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Hasetsu was beautiful.  

 

Not that Russia wasn’t beautiful in its own way, but Japan was a different beast entirely, especially the small town Viktor ended up in.  It was a far cry from the hustle and noise of Tokyo, where most of his previous trips to Japan had been centered.  

 

The people in Hasetsu were reserved but not unfriendly, helping him stumble awkwardly over his Japanese with hesitant smiles on their faces.  The inn was quaint, the soothing warmth of its waters addictive, temporarily making the soreness in his injured foot fade.  He’d come right when the cherry blossoms were heavy on the trees, vivid and bright in their branches.  The blooms were a stark contrast to the ocean, which Viktor was inexplicably drawn to, a strange magnetism he’d never experienced back home leading him back there time and time again.

 

The beach was eerily silent before dawn, everything hushed and ethereal, until it felt almost sacrilegious to be there at all.  Like he was intruding somewhere he didn’t belong, a trespasser in a holy place.  Not unwelcome, but definitely foreign.  

 

The sands and the waters and the night sky were no less breathtaking, even if Viktor felt like an outsider on the shoreline, treading softly, careful not the break the quiet.

 

The beauty of the cherry blossoms and the endless stars and the unfathomable majesty of the sea all paled in comparison to the priest who lived at the shrine on the hill that overlooked it all.

 

Yuuri.   Yuuri.  Ink black hair and wine dark eyes and full lips that Viktor couldn’t look away from.  He’d visited the first time at the suggestion of the innkeepers.  It was standard procedure for tourists in Japan to visit a shrine anyway, and the spirit of this one was often called upon by people wishing for healing.  Illness, and injury, and broken bones.  It probably wouldn’t help, but it also wouldn’t hurt, so he’d listened dutifully to the instructions of the innkeeper.

 

Viktor had walked through the torii gate, and climbed the steps.  Washed his hands, rinsed his mouth.  Viktor approached the altar, and rang the bell to greet the deity of the shrine.  Bowed twice, clapped his hands twice.  Bowed again, not really praying, not really thinking about the supernatural being that supposedly called Hasetsu home.  Giving nothing, and asking for nothing in return.  He didn’t mean to be disrespectful, but he also didn’t necessarily believe a god or spirit lived in the shrine, and watched over Hasetsu.  Kept it safe from storms, or healed the town’s inhabitants when they sprained an ankle or broke a hip.

 

He took a moment to enjoy the view spread out below him, Hasetsu in all its glory on one side, the majesty of the ocean on the other.  It was amazing, certainly, but not impressive enough to make him want to linger, not enough to hold him there.

 

When Viktor turned to leave he noticed someone peeking at him around the corner of the altar.  A priest, dressed in simple white and blue robes, his feet bare just like Viktor’s.  Dark hair falling into dark eyes, brilliant even behind the lenses of his glasses.  His cheeks flushed, his skin smooth and pale and flawless, a shy smile on his face.

 

The prettiest thing Viktor had ever seen.  

 

Enough to make him linger forever.  

 

Enough to hold him fast.  

 

Viktor’s heart stuttered wild, and he laid a palm flat over his chest where he could feel it beating, frantic and lost.

 

“I’m sorry if I startled you.  Locals don’t ring the bell, and I was curious to see who had come.”

 

His English was heavily accented, but his voice was just as alluring as the rest of him, and Viktor blushed hard for no reason at all.

 

“You’re supposed to ring the bell, yes?  To greet the shrine spirit?”

 

The priest nodded, still smiling at Viktor, padding over in front of the altar.

 

“Ah, yes!  I suppose most of the people here are well enough acquainted with the spirit of this shrine that they no longer feel the need to greet them.  Are you staying at the hot spring, then, mister…?”

 

“Nikiforov!”  Viktor said, too loudly, making Yuuri blink in surprise.  “I’m Viktor Nikiforov.  But just Viktor, please.”

 

The priest bowed, hands clasped in front of him, before standing back up and looking at Viktor from underneath his lashes.

 

“Katsuki Yuuri, it’s nice to meet you.  I thought you looked familiar.  We have an ice rink, here in Hasetsu, and some of the locals follow the sport.  I’ve seen you skate on television.  You’re ah…”  Yuuri flushed hotter, eyes flitting up and down over Viktor, bottom lip worried between his teeth, “...very talented, Viktor.  How is your foot?  If you don’t mind me asking.  I was watching when you broke it at Worlds.”

 

Viktor’s brain refused to cooperate at the sound of his name rolling off Yuuri’s tongue, and he blinked stupidly, unable to find words.  When he finally opened his mouth Viktor stammered over his reply, all his media eloquence and practiced charm vanishing in the face of a cute young priest inquiring after his well-being.

 

And checking him out, maybe, if Viktor wasn’t reading too much into the looks he was getting.  Were Shinto priests allowed to date?  Viktor wasn’t sure.  

 

“Yuuri.  It’s- I’m-  Uh…  Thank you, it’s nice to meet you, too.  I’m not allowed to skate on it much, yet, but it’s getting better.  I still don’t know if I’ll be able to compete next season or not.  The hot springs at the inn are amazing, though  That’s part of the reason I’m here, actually.  Hasetsu’s guardian spirit likes to heal broken bones, do they not?”

 

Yuuri cocked his head to the side, shrugging, thoughtful.

 

“They are called on for lots of things, but injuries and illness are the most common nowadays.  People don’t expect spirits to protect them from storms or provide them ample harvests anymore, but sick children, or lingering pains… things that feel within the realm of possibility.  Things that are small, but still important.  Ask for healing, and maybe the spirit will bless you.”

 

Viktor hummed, reaching out to touch Yuuri’s face, smiling so wide his cheeks hurt.  He lifted Yuuri’s chin with his fingertips, letting them slide over his jaw and cupping Yuuri’s cheek in his hand.

 

“Well, the gods have been very generous to me already, Yuuri.  It seems greedy to ask for anything more today.  Will you be here tomorrow?”

 

Yuuri’s face warmed under his palm, and he nodded, shrugging one shoulder.

 

“I’m here every day.  This is my shrine.”  Something mischievous flashed in Yuuri’s eyes, and his smile went just this side of devious.  Viktor’s stomach lurched pleasantly at the sight.

 

“Tomorrow, then.”  Viktor said, thumb sliding over Yuuri’s bottom lip before he pulled his hand away.

 

“Tomorrow.”  Yuuri agreed, and Viktor left, the ache in his foot nothing but a faint annoyance, head in the clouds, steps light.

 

He pulled out his cell phone on the way back to the onsen, and Google informed him that Shinto priests were, in fact, allowed to date.

 

Tomorrow, Viktor thought, and fell asleep smiling.

 

...

 

Not just tomorrow.  The next day, and the next, and the next, until Viktor was canceling his plane ticket home and spending most of his time at the shrine.  He helped Yuuri clean, and watched him, and listened to him talk.  About Hasetsu, about the sea, about the trees and the snow and the stones.  As though the place was alive.  Like it had a soul, and Yuuri had seen it with his own eyes, and touched it with his own hands.

 

Viktor led Yuuri down to the beach every day, and Yuuri went without protest, digging his toes into wet sand, letting cold waves wash over his feet.  Saltwater soaked into the bottom of his robes, and Yuuri never seemed to notice, never seemed to care.  The tide swelled higher around him, like the sea was drawn to him somehow, not crashing mindlessly against the shore but surging towards Yuuri instead.  

 

Sometimes when the light was just right, and the ocean was wild, Yuuri’s eyes went brighter.  Flashing blue, just for a moment.

 

Viktor’s eyes playing tricks on him.  Looking at Yuuri did odd things to him, made everything else feel out of focus and secondary.

 

They ate ramen together in noodle shops, and Yuuri’s mother’s katsudon at the onsen, and Viktor felt foolish for not realizing they were related before then.  Side by side it was unmistakable, the roundness of their faces, the curve of their mouths, the shape of their brows.

 

They walked through Hasetsu together, and everyone, everyone, knew Yuuri.  They greeted him without fail, bowing low before scurrying away, oddly reverent.  He was young, but then again he was also a priest.  It only made sense for them to be more formal, more respectful of someone in the service of their city’s shrine.

 

What didn’t quite make sense was the way everyone watched the two of them when they thought no one was looking.  The way they followed Yuuri and Viktor with their eyes, whispering quietly, keen and expectant.  Excited, sometimes, as though they were waiting for something.  Viktor’s mind ran through all the reasons they might have for staring.  He was famous.  Yuuri was a priest.  They were both men, and openly flirting in the streets of a small town.  Still, none of it really fit, or soothed his awareness of all the gazes on them.

 

Yuuri didn’t seem bothered, so Viktor did his best to ignore it, and it wasn’t hard.

 

Paying attention to anything besides Yuuri was almost impossible.  Yuuri was magnetic.  Pulled Viktor in like gravity, until he never wanted to look away, never wanted to leave.  Yakov’s daily phone calls went unanswered, and soon he was texting Viktor instead, keep up your physical therapy exercises Vitya, don’t get rusty, this isn’t forever.

 

Yakov thought Viktor was pouting, travelling halfway around the world in protest, throwing a fit because he was off the ice.  Which was exactly what Viktor had been doing in the beginning, in retrospect, even if he’d never have admitted it.  That wasn’t what he was doing anymore.  Now he skated at the ice rink downtown every evening, and even without the exhilaration of complicated jumps or the adrenaline of intricate spins, it was more than enough to satisfy him.  

 

It wasn’t like that with Yuuri.  Days turned into weeks, over a month, but no matter how much time he spent with him, Viktor was never sated.  He woke up with Yuuri in his thoughts, and went to sleep with Yuuri’s name on his tongue.  Always hungry, always restless.  

 

Always desperate for more.  

 

So every day Viktor climbed the steps, and went through the torii gate.  Bowed his head, and clapped his hands, and then went to find Yuuri.  

 

Yuuri, who let Viktor hold his hand as they walked through the ebb and flow of the tides, who still flushed every time their fingers tangled together.  Yuuri, who sat with Viktor on the steps of the shrine in the evenings.  Who let Viktor wrap his arms around him, let Viktor tuck him into his chest.  Who let Viktor breathe in the scent of him.  Sea, and salt, and Yuuri.

 

Yuuri, who was now pink cheeked and smiling freely from the sake they’d shared.  Not drunk, but loose limbed and affectionate.  They both sat on the top step of the shrine, their backs to the altar, watching the ocean roil and twist below them.   The sky was black, shimmering with starlight, the sun long since set.   Viktor nosed at Yuuri’s cheek, and Yuuri let him, leaning into the contact, biting his lip.  He wanted to reach out and turn Yuuri’s face toward him, wanted to kiss him.  He’d wanted to since the day they met, but it had never felt like the right time.  Never felt like he’d earned it.

 

Yuuri was unearthly, and so far out of Viktor’s league it seemed presumptuous to touch him at all, let alone kiss him.  The waves surged higher as he pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s jaw, questioning and uncertain, waiting for him to pull away.  Clouds loomed on the horizon, dark but not ominous.  Inevitable.  Fierce, but not dangerous.  It was soothing, somehow.

 

Viktor found himself hoping for a storm.

 

“The ocean is angry tonight.”  Viktor kissed Yuuri’s cheek this time, closer to his mouth, and listened to his breath hitch.  Yuuri sighed, a blissful, contented sound, and Viktor wanted to hear it again.

 

“Not…  Not angry.  Riled.”  He said, matter of factly, like the sea had told him so, and Viktor smiled.  

 

“Riled?” Viktor asked as Yuuri turned into him, eyes half lidded and blown black with want.

 

“Excited.”  The word came out rough, and full of intent, and Viktor shifted to tug Yuuri closer.   Too fast, and he twisted his ankle wrong, and let out a hiss at the dull throb of his foot.  He didn’t pull away, though, one arm sliding down around Yuuri’s waist, the other flat against the wood floor of the shrine, supporting his weight as he nuzzled into Yuuri’s neck.

 

“Ahhh, Yuuri, I don’t think your spirit likes me.  I come here every day, and they haven’t healed my foot yet.”

 

Yuuri hummed, tilting his head to the side to give Viktor room as he kissed at the curve of his shoulder, the line of his throat.

 

“Mmmm.  You never really pray, though.  And you’ve yet to bring an offering.  Most people throw coins.  It doesn’t have to be much, anything would do.  The gods can’t give you what you haven’t asked for.”

 

Viktor smiled into Yuuri’s skin, delighting in the way his breath came faster, hands holding onto Viktor’s clothes, everything in him pliant and willing and soft.

 

“I don’t have any coins, though.  Do the gods take credit cards?”

 

Yuuri laughed, an exhale more than anything else, letting Viktor lay him down on the floor.

 

“No, unfortunately.  It needs to be something tangible.  Something physical.”

 

Viktor rolled on top of Yuuri, slotting himself between Yuuri’s thighs.  They spread eagerly to make room for him, Yuuri’s arms falling loose over his head as he looked up at Viktor, utterly at ease.  Relaxed, in his element.

 

So beautiful it hurt.

 

“Something physical?”  Viktor asked as he ground down into Yuuri, hips pressed together just right, until Yuuri was arching into it with a moan.  “Could you accept something physical on your god’s behalf, were I to offer?”

 

Yuuri’s eyes flashed blue for a moment just as lightning strobed bright out over the water.  A trick of the light, thunder rumbling loud and clouds rolling in thick on the horizon.  Suddenly Viktor felt small, pinned in place by Yuuri’s infinite stare.  

 

Eyes as unfathomable as the sea, endless and deep, drawing Viktor down like the undertow.  Yuuri’s tongue slid over his lips, and his voice sounded odd when he spoke.  Resonant.  Echoing.

 

“Are you giving yourself in offering to me, then?”

 

Viktor couldn’t pull his eyes away from Yuuri, but found himself stretching towards the altar, raising up just enough to grasp the rope tied to the shrine’s bell.  He tugged it, the bell ringing out into the night, the noise almost swallowed by another clap of thunder.  Then Viktor ducked down to press his lips to Yuuri’s for the first time, licking into his mouth with a whine.  His hands sought out Yuuri’s knees, slipping under his robes and slowly down his thighs, until he was cupping the swell of Yuuri’s ass with both hands.  Yuuri wasn’t wearing anything under his clothes, nothing there for Viktor to touch but warm skin.

 

Viktor smiled against Yuuri’s mouth, fingers digging into Yuuri’s ass, kneading, greedy.

 

Shameless and unrepentant.

 

“Should I bow?  Should I clap?  I’m all yours, Yuuri.”

 

It was a joke, ringing the bell, making himself an offering.  Viktor expected Yuuri to laugh again, to chide him affectionately, to tell him that’s not how offerings worked.

 

He didn’t expect to feel something electric wrapping around his hips, curling around to the inside of his thighs, twisting around his wrists.  Didn’t expect lightning to split open the heavens, clouds breaking apart above them, thunder beating loud through the sky.

 

Didn’t expect Yuuri’s eyes to light up blue, and stay that way, glowing from within, throwing out shadows.  Yuuri reached for him, cupping Viktor’s cheek in his palm, something ancient and possessive in his stare.

 

Something primal, the ocean come to life and coalescing into the fierce hunger of Yuuri’s gaze.

 

“Mine,” he said, his voice resonant again, echoing and deep and sonorous.

 

Final in a way that had Viktor writhing in place, full of anticipation.  It was hard to breathe, and Viktor couldn’t think, couldn’t move.

 

Yuuri rolled Viktor onto his back and stood up, untying his robes with deft fingers and letting them pool at his feet.  He tossed his glasses to the side, and they clattered down a few steps, out of sight and forgotten.  Standing over Viktor, naked and muscled and breathtaking with eyes alight, Yuuri looked otherworldly.  Eerie, and captivating, and Viktor’s mouth went dry.

 

Then lightning exploded overhead, rain suddenly pouring down onto the roof of the shrine, the sea crashing against the stones at the bottom of the hill.  When the lightning faded back and Viktor blinked the spots from his vision, Yuuri was still there.

 

Except it wasn’t exactly Yuuri anymore.

 

Or it was, but there was… more of him.

 

His upper body was unchanged, just as it had been before, muscled and lithe and more enticing than anything Viktor had ever seen.  From the hips down, though, everything was much different, and Viktor stared, and stared, and stared.

 

Yuuri wasn’t standing on two legs anymore, but holding himself up with a mass of tentacles instead.  His pale skin shifted into something glossy black right below his navel, looking wet in the dim firelight of the temple, shimmering with every bolt of lighting.  The underside of the appendages was a deep blue, suckers slipping across the floor beneath him as he moved towards Viktor where he lay.  

 

Around the wider parts of some of the tentacles were flashes of silver, bracelets stacked against each other, glinting and ornate.  There were also rings on several of Yuuri’s fingers now, catching Viktor’s eye as Yuuri reached down and lifted his chin.  One of Yuuri’s tentacles coiled around Viktor’s ankle, warmer than he’d expected, clinging and slick.  The pain in his foot flared and receded in time with a pulsing flash from Yuuri’s eyes, and then it was like he’d never been hurt at all.  No tightness, no soreness, no tension.

 

Viktor was healed.

 

Was whole.

 

“Yuuri…  Yuuri, you-  you’re-”

 

“I did say it was my shrine.”  Yuuri said, lilting and amused.  Viktor gaped, rolling his ankle experimentally, Yuuri’s appendage still wrapped tight around it.

 

“Yes, but…  Yuuri, I-”

 

Then Yuuri was slinking down over him, hands on either side of his head, palms flat against the shrine floor.  His tentacles slipped into Viktor’s robes, the sash falling away effortlessly, fabric parting, tugged off his arms to lay Viktor bare.  They roved over his skin, curling around his thighs to ease them apart, until he was splayed open and helpless beneath Yuuri.

 

It probably should have bothered him, that the world was so much more than he’d been aware of until then.  That there were gods in his midst, beings and magic and forces he didn’t understand.  That Yuuri was more than he’d expected.  A deity, a spirit.  The guardian of Hasetsu.  Viktor looked into himself, and tried to find some trepidation.  Some fear, some uncertainty.  Some self preservation.

 

All there was in him was want, raw and unbridled.

 

It felt right like right nothing else ever had, being at Yuuri’s mercy, flushed and shivering but unafraid.  Viktor noticed the marks on him, but they didn’t seem important.  It was an afterthought, the tattoos that now adorned his wrists, or the ink black swirls that started somewhere on Viktor’s lower back and wrapped around his hips, twisting down over the inside of his thighs.

 

Waves, and tentacles, and stormclouds.  Like a signature.  Like a brand.

 

“And you did say…”  Yuuri leaned in, teeth scraping against Viktor’s throat, tongue hot over his pulse, “...that you were mine.”

 

Yuuri’s.

 

That felt right too, and Viktor nodded, swallowing hard, heart beating fast in his chest.  

 

“Are you mine, Viktor?”  Yuuri asked, mouthing up Viktor’s jaw to whisper in his ear.  Viktor whimpered as two of Yuuri’s tentacles snaked around his wrists, holding holding them in place above his head.  The tip of another slid over his stomach, nudging against his cock, and Viktor’s hips twisted, seeking contact, needing friction.

 

“Yes, Yuuri, just- please, I-”

 

Yuuri laid a thumb over Viktor’s lips, his face so close that his nose bumped into Viktor’s own, and he smiled.  Predatory but lazy.

 

Like something hungry with a meal already in its grasp.

 

“Shhh, shhh, don’t worry.  You gave yourself to me, and I take very good care of my things.”

 

Then something warm and slick wrapped around his cock, and Viktor threw his head back and moaned.  Yuuri’s hands sank into his hair, thumbs rubbing back and forth over his cheekbones as he kissed Viktor hard.  All teeth and tongue, coaxing his mouth open wider, moisture leaking down Viktor’s chin.  Scorching, claiming.

 

Yuuri taking what was his, confident and unhesitating, and Viktor was in love.

 

He kissed Yuuri back as well as he could, dizzy with the feel of it all.  Yuuri’s hands stroking affectionately through his hair, Yuuri’s lips demanding on his own.

 

Yuuri, tentacles clinging all over, curled tight around his arousal, squeezing and stroking and wet.  Wetter than it should have been with only Viktor’s precome, and he realized Yuuri was leaking some sort of fluid, felt it dripping down his wrists, over his hips, making a mess of him everywhere they touched.  

 

The tentacles curling around Viktor’s thighs pulsed, and moved, slipping up higher until Viktor felt something teasing between his cheeks.  The tip of one of Yuuri’s appendages circled, and pressed, and Viktor tried to shove back against it, but couldn’t find leverage, cradled as he was in Yuuri’s embrace.  It was maddening, and arousing, and Viktor didn’t know it he wanted Yuuri to give in or keep denying him.

 

Yuuri pulled back from their kiss, turning Viktor’s face to the side and supporting it with one hand, thumb sliding between Viktor’s lips.  He licked at it automatically, tongue toying with the silver rings at the base as Yuuri kissed over his cheek, down his jaw, mouthing at Viktor’s throat.  There would be a hickey there, Viktor was certain, and he wanted to beg for another.  He needed Yuuri’s marks all over him, not just the swirling tattoos that had appeared in his skin, but something more deliberate.  

 

Viktor wanted Yuuri’s kisses etched into him, too, purple-black and bruising.  The pressure of the tentacle teasing at him increased, still not quite breaching him, and Yuuri whispered into his ear.

 

“Okay, precious?”  

 

Viktor shivered all over, fingers grasping at empty air, lust suffusing him like a physical thing.

 

“Da, da, please Yuuri, I-”  

 

His voice broke as Yuuri pressed into him, slick and hot, opening him up slowly.  There was no sting, no pain, only a stretch so delicious that made Viktor’s jaw fall wide.  Inch by inch, the wet tip of Yuuri’s tentacle fucked in deeper, twisting within Viktor, making him shake.  Yuuri nipped his way up Viktor’s throat, leaving a trail of heat in his wake.  Just over his collarbone, on the curve of his shoulder, under his ear, fingers threading through his hair as Yuuri broke Viktor into pieces.

 

Yuuri’s appendage slid out of him almost entirely before thrusting back in, setting a meticulous pace that had Viktor whining, weak and pitiful.  The tentacle around his cock was moving in time with it, slow and steady and tortuous, assaulting Viktor from both sides.  A rhythmic chiming noise sounded out in the background, the rings around Yuuri’s sleek black limbs clanging together discordantly with each of Yuuri’s movements.

 

There was something dripping out of Viktor with Yuuri’s every thrust, soaking his thighs.  Wetness pooled underneath him, ruining the rumpled fabric of his abandoned robe, wrists drenched where he was held in place.  Yuuri was a hundred places all at once, yet it wasn’t enough.  Viktor needed more, faster, harder, but he was already well past being able to form real sentences.  

 

All that came out of his mouth was Yuuri’s name.  Incoherent begging laced with profanities, voice high and keening.

 

“Yuuri, fuck, please Yuuri, I need- I-I need-”

 

Viktor trailed off with a moan, not sure how to finish, because he needed everything.   Yuuri nuzzled into his cheek, his own breathing labored and tight, face flushed as he looked down at Viktor.  Viktor could feel Yuuri’s tentacles on him everywhere, suckers latching and releasing and clinging again as they shifted, gripping his hips, the middle of his palms, the head of his cock.  Inside him, the tentacle making obscene sounds as Yuuri fucked him with it, messy and loud and filthy.  

 

Yuuri sat up and looked down at Viktor, eyes still lit up unearthly blue, half lidded and loving.  Like Viktor was the most  beautiful thing he’d ever seen, so much emotion lurking underneath the surface of Yuuri’s gaze.  Adoration.  Worship.

 

On top of a hill, spread out on the floor in front of an altar with his thighs forced wide, wrists bound over his head and covered up in Yuuri, Viktor felt like an offering.  Something sacred.

 

Something blessed.

 

Yuuri buried his fingers in Viktor’s hair, turning Viktor towards him and taking his mouth again.  Their tongues spilled together, his grip vicious in Viktor’s mussed strands.  Yuuri made little mewling noises into their kiss, like he was just as overwhelmed, tentacles shuddering and twisting as he pressed himself flush against Viktor, pinning him tighter to the floor.

 

“Viktor, Viktor…”

 

Yuuri mumbled it into his lips, both their spines arching as heat surged higher and higher in Viktor, threatening to spill over.  His muscles tensed, Yuuri moving faster within him, toes curling as he gasped, eyes flitting around mindlessly.  They caught on the bell over the altar, the lightning still breaking through the clouds, the storm brutal and relentless.

 

The sea, rising up to swallow the hill all around them, until the shrine was an island.  Cutting them off from Hasetsu, yet leaving the town itself untouched, waters crashing wild against the torii gate.  Both of them all alone.

 

Nothing but Viktor, and Yuuri, tangled together.  The storm, and the ocean, and the temple.  

 

A god, and his sacrifice, willing and breathless and enraptured.

 

Then Yuuri’s tentacles all went tight at once, and he pressed his forehead into Viktor’s, eyes closed, jerking hard.  Something hot pulsed inside of Viktor, and Yuuri trembled against him, coming in stuttering bursts, sobbing Viktor’s name.  The heat and the pressure were nearly too much, fluid gushing from between his thighs, and then Viktor looked up into Yuuri’s face, and lost himself.  Viktor whined, shoving his face into Yuuri’s throat as he shook apart, made of glass, shattering.

 

Yuuri worked him through his climax, milking every last drop of seed from Viktor’s cock, only letting his tentacles uncoil and withdraw when Viktor was twitching and overstimulated.  He unwrapped himself from Viktor’s wrists, and his thighs, no longer holding Viktor open but pulling him close instead.  The storm calmed slowly, a dull roar instead of the violence that had been taking place outside, lightning striking far out over the horizon as opposed to right above them.  The waters didn’t recede, though, still lapping at the steps under the torii gate, comforting somehow.

 

Once he’d caught his breath Viktor blinked up at Yuuri, sated and liquid against him.  Yuuri propped himself up on one elbow, chin pillowed in his palm, his other hand tracing the lines of Viktor’s new tattoos with blatant appreciation.  He paused to stroke soothingly over the marks covering Viktor, rings on the inside of his thighs and around his wrists left by Yuuri’s suckers.    Bruises on his shoulder, and his throat, all of them screaming of ownership.  Yuuri’s eyes flashed brighter as Viktor cuddled in close, his smile wide, fingers gingerly continuing their exploration.

 

Then he met Viktor’s eyes, and his smile went sad and soft, fingertips lingering over the black ink on Viktor’s wrists.

 

“Do you want me to take them off?”  Yuuri asked, sounding forlorn, and Viktor jerked his arm away, covering the mark with his other hand protectively.

 

“NO!” He shouted, horrified, clutching his wrist to his chest.  He’d only been wearing them a few minutes, but they already felt like his, and the idea of not having them made Viktor ache down in his bones.  Yuuri flushed, and his smile was hard to look at suddenly, so pleased and smug it made Viktor’s heart clench.

 

“Okay.”  His tentacles tugged Viktor impossibly closer, and he wrapped his arms around Viktor’s neck, sifting through his messy hair.  “I get to keep you, then?”

 

Viktor nuzzled into him, hugging Yuuri tight, voice ragged.

 

“I get to keep you.”  They both lay there, listening to the rain fall on the roof of the shrine, thunder rolling in the distance, waves licking at the steps.  “When will the ocean go back to normal?”  Viktor asked, one of a thousand questions he needed to ask.  The most irrelevant, probably, but the first to pop in his mind.  Yuuri hummed, hand sliding down Viktor’s body to slip between his thighs.  He pressed two fingers into him, Yuuri’s slick dripping down his knuckles as he delved deep.  Viktor arched with groan, rutting down into the touch, cock twitching with interest.

 

“The sea will fall back when I am done taking you.”  Yuuri spread his fingers, twisting them, leaning down to put his mouth next to Viktor’s ear.  “Perhaps never.  I haven’t decided.  I might keep you here forever.  Would you like that, Viktor?”

 

A tentacle slid into him alongside Yuuri’s fingers, and Viktor nodded eagerly, thighs falling wider, body going lax and willing.

 

“I thought you might.”

 

Lightning struck, and Viktor sighed, and leaned up so Yuuri could kiss him.

 

It stormed for days, and upon finding the shrine surrounded by waves the people of Hasetsu smiled, and threw their coins into the sea.