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Yuuri never imagined he’d marry Viktor Nikiforov, or someone older than him for that matter. But marrying richer and wiser had its perks, and Yuuri was more than happy to discover each one.

On a beautiful morning on April 7, Yuuri Katsuki wakes up to celebrate his first wedding anniversary with the delicious burn of his lower back rivaling the splitting headache pounding at his temple. He runs around the compound a couple of rounds, does some yoga, and then finds his husband sipping coffee while reading the paper in a silk robe blazoned with the royal Nikiforov seal on the right-breast pocket. Viktor’s eyes flash with something soft and tender when he spots Yuuri, and Yuuri smiles, resting against his husband (and isn’t that a doozy, Viktor Nikiforov is his husband,) and sneaking a hand into the inside of his robe to cup a feel of his hard chest.

“Morning,” Viktor smiles, fingers cupping Yuuri’s chin to bring him into a kiss. He tastes like vanilla bean coffee, and Yuuri grins against his lips. “Happy anniversary. You want breakfast? I have smoked salmon and eggs benedict for you.”

“I’m mad at you,” Yuuri says, voice playful, and he observes Viktor’s eyes flash with worry. He pecks Viktor’s lips, “I woke up all alone on the anniversary of the day when I made you the happiest man alive, which also commemorates the morning after the first time you ever made me the happiest man alive.”

Viktor chuckles, kissing Yuuri again, “That’s not very nice, lapochka. Our wedding anniversary shouldn’t have to compete with the anniversary of the first time I gave you an orgasm.”

“Two glorious years since that night and you’ve never disappointed,” Yuuri reminds him, already trying to pull him away from the stool back towards their bedroom, which, in Yuuri’s opinion, was too far away (which meant Yuuri was really trying to pull Viktor into the maid’s room by the laundry machines). He’s giddy when he gets Viktor to stand up and box his hips. Viktor’s hands on Yuuri’s hips are always a good sign.

“Okay, but we don’t have time for that now, Yura,” Viktor admonishes, like the older man he is, because sometimes Yuuri has to be reminded that Viktor is the responsible one (such a lie), even if Yuuri is the one that checks their finances monthly and keeps the credit cards now (and he’s suddenly very proud to be putting his college education to good use). “You need to have breakfast and then I need to give you my presents and then we have to—”

Presents. Plural. Yuuri is intrigued, and he perks up. Viktor always has amazing taste when it comes to presents. But Yuuri is also incredibly horny and worried, because what’s the point of marrying a semi-retired pop legend if it doesn’t mean they always have enough time to have sex every morning? (Yuuri really thought that a year later, he would be over having Viktor around all the time, but he’s starting to think his thirst has worsened through the months.) Presents won’t derail Yuuri from his mission.

“Okay,” he pouts, letting his right index finger draw circles around Viktor’s chest. His ring flashes under the dim light of the kitchen, “yes, breakfast, yes presents, but first sex. I woke up alone. Viktor. You left me. I should’ve been woken up with minty-fresh morning kisses and shower sex. I’m disappointed. Make it up to me.”

“Oh no,” Viktor groans, “No, no. I’ve planned the day. Don’t give me that face. Yuuri. It’s not going to work.”

“It always works,” Yuuri reminds him, already starting to walk backwards towards the laundry room. Viktor follows willingly, giving one last pitiful look at the breakfast tray from over his shoulder. Yuuri pouts even more, whining, “Come on. We’re already behind schedule because of you anyway.”

“What schedule are you going by? I’m on schedule.” Viktor sighs, “Also, the laundry room? – I thought you said you didn’t like the time I bent you over the laundry machine.”

“Because you didn’t put it on gentle. No one likes to be bounced like they’re being trampled by a stampede of cows. Don’t give me that look: There’s a bedroom in there. I’m the most important person in your life; I deserve a bed. I’m precious.”

“We can’t at least go back to our room? Then you can be really precious?”

Yuuri is already stripping off his body shirt, beginning a trail of sweaty gym clothes, “nope. We’re on a schedule, remember? Sex. Breakfast. Presents.”


Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 30m

Happy one year to us! Still happy and so in love. @vnikiforov never disappoints. So proud to call him mine. #HePutARingOnIt

[Picture of their hands intertwined, flashing their rings as they rest on top of Viktor’s naked chest.]


Viktor Nikiforov @vnikiforov 2m

@katsukiyofficial : It’s very seldom that you’re blessed to find your equal. Never understood your lyrics until you, lapochka. Happy 1yr #mylove!

[Picture from their recent Vogue cover, with Viktor at the forefront and Yuuri’s ring-hand resting visibly on Viktor’s shoulder as he leans in to press their faces together. The cover reads Power and Sex: How the Katsuki-Nikiforovs are building a new entertainment empire.]


“I really liked those suits. Slate gray looks so good on you,” Yuuri comments as they read through the comments on Twitter. They haven’t bothered to check on Instagram yet. Their Facebook officials have been pinging non-stop all morning, but they seldom even look at them. Viktor wraps his arms tighter around Yuuri’s waist, pulling him to rest closer against his hip. They’ve been lounging on the sofa, feeding each other languidly for the past half hour since making it out of the laundry room (with Viktor mourning that his schedule was ruined). Suddenly, as if understanding the cover for the first time, he frowns, “Hey! Wait a minute: Are they implying you’re Power and I’m Sex? Why am I Sex? I’m a Pop icon, too!”

Viktor keeps pushing down Yuuri’s robe to pepper kisses over his shoulder as they read from Yuuri’s phone together. 

“Hm. Naked looks good on you,” Viktor whispers, still punch drunk from their morning romp, and Yuuri smiles to himself. “Can we have naked again, please?”

“Stop. I’m trying to share my feelings with you and – Viktor, no, I’m not sitting around naked on our brand new velvet sofa,” Yuuri admonishes, tapping at the tip of his nose. He chuckles, pecking the pout he gets for his efforts, and with a sigh, he concedes, slowly stripping off the silk robe to let it pool around his hips. Viktor gasps, an obviously happy sound that warms Yuuri’s heart, and sends a shiver up his spine when he feels the pads of his husband’s fingers trail happy hearts over his flank.

“You’re so good to me, Yuuri. But you could be better,” Viktor says, eyes alight with something mischievous, “I can’t see your gorgeous bubble butt this way.”

“I draw the line at butt prints on the velvet,” Yuuri glares.

Viktor had just purchased a new living room set after Yuuri had pressed that his home didn't quite feel like their home with all of Viktor's decor completely intact, even a year after Yuuri had come to Villa Vedici to make it a home. Yuuri had been surprised to find Viktor agree readily, if not with some alarm that they hadn't changed anything, at all, since they had moved into Viktor’s California estate. Buying new furniture had felt like the least of his worries, then. So here they were in the newly furnished and freshly decorated living room, the one with the fireplace they never used but kept purely for aesthetics (and making smore), and which set the stage for the banister above which they hung their family portrait. It had been a present from Chris, a gaudy, ugly thing that had Yuuri and Viktor dressed like a historical royal couple with their two poodles, Makkachin and Vicchan, by their feet. They stared out in their acrylic glory towards the expanse of the room, sending some kind of statement. Yuuri wasn’t sure, but he loved it anyway.  

“Now then, onto the schedule: We did each other; we did breakfast,” Yuuri counted, ignoring his husband, “we haven’t done presents.”

“Oh, me first!” Viktor claps, excited. He rushes to the kitchen, practically skidding when he returns with a bag and a wrapped box. “Okay, so, I know the first year is paper—”

“We promised we’d stick to the theme,” Yuuri reminded him, curling his legs next to him as he made room for Viktor again. Viktor took a seat, the two presents on his lap. “Paper. Our presents are supposed to include paper, and we said the wrapping didn’t count."

“We did?” Viktor furrows his brow in surprise, “I don’t remember that. So, I did get you a paper-themed present, but then I also saw this gold Rolex and I loved it so much I had to take it to Jacob the Jewelrer to bedazzle it in diamonds for you. Don’t hold it against me. I’m just a man in love with seeing my love wear pretty things.”

Yuuri is definitely not going to complain. Viktor has classic tastes and even when the idea of a diamond encrusted gold wrist watch sounds gaudy in his head, the reality in front of him is beautiful. The Rolex President watch in gold is a timeless piece, valued somewhere around $10,000. With all the diamonds Viktor has put on it now, it weighs heavy around his wrist. He eyes it with scrutiny, amazed when he finds that – in typical fashion – his husband hasn’t missed a single detail. He had the dials changed for small, faint green gems, adding to the allure of the piece. Yuuri is in love with a watch that the love of his life has given him. It’s a strange cycle.

“Viktor,” Yuuri gapes, bringing his husband in for a kiss, “I don’t know what to say. But I love it.”

“I love it, too,” Viktor beams, “that’s why I got myself one, too. We’ll be a matching set. Now onto the paper present!”

Yuuri waits patiently as Viktor unwraps the present for him. He hands Yuuri the frame, letting him read through the certificate. Maybe Viktor decided to make him part of the deed for Villa Vedici? They do live there together. Instead, his eyes widen as he reads the title to his new private island. Viktor Nikiforov has bought him an island in the Pacific. These are the surreal moments when Yuuri forgets himself, when he realizes he’s married his long-time idol, who probably have more than enough money (actually, Yuuri has seen the books; he keeps the books,) to easily, without a thought, transfer a cool two million onto some Swiss offshore account without Yuuri noticing because there are so many zeroes involved on a monthly basis, he loses sight of normal.

“Viktor, what, no, this is too much,” Yuuri squeaks.

“Shhh. Yuuri, no, it’s our anniversary. You’re supposed to say, wow, Viktor, thank you so much for gifting me the perfect location for beach sex without the paparazzi sending helicopters to scout us out! You can still say that, it’s not too late. Now, my present. Where is it? Is it you? I bet it’s you. I like my present,” he hooks a finger at the juncture of Yuuri’s hip, pulling at the last bit of the robe covering him up. “Can I unwrap it all now?”

“No butts on the velvet,” Yuuri reminds him, slipping his robe back on as he wanders over to the living room closet, where he hid Viktor’s present. “Close your eyes.”

Yuuri is nervous. Daily, Viktor reminds him that he loves Yuuri’s body, even if he’s not currently touring or preparing to tour. But this is the first year in which Yuuri hasn’t been on constant diets and gym programs and he knows a bit of fat has pooled around his hips and thighs. He drops the frame onto Viktor’s hands, taking a seat next to his husband to wait. Viktor’s eyes open and Yuuri braces himself for the worse, even if he knows it wouldn’t happen, because Viktor loves him, but it’s not easy given their past. A lot of things aren’t easy for Yuuri to forget, hard as he tries, and a married year later, he’s sure Viktor still feels like he has to keep earning Yuuri’s love and trust – he probably does still need to keep working overtime to earn the second, because the first he had always.

“Yuuri, I was right! My present is a naked you, but you’re on paper!”

“Well, that is the theme.”

Viktor hugs the frame close to his chest, “I’m going to put it up in the Viktor Room.”

“Yeah?” Yuuri gives him a small, shy smile. The Viktor Room is where Viktor can go to spend time alone, away from Yuuri and the world. At first, Yuuri had been offended that there was a room where Viktor went without him, where no one was allowed, but then Yuuri had noticed that all the pictures of their wedding day had slowly moved from strategic locations to the Viktor Room. And, suddenly, Yuuri realized that the Viktor Room was slowly becoming a shrine to him, to them (as it should be, because Yuuri was Viktor’s beloved husband), which made it all better. The picture going up in the Viktor Room was a big deal. “I was hoping you’d do that.”

“Wait, who took the picture, though? Did some photographer see you naked?” Viktor suddenly looks heartbroken. “How many people have seen my Yuuri naked for this? Such a cruel present, Yuuri.”

“No,” Yuuri runs a gentle hand through Viktor’s hair, “I got Phichit to help me. No one that hasn’t already seen me naked and considers me a brother has seen this, so it’s fine.”

Viktor stares at the picture again, before turning to Yuuri, “I’m not ever going to top this, am I?”

Yuuri chuckles, taking the frame from Viktor’s hands to set it down, “Well, that depends on what you mean: The picture, probably not, but the subject? – You could certainly try.” He winks, “You’ve been successful before.”

“Yuuri! I love you so much,” Viktor gives him sparkling heart-eyes before tackling him onto the sofa. And Yuuri’s rule about no butts on the velvet suddenly goes to hell, like every other rule he’s ever made before meeting Viktor Nikiforov.


Yuuri takes all the good feelings he'd expressed earlier back. Viktor Nikiforov is an asshole. Viktor Nikiforov is a no-good, incompetent, bad husband, emotionally-cheating asshole, and Yuuri is pissed, because this is supposed to be his wedding anniversary dinner, not Viktor’s Reunion with Engagement #2. Yuuri probably wouldn’t feel so incensed if it was Engagement #1. Everyone knew Engagement #1 was all a publicity gimmick. It was obvious because Viktor wouldn’t go for a red-head, but Engagement #2 is something else. After all, a subset of Viktor’s fans – which Yuuri eyes with suspicion – still ships Viktor with Engagement #2, who, at 42, continues to rock the body of a twenty-five-year-old model. It’s distressing. It’s unnatural. And Yuuri keeps thinking to his hips and his thighs and how it’s time to cut the vacation short.

“The fans are going to love it so much,” Engagement #2 says, because it’s not enough insult to injury that Engagement #2 is crashing Yuuri’s first wedding anniversary. No, of course not. Viktor doesn’t do things in half. He’s posted an Instagram selfie with Engagement #2 that reads: Look who I ran into today! #FriendswithExes So now Yuuri – Husband #1 (or hsbnd1 as the plate on his pink convertible reads) – is stuffing his mouth with breadsticks as he takes to Twitter to share his petty sorrows with all 3.5 million of his active fans on the platform. “What a coincidence, seeing you here.”

Yuuri’s husband is on Instagram with another man on the day of Yuuri’s first wedding anniversary. Sure, coincidence. Yuuri smells sabotage.

Engagement #2 leaves without even trying to make conversation with Yuuri. For the rest of the dinner, Yuuri continues to tweet, because he’s hurt and Viktor is apparently oblivious that his husband is hurt. (Does he not notice the pain etched all over Yuuri’s eyes? Or, the way in which Yuuri is so quiet tonight? Or, more importantly, how Yuuri stopped playing footsie with him under the table after his inconsiderate selfie with Engagement #2? – Because the lack of footsie is a statement.) He purposely litters his tweets with @vnikiforov and hears Viktor’s phone ping each time. Viktor completely ignores it.

“You want dessert, lapochka?” Viktor asks sweetly, eyes so full of love as they stare at Yuuri.

(And all Yuuri can think is bullshit.)

“No. I’m going to the bathroom for a second, okay?” he says instead, slipping away slowly.

Viktor smiles, “Don’t take too long now, my love!”

(Bullshit, Yuuri thinks again.)


Viktor takes a moment to check his phone while Yuuri is gone to the bathroom. He notices, surprised, that most of the messages are from Yuuri, and he blinks, growing progressively more flustered as he reads them. Apparently, for the last ten minutes, Yuuri has been on a vicious tweet-fight with BuzzFeed.

BuzzFeed @BuzzFeed 40m

10 times Yuuri Katsuki threw serious shade at his own husband.

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 30m

@BuzzFeed More like 10 times @vnikiforov did stupid shit. I can make you a list of 10 times during this dinner alone. #viktuurigate2k17

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 10m

@BuzzFeed You forgot the time @vnikiforov forgot to thank me first at the Grammys. #viktuurigate2k17

BuzzFeed @BuzzFeed 9m

@katsukiyofficial How could we forget the Grammys side eye? Maybe our next article should be 17 times Yuuri Katsuki proved he was the king of shade. #viktuurigate2k17

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 7m

@BuzzFeed Don’t be petty. I obviously invented shade. #viktuurigate2k17 

#Viktuurigate2k17 is trending and Viktor has no idea what it’s referencing. He clicks on the hashtag to be assaulted by an influx of tweets from fans and celebrity stalkers speculating if they’re going to get divorced. Apparently, for the last hour and a half, his husband has been sneakily tweeting his feelings under the table, and whatever Viktor did to get Yuuri so riled up is bad, because he’s petty in every single one. BuzzFeed had been collateral damage.

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 15 min

Thanks for the support, fam. #viktuurigate2k17

TMZ @TMZ 1 hr

End of Viktuuri? Fans take to #viktuurigate2k17 over Yuuri Katsuki’s cryptic message after hubby spotted on Instagram with an old beau. 

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr

. @vnikiforov is in serious denial if he thinks this dinner is going well. I’m about to file for divorce. #viktuurigate2k17

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr

@TMZ Of course the poodles would come with me. He can keep the house. I have 3. #viktuurigate2k17

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 30m

@TMZ Happy to talk. DM me. Press conference outside La Tasca. #viktuurigate2k17  

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 28m

@TMZ Viktor Nikiforov in denial over age and state of marriage. Quote me. #viktuurigate2k17  


Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 40 min

When it’s your wedding anniversary dinner and all you want to do is cry in the bathroom.

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 39 min

Why are the ones that love us the most also the ones that hurt us the most? @vnikiforov

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 38 min

I haven’t said anything in 20 minutes. You think he’s noticed my silence? @vnikiforov #whenlovehurts

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 33 min

I refuse to give this man the best years of my thighs. I seriously just ate two whole baskets of bread! #SOS #cryforhelp

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 30 min

Shout out to @cheftiko for the delicious #katsudon. Eating my feelings has never been so good. #SOS

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 27

@vnikiforov You check your phone even in the bathroom and now you decide to practice perfect phone etiquette? Figures.

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 20 min

@ChrisG You need to check your boy. @vnikiforov just be disrespecting me all over this dinner.

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 20 min

To the fans sending love my way over the picture, thank you. I will overcome. Only one can emerge #viktorious. #hsbnd1

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 1hr 15 min

Good thing @vnikiforov ordered more champagne. I’m gonna need to be drunk to get through this shit show of a dinner.


Viktor finds the waiter and stuffs his black American Express in his hand, just at the same time as the restaurant manager comes over to complain that there is a line-up of press and entertainment networks blocking the entrance to the restaurant, which is a serious fire safety violation and won’t Viktor just talk to them, please. So Viktor goes to the bathroom, only to find Yuuri isn’t there. He walks out of the restaurant, having paid his bill, only to get a microphone shoved in front of his face: “Mr. Nikiforov,” one of the reporters says, “care to comment on the divorce proceedings?”

“What?” Viktor squawks, not even pretending he has things under control. “No. Look, today’s our wedding anniversary. We’re very much in love. Very. Much. In. Love. You can quote. In fact, I highly suggest you quote me.”

His phone vibrates in his pocket and he looks at the incoming message with surprise and alarm:

Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov @katsukiyofficial 30s

@vnikiforov You sure about that, darling? #viktuurigate2k17

Viktor angrily grabs the microphone from a random network reporter, staring straight into the camera.

“Today marks one year after the day Yuuri Katsuki made me the happiest man alive. It’s probably also the day that will forever make me question my sanity. But one thing I can tell you: I’m in love with that crazy, gorgeous, talented, insane—yes, I’m aware I already called him crazy—maddening man. Quote me.”

Yuuri’s convertible pulls up around the corner then. Viktor looks as Yuuri pops open the passenger door, patting the seat, and then Viktor makes a dash for it, before the paparazzi can hound him some more. Yuuri drives like a speed demon down the highway. The entire time, they don’t speak. Viktor’s phone keeps buzzing, letting him know that half the world is tagging him on social media.


Yuuri parks the car on a secluded, hilly roadside covered by the shade of forest trees and overgrown shrubbery. It's nighttime, a thick veil of darkness overpowering Viktor's sense of sight. Only the moon shines like a beacon through the windows. It washes Yuuri's skin, acting like a coat of glitter down the expanse of his thick hair and high-cheekbones. Viktor is confused when Yuuri pulls a blanket from its position stuffed in the glove box, arching an eyebrow as he opens the door. Yuuri immediately enters the backseat. He spreads out the blanket over the coffee-colored leather seats, and slowly begins to make space for his knees on the padded floor. 

"Are you going to come for me or not?" he asks, voice playful and low. 

(Apparently, Viktor is coming.)

Later that night, Viktor stares up at the night sky, stars twinkling from the open car top. The blanket feels like more warm kisses against his exposed thighs. He's stretched himself out over the backseat of Yuuri's convertible, with his pants pooling uncomfortably around his legs. 

“Are you crazy?” Viktor whispers, fingers wrapped tight around strands of Yuuri’s hair. He pulls gently, groaning as Yuuri takes him in deeper into his mouth. Yuuri has a technique with his tongue that makes Viktor question how he ever lived before finding this man. “The entire Internet thinks we’re getting divorced. I’m still not sure if we are, in fact, getting divorced.”

Yuuri pulls Viktor’s dick out of his mouth, lips engorged and red as he looks up from beneath long lashes.

“Would I be doing this if we were getting a divorce?”

“I don’t know, Yuuri, would you?” Viktor asks, because in their two years together, Viktor has come to understand that Yuuri is an enigma he’ll spend his whole life trying to figure out.

Yuuri takes a moment to think about it, before smiling as he says, “hm, I guess maybe I would! Can you sit back again for me? Or maybe let's change positions a bit. I want to ride you now.”


Yuuri is the petty jealous type. Viktor knows this by now. He does crazy things when his self-esteem is under question. The picture on Instagram with Engagement #2 looks back at him, and he suddenly slowly begins to understand where he went wrong. Yesterday was a special day and not once did he think to grab Yuuri, press him close, and snap a picture. His Instagram is barren of current, everyday pictures. He’s filled his world with rehashed photoshoots and media candids. In truth, Viktor hasn’t wanted to share the Yuuri he gets to enjoy every day, but the situation seems to call for a lesson. Yuuri might be the Prince of Petty, but Viktor was the King of Pop Culture. 

The next morning, when Yuuri is making them scrambled eggs in the kitchen wearing nothing except Viktor’s button-up, Viktor snaps a picture and readily uploads it to Instagram. He chooses to amp the light to accentuate the delicious curve of Yuuri’s ass just barely visible under the trim of his shirt. By his feet, Vicchan begs for food.

@vnikiforov On #ViktuuriGate2k17: Regarding rumors of my impending divorce from @katsukiyofficial – I’d hate to see him leave, but I sure do love watching him go. #nofilter #datass #domesticbliss #soinlove #blessedwithmyequal  


2 minutes

“What are you doing?” Yuuri asks him, as Viktor keeps the phone camera pointed at him. He drops a plate of scrambled eggs in front of Viktor, giving him the most beautiful, sweet smile in the world. He’s still mussed with sleep and smelling of Viktor, which is just perfect for a lazy morning.

“I love you, Yuuri,” he says instead.

Yuuri chuckles, “I love you, too. Now, what are you doing?”

“Just showing the world how much you love me.”

The video gets uploaded to Instagram as well, followed by a selfie of Yuuri with his arms wrapped around Viktor’s neck, kissing his cheek. Viktor tags it #PowerandSex #HesGotItAll #MyEverything, and sends it to Vogue.


“Why do you guys insist on doing things like this?” Chris asks them, horrified as he continues to scroll through Yuuri’s Twitter feed and, now, Viktor’s Instagram feed.

Yuuri sits happily on Viktor’s lap, pressing kisses to his husband’s temple every so often. He looks over at Chris, and shrugs, “I’m petty and jealous and throw shade like a champion. Besides,” he pauses to wink, “Viktor likes it when I surprise him.”

Viktor nods at Chris, completely punch drunk on kisses, just how Yuuri likes it.

“It’s true. I seem to have a problem. He keeps dishing it out and I just seem to stick around for more. He’s domesticated me, Chris. It’s terrible.”

Yuuri pinches Viktor’s arm, “Come again?”

“I am blessed to share my life with you,” Viktor says, completely honest and Yuuri melts. “You make every day such an adventure.”

Chris laughs, sitting back to sip his wine, “It’s a good look for you, Nikiforov. Domestication, I mean.”

The End