+ community were grounded in traditional clericalism and the lingering Soviet mentality. The stigma and irrational hatred were still very present in certain circles. Sure, it had been the first country of the former USSR to decriminalize homosexuality, but nationalist groups and the Orthodox Church couldn’t acceptdifferent, and encouraged oppression and violence to combat this devious morality.
This family, though? They didn’t care about any of that, just the good in people’s hearts, and they showed and lived by it. So Marc didn’t understand where all this was coming from.
“Because I’m never there when they really need me.”
“You’re the youngest and live thousands of kilometers away. What can you offer that your brother or sister can’t?”
“Time. With their kids and jobs, they can’t be around as much as they’d like and is needed…”
“Are you seriously thinking about leaving it all behind after working so hard to be where you’re at?” Marc’s heart writhed. He was getting nervous. “Didn’t your boss tell you about making an exhibition for your sculptures at the beginning of the next year?”
