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Viktor’s purr is rare and hard to summon, but Yuuri’s always been ambitious. It’s happened twice in the six months they’ve been together; time stolen between Yuuri’s demanding training schedule and Viktor’s full-time-and-then-some transition into the family business.

It’s quiet and soft, only audible when pressed up skin-to-skin, twined with his heartbeat. It feels like standing at the top of the podium with a gold medal and having someone there to help you down.

Yuuri presses closer to the pulsepoint in Viktor’s neck, lazily kissing it, and breathes deep, savoring the moment. Hand in the silver hair at his nape, Yuuri continues massaging there, scraping lightly with his nails.

“Yuuri,” Viktor whispers. The air smells like contentment.

Yuuri hums a quiet response and keeps on kissing, making his way to Viktor’s sensitive scent gland. Viktor’s hands are on Yuuri’s back, gripping his sweater, occasionally petting.

It feels so good. He’s so happy here, making Viktor happy.

Content, bold, Yuuri kisses his mating gland and then, enamoured by the taste, bites down hard.

Viktor gasps and pushes him away, and time seems to freeze on his shocked and hurt face.

Yuuri wakes up alone in his bedroom, confused and horrified with himself. Pre-dawn light filters through the curtains, only allowing enough light to see the edges of things: a nightstand, a chair, his luggage.

He lays there until the sun rises fully, thoughts racing.

 


 

Closed-off, frigid, stuck-up; Yuuri’s been called a lot of things online, and it’s easy for him to see where the comments come from. He has few friends, and doesn’t make new ones easily. Performing without glasses means Yuuri squints through competitions; not the most friendly face. He avoids SNS as a general rule, and doesn’t keep up well with his fans. But he’s only human and gives in from time to time, scanning the improbable number of tweets with his name. It has never been a good idea.

It’s an even worse idea now.

There is a lot of chatter about Viktor: sneaky shots of him at the rink, weird paparazzi-like shots of them on walks around town.

FS twitter being what it is, there are people eager to bring up the fact that someone like Viktor is way out of Yuuri’s league. Yuuri’s oddly devoted fanbase–starved for a skater in their home country and coming to his defense out of some kind of misguided national duty–like to fight those fans. It’s a mess.

Yuuri, still mystified that Viktor is interested in him at all, thinks he would have been one of the fans too, if he’d first seen Viktor on his shiny instagram, smiling in designer sunglasses and hugging a sweet standard poodle. He doesn’t blame them at all.

It just makes things hard, sometimes. Gives strength to his own weakness and insecurities. Viktor does deserve someone better: who has more time for him, can understand why some sunglasses cost $400, can treat him and sweep him off his feet.

But until Viktor tells him that himself, Yuuri will try his best to be close to worthy.

“How was practice today?” Viktor asks. There’s the sound of traffic around him, the rumble of a train and the shrill beeps of distant, honking cars.

Yuuri tucks the phone more securely under his chin and tries to make his way through Viktor’s apartment door without dropping his practice bag, tonight’s takeout dinner, or the bag of groceries over his arm. “It went okay. How was your flight?”

“Miserable,” Viktor whines, “somehow, out of all the people in the world, I was seated next to that Leroy kid again. That much enthusiasm should be illegal.”

“Is his family the one that runs your competitor?” Yuuri toes off his shoes.

“If you can call their gaudy spas a competitor,” Viktor says, cheerfully savage. “It would have been much nicer to sit next to my Yuuri.”

The GPF series looms on the horizon and training monopolizes most of his time. “I wish I could have been there, too.”

“Some other time. We’ll fly first class and have champagne,” Viktor promises.

Yuuri hasn’t seen Viktor in four days. It feels like months. His hands itch to reach out and hold him, like a clingy monster, but he busies himself with unbuttoning his jacket. “I’d like that.”

Viktor’s voice goes softer. “I’ll be flying back in tomorrow night. Are you still free on Sunday?”

“Yes, even my morning yoga has been cancelled, it’s my teacher’s daughter’s birthday.”

“An entire free day? Be still my heart,” Viktor says, and Yuui can hear that cute half-smile. “Then that means I could come pick you up Saturday night?”

“Yes.” That means two nights with Viktor in a row; he’ll drop Yuuri off at the rink Monday morning. “Please.”

“You know, I have an industry event all day Saturday, at the convention center downtown. I’d love your opinion, if you’d like to come along. I think you’d like it.”

Yuuri sits down on the couch and hugs a throw pillow absently. An industry event? “Oh! Sure. Anything special I should, um, bring?”

“Just bring yourself,” Viktor says.

Just himself. “Okay.”

“And be ready to have fun!”

 


 

“Viktor, you didn’t mention I should be dressed up for this!”

Viktor hands his designer jacket to the man at the coat check. His three-piece suit is flawless enough to be in a magazine spread. “You look perfect, Yuuri.”

Yuuri wraps his cardigan a little tighter around his waist, trying to hide his thin t-shirt. The convention center is filled with swarms of people in business casual, and he’s wearing worn athletic shoes. “They’re going to think I just wandered in off the street.”

Viktor puts an arm around his shoulders. “Not a chance.”

There’s a check-in desk, the table mostly obscured with gift bags and lanyards. The too-friendly attendant smiles up at Viktor. “Mr. Nikiforov, it’s a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Williams.” Viktor shakes her hand. Yuuri tries subtly to shift behind his shoulder, but Viktor’s grip is firm.

Her customer service smile does not break, even when presented with Yuuri. “Will you be needing another badge for your… associate?”

“Yes, if you would be so kind.”

Yuuri gets his very own badge, handwritten and strung on a vivid pink lanyard. In the space where it should list his company affiliation, it says Nikiforov Spas. With that in place and a strangely-heavy gift bag in hand, they head towards the main hall. The banner up above proudly declares it to be the 43rd Annual NestCon.

Yuuri feels as out of place as it’s possible to be, even though he’s far from the only person dressed casually, now that they’re in the main exhibit hall.

Viktor leans in and whispers in his ear, confident, “You’re fine. Just be yourself. I value your opinion, Yuuri, and as you can imagine people aren’t always authentic with me in the industry, because of my family. I am hoping with you here at my side, people will relax a little more.”

Yuuri breathes deeply. “Okay. Just warn me next time.”

“Will do. I’m sorry.”

Having never been to a trade show before, the bustling crowds and endless rows of brightly-decorated booths are overwhelming.

“Are all these people selling something?”

Viktor laughs. “Absolutely.”

Yuuri fiddles with his gift bag, peeking inside. Lots of brochures, and smaller bags of candy-colored trinkets.

“You might want to wait to open that until we get back home,” Viktor says.

Home. A shivery wave of delight passes through him. “All right. Is there anything in particular you’re looking to, um, buy?” Yuuri waves broadly at the chaos of the hall.

“I won’t be spending a dollar here today. Just looking to see if there’s anything new and exciting available; this is the first place people bring products to market.” Viktor’s already scanning the booths with bright eyes.

Yuuri shuffles the papers in the bag again. “Is there a map, or–”

Viktor’s hand returns to Yuuri’s lower back. “No need. Let’s see what interesting things we can find.”

 


 

Viktor doesn’t have to spend a cent. Everyone takes one look at Viktor’s silver hair and his nametag and the VIP treatment begins: free samples offered right away, delivered free of charge wherever he’d like, in the hopes his spas will carry their items.

And there really are interesting products, laid out on row after row of display tables. One aisle alone has more flavors of lube that Yuuri has ever seen: passion fruit, cinnamon roll, banana split, strawberry milk. Samples are available in clear packets and also in tiny paper cups for tasting. The surreal juxtaposition of lanyard-wearing business people discussing the merits of glitter or glow-in-the-dark lubricant, and taking notes in little notebooks is so strange. Is glitter like that body safe? It must be, right? They wouldn’t sell something unsafe.

Yuuri tries the strawberry milk lube, the unreality of the situation helping calm his nerves. He makes a face.

“No?” Viktor says, his own sample cup inches away from his lips.

Yuuri swallows, thoughtful. Then he grabs a few of the sample packets. The booth attendants grin and promise to send a full kit his way afterwards.

Viktor tastes it and looks positively cheerful. “I knew this would be more fun with you. Everything is more fun with you. Come on, there’s a booth that does interesting things with chocolate that I think you’ll like quite a bit.”

Yuuri blushes. This is the weirdest date they’ve been on yet, but he’s into it: walking through a sea of people and sticking to Viktor’s side.

His blush sets in deeper as they make their way down the full aisle of “silicone heat aids.” Dildos of all shapes, colors, and sizes jiggle gently on their display tables; many with inflatable knots or complex, vibrating machinery. Yuuri breathes deeply and reminds himself that he’s here to help Viktor with his business, and thus doesn’t melt when approaching these booths. The theme of a lot of the new items this year seems to be neon, and he finds himself drawn to a blue toy that practically glows with vivid color. It’s just the right amount of firm when he grips it.

The manufacturer hovers happily nearby. “That’s one of our more popular styles lately, with the thicker girth. If you press the button at the base three times, the knot will begin to inflate; this model is nice because there isn’t an exterior pump, making it more elegant in our opinion.”

She watches him expectantly. Ah. Yuuri presses the button three times dutifully and the base swells. Viktor picks up one of this model’s glossy brochures.

He fishes for something business-minded to say. “Is the, um, knot size adjustable?”

“Not in this model, but…” she pulls a lurid violet dildo from a glass display case, “this one is.”

Yuuri is probably holding in his hands a thousand dollar sex toy. It’s heavy, and realistically textured apart from the color, with veins and convincing testes. The buttons on the base are decorated to look like tiny gems. “Ah.”

Viktor jumps in to save him. “Wow~ Technology sure has come a long way. Do you think we’d be able to get a sample?”

She has a tablet out before he finishes talking, and starts typing frantically, looking pleased. “I’d be happy to, Mr. Nikiforov, Mr. Katsuki.”

Yuuri blinks before realizing he’s wearing a nametag. “Thank you.”

Viktor gives his contact details. Before they can walk off, the attendant chimes in, “Good luck at Skate America, Mr. Katsuki!”

The blush is back. It’s back so much. Yuuri mumbles a thank you while screaming internally.

“My famous boyfriend,” Viktor teases. Yuuri wants to hide behind him.

The nesting/bower area truly makes up the bulk of the event. It’s in a separate hall, with special pillows, blankets, and elaborate designer nest beds on display. Yuuri’s fingers itch to touch everything. His next heat with Viktor won’t be under the pretext of an exam, it will be the real deal. Thus all the near-daily nightmares of accidentally forcing him into a mating bond.

“I have been looking forward to this part the most,” Viktor says, smiling down at all the nesting merchandise. “Last time I didn’t get to spoil you like I wanted.”

Yuuri had felt very spoiled at the time. “Oh? Are we going to be spending time at your spa?”

“Hmmm. If you like.”

The big ticket item is elaborate nest beds, and the back wall is nothing but display models. To set the scene, the organizers separated each bed with curtains, and used draped fabric to mock a low ceiling. With muted lighting, the tempting nest beds are like a beacon of comfort tucked away. There are no price tags, but Yuuri knows some of these are worth more than a new car.

He swallows.

Viktor’s voice is softer now. “These require reserved time slots, do I hope you don’t mind that I picked a few.”

“Makes it easier,” Yuuri agrees, feeling faint.

Their first reservation is in the far corner, and it’s an experience. After toeing off their shoes they’re allowed entrance to the carpeted booth and the giant bed that dominates the space. It’s almost like a clamshell in shape, with gently sloping sides in the bottom half that work to hold in the truly silly amount of blankets and pillows inside. The “lid” is softly lit along the edges, and the attendant helpfully shows off all the different lighting modes available: morning, night, starscape, afternoon glow. There is even a strobe-like “disco” mode that immediately hurts their eyes.

“Take a seat inside,” the attendant insists. “If you please, gentlemen.”

Yuuri feels like he’s sitting on a cloud when he crawls in.

“We offer custom-fitted weighted blankets, and there is discrete toy storage in the lid.”

Viktor pops open the aforementioned compartment. His eyes remain on Yuuri. “Wow. Plenty of room.”

Yuuri coughs. “Is this a model for home use or…?”

“Most of our clients are in the heat hotel industry, but we do sell to private individuals as well. This model in particular was rated Best Choice for Pregnant Omegas by Omega Glamour for the past three years, because of its dual use for heats and pregnancy. We live by our company’s motto: only the best.”

Viktor’s watching him with bright eyes, a rare version of his normal smile on his lips. Yuuri presses his palm flat against the heated mattress. It’s a struggle not to melt. He’d love to spend all his heats in a nest like this, alongside Viktor. He’s super grateful to the scent-neutralizing ventilation in the venue.

This is an industry trade show, don’t be creepy. You’ve only been together six months, he reminds himself. The recurring nightmare rears its ugly head: Viktor, trapped and hurt by Yuuri’s greed. It does wonders to cool him down.

 


 

The final event they attend is a full-on runway fashion show for heat and rut attire, with the service industry in mind. Alphas, omegas, and betas confidently strut down the aisle, posing at the end, as an announcer reads off the special attributes of each outfit. Moisture-wicking fabric, scent-controlling lace, and sturdy but fashionable scent gland collars are the clear favorites this year, along with rhinestones and more eye-popping neon. Viktor and Yuuri have front row seats.

“Aren’t they cold?” Yuuri whispers.

“Hmm,” Viktor says, finger on his lips. “I don’t think so, no. We’d be able to tell.”

“Viktor.”

Just about every outfit has a collar. Yuuri is struck with a sudden idea, a way to stop his recurring nightmare from coming true: if Viktor’s mating gland is protected, then he’ll be safe.

“Something caught your eye?” Viktor whispers. “You have that excited look on your face.”

Yuuri bites his lip. “Do they send you samples of any of the outfits?” he whispers back.

“Oh, I think that could be arranged,” Viktor says, settling back. His eyes seem to sparkle.

 


 

Most of Viktor and Yuuri’s interactions over the next two weeks are via video chat, and the distance has Yuuri burying his nose in a sweater that Viktor left at his apartment for comfort embarrassingly often. Phichit caught him at it twice.

In the background of each video call, more and more boxes appear; a mountain of samples and glossy product brochures cluttering up Viktor’s normally immaculate space. They’re… tempting. The possibilities light up Yuuri’s imagination and only highlight how little they’ve been together recently.

He puts all the frustration into training, and skates some of the best practice runs of his life.

 


 

The next time Yuuri is at Viktor’s apartment, the piles of sample boxes are even more impressive. All are properly labeled by type and manufacturer, organized and efficient. Yuuri can make out notes in Viktor’s neat handwriting on the tags, and feels something warm knowing that, like every challenge in Viktor’s life, this one has been approached with the same meticulous, determined care.

The lack of separation between work and home makes Yuuri frown. “Why didn’t you have them sent to your office?”

“Oh, I did.” Viktor says, petting Makka’s soft curls while he waits for the water to get to the proper temperature for tea. Yuuri didn’t have to ask; Viktor moved to make them two cups, a routine so Yuuri feels his heart flutter. “There’s just a lot to review. My father is counting on me to present him with my recommendations for next year’s spa refresh.”

Viktor’s been working so hard; the dark circles under his eyes are visible even through his perfectly-applied concealer. “You need time to rest, too.” Yuuri insists.

Viktor grins his way. “What’s that? Sorry, wasn’t it just last week that your coach had to come to the rink and stage an intervention before you hurt yourself?”

Yuuri juts his chin out stubbornly. “I almost had that jump.”

“You did, you did,” Viktor soothes, “you also still have layers of bruises on your poor hips.”

It’s true, though they’ve mostly faded to yellow-green. Yuuri deflates. “You’re right. Maybe we both need to take a little more rest.”

The tea is ready. Viktor hands him a light blue mug–decorated with tiny dog paw prints; a match to his purple one–and drapes over his shoulder. “That’s what this weekend is for, yes?”

Yuuri takes a sip. Viktor has oversteeped and oversweetened it, like always. He loves it. “Yes.”

“So, what would you like to do on this fine evening? Makka wouldn’t say no to another short walk, I think, even though it’s chilly. She has her own fur coat.”

A nice walk to the park, looking at autumn leaves, hand in hand… it sounds lovely. But Yuuri thinks of the exhaustion on Viktor’s face and instead suggests, “How about we stay in?”

Viktor’s smile goes softer. “Rest, right. Let’s just stay in, then. There’s a new Japanese place by my office I’ve been wanting to try with you. Should we order some takeout?”

Yuuri tugs him towards the couch. “That sounds good.”

Viktor enjoys the kind of odd fusion sushi, topped with baffling additions like mango and “yum yum sauce”, and the restaurant they chose doesn’t let him down. Yuuri eats his comparatively plain rolls and watches Viktor enjoy them. He wants to eat silly American-style sushi with this man for the rest of his life.

We have only been together six months! Yuuri tries to push his over-eager, commitment-happy daydreams aside and scans the room for a distraction before he blurts something like “Marry me!” out loud.

A brightly colored row of what looks like lumps line Viktor’s otherwise stately bookshelf, blocking out the titles on the spines. “What are those?”

Viktor follows his gaze. A faint blush dusts the bridge of his nose. “Ah, I thought it would be best to keep them away from Makka, since they do look like one of her toys. They’re alpha sheathes.”

Oh. “For an omega spa?”

Viktor tucks his chin over Yuuri’s shoulder. “We have a few locations that cater to alphas. Not many.”

Now that he knows what they are, it starts to make more sense. A tube-like toy with a suggestive hole at one end, Viktor has a dizzying array of options on display, tagged like all the others. As an alpha toy, there is space at the end for a knot to form. Yuuri has a clear image of Viktor’s perfect cock being serviced by one of these toys, and it’s not reasonable to be so jealous of an inanimate object. Especially one that has gold glitter inclusions and wobbles in a light breeze.

“Have you tried one, um, before?” Bold, Yuuri gets up to inspect them. There are different sizes. He grabs one of the larger ones: clear pink with glitter.

Viktor winks at him, tilting his head to the side so his bangs hang just so, and sets down his empty take-out box. “No, can’t say that I have. Why?”

His confidence stutters, then. Yuuri’s so tense from time spent apart. He clutches the toy in his fist and opens and closes his mouth a few times.

Viktor laughs and relaxes back against the couch. “Sorry, sorry, you’re so fun to tease.”

Yuuri feels himself pout. “Mean.”

“I’ll gladly let you play with me anytime.” Viktor pats the couch cushion next to himself. “And I can’t say that there aren’t a few of these I want to enjoy with you too.”

Yuuri settles in next to him and leans against his shoulder, still awkwardly holding the toy. “Yeah?”

Viktor leans in for a kiss. “Oh, yes.”

Kissing Viktor is easy. Stopping is the hard part; so he doesn’t. Confidence bleeds back in as they make out on the couch, shedding clothing as they go. Yuuri takes pride in every soft sound Viktor makes, and bites his lip as Viktor’s talented hands fondle his bare chest.

Viktor’s skin is so soft. Yuuri scents him methodically, over his neck and gorgeous pectorals, down his perfect abs, over his perfect backside; trying to really map the feeling of it. He straddles Viktor to do it properly.

He can feel the laugh rumble in Viktor’s chest. “Yuuri, so eager! We have all day.”

Yuuri rubs his cheek against Viktor’s, head fuzzy with need. “No.”

“We don’t have all day?” Slow, fond, teasing. Viktor scents him back with steady hands.

“Going to do it properly,” Yuuri insists, pressing closer and initiating another deep kiss. Viktor doesn’t hesitate to kiss back. Yuuri can feel himself purring, a loud rumble. Viktor’s cock is hard against his stomach, and Yuuri fumbles around for the toy.

Viktor helpfully keeps a discreet bottle of lubricant in the basket underneath his coffee table. Yuuri pulls away just long enough to grab it, and squirts a generous amount into the toy’s moulded hole.

He kneels down between Viktor’s spread legs and looks up at his face, Viktor’s gaze is locked on Yuuri alone. Impulsively, Yuuri leans in to kiss the tip of his erect cock; how’s he supposed to resist something like this? The taste of salty precum on his tongue is another victory as he licks and teases at the head.

“Yuuri.”

He pulls away with an audible pop, not surprised he got so distracted, and reaches for the toy again. The sleeve has tiny little bumps inside, from the look of it, and Viktor’s gasp as he slides the sleeve over his cock implies that they feel quite good. Yuuri sets up a steady pace, kneeling there as he strokes Viktor off.

The easy rhythm is rewarding.Viktor has that high flush in his cheeks, and Yuuri can see each deep breath he takes shudder in his chest, can smell the thick scent of his arousal as Viktor bucks into the toy in Yuuri’s fist.

Because the toy is clear, he can watch the head of Viktor’s cock slide in and out of the silicone sheath, and it’s intoxicating, the power he feels, Viktor melting in pleasure.

It’s unreasonable to be jealous of a toy, right? Even one he’s using?

When he can feel Viktor start to tense, he eases off, slowing his pace and adding another drizzle of lube to keep the movement frictionless.

“Yuuri,” Viktor breathes.

“Hmm?” Yuuri’s focus shifts back to Viktor’s face, keeping up a steady pace with the toy in his hand.

It takes him a moment to string together his words, and Yuuri preens.

“If you don’t–ah!–if you don’t stop soon I’m going to knot this stupid toy.”

“Oh?” Rather than stopping, Yuuri massages the base of Viktor’s cock through the toy, right over his deflated knot. “What if I want to see?”

Viktor shudders. Yuuri holds on to this burst of confidence with all he has, taking on a persona to bring Viktor pleasure. “Come on, knot for me, please?”

Yuuri is intimately aware of how Viktor’s knot feels inside him, but it’s something else watching his knot swell in the toy. Yuuri keeps massaging him as it inflates, filling the indent easily and pressing against the boundaries. Yuuri boggles that it manages to fit inside him at all, and again feels jealous as Viktor’s cum spurts into the toy’s tip. He milks Viktor with it until Viktor comes to a shuddering stop, boneless against the couch.

Needing to be closer, Yuuri climbs up into his lap and holds him as he breathes. It’s touching to see someone usually so put together be undone like this, especially by his own hand.

“Wow,” Viktor says. “You’re going to have to give me a minute.”

Yuuri kisses the column of his neck. “Okay. Yeah.”

Viktor smells so good. Yuuri has a sudden, sharp urge to claim his mating gland and seal them together as one; it startles him enough to act as a bucket of cold water. He pulls away before he does something awful, guilt curling in his stomach.

“I’ll clean up,” Yuuri says, getting up. Viktor’s hands follow him until he’s out of his range.

He busies himself with removing the remains of their meal, and makes sure Makkachin–still soundly sleeping in her designer doggy bed–has enough food and water in her bowl.

Yuuri settles in next to Viktor again as his knot slowly deflates. The toy looks a lot worse for wear as it’s removed. “I think this one might be a good addition to Nikiforov Spas.”

Viktor pulls him closer and kisses him again. “Oh, you do, do you?”

“We can’t know for sure until we’ve tried them all, I suppose.”

Viktor shifts their positions, flipping it so Yuuri has his back on the couch. “That’s a dangerous thing to say, considering how many heat aids are in my apartment right now.”

Yuuri shudders. Is it possible to be so aroused that you die? “Ah.”

Viktor kisses him deeply. It’s important that he uses the last bit of sanity he has left to protect his boyfriend’s neck. He pulls away just far enough to say, “Wait!”

Viktor retreats immediately, gaze shifting towards concern.

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry,” Yuuri is quick to reassure, “I was just thinking, maybe, we could try some of the um, service gear? For both of us?”

If Viktor’s neck is covered, he’ll be 100% safe, no matter how much Yuuri loses control.

Lust darkens Viktor’s eyes to a deeper blue. “All right. I’ll go pick out a few. Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” It comes out breathless.

“I’ll try my best to find something to surprise you as much as you always surprise me.”

Yuuri lays back on the couch in a daze while Viktor makes his choices, carefully picking through a labeled box. When he returns and cheerfully deposits a pile of deep blue frills on Yuuri’s stomach, he looks triumphant.

“What about you?” Yuuri asks, touching the lace. It’s so soft.

“You asked for a surprise,” Viktor says, sauntering to the bedroom with a bagged outfit in his hand.

Yuuri has practice with these outfits and manages to get it on without too much trouble. While the one Yuuri wore to share Viktor’s rut was fairly utilitarian, this outfit has satin bows at the hips and delicate, dewdrop gemstones sewn in. The top part is babydoll-style, adjusted for a male chest; straps separate his chest and highlight his bare nipples. It’s… a lot. Yuuri waits for Viktor to return with his legs tucked up to his chest, feeling like an imposter. This is an outfit for someone a lot more comfortable in their body than Yuuri is. The bows at his hips frame fading bruises from falls on the ice, and he tucks his feet in to try and hide the worse damage there. Skating isn’t an easy sport for the body.

Yuuri is glad there isn’t a mirror because he’s certain he looks ridiculous.

Viktor finally emerges with his own complicated outfit. He struts over like the models in the fashion show had, so beautiful it is paralyzing. Viktor looks amazing in anything, but especially the strappy black number he’s sporting now. His chest is worthy of sculpture, framed in thin satin lines, and he’s so– he’s so–

Not wearing a collar. Neck completely bare. Yuuri squeaks.

“Like it?” Viktor settles in and pushes an unresisting Yuuri down against the cushion.

Panic and arousal writhe inside him. “I– Your neck?”

Viktor blinks. “Couldn’t get it on. It’s fine.” He leans in to kiss Yuuri’s nose. “You look stunning, Yuuri, wow. Wow!”

He runs a hand down Yuuri’s stomach and stops to play with a bow, touch revenant.

It takes all he has to form the words. “I think you should put on one of the collars, um!”

Viktor tilts his head to the side. “I should? Why?”

Overwhelmed enough to bypass his embarrassment, Yuuri blurts out, “Because you’re so– gorgeous– and I keep having dreams where I force you into– where I– mate you and–”

“Oh?” His blue eyes get that glitter again. Viktor doesn’t retreat. The mood shifts, and he snuggles in.

Yuuri pleads for sanity., heartbeat pounding in his ears. “I’m sorry, I know it’s crazy to be thinking of it so soon, I just really… like you and…”

“I really like you too,” Viktor says, “And if you’re crazy, then so am I. If we’re doing confessions...”

Viktor gets up and grabs something from behind a vase on the mantelpiece. It’s a ring box.

Yuuri sits up in a daze.

“I was going to wait until the end of the season, after you’ve won all the gold medals you deserve, so I could present you with one more golden thing. This doesn’t have to be for today. But, well, I just wanted you to know… you’re not the only person dreaming about our future.”

“Oh.” Viktor, against all odds, is just as into this as he is. Yuuri feels like he’s floating on a cloud of happiness. “Um, good.”

Viktor looks like he’s floating on that same cloud. “Now let me give that collar another chance. Will you help me?”

“Yes!”

 


 

Yuuri’s been dreaming of them being mates? Viktor’s so glad to know he isn’t the only one.

They don’t make it back out of the bedroom. Once the collar is secure, Viktor and Yuuri fall back against the mattress and press as close together as possible, kissing.

“I seem to remember someone having their way with me earlier, and now I believe it is my turn,” Viktor says, pressing his boyfriend back against the pillows.

Yuuri’s scent is so content, it makes something inside Viktor preen: a satisfied omega in his bed. Yuuri laughs as he playfully kisses down his neck and over his chest, stopping to tease and suck his little pink nipples. So sensitive. Yuuri whines and grips his shoulders, pulling him closer, and Viktor spends a good long while there, drawing out sweet, interesting sounds from Yuuri’s mouth.

“Viktor.”

The scent of slick is heavy in the air when Viktor finally makes his way to Yuuri’s hard cock, trailing kisses down to his swollen erection. He massages the covered scent glands at his thighs–this lace covering them really is exquisitely soft– as he swallows him down, leaning on his extensive training in omega care and his recent knowledge about just what Yuuri likes. Yuuri bucks into his mouth and Viktor takes pleasure in his revenge; he’s not going to let him off easy today, intending to put an omega’s ability for multiple orgasms to the limit yet again.

Yuuri’s hands curl in his hair. It’s grounding.

He doesn’t have the strength of heart to tease Yuuri like Yuuri teased him earlier, though, not right away. He bobs his head just the way Yuuri likes and uses his tongue to great effect, keeping up the suction until Yuuri twitches and spurts in his mouth with a choked half-scream.

Viktor swallows. “Well, that’s one.”

“Vi– Viktor,” Yuuri pants. His nipples are still shiny with spit as his chest heaves; it’s quite a fetching look in the outfit. Blue is really Yuuri’s color.

“Let me get a few of the toys and my notebook, we have some research to do.”

“I still have to skate–”

“Not until Monday,” Viktor reminds him, cheerful.

He does select a few toys he thinks Yuuri will like, and really does grab his notebook and pen too; the notes he ends up taking are more for show than anything, illegible because he’s focused on his boyfriend the entire time.

Yuuri enjoys the ribbed Slimsations model well enough, despite its petite size. It’s easy for Viktor to find an angle that hits his prostate and he abuses thoroughly. He asks Yuuri for feedback on the toy, teasing, and Yuuri provides a string of mostly-nonsensical words, the gist of which is good. That’s fine. If Viktor’s going to get any useful feedback at all, it’ll be when Yuuri isn’t actively getting his ass toyed with.

With Yuuri a little more stretched out, the second model slides in easier.

“This is similar to what we have in the spas right now, just the latest model. The silicone is supposed to be treated in a way that feels more like skin,” Viktor explains. He reads a bit off the brochure, again to tease him. “What do you think?”

Yuuri’s bucking his hips down on the toy. Viktor has a great view of his tight little hole stretching wide with its girth, glinting with slick. He didn’t think to grab any of the silly novelty lubricants. Oh well, next time.

“Yuuri?” He prompts, twisting his wrist just so. Yuuri mewls as his prostate is hit. It’s the build to his third orgasm, so it’s oversensitive. Viktor tones it down.

“Hmmm?” Yuuri manages.”Oh. Good! It’s good!”

He’s so cute Viktor’s heart is going to explode, but he will likely never be a good product reviewer. “Okay,” Viktor agrees, fond, and picks up his pace again. He rotates through the full set of vibration options, calling out the different modes with glee, until Yuuri reaches his third shaking orgasm.

There’s an whole apartment full of toys to test, but Viktor’s own insistent erection won’t allow that kind of patience. He reaches for a third toy, a thick purple alpha-shaped one with a few different settings for knots, and Yuuri stops his hand. “You?” He begs, all big brown eyes.

Viktor feels his own cock twitch. “Soon,” he promises, voice rough. Viktor wants to make Yuuri nice and slow, and the only way is to first wear him out completely.

The final toy doesn’t go in as easily, just because of the girth involved. Viktor takes it slow and adds a generous amount of their regular lube to ease it. His Yuuri is a bit of a size queen, when all’s said and done. Yuuri squirms down on the toy, flushed red all down his face and chest.

“Nice and slow,” Viktor cautions, keeping his movements gentle, pressing in in small increments. With a toy this big, he doesn’t have to angle much to nail Yuuri’s prostate. “Let me know if it’s too much.”

By the time the massive toy is seated inside him, Yuuri is sweating and shaking, with tears in the corners of his eyes; overstimulated and wrecked. He’s also begging for more with slurred speech, and it’s so, breathtakingly hot.

“Viktor, Viktor, please, please.”

Viktor’s arm is seriously tired and he doesn’t even care. “Okay, one more, just one more, okay?”

There’s a separate remote control that Viktor fumbles with and engages the inflatable knot. He can’t see it swell inside, but he can instantly see the results. Yuuri comes again in desperate, twitching spurts as the toy fills him further, screaming in pleasure. Viktor holds his grasping hands through it, then crawls up the bed to hold him while he shakes through it.

This new model has a little bonus built in: it shoots synthetic cum after the knotting function is engaged. Viktor puts his hand on Yuuri’s stomach and rubs in circles. Yuuri clings to him like he’s the only thing keeping him together.

Maybe this was too much. Yuuri might have to take Monday off from skating. And Tuesday. Viktor too.

Viktor is so hard he hurts. “Yuuri, I’m going to take it out now, okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” Yuuri agrees, letting Viktor shift him any way he likes.

The knot deflates on command. Viktor pulls it out with ease, from all the lube and synthetic cum, and takes in the ruin of Yuuri’s hole, swollen at the rim and so red.

Even though Viktor knows the cum is fake, a buried part of his brain is screaming that he replace it with his own. He kisses Yuuri slow and deep, then lines up to take him himself.

Yuuri’s insides still hug him in his easy slide in; Viktor marvels at being able to sheathe himself fully in one thrust. He’s so hot and slick. Yuuri is still clinging, arms around his neck, and Viktor loses himself in the slow glide in and out, building and building. Yuuri’s too wrung out to even get hard, murmuring encouragement and kissing Viktor’s neck sloppily, and that’s a point of pride.

Two knots in one day is a record for Viktor outside of a rut, but they’re both pushing their limits today. He feels himself swell inside Yuuri and lock them together, and he comes until his balls feel empty, wave after wave.

“I thought the plan was to rest,” Yuuri murmurs in the afterglow.

Oops. “Well, I’m relaxed. Positively stress-free. How about you?”

Yuuri has enough strength for a smile. “Very relaxed. Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Apart from a half-hearted shower, they do not get anything else accomplished that night. Yuuri isn’t able to skate on Monday, and Viktor takes the day off too.

His eyes keep catching on the engagement rings on the mantle, bolstered by the knowledge that Yuuri is just as crazy serious about this as he himself is, and looks forward to the day when they are wearing the matching set.