There are hands brushing down his chest, fingertips soft over the silk he’s dressed in. They trail down his abdomen, curling into the cream-coloured fabric until Yuuri can feel the heat of skin through it. The muted lighting glimmers in the golden ring adorning one hand, matched by the one placed on Yuuri’s ring finger that very same day.
“Beautiful,” Viktor murmurs into his ear, his voice deeper than ever before.
Yuuri sighs, shivers, tilts his face back to bury it in Viktor’s neck, near where his scent is strongest. It is the first time his lord husband has touched him away from the prying eyes of others, and Yuuri blushes dark red at the desire layered in both his voice and scent.
“Lord Nikiforov,” he mumbles, tries not to make it sound too wanton, as wanton as he feels.
He’s so wet already, surely his fiancé turned husband can smell it clearly. Yuuri should be more embarrassed, should not be shivering in anticipation as Viktor’s large hands travel lower, stroking over his hipbones.
“Yuuri, darling, have I not begged you to call me Viktor when we are alone?”
His breath hitches, Viktor’s mouth so hot against the bare skin on his pulse point. To call him Viktor would feel so – intimate. Like he truly belongs to Yuuri, not only by the convenience of their marriage. He imagines it, to say the name out loud in Viktor’s company, and not just in the darkness of his own bedroom. It takes all of his willpower not to squirm, not to turn in Viktor’s arms and beg to be touched. He has dreamt of it, even before their engagement was decided.
“Yuu-ri,” Viktor coos, his chest so firm against Yuuri’s back, his hips tantalisingly held at a distance.
“I- I couldn’t possibly-“
The stammered words are met with a displeased hum, and Yuuri has enough time to dread rejection before Viktor turns him, cradles his face in both hands. Viktor is the beautiful one, with his high cheekbones and perfectly falling hair, every ounce of him a wet dream Yuuri has suffered countless nights. What would he think, if he knew the lewd imaginations Yuuri has delighted in? If he knew how Yuuri longs to have those slender fingers wrapped around him, teasing him open, preparing him?
“We are married, my darling,” Viktor tells him, reassures him as if Yuuri’s insecurities have been laid bare all along. “And you have tempted me for so long. Please, will you indulge me in at least my name?”
Yuuri swallows, hands involuntarily lifting to clutch at Viktor’s perfectly tailored and ceremonial military jacket. It’s unbuttoned, as Viktor had already removed several pieces of his uniform before calling Yuuri into his bedchambers. His head is lifted towards him, that piercing blue gaze impossible to evade. If he were more confident in his appearance, in his charms, in the knowledge that Viktor would have chosen him for his appeal and not his family name…
But Viktor chose him of necessity, and to stand this close to him is already more than Yuuri has any right to expect.
“If not my name, then perhaps a kiss?”
Viktor’s teasing words are paired with the very serious look on his face, the tightening of his hold on Yuuri’s cheeks, and Yuuri would not be able to resist even should he want to.
“Yes,” he breathes out, no air left in his lungs as Viktor’s mouth dips down.
Viktor kisses like a dream, mouth so sure of the pleasure it brings Yuuri that he has to wonder if Viktor has done this many times before. Will Yuuri measure up? He tries to follow along as Viktor coaxes him to move, tongue licking over Yuuri’s bottom lip until his cheeks catch fire. Surely kissing isn’t meant to be so lewd, isn’t meant to make him so wet and needy? Viktor kisses like a promise of how sweetly he will consummate their marriage, and Yuuri is helpless against the thought of Viktor’s mouth on other places.
Pausing for a moment, Viktor’s thumbs trace Yuuri’s cheekbones. His lips feels swollen and numb, his breathing uneven. His hands are fisted at the front of Viktor’s shirt, wrinkling the fine fabric, but Yuuri can’t make himself let go.
“Will you come to bed with me?”
Surely, Yuuri must have lost his voice in the midst of desire. He cannot speak, only stare at Viktor with wide eyes, wondering if he can smell the slick that is starting to wet Yuuri’s thighs as well. His throat feels thick with want, his chest raw, heart a painful lump beating against his ribcage. He has imagined it, yes, but nothing compares to Lord Viktor Nikiforov in golden lamplight, lips glistening, asking for Yuuri to give himself over.
The amount of omegas who would kill to be in Yuuri’s position…
“I will,” he says at long last, accepting Viktor’s hand when he offers it.
The bed is much too large for a single person, a sturdy, four-poster thing that would have seemed imposing if not for the inviting bedding. Viktor leads him to it, his steps slow as if afraid Yuuri will spook and change his mind. There is no way for Yuuri to climb onto the bed gracefully, but Viktor doesn’t seem to mind as he shyly makes his way towards the pillows stacked against the massive headboard. It would be a fine bed to nest in.
“I have thought of you, in my bed like this,” Viktor confesses, voice rough as he stands by the mattress, simply staring. “All those fantasies seem pale compared to this.”
If it was possible to blush more than this, Yuuri is sure he would. His cheeks are so hot, the silk of his chemise riding up to show scandalising amounts of leg. Viktor traces his bare skin with hungry eyes, his hands finding the buttons of his dress shirt even as he shrugs out of his jacket. It’s such a beautiful jacket, and Yuuri winces as it falls to the floor, the shirt landing on top of it. But oh, his bare chest and arms are as gorgeous as his face. Yuuri swallows with some difficulty, the thought of being held in Viktor’s naked embrace causing his mouth to dry.
“Tell me, darling, do I please your eyes?”
Yuuri cannot bring himself to speak. He is far too busy tracing Viktor’s upper body with worship in his eyes. If he could, he would say, I am more than pleased. Instead he nods, teeth biting into his lower lip for a moment as Viktor’s hands fall to the front of his pants. It is generally agreed that Lord Viktor Nikiforov is a prominent man by birth, his lands rich and fertile, his family line filled with generations of venerable alphas. Viktor himself is described as an honourable man, a genius strategist, the greatest swordsman alive, and of course, the most sought-after bachelor on the market.
And there he stands, asking Yuuri if he’s good enough. As if Yuuri is worthy of answering the question.
Viktor smiles, and promptly steps out of both pants and undergarments. Of course, Yuuri had suspected, because there is always gossip floating around, and so much of it revolved around Lord Nikiforov and whether or not any omega had been blessed with the image now before Yuuri’s very eyes. There were always rumours and never detailed confirmations, other than the word of Viktor’s alpha companions. The jealous and rather unanimous description by his fellow alphas were, however, beyond doubt confirmed the moment Viktor drops his pants. Well-endowed is perhaps an understatement.
“Oh,” Yuuri sighs rather lustfully, a throb seizing his core.
“I should hope I am sufficient,” Viktor teases, placing a knee on the bed and gazing, once again, hungrily where the lace at the hem of Yuuri’s chemise just barely covers him. “I’m entirely yours, my darling.”
“Then why are you all the way over there?” Yuuri demands, having found his voice again. “I’m terribly cold and lonely.”
It’s a lie, of course. Yuuri is burning up from the flames licking at his insides, his chemise rubbing uncomfortably over his pebbled nipples. It does, however, have the desired effect. Viktor is on him in an instant, one large hand stroking up his bare thigh, lips brushing gently over his. Yuuri sinks lower into the cushions, and bares his throat in what he hopes is an enticing manner.
A low rumble starts somewhere deep in Viktor’s chest, his mouth pressing hotly to Yuuri’s sensitive neck. He doesn’t touch his scent glands but he breathes in heavily, and gods Yuuri has never been so wet and aching in his life.
“Please,” he begs, bending his knee until Viktor’s hand pushes higher up his thigh, thumb skirting the juncture between hip and leg. “My alpha, my Viktor, oh please–“
Viktor captures his lips in a bruising kiss, tongue delving into his mouth when Yuuri gasps. His hands come up of their own accord, clasping over the back of Viktor’s neck. He doesn’t move the hand on Yuuri’s hip but it grips him tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh as Yuuri shivers underneath him. His cock rubs against the fabric of his chemise, straining against it in shameful evidence of his lust. He wishes Viktor would push the fabric away, would see all of him and find him beautiful, still.
Waves of Viktor’s scent wash over him, thick with arousal, and Yuuri hesitantly puts his thumb over the scent gland on Viktor’s throat. The gland is swollen, a loud moan tearing through Viktor as he gently circles it with the pad of his thumb. Yuuri squirms and feels fresh slick dribble out of him, the heat swirling in his belly almost unbearable.
He needs Viktor inside him, filling him completely. Viktor tilts his head and mouths at his jaw, and Yuuri dares to send a look underneath the arm caging him in. Viktor is kneeling to one side of him, leaning over him, and Yuuri can clearly see his cock jutting out between his legs. It seems even thicker up close, proudly erect with silvery curls around the base. Even with Viktor’s mouth brushing over his ear, sending jolts of pleasure down his body, Yuuri can’t help but wish he dared to reach out and touch it.
“Darling, you’re driving me mad,” Viktor groans, placing a lingering kiss to the spot underneath his ear before returning to his mouth.
He sucks Yuuri’s bottom lip into his mouth, and Yuuri cries out when he bites at it softly.
“I want to put my mouth on you, love,” he says against the corner of Yuuri’s mouth, the hand on Yuuri’s hip slipping lower again, pushing his leg to the side until he’s spread obscenely wide. “I want to taste your pleasure.”
“Oh, yes,” Yuuri whispers, and Viktor presses one more, lingering kiss to his lips before pulling back.
What a sight it is, Lord Nikiforov between his legs, hands caressing the insides of his thighs. Yuuri should worry that Viktor won’t enjoy his taste, but just the idea of his mouth is enough to dispel all such thoughts. There is only room in his mind for trembling anticipation, and his lips part around a gasp as Viktor lowers his body.
His nose brushes Yuuri’s skin, just above his left knee. He’d never thought it to be a particularly sensitive spot, but he almost kicks his leg out at the touch. Viktor smiles, kissing the top of his knee gently before inching higher, leaving more kisses to be branded into his thigh. Maybe he would have preferred if Viktor just went right at it, because the suspense is killing him. He wonders what he must look like, spread before his alpha husband like a feast, cheeks filled with red and chemise wet with slick.
“Beautiful,” Viktor murmurs, a repeat from earlier, as if in response to his thoughts.
Yuuri almost believes him.
The kisses turn hotter, wetter; Viktor sucking obscene marks where no one else may see them. He feels so needy now, almost sobbing when Viktor brings a hand up to trace the outline of his cock through the flimsy silk covering it. He has only ever known his own touch, through furtive bouts of desperate need, often brought about by another meeting with Viktor. The alpha would touch his arm, or his glance would linger on Yuuri’s neck, and the moment Yuuri was alone again he was helpless to try and relieve the burning itch underneath his skin.
“You smell divine,” Viktor says, so shameless in their lewd coupling, cheek pressed against Yuuri’s thigh as he breathes him in. “I could stay in bed with you for all my life.”
How can Viktor say these things? Yuuri’s face burns, his palms pressed over his eyes. He cannot help the way he clenches at the words, and Viktor hums a pleased little sound.
“Ah, but I’ve kept you waiting,” he adds, and his warm hands grip Yuuri’s thighs to spread him wider, until the chemise rides up so high that he’s on full display, hard and wet and wanting.
The air is cool against his heated sex, and Yuuri dares to peek between his fingers. Viktor’s eyes shine with desire, gazing hungrily at his slick folds. Yuuri imagines what his mouth will feel like, what his tongue will do to him, and a fresh wave of throbbing need pulses through him.
“Viktor,” he keens, beyond the point of caring for the appropriate.
His husband glances up at him, then pushes at the chemise, exposing more of him – his cock, his belly – the warmth of his hand sending trails of fire across his skin. Then, finally, he leans down, mouth and tongue tasting the juncture between thigh and hip, teasing him endlessly.
“Viktor,” he repeats, more demanding this time, and he can feel a smile against his hipbone.
“What was that, love?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri almost kicks him in frustration.
He has waited long enough, he thinks, and lifts one hand from his face to thread fingers through Viktor’s hair. It’s as soft as he imagined, Viktor sighing against his hip before rising a little, turning his head to press a kiss to Yuuri’s wrist. Then he smiles again, a smile just short of wicked, and sometime during that short timespan Viktor’s hand had moved. The touch is light, barely there, but it teases his most intimate parts and Yuuri’s breath hitches.
Viktor explores him, slowly, tracing the shape of him. His fingertips are wet from Yuuri’s slick, gliding smoothly over his length and back down again. He’s watching Yuuri so intently, as if cataloguing his reactions. Yuuri’s fingers tighten their hold on Viktor’s hair, tugging at it when he brushes over his swollen folds. His hips are twitching, seeking more, his breaths coming in loud gasps and his free arm slung over his forehead. He wants to hide his eyes but Viktor keeps looking at him, and Yuuri can’t find it in him to look away.
“I want to watch you and taste you at the same time,” Viktor frowns, as if this is a real problem he’s struggling with.
His hand wraps around the base of Yuuri’s cock, and then his mouth draws near, tongue darting out to lap at the tip. Yuuri can see his face, clearly, how he closes his eyes in bliss before taking him into his mouth, sucking and swirling his tongue. It feels so good that Yuuri cries out, back arching. Just the thought of having Lord Nikiforov bent over him, swallowing his cock, is too much to bear. To have it for real tears at his lungs, legs clamping around Viktor’s broad shoulders.
Viktor sinks lower, humming as he goes, and Yuuri twists his head back and forth in order not to scream. He takes his time on the way back up, bobbing his head a few times, mouth wet and searing hot around him. When he lets go it’s with a dirty, sloppy noise, and he licks his lips as if savouring the taste. Yuuri stares at him, wide-eyed, heart caught in his throat. Viktor’s lips are red and shiny with spit, his fringe falling over his face. When Yuuri pushes it out of the way with trembling fingers, Viktor’s lashes flutter against his cheeks before he looks at Yuuri with half-lidded, dreamy eyes.
“I will have you with my mouth first,” he promises, voice rough with pleasure, “and then I will fill you, over and over until you’re ready for my knot.”
Oh god, Viktor’s knot. Yuuri has tried not to think of it, has spent too many private moments using his fingers in poor substitute. A loud moan falls from his lips, more of his slick wetting the sheets. He feels so ready for it, so wanton and lust-filled, like no proper omega should ever be. But Yuuri has never been proper, and now he can’t even bring himself to feel shy.
“I want it,” he pleads, the hand not gripping Viktor’s hair finding purchase on a pillow. “Please, I want you to have me.”
His words cause Viktor’s scent to fill the room again, a musky, fierce scent that seems to melt Yuuri’s bones. The usual flowery undertones are heavier now, sweet with seduction as he breathes him in. He wants Viktor to scent him, to mark him, so that when he eventually leaves their room no one will mistake who he belongs to.
Viktor kisses his stomach, then the tip of his cock, and then finally touches his lips where Yuuri needs him the most. His mouth is hot and his tongue even hotter, licking between his folds and rubbing over his hole, teasing mercilessly as he writhes and moans with pleasure. It’s mind-blowing, Viktor mouthing at his cunt like a man starved, tasting his slick and dipping his tongue inside, a hint of what is to come. His legs are pushed up against his stomach, Viktor working him thoroughly, altering lewd, sucking noises with pleased little hums. He’s throbbing at his core, precome dribbling from his cock where it rests against his belly.
His nipples chafe against his chemise with every gasping breath now, and he wishes Viktor would touch them, or that he dared to touch them on his own. The silk is probably ruined, anyway, not to mention the sheets.
When Viktor’s tongue starts licking into him in earnest he can’t help crying out, bucking into the heat of his mouth, not sure if he wants more or if he’ll die if he doesn’t find release soon.
“Please,” he sobs, scratching at Viktor’s neck.
Nothing he did to himself had ever come close to this. How he’s meant to survive the rest of the night is beyond him, surely this was the height of pleasure, his husband’s mouth rendering him a shaking, trembling mess. And then Viktor’s hand closes around his cock, massaging and rubbing at the tip, altering with loose strokes that drive him mad rather than closer to the end.
Perhaps Viktor takes pity on him, because his mouth leaves only to swallow his cock instead, and long, talented fingers take its place inside him. It doesn’t take long, then, until those fingers curve just so, Viktor’s lips reaching the base of his cock, and Yuuri unravels with a desperate shout.
Viktor’s mouth doesn’t leave him until he’s swallowed every drop, Yuuri’s cheeks burning even as the rest of him burns with fiery pleasure. He feels heavy, falling into the mattress, a mess of trembling limbs still chasing the waves of tension being slowly released. He’s completely ruined now, a slave to Viktor’s passion. He cannot bring himself to regret it.
He vaguely registers Viktor lying down beside him, caressing his bared stomach, his shoulder, his cheek. If he had the strength he might think to cover himself, but Viktor’s hand feels so nice, and he’s fairly sure he won’t be able to move for days. He does turn his head a little bit when Viktor kisses his nose, because he’d rather Viktor kiss his mouth. And Viktor does, a few fleeting kisses, fingers tracing his jaw and down his throat, touching his scent glands carefully. Yuuri’s eyes are closed and he sighs, trying to move closer despite his body feeling heavy like lead. He didn’t expect this pause but he’s grateful for it, slowly returning to his senses.
“Are you falling asleep?” Viktor asks him, shifting closer.
Yuuri hums, and glances briefly down between their bodies, Viktor’s arousal still evident. He won’t sleep if the alternative is more pleasure. He hums again, a more curious sound, and eases his arm down from where it’s clutching a pillow by his head. Viktor’s skin feels soft and warm, and he shudders when Yuuri touches him.
“Darling,” he says, voice thicker than a moment before, and Yuuri bites his lip against a smile as he puts his palm to Viktor’s chest instead.
He looks up at Viktor, finds him studying him intently. He must be terribly strained, he thinks, his cock so full. The swollen head had been wet, and Yuuri wants to smear his finger in it, wants to bring it to his lips and taste him, too.
“Would you have me now?” he asks, more shy than he expected, and feels the breath that Viktor releases.
“Would you like me to?” he counters with, his hand falling to Yuuri’s hip, reminding him of the mess he’s made on his stomach and chest.
How debauched he must look, flushed and wrung-out from Viktor’s touch. The thought of Viktor inside him when he looks like this has him squirming in delight.
“I think I would like it if you kissed me first.”
Viktor smiles at him, soft and fond, as he moves closer. His hand stays on Yuuri’s hip, and he swallows down a pleased sound at the thought of how it must be covered in the evidence of his release. He kisses Yuuri carefully at first, like he’s afraid of chasing him away. Not a minute later the hand starts wandering, trailing up his side and under the chemise, Yuuri’s heart skipping a beat as it pushes the fabric further away.
“May I?” Viktor asks, and Yuuri nods, allowing Viktor to undress him.
The air feels chilly without Viktor covering him, but a touch to his side is all it takes for Viktor to lie over him, holding himself up by his forearms. He can feel so much of Viktor like this, the heat of his body, their bare skin melting together. His length presses against Yuuri’s, firm and so thick he wonders how it will fit. He’s heavy, and every breath Yuuri takes pushes up against him.
Yuuri’s hands lift to tangle in his hair, and he feels calm, meeting Viktor’s gaze. He wants to be this close to Viktor all night, preferably all day tomorrow, too. He wants to be kissed until his jaw aches, wants Viktor to find his pleasure inside him, having him again and again until-
Until you’re pregnant, a treacherous voice whispers in the back of his mind, and he swallows against the thick lump in his throat.
This is not the time to be greedy. He turns his head aside, heat blooming on his cheeks. For Viktor to enjoy being with him is more than he could ask for. But if tonight is the only time, he would want to make the most of it. He’s not in heat, but if he were lucky…
“What are you thinking about?” Viktor mumbles into his bared throat, nipping at the sensitive skin until Yuuri twitches.
“Nothing,” Yuuri hurries to reassure him, moaning quietly when Viktor licks at his scent gland before biting it again.
“Not even me?”
He’d forgotten that Lord Nikiforov has his silly moments now and then, and he turns to look at him, amused despite himself. Apparently, these silly moments were not banned from the bedroom.
“Perhaps you should give me reason to,” he replies, almost horrified with himself for his bold answer, though Viktor’s handsome face lights up with it.
“Gladly, my Yuuri,” he says, and his kisses return with fervour.
Yuuri sighs and melts into it, Viktor’s mouth rekindling the fire burning inside him. Every touch is heated; Viktor’s hands on his chest and sides, gripping his hips and slotting them together. It isn’t long before he’s hard again, bucking up against Viktor, arms slung around his strong shoulders. He wants to go under with pleasure again, wants to give himself to Viktor like he’s never given himself before. He moans as Viktor’s tongue plunges into his mouth, drawing out pleasure, hands still searching, brushing over nipples and daring to trace the swell of his ass.
Too soon and not soon enough Viktor pauses, shifts, mouthing down Yuuri’s chest as deft fingers find his cunt again. He’s still wet, even wetter now, as Viktor sinks a finger inside him. It’s not the girth he’s waiting for, but it elicits a few moans out of him as Viktor moves it slowly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over his slick folds. He’s still sensitive from before and Viktor keeps his touch light, pulling one of his nipples into his mouth and sucking gently on it until he keens with pleasure. His fingers find Viktor’s hair again, sifting through the slightly sweat-damp strands as Viktor oh so sweetly brings him closer to his limit again. It would be enough, this careful, slow pleasuring, but part of Yuuri feels impatient.
Viktor has promised him, and he has yet to deliver.
He finds Viktor’s wrist and pulls his hand away, placing it instead on the curve of his thigh. Viktor gives one last, lingering kiss to his chest and raises his head, questioning. Yuuri knows, in that instant, that if he were to tell Viktor no, if he told him to stop, then he would. It’s not what he wants. He wants Viktor to give in to his passion again, to make Yuuri feel like he’s the cause for it.
“I want you to have me,” he says, forcing his voice to stay steady. “I want you to knot me, until-“
His voice falters, and he bites his lips as red blooms on his cheeks. Viktor looks stunned, almost gaping at him, as if he hadn’t said the very same thing himself mere minutes ago.
“Oh, Yuuri,” he breathes, the grip on Yuuri’s thigh tightening. “I thought, perhaps, it was too much for you.”
“It wasn’t,” he says, even though, in a sense, it was.
But Yuuri has dreamt for months on how their marriage will be consummated, and he is not so patient that he can wait another day. Tomorrow Viktor might be busy, or some unannounced party will take place, or someone’s relative might see fit to visit them. In this moment he has Viktor entirely to himself, and they are both as naked as the day they were born. Yuuri will not accept any coddling out of concern for his health. If anything, his health might deteriorate rapidly if Viktor does not fill him soon. One simply cannot know such things in advance.
“Please?” he adds, playing with the fine hairs at the nape of Viktor’s neck.
It isn’t far from his mating gland, an unexplored territory that Yuuri will come to know during their first shared heat and rut. He even goes so far as to release some more of his scent, wrapping them both in a cloud of an omega wanton for his alpha. He can feel the shudder that goes through Viktor’s body, the widening of his pupils as he breathes him in. If the evidence was not presented so, well, evidently, Yuuri might not have believed himself capable of it. But there’s the involuntary grind of Viktor’s hips against him, the speechless desire written on his face, brought upon him by Yuuri’s scent and words and body. Viktor wants him, wants Yuuri, and his heart sings as his husband leans down to capture his mouth in a searing kiss.
There’s a difference between this kiss and the previous one, and Yuuri feels like he’s about to be devoured. He’s drowning in Viktor’s scent, a response to his own bold statement of want. Still, Viktor seems to struggle with restraining himself, and that simply won’t do. If Yuuri hadn’t been so molten and unwound from earlier he might have found it more difficult (much more difficult, certainly) but as it is, with the promise of Viktor finding pleasure inside him, Yuuri dares to rub his wrists over the glands on each side of Viktor’s neck, scenting him through their kiss. He then forces himself to part from Viktor’s soft lips, pressing his mouth to Viktor’s ear instead, as they do in those salaciously scandalous romance novels that his sister Mari likes to pretend she can hide from him.
“Viktor,” he moans, glad the angle hides his bright red face. “I need you… Need my alpha.”
The change is remarkable. Viktor goes from hesitant to barely controlled to ravenous, a low, possessive rumble resounding through his chest. He ruts against him a few times, teeth marking the skin at Yuuri’s throat until he gasps out loud. And then, at last, he presses a hard kiss to Yuuri’s lips and shifts to pull his legs apart, stroking himself a few times before the blunt head of his cock pushes at the slick heat between Yuuri’s legs.
Yuuri scrambles for the pillows behind his head, burying his fingers in the plush things before Viktor pushes inside. With a powerful roll of his hips Viktor goes halfway in and Yuuri throws his head back, crying out as Viktor fills him.
Viktor grabs his legs underneath his knees, bending them up against his chest. The look he gives Yuuri is hazy with arousal, and he snaps his hips forwards again until he’s buried to the hilt. Nothing has ever felt so mind-numbingly good as taking Viktor’s cock. He’s so full, trembling at the thought of Viktor’s release spilling deep inside him. Viktor’s mouth and fingers had teased him, and those books he’d read during stolen moments at night certainly had, but it hadn’t prepared him for this.
Leaning over him, Viktor keeps his legs spread wide, mumbling under his breath. If he feels anything what Yuuri feels, he’s not surprised he needs a moment. Slowly, breath by breath, Yuuri adjusts himself to the size of Viktor’s cock resting heavily inside him. It’s almost like a dull ache, and a pulsing need for Viktor to move, to take his pleasure from Yuuri until that part of him screaming to be impregnated is silenced.
His mating gland is throbbing, yearning for his heat to come, to allow Viktor to claim him in the most primal of ways, too.
“Yuuri, so good,” Viktor mumbles, less eloquent than usual, slumping forwards to press sloppy kisses all over Yuuri’s chest and neck.
The need Yuuri feels keeps building, his hips bucking into Viktor, his cock stiff between their bodies. The anticipation is killing him, the buzzing underneath his skin becoming an unbearable itch. He would say something, but he’s already said more than is appropriate, already begged and demanded and surely, if he said any more Viktor would think him too lewd. But he wants, oh how he wants, clenching around Viktor’s thick length inside him.
Viktor kisses the hollow of his throat, then straightens up. And what a sight he’s treated to, Viktor’s face flushed with pleasure, chest heaving, hands reverent as they stroke Yuuri’s sides. He adjusts his position and they both moan at the slight movement, the reminder that Viktor is buried deep.
“I fear I won’t last long,” Viktor tells him, arranging Yuuri’s legs to hook at the ankles behind his back. “You have me at your mercy, my darling.”
Oh, Yuuri likes that. He likes how tightly fitted they are, how their position allows Viktor to watch in rapt attention when a first, shallow thrust has him melting into the pillows. He likes that he can tense his legs and drive Viktor deeper, have him grind down hard until Yuuri feels like it might take weeks for the phantom touch of Viktor to disappear.
“More,” he gasps, and Viktor obliges, rolling his hips at a steady rhythm until he’s too busy breathing and moaning to speak.
He never pulls out far but he presses back inside with urgency, ensuring Yuuri never feels empty or bereft. He thumbs at one of Yuuri’s nipples, rolls it between his fingers, teasing whimpers from his mouth. Yuuri would spend the entire night like this, his cunt filled and his heart singing, Viktor whispering endearments between powerful thrusts. His skin feels feverish, his core coiled with white-hot need; thinking, hoping, that when Viktor comes undone inside him it will take.
“Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri,” Viktor chants, and then he grips at Yuuri’s hips, swelling inside him.
Yuuri cries out, again and again, Viktor’s knot locking them together as he fills him deep. He’s so stretched and full, trembling as he takes all that Viktor can give. He barely notices his own release, cock twitching against his stomach, Viktor’s moans as he clamps down around him. There’s a rush of pleasure through his body, heartbeat thundering beneath his ribs. Viktor grinds into him once more, the twist of his knot wringing one last wave of pleasure from him.
He feels disoriented, unable to tell up from down, only aware of the heat where they’re connected. Surely, no one can survive such pleasure on a daily basis? And yet he knows that he’s addicted now, will seek Viktor’s bed each night with flutters in his stomach, will walk by him and grow wet from his scent alone.
If he’s not pregnant today, then surely tomorrow, certainly before the week is over.
A happy little shiver runs down his tired body, and Viktor’s hand traces its path down the middle of his chest. Yuuri wonders if he knows his thoughts, if Viktor thinks of how deeply Yuuri took him, perhaps deep enough to become with child.
“My beautiful Yuuri,” Viktor murmurs, and in this moment he feels the truth to those words.
Viktor finds him beautiful, and Yuuri belongs to him, utterly, completely, without doubt. But Viktor belongs to him, too. It’s a thought that has him smiling, sinking into the bedding in satisfaction.
It isn’t long before Viktor’s knot subsides. He’s not in rut, and kneeling too long cannot be good for his knees. He slips out of Yuuri with a soft sigh, untangling their legs to lie down beside him. Yuuri immediately tucks himself into Viktor’s side, pleased when Viktor wraps his arms around him and kisses the top of his head. He feels warm and safe, body still humming with the remnants of their love-making. They’ve made a mess, and perhaps later it will be uncomfortable, but for now he wants to relish in it.
“You seem pleased,” Viktor says into his hair, voice low, an almost pleading note to his words.
It comes to Yuuri, then, that he is not the only one who had worried before their marriage. He had thought, before, that Viktor must look upon him as a mild inconvenience, a necessary evil to uphold the Nikiforov family line. He had, of course, been the very definition of courteous and polite, had gifted Yuuri with wonderful things during their courtship. But had he, like Yuuri, yearned for something more than mere convenience?
He puts his nose to Viktor’s neck, breathing in the scent that now feels familiar to him. He smells content, at ease, though his arms are wound tight around Yuuri as if afraid he might leave.
“I am pleased,” he replies, cuddling closer, foreseeing a future where he will spend as much of his time within Viktor’s embrace as possible. “I was worried before, but…”
“Then you will let me care for you?” Viktor asks, separating just enough that they are face to face, noses bumping. “I wish to make you happy, Yuuri. I wish to love you.”
A strong emotion seizes Yuuri then, clogging up his throat. It blooms within his chest, a stuttering hope that he had done his best to repress. He had expected companionship, courteous attraction – perhaps even affection, given enough time. And Viktor was kind, respectful. Yuuri knew he would be faithful, if only to uphold his own reputation.
He had expected Viktor to care for their children, to give some of his time to Yuuri, that they would read together, and take Makkachin on walks through the vast grounds of his manor.
But love, for Yuuri?
“I wish for you to love me,” he whispers, unfolding his heart, wide-eyed as Viktor takes his hand and brings it to his lips.
He kisses the ring on Yuuri’s finger, then his knuckles, then the inside of his wrist.
“With all my heart,” he promises.