It hasn’t been long since they slipped pretty golden rings onto each other’s fingers, but it already feels like an extension of himself -precious metal fused to his skin and his bones, like it’s always been there, like it’s always been part of him. It hasn’t been long but it’s made its home there, resting delicately above his third knuckle on skin not yet made shiny with wear.
It’s a small and comfortable weight, and he treats it gently and with respect because it’s the thing Yuuri chose for him, the thing that symbolizes the uncomplicated, visceral feeling that lies between them.
The fact that Yuuri bought this ring for him -that he spent hours looking for something just right, and the look on his face when he realized he’d found it…
It makes Viktor feel loved, and safe, and cherished in ways he hadn’t realized he’d been seeking. The love and adoration he’d received from his skating career, and from his friends and found family had been enough. But he’d known, the night that he’d felt Yuuri’s hand on his waist and his warm, damp breath on the back of his neck. He’d wanted more than that, and he’d found it in a boy who used his body as the most graceful weapon.
So the ring is new, and in some ways Yuuri is new but in others the idea of him is so old and sure that it feels ingrained into the joints and ligaments of Viktor’s body. Sometimes he manages to forget that it’s there, in the way that he doesn’t think consciously about his fingernails or his elbows. But it just means that there are quiet, stolen moments when he gets to rediscover the band on his finger, and the way his breath catches in his own throat because the rediscovery is just as beautiful.
It’s in the moments between sleeping and waking, when he becomes conscious of Yuuri in his bed and in his arms -soft moments just before sunrise when he can hold out his hand and admire the way the gold creates shadows on his skin. It’s in the moments they share at the ice rink, when he touches Yuuri’s hand and hears the gold clink and sees the way Yuuri smiles automatically at the sound. It’s in the moments their bodies are slick with sweat and Yuuri’s fingers are in his mouth, and all he can taste is metal.
It’s a strange juxtaposition -the knowing and the forgetting. But Viktor doesn’t mind getting used to it so long as he gets to keep rediscovering the weight and feel of it beneath the benefaction of Yuuri’s sweet and knowing smile.