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Yuuri knows that wrapping an arm around Viktor's chest and holding him close can really limit Viktor's ability to ride him, but he wants to kiss the nape of Viktor's neck. Besides, why not make it a bit of a challenge?

In an attempt to make things easy for himself, Viktor tries to stay low and move in rolling motions. It's lovely, but not what Yuuri asked of him.

"Ride me properly."

"But—" Viktor protests, already obeying.

"Keep going."

And Viktor listens. He always does. Even when he wants to object, even while objecting, he listens.

"Yuuri," Viktor complains, "let me—"

"No," Yuuri says and bends to suck a hickey right above Viktor's shoulder blade.

Whimpering, Viktor does his best to keep moving, up and down, strokes as long as he can manage. He knows not to protest when replying will disrupt what Yuuri is doing. If it's not important enough to call Yellow, it's not important enough to bother Yuuri when he's busy.

Yuuri adores him.

Like the smitten fool he is, Yuuri tries to create a small heart with a few joined hickeys. It's difficult work with Viktor doing his best to draw pleasure out of him, making him gasp and pant and ruining the suction. It takes a while until he's satisfied with the uneven heart, scraping his teeth over it and smiling at the thought of Viktor's delight when he'll find it.

"You're getting so good at doing it like this," Yuuri says between heavy breaths, tightening his arm around Viktor.

Hearing a soft whimper, Yuuri takes pity and releases him to slump forward. Viktor catches himself on shaking arms and speeds up, bouncing on Yuuri's cock. A numbing current runs through Yuuri, lighting up his entire body. Crying out, he falls back onto the mattress. The new position gives him a clear view of his cock disappearing into Viktor's ass and he throws his head back, swearing and shutting his eyes against another wave of heat.

He can't keep them closed for long. The sight is too much to miss. Viktor is gorgeous, every part of him is gorgeous, and Yuuri wants to see every detail. It's fortunate Viktor likes Yuuri wearing glasses during sex.

Reaching out and disrupting Viktor's rhythm again, Yuuri grabs his ass with both hands and parts the cheeks. His thumbs are close enough to Viktor's hole that they have to dig the nails in to avoid slipping through the glistening mess of lube.

"Ah— Yuuri—" Viktor gasps, sounding confused. But without the order to stop he keeps going as best he can despite Yuuri's hold.

"You," Yuuri says, voice rough and breathing labored, "are the most beautiful—" he means to continue, but instead moans and starts thrusting up into Viktor.

"Yes," Viktor hisses, his head dropping.

Panting and gasping, Yuuri drives up and Viktor does his best to keep up, held open. His wails become dangerously high and Yuuri knows he's holding on with every shred of control he has. Sweet Viktor, desperate and aching to come, keeping himself from release for Yuuri.

Yuuri swears again when he comes, grabbing Viktor's hips to pull him down onto his cock. He hits deep. Viktor screams, but Yuuri keeps him there, doesn't let him move away until Yuuri is spent and his head drops back onto the pillow.

The softening cock slides out when Viktor falls forward, catching himself on his elbows, shaking violently.

Yuuri forces himself to move, to sit up and look at Viktor.

At the first touch to the side of his thigh, Viktor gasps and his body jolts as if shocked by electricity. Fascinated, Yuuri runs his hand along Viktor's thigh and around the curve of his ass, making him twist and whine.

"You're beautiful," Yuuri says eventually. "Let's move you, okay?"

"Didn't come."

Apparently that's the most important thing: letting Yuuri know he did as he was told. Laughing, Yuuri pulls Viktor to him until he's tucked under Yuuri's chin and wrapped in his arms. Lying as comfortably as can be while trembling with need.

"You were amazing," Yuuri says, letting pride saturate his voice and stroking Viktor's damp matted hair. "How do you want to come, Vitya? Anything you want."

Clutching at him, Viktor tilts his head up. He gets the kiss he's looking for, long and sweet to show Yuuri's gratitude.

"Glasses."

For a beat Yuuri is confused by the unrelated word. "Oh," he says when he realizes. "Of course."

Viktor is a vision as he climbs to his knees, struggling to place his legs on either side of Yuuri's chest and leaning his arm on the headboard. Yuuri shoves a couple of pillows behind his own head and reclines on them.

"Go on," Yuuri smiles up at him encouragingly. "You got through everything I threw at you. You've earned this."

Gulping, Viktor brings a shaky hand to his cock and starts stroking. He spasms as waves of sensation run up his spine, breathing through the feelings with an open mouth, eyes glued to Yuuri's face.

Yuuri reaches to touch Viktor's balls, hungrily drinking in the sight of his flushed body. This position won't allow Yuuri to use his mouth, so he just plays a little, massaging and shifting the weight in his palm to draw delicious reactions from Viktor. He trails a finger further down, along the perineum and towards Viktor's hole. A shiver of satisfaction runs through him when he finds it leaking lube and cum. His fingers seek out the sticky trickles and smears on Viktor's skin.

"Can you feel it down your thighs?" he asks Viktor, looking up.

"Yes," Viktor gasps.

"You like it as much as I do, don't you?" Yuuri smiles, feeling wild, and pushes two fingers inside to find Viktor's prostate through the wet mess that starts dripping onto his hand.

"Yes," Viktor's eyes screw shut, "love it, love you."

"You're perfect," Yuuri says again and runs his fingers along Viktor's prostate with even, measured strokes. "I can't believe you're mine."

"Yours, yours yours yours— Ah— Yuuri—"

"Go on, Vitya." With a hand on his ass, Yuuri pulls him closer, making sure the angle will have Viktor's cum landing on his face. "You're doing so well."

Viktor moans. precum drips on Yuuri's collarbone.

"Vitya."

The tone prompts Viktor's eyes to fly open even as Yuuri starts a rough assault on his prostate, matching Viktor's quickened pace.

Yuuri smiles, letting his eyes hold all the warmth that fills him at the sight of Viktor ruined like this. "I love you too."

With just a few more strokes and a final shout from Viktor, cum lands on Yuuri's face, in his hair, on his neck, and his glasses. Viktor's breath catches when he sees it, his chest constricting.

Yuuri's arms are ready when he collapses, keeping Viktor's head from hitting the wall or the headboard and guiding him down, back into Yuuri's embrace. For a moment the trembling is worse as Viktor gasps for breath, but it soon subsides and he sinks into Yuuri's warmth. He's boneless and satisfied in a way Yuuri only sees when he's pushed to his limits. Viktor is slippery and dripping with sweat, hair wet like it's beginning to dry from a shower. Yuuri tucks his nose into it and inhales, filling his lung with the scent of sweat and sex. Not a hint of Viktor's hair product. A washcloth would be laughable.

Viktor moves and smiles up at him, so Yuuri makes a show of licking his lips and humming at the taste of Viktor's cum. A treat. It gets him a groan from Viktor who drops his face back into Yuuri's neck, whining. Yuuri laughs.

"Come on. We should get clean. I can hardly see anything."

"Don't make me walk," Viktor's mouth twists with disgust and Yuuri laughs again.

"I thought I married an athlete."

"I'm retired."

"After winning your weight in medals," Yuuri says affectionately and kisses his forehead. "Take my glasses so they don't obscure anything until we clean them. I'll carry you."

They drain the water from the bottle they'd placed near the bed ahead of time, and Yuuri bundles Viktor up in a blanket and carries him to the bathroom. Viktor curls up on the closed toilet seat. Yuuri doesn't ask if he'd rather wait in bed until the bath is ready. He always prefers to stay close to Yuuri, and indulging him in this means easy access to kisses.

"Let's get you inside," he says as soon as the stream is warm.

Viktor pouts at having to stand in the shower, but Yuuri holds him up, kissing until the worst of the grime is off their skins.

"This is what I always imagined kissing in the rain would feel like," Viktor says, soft and quiet and calm.

"Really?" Yuuri smiles. "But rainwater is usually cold."

"I know. My heart broke the first time I did it."

Laughing, Yuuri kisses him again.

"Should we make it a bath, Vitya?"

"Mmm. Yes please."

Their lips don't leave each other as the tub fills, kissing cuddled in the water until Yuuri decides it's time to wash Viktor's hair.

Viktor purrs at the feeling of Yuuri's fingers massaging his scalp and leans into them. Heavily. Forcing Yuuri to keep him from falling back. It's impossible to wash Viktor's hair while supporting his weight like this, so Yuuri holds him up with one hand and uses the other to tickle a line from the back of Viktor's neck down his spine. Viktor jumps, sitting straight.

"Yuuuuuri!"

"I'm trying to wash your hair," Yuuri laughs. "Let me finish and then be silly."

Viktor huffs but lets Yuuri work. Building up a lather, enjoying the smell of Viktor's favorite shampoo, doing his best to clean every single strand of hair without getting anything into Viktor's eyes.

"No one ever tickled me before you, you know."

"Having only one ticklish spot sounds nice," Yuuri says wryly.

"Having someone know me well enough to use it is better."

Suddenly weak, Yuuri's hands pause in Viktor's hair. "I'm..."

"Lovely?" Viktor suggests, a smile in his voice. "Fantastic? Wonderful? Talented. Enchanting! The best dom, an even better husband, a—"

"Glad," Yuuri laughs, his face hot. "I meant to say I'm glad." And thankful. So, so thankful.

"You can be that too," Viktor says graciously, "there's no contradiction."

"You're ridiculous."

"I'm right."

Shaking his head, Yuuri relaxes back into the task, taking care of Viktor and then himself. He can't be as speedy as he'd like when cleaning his own body. Viktor hates when he shows no care for himself after being so attentive with him. So Yuuri takes his time, not in the same way he does with Viktor, but enough that his husband smiles while watching him. When he's done he opens his arms in an invitation for cuddles.

Viktor comes happily, sighing, "My thoughtful Yuuri."

It's not playful this time. Not an opportunity taken for an over-the-top attempt to tease. Yuuri shivers. Viktor nuzzles into his neck, shifting around for more comfort, and Yuuri automatically adjusts the embrace to hold him better.

"Always taking such good care of me."

"You deserve it," Yuuri says. His face is warm. His entire body, too. A warmth that has nothing to do with the water.

"No one ever came close," Viktor continues. "I've never even dreamed of a relationship like ours."

"We did that part together," Yuuri objects weakly. "With a lot of effort from you."

"You're worth every effort."

Yuuri closes his eyes. "You're so sweet to me, Vitya. Keep talking like that and we'll have to go again."

"Will you fuck my mouth if we do?" Viktor perks up.

Laughing, Yuuri tips Viktor's face up with a touch under his chin. "I love you," he says to make Viktor melt when he kisses him. The heat that Viktor's words built in him bleeds into the kiss and Viktor groans, pressing into Yuuri. Soon it calms back down and their lips move slowly and sweetly against each other.

"I love you too," Viktor says, looking so content Yuuri's chest hurts.

They leave the water and Yuuri dries them both in Viktor's luxurious towels, dropping occasional kisses that Viktor seems to accept for the fun of it now and not out of need. This usually means he must be feeling a little more settled. It makes Yuuri smile. He goes to change their sheets, leaving Viktor in the bathroom to clean the glasses.

Yuuri collects the bedding into a huge bundle and carries it out to put with the rest of their laundry. Makka rushes inside when the door opens, excited to be allowed into the bedroom again. When Yuuri returns with clean sheets she sits near the door to the bathroom, waiting for Viktor to come out. Yuuri pauses for a moment to pet her and goes back to take care of the bed.

"Yuuri!" Viktor calls from the bathroom. "A heart?"

"Oh, you found the hickey." Somehow the gesture makes him blush now, with the heat of the moment gone. "It's not a very good heart."

"Don't insult my heart." Viktor joins him in the bedroom with a clean pair of glasses in hand. "It's the best heart ever and I'd keep it on my skin forever if I could."

"I'll make another." Yuuri places the last pillow on the bed and takes his glasses. "Thank you."

"With the way you indulge me, it's the least I can do, isn't it?" Viktor laughs a little and crouches to pet and hug Makkachin.

Yuuri watches Viktor coo at their dog, saying hello and apologizing as usual for leaving her out for so long. Viktor is very good at hiding insecurities. Even to the point of acting against them, pretending they don't exist. Nowadays he does less hiding. And Yuuri is better at recognizing.

"I love indulging you." Yuuri sits on the bed and places his glasses in their case for the night. "You should see your face when..." He thinks about Viktor wide-eyed, gaping at the sight of Yuuri with his dirty glasses. Breathless until his muscles give out and he falls uselessly into Yuuri's arms. "I should stop talking. We're too tired for this."

Viktor laughs. "It's your second time warning me from another round. Could it be that I left my Yuuri unsatisfied?"

Yuuri settles under the fresh covers and holds them up for Viktor. "Just get over here."

Viktor joins him and kisses his nose. "I'm glad you're having fun too."

Makka comes to settle beside Viktor and he rolls over to cuddle her, letting Yuuri curl against his back and hug him. It won't last — Viktor will want more kisses — but it's warm and comfortable.

"Of course I'm having fun. It's with you."

The words would have been embarrassing with anyone else, but Yuuri taught himself to say them anyway. Viktor shouldn't have to depend on Yuuri's random emotional outbursts for explicit words of affection, and being used to the vulnerability helps when they need to talk. It's rewarding, like always, when Viktor makes a happy little noise and kisses him. He glows now that this is a casual part of his life, even if actions are more natural for both of them. They want to give each other everything. Love, support, acceptance.

Yuuri doesn't understand this particular kink, and he doesn't need to. To him, his glasses are just a useful tool. He needs them in order to see. They're not lacy lingerie or shiny clinging latex or a sexy leather outfit with straps and buckles. They're not a put-together suit or a pair of leggings that show every shift of muscle. Just glasses. But Viktor likes what he likes, and Yuuri provides.

Sometimes, though... he wonders what it's like from Viktor's eyes. What is it about Yuuri's glasses that makes them so sexy to him? What does Viktor see?

❆

Makkachin whines, prompting Yuuri to look up from his game when Viktor lowers his book with a sigh.

"Vitya?" 

"Hmm?" Viktor rubs at his temple.

"Is everything okay?"

"A little headache. Nothing serious."

"Oh..." Yuuri bites his lip. "You've been having those often lately. Especially when you read." 

"Really?" Viktor looks up at him.

"You didn't notice?" he asks carefully.

"Not that it's a pattern, no." Viktor frowns down at his book. He opens and lifts it, drawing it closer to his face and pulling away slowly. "Huh. I think... I can't tell, but... Maybe."

Yuuri bites his lip and watches Viktor. Skating left them with strange perceptions of age. Viktor retired exceptionally old for the sport, but so young in every other measure. Yuuri is one of the oldest in his profession, and he's only 27. They've spent years feeling the pressure of time passing, a nearing end, when most people didn't even start working serious careers. And to add to this, skating aged their bodies, leaving them with lasting aches and old injuries.

Finding out his eyesight is getting worse could be a blow to Viktor's confidence.

"Guess I should get my eyes checked," Viktor says eventually, his smile pained in a way not many would recognize for what it is. "I should hope it's nothing more serious, shouldn't I?"

Viktor rarely opens books after their conversation. It's unsettling to see, but Yuuri knows he's working through the feelings. Once he's able, he'll go.

❆

Getting reading glasses is much easier than getting ones like Yuuri's. There's no waiting time to get them made with Viktor's chosen frames and prescription, they're picked on the spot from a limited selection. He can do it anytime.

Which means Yuuri comes home one day, and—

"Welcome home, Yuuri," Viktor looks up from his book.

"V-Vitya?" Yuuri blinks, and then lets out a quiet "Oof!" when Makkachin jumps on him. "Sorry, Makka, hello," he says, petting her distractedly without looking away from Viktor.

Dark frames sit on Viktor's nose. Somehow, they change his whole face. He looks... mature? No, he often looks mature. Distinguished? That's not exactly it either. He looks like himself, but different. And whatever it is, it makes Yuuri feel... a lot of things.

Makkachin lets go of Yuuri's legs and he walks over to give Viktor the kiss he's expecting. It's sweet and lingering, deeply affectionate. Viktor's smile is more genuine, for a second.

"You got glasses," Yuuri says instead of returning a proper hello.

"Mmm." Viktor takes them off. "I missed reading easily. They help."

"I'm glad," Yuuri says. Hesitates. "Can I see?"

"Sure," Viktor hands them over.

Yuuri holds them carefully, running a finger along one arm. They're new and clean, not a hint of damage. The nose pads haven't started yellowing, still clear in a way Yuuri forgot exists. The frames are a deep burgundy color, partially see-through, reminiscent of wine with the various shades of red that dance in the plastic. They remind Yuuri of many things. A lighter shade of red is the flash of color in the Eros costume. With a darker red comes to mind the lipstick Yuuri wore when he pole-danced for Viktor during their honeymoon. The most dominant color makes him think of a pair of high heels he keeps hidden to surprise Viktor with on his birthday, planned months in advance to make sure he has something that will make Viktor happy.

"I like them," Yuuri says, giving the glasses back. "They look lovely on you."

Viktor hums noncommittally

"They do. It's a good choice. Everything looks good on you, but especially reds and pinks."

"Not everything. Orange looks awful on me," Viktor smiles and wears them again, opening his book. "Thank you, Yuuri."

❆

Yuuri knows Viktor likes reading. He has known it for a while, it's Viktor's main hobby. But Yuuri only now notices how often he reads.

How often he's wearing those glasses.

Suddenly it seems as if all Viktor ever does is read, lying on the sofa, and Yuuri... Yuuri wants. But he doesn't know how to open the topic when Viktor is clearly uncomfortable with what the glasses mean to him.

"Yuuri?"

"Yes?" Yuuri jumps.

Viktor narrows his eyes and takes his glasses off, setting them on the coffee table. "You've been looking at me. What is it?"

"I like looking at you." The evasive truth sounds like a lie and Viktor raises an eyebrow. Yuuri sighs and walks to sit next to him. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong exactly," Yuuri says and Viktor's posture relaxes a little. "I just don't... I don't know how to say it."

"Is it something you need to tell me?"

"Yes?" Yuuri blushes. "But it's not bad, I promise."

Viktor studies him for a moment and lights up. "Yuuuuuri," he says, a smile spreading on his face, "is it something dirty?"

"I'm... I mean... Yes?" Yuuri says, watching Viktor's growing excitement nervously.

"You don't feel comfortable saying it?"

"It's not that, it's—"

"Embarrassing? Will it help if I tell you something embarrassing first?"

"What—"

"I really like your feet."

Yuuri blinks. Is this a reveal? Was it a secret until now?

"A lot," Viktor adds.

"Um—" What does he address first, his own newly-discovered fascination or Viktor's confession?

"Does that bother you?" Viktor backtracks quickly, his smile slipping. "I suppose it would bother many people. We don't have to do anything about it, I would never—"

"Vitya!" Yuuri slaps a hand over Viktor's mouth to shut him up. "It doesn't bother me, but this isn't helping either."

With what sounds like a muffled apology, Yuuri releases him.

"It's okay," he says and leans his cheek against Viktor's shoulder. "It's fine. Just... Let me think how I want to put it, okay?"

"Of course."

❆

Yuuri initiates the second attempt, but that doesn't make it more successful. He finds the courage when they're both in bed, hugging under the blankets, and Viktor is drifting off.

"So," he says slowly, holding Viktor close, "you know how you like me wearing glasses when we have sex?"

"Mmm?"

"I think... I might like it too."

"That's good," Viktor slurs a little, sleepy and happy, squeezing him weakly. "Thank you for telling me."

"It's... What?" Yuuri frowns. "What's good?"

"That you like wearing them. I'm glad."

"Oh." Yuuri tries not to make his disappointment too obvious, but he doesn't know if he's successful. Maybe Viktor is just too tired to notice. "Yeah. Of course. I like seeing you. And giving you things you like."

Viktor hums and somehow Yuuri hears joy in the simple sound. It's not long until Viktor is asleep, oblivious to the way Yuuri mentally berates himself for the ambiguous phrasing and the poor timing.

It's ridiculous. Why is it so hard to say, "Hey, apparently we have the same kink"? It should be easy. And then he'll tell Viktor to wear the glasses and fuck him in them. Or... maybe Yuuri could come on them the way Viktor likes doing to him. The idea makes him shiver. Those new frames with their pretty wine color, dirty for the first time.

With a sudden spark of inspiration, Yuuri picks up his phone and starts reading. Researching.

Submission, for Viktor, is deeply tied to certain actions. Kneeling is one. An important act that he can't easily perform anymore because his knees force him to get up before he's emotionally ready. The necessity of stopping before he can properly sink into the feelings it evokes hurts him deeply. Their last few scenes went fine without kneeling, but he knows Viktor misses it.

Online, Yuuri finds kneeling benches. They're different from common little stools by their wider shape, the little slope forward, and the space for the legs to be placed under the body. In pictures with people sitting on them, they seem to be softening the angle of the knees, making it less acute. And they work with cushions under them.

Late-night research ends up with a bit of online shopping.

Words don't work, so actions will have to do.

❆

The wait for his package to arrive leaves Yuuri with time for some other purchases: a new lipstick, darker than the one he owns to better match the glasses, and lingerie. One outfit for himself and one for Viktor, both the same burgundy of the glasses. They're easily hidden away with his heels. Since both Viktor and Yuuri like preparing surprises for each other, each has a box the other doesn't open. With a bit of adjusting and shifting things around, Yuuri's box is just big enough to hold the outfits and the shoes.

Viktor still notices when Yuuri watches him. If he realizes it has to do with his glasses, he doesn't say anything about it.

The delivered kneeling bench finds its way to Viktor. Yuuri leaves the shower and sees his husband at the door, faced with a larger package than he's used to. He glances at Yuuri to confirm this isn't a mistake and Yuuri nods a little too enthusiastically. Viktor accepts the box.

"A surprise?" he asks when Yuuri takes the box from him.

"Yes, actually," Yuuri says and adjusts his arms around it. The package is the right size to carry by hand, but only uncomfortably. Yuuri takes it to the bedroom and Viktor follows. Only his eyes show his excitement.

He drops it at the foot of the bed and turns to Viktor. The impatience is delicious. He considers stretching it out, just to savor the sweetness of anticipation.

"Yuuri," Viktor raises an eyebrow, "are you going to be mean to me?"

Yuuri smiles at how quickly Viktor recognizes his mood without knowing anything about the nature of the surprise. "What do you think, Vitya?"

Viktor steps closer, making their height difference more noticeable without seeming at all imposing or intimidating. "Will you make me beg?"

"I might." He drops a kiss to Viktor's jaw. "Or I might not, this time. Haven't decided."

"Yuuuuuri, please don't make me wait."

He's not trying to playfully encourage Yuuri to tease and deny him, he just can't help asking for what he wants. It's adorable.

"You're lucky, Vitya. I'm impatient too." Yuuri walks to the closet, to the shelf that holds his box with the hidden heels and lingerie. "And since we have the day free..." He takes Viktor's outfit without letting him see anything else. "I'll prepare some things here. You take care of Makka and then wear this in the other bathroom. Don't come in until I tell you to."

"Wow." Viktor stares at the lacy bundle in Yuuri's hands without reaching to take it. "Yuuri, that's beautiful."

Yuuri preens, but says, "Aren't you the one making me wait now?"

"Yes," Viktor's eyes snap up and he takes the outfit, "I'm sorry."

"Go," Yuuri laughs.

The word has Viktor rushing out. Yuuri hears a rustle and the clink of Makka's leash being taken from the decorative bowl where it's placed. Makka perks up at the sound and runs happily from their bed. When Yuuri goes to close their bedroom door, he sees the bundle he gave Viktor resting on the sofa. Viktor will walk their energetic Makkachin around until she's satisfied and then he'll come back and dress in a hurry, not knowing how long he'll have to wait until Yuuri calls him. Smiling to himself, full of affection for his lovely little family, Yuuri takes his own set of lingerie.

Matte fabric straps wrap around his torso and high on his thighs, mostly concentrated over the stomach and lower back. The straps and the color are what their outfits have in common. Yuuri's isn't as lacy as Viktor's. It has gentle embroidery in the same color as the fabric, and the thread used for the pattern adds a glossy shine. It's tricky to wear, placing each strip of fabric in where it should be, but Yuuri manages by the time the door opens and closes.

Viktor's soft voice comes from the living room, speaking in Russian, apologizing to Makka for leaving her alone for a while and promising she'll get plenty of hugs after. Her food bowl is being filled and Viktor leaves her to change, shutting the door to their second bathroom behind him.

Yuuri opens the new box to set everything in place. The kneeling bench Yuuri got looks sturdy and even elegant. It's from a safe source, but there's always an element of a gamble in online shopping. Yuuri sets a cushion on the floor for Viktor and the bench on top of it. He takes a deep breath and finds Viktor's glasses case, placing it with his lipstick in an inconspicuous spot on the bed. His heels are the last surprise to prepare, but wearing them now would be too early a reveal.

Viktor should be waiting at the door by now, so Yuuri stands in front of the cushion. He's trying something new today and it's harder to get into his usual mindset, feeling silly for the theatrics instead of confident in the fantasy he's bringing to life for his husband. It fades when he closes his eyes and breathes, thinking of Viktor. He'll love this.

"Vitya, come here."

The door opens to the lovely sight of Viktor as he walks back into the room, posture graceful and powerful. Lace sleeves paint his arms and shoulders pretty patterns and matching straps run along his torso, the dark color stark against his pale skin. More lace covers his hard and straining cock.

Viktor freezes when he sees the arrangement at Yuuri's feet.

"Vitya." Yuuri points at the cushion. "Here."

"What...?"

Yuuri extends a hand in a gentler gesture that offers support and guidance, and Viktor comes closer to take it.

"It's a kneeling bench," Yuuri says. "You sit on it and put your legs under."

Viktor doesn't respond. It makes Yuuri a little self-conscious about his idea.

"Some people use this for meditation," he says uselessly and suppresses a groan. Trying to explain better, he starts again. "I thought, staying with your knees folded all the way can hurt even if you're on a cushion. This holds your weight and you sit higher. It should keep the stress off your knees and make it... easier, hopefully. I can't be sure it will work, but I wanted to try."

There's a kind of softness to Viktor that Yuuri rarely sees and it settles his nerves a little. This expression is a huge reason Yuuri likes surprising him.

"I get to kneel today?" Viktor says. "That's the surprise?"

"Oh, Vitya." Heart squeezing, Yuuri cups his cheeks and gently guides him into a long, soft kiss. "It's... one thing, I guess?"

"That's what was in the box, though. The delivery."

"Yes."

"I get to kneel," he repeats.

"Ideally you'll be able to stay down there for a while. We can't be sure it will work," Yuuri reminds him. "You can try, but only if you promise to tell me if you get uncomfortable."

"I promise," Viktor says immediately.

"Good," Yuuri kisses him again. "Go ahead, then."

Viktor eagerly settles onto his new kneeling bench, legs close together and hands in his lap. He looks up at Yuuri, expression open. It makes Yuuri warm. He sits on the bed.

"How is it?"

"Perfect."

Pleased, Yuuri smiles. "Well, almost."

"Almost?"

"You're always perfect." Yuuri kisses his forehead. "But for what I have in mind... close your eyes."

Viktor's eyelids slide shut obediently. He doesn't move when Yuuri pulls away and gets up. Making sure to be slow and quiet, Yuuri takes the heels and Viktor's reading glasses and returns to sit in front of him on the bed. Yuuri bites his lips. The heels fit easily over his feet and he places each foot on either side of Viktor's knees. Viktor listens intently to the rustle of the sheets, aware of his presence, but doesn't seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. The arms of the glasses clink a little when Yuuri picks them up and unfolds them. Viktor's eyelids twitch at the sound and he frowns.

"Just a bit more."

Yuuri leans in. He imagines placing them smoothly on, but when he tries, the arm of the glasses pokes a little too close to Viktor's eye. He flinches at the feeling and raises both hands to capture the glasses, his eyes pressed firmly shut like they might open on their own if he doesn't force them to stay closed.

"Yuuri?"

"Sorry," Yuuri says, fighting down a spike of anxiety. If Viktor is uncomfortable with this part... "You can put them on yourself. I know other people usually do it wrong."

"I..."

"You can open your eyes, Vitya."

Viktor blinks his eyes open. He takes the glasses from Yuuri's hands, holding them better, and stares up at Yuuri.

"Put them on," Yuuri urges and it sounds like a question. He can't remember the last time his instructions became unintentional questions. Nervous energy sizzles under his skin.

The glasses slide into place, almost completing the picture he wants to see.

"There," he says, voice trembling. "Perfect."

"You... I..." Viktor tries, but no other words come out of his open mouth.

Yuuri licks his lips. "Color?"

"Green," Viktor says without hesitating. "But... I don't..."

"I... understand why you like glasses now," Yuuri says. "These have been driving me crazy. So... Surprise?"

Viktor mouths 'Surprise' silently and shakes his head. "But... The bench..."

"Well," Yuuri says with ease he doesn't feel and probably doesn't really manage to project, "I told you there's more than one surprise."

Yuuri lifts his foot and the movement draws Viktor's attention down. He sees the dark heels and gasps, watching with widening eyes as Yuuri rests it on Viktor's thigh.

His hand hovers near Yuuri's ankle. "Yuuri."

"Yes?"

"Yuuri," Viktor repeats, sounding on the verge of tears.

"You can touch."

Viktor's hand trembles when he lowers it to the lining of Yuuri's shoe. His fingers skim the edge of it, stroking the skin of Yuuri's foot with a reverent touch. Yuuri has to ball his fists in the sheets to keep from abandoning all the steps of his idea and fucking Viktor instead.

"Did you... Because I told you..."

"I've had these for months, Vitya. I'm ruining my birthday surprise for you."

"Months," Viktor repeats.

"I knew you like my feet. I knew before you told me. You should see yourself when I start playing footsie. Especially when you don't expect it. And footjobs under our dinner table."

"I thought..." Viktor blinks, swallows, so vulnerable it makes Yuuri ache. "I thought it was just convenient. Easier to reach with your foot when there's a table between us."

"It was that, originally," Yuuri says gently. "And then... I saw how you reacted."

"Oh." Viktor closes his eyes. "Yuuri."

"Yes?"

"Please."

The word burns away Yuuri's remaining uncertainty. "Please what?"

"I really need you to kiss me."

Yuuri removes his foot from Viktor's lap. He takes the lipstick and lowers himself from the bed to sit in front of Viktor. The cushion was set so close to the bed that Yuuri has to straddle Viktor's thighs.

"Keep this until you're ready," he places the lipstick in Viktor's hand.

"Until I'm ready?"

"Mhm." Yuuri strokes Viktor's cheek, watching him lean into the touch. His voice is slow and quiet when he explains, "I'm going to kiss you now as much as you want me to, but just kiss. And tease. Once you give me the lipstick back, I'll paint your lips and then I won't kiss you again until we both come. First me and then you."

"That means a lot of kisses now," Viktor says, curling his fingers over the tube and angling his face up towards Yuuri.

Yuuri smiles. "And a lot more after," he says and kisses Viktor.

It's gentle only for a second. Then their hunger comes through. Yuuri's whole body throbs with excitement, and he knows Viktor is in a similar state.

It's easy to make Viktor moan with a kiss. He's weak to kisses, to anything that involves his mouth. It's common for him, after a rough scene, to insist on keeping their lips together until he falls asleep. If Yuuri moves away before Viktor is ready, he receives adorable little noises of complaint. Viktor can keep going for hours and never get tired of it.

Yuuri indulges him for long moments, drawing things out and making sure Viktor makes every sound Yuuri knows to coax out of him, and a few new ones. He tastes different today. Needier.

To push things along, Yuuri's hands find their way to every bit of skin that he can reach. Kneading muscle, caressing skin, teasing every sensitive spot. He runs both hands up Viktor's thighs, his abs, his chest. Reaching Viktor's nipples and circling his thumbs around them. Viktor knows how Yuuri likes to play with his nipples. He squirms, expecting a bit of pain. Yuuri tilts his head, sliding his tongue against Viktor's, moaning, taking his time until Viktor starts relaxing.

"Mmf!" Viktor jumps and yelps when Yuuri finally pinches his nipples and rolls them between his fingers.

Yuuri laughs into the kiss but exchanges the pinch for a gentler touch. Trembling, Viktor sighs and presses into his lips for another moment before pulling away and resting his forehead against Yuuri's.

"Ready, Vitya?" Yuuri murmurs, thumbs still on Viktor's nipples.

"You're—" Viktor swallows, "You're very persuasive."

The lipstick is still clutched in his hand. Yuuri kisses him again, barely letting him breathe, and rakes his nails from collarbones to knees. Spasms follow his touch.

Breaking the kiss with a harsh gasp, Viktor shoves the lipstick into Yuuri's chest.

"Good," Yuuri laughs and takes it. "Come on, let me put it on you."

They have to wait until Viktor is calm enough to stay still to apply the lipstick. He sits up, mouth open and eyes closed. The dark color coats Viktor's lips, making the well-defined shape even more pronounced.

"Beautiful," Yuuri says when Viktor's eyes slowly open again, blue behind the dark frames. "Now you make sure not to ruin it. It has to stay like this."

"Keep it like this... while making you come?" Viktor frowns.

Yuuri smiles and lifts himself back onto the bed, heels on either side of Viktor's knees. "You won't be working hard to make me come this time," he says as he palms his own erection with a groan.

Viktor chokes out a little moan at the sight. "Yuuri, are you going to come on me?"

"I want to get you dirty." Yuuri pulls his cock out of the outfit's embroidered underwear and starts stroking slowly, teasingly. Viktor's eyes follow the motions, rapt, and Yuuri sighs. "Your beautiful face, your lips, and your new glasses. You keep them so clean. Just sit there and be pretty until I ruin it."

"Ruin it," Viktor whispers like he's tasting the words. He scoots forward as far as he can until his knees are under the wooden frame of the bed, dragging his cushion and kneeling bench along with him and adjusting back to a comfortable kneeling position. "You won't ruin it. You'll make it perfect. Yuuri."

The familiar tone of his voice hits Yuuri and makes his breath hitch. Of course Viktor is determined to add to his pleasure. Since Yuuri isn't letting him do more, he's going to amplify every feeling, drown Yuuri in sensation with nothing but words. Viktor wants to give him everything. And no matter how much he gives, he's never satisfied. It used to be overwhelming, but Yuuri learned: Viktor is his, so everything Viktor wants to give belongs to him too.

Viktor glances up for permission before he rests his hands on Yuuri's knees. One trails down, slow and appreciative, to circle Yuuri's ankle gently. His eyes are hungry as he looks at Yuuri's cock and licks his lips, groaning. A word is all it would take and that lovely open mouth will be moaning gratefully around Yuuri. Instead Viktor watches the foreskin slide back and forth with Yuuri's hand. That expression is delicious, sending a pulsing wave through Yuuri's body.

"You're beautiful," Viktor says and tears his gaze away from Yuuri's cock to meet his eyes. Painfully earnest. "Yuuri, please?"

"Keep talking."

Viktor speaks, his voice is infused with something that makes Yuuri want to take him apart. He thanks Yuuri for every aspect of his existence, every choice and action he took to bring them to this moment. His voice changes as he talks, becoming urgent, pleading despite the words containing no pleas. Nothing for himself. The desperation there is the need for Yuuri to accept the words and believe them. It's... potent. Intoxicating. Yuuri revels in it. His hand on his cock keeps moving, stoking the fire that Viktor ignites in his veins.

"You have such unique sensuality. I've never seen anything like it. I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I've never wanted to kneel before I could kneel for you. The way you take care of me, the way you touch me. I don't think I knew what pleasure means before you. And in return," Viktor pauses with a wrinkle between his brows as awed disbelief colors his voice, "you just want me to accept the gift of being yours. Yuuri. You—"

The words trail off mid-sentence and Yuuri opens his eyes. Viktor stares up at him over his glasses, his face angled towards Yuuri's cock to make sure the cum would land where Yuuri wants it. His expression fills Yuuri with something warm and heavy and he sits straighter, looking down at Viktor. Beads of sweat trickle down his neck and the insides of his thighs.

"Yuuri." Viktor loves saying his name. He makes it sound like the word itself encapsulates every quality worth having. He can thread together words of praise for hours, but he'll always retreat back to saying Yuuri's name with endless love and devotion in his voice.

For an instant Yuuri's hand tightens involuntarily around his cock. "Mine," he grunts.

"Yours," Viktor hurries to agree, "yours, yours, all yours. I love you."

The enthusiasm. Nothing can ever rival the enthusiasm. Yuuri moans. "Vitya," he breathes.

"Yuuri," Viktor says, his voice becoming quiet, secretive. His hand trembles as it reaches down and drags lines on the visible skin of Yuuri's foot. "Feet do nothing for me. Not in general. Just yours. It's all about you."

Yuuri gasps. His hand falters but he keeps moving, barely hearing the wet sounds of the precum coating his cock and making the glide smoother. Yuuri hears the reverence, and the words alone are enough to undo him, but the open awe with which Viktor looks at Yuuri over the glasses. Gleaming. Yuuri shudders around a broken gasp.

Close.

"The way you move. The way you use your body. The way you skate and dance and walk on these feet. It's worth nothing short of worship."

Moaning, Yuuri strokes faster, strikes of lightning shooting through him. He's panting. His arm starts aching.

So close.

"Yuuri, please. I love you. I want this so much. Please. You're always so good to me, you make me feel amazing, I—"

He keeps talking, but Yuuri can't hear it. Blue and silver and a deep burgundy all blur in his vision and he cries out, overcome, blinded by a flash of white that doesn't vanish when his eyes slam shut. His cock pulses in his grip. He forces himself to breathe through it, in and out, until everything fades and quiets and he can open his eyes.

In time to see cum sliding down from the lense of Viktor's glasses to his cheek.

Yuuri gasps. "Wow."

Viktor tilts his head up just enough to give Yuuri the perfect view. His lips are parted like they were when Yuuri painted them but a little smile pulls at the corners. There's cum on and between Viktor's lips and more keeps sliding down the lenses, bits of it dripping from the frames. Breathtaking. And Viktor was right: it's finally perfect.

And Yuuri notices the trembling. Despite having just come, the fire in him only seems to burn hotter. His limbs are weak and he can't stand the thought of touching himself again just yet, but he craves more.

"Kneeling bench away," he forces out. "Stay on the cushion. Sit, don't kneel."

Viktor snaps into motion, getting up and pushing the bench out of the way so he can sit directly on the cushion. He licks cum off his lips absent-mindedly while he moves. It makes Yuuri shudder in a different way than if he was being intentionally seductive.

Viktor's hair is a dirty mess, sticking to his face, to one of the lenses, to the arms of the glasses that slid down to the tip of his nose. He sits with his legs thrown wide apart, showing off a damp spot in the lace of his underwear. Yuuri nudges a sensitive spot on the inside of Viktor's thigh with the elegant toe of his shoe.

"You look like you're expecting something specific."

"Please," Viktor says.

"How are your knees?"

"Fine, not hurting, Yuuri, Please," he begs.

Obligingly, Yuuri rests his shoe on Viktor's cock and pushes gently. Viktor wails, bucking into the sole, and Yuuri removes it. The damp spot is bigger.

"Don't move," Yuuri says. "This is new. I want to play."

The words are deliberate, meant to strike something deep in Viktor. He knows it works when Viktor's jaw falls slack with a groan. He slumps a little, his body no longer waiting to move at the first hint of stimulation.

Yuuri returns the foot to Viktor's still lace-covered cock and rubs a little up and down. The effect is stunning. Viktor barely sounds human and his body trembles beautifully.

"Get your cock out, but don't touch it other than that."

Viktor's thumbs hook under the lace and pull it down carefully. The fabric drags against the sole. Yuuri lowers his foot a little with it to see Viktor's cock glistening with precum, the tip a lovely red. Almost purple.

"Was that true?" Yuuri asks, returning his shoe so it hides Viktor's cock from his eyes. It's worth it for the look of bliss on Viktor's face. Cum starts drying on it. "It's just my feet?"

"Yes," Viktor says, "yes, yes, just you."

"How?"

Viktor makes a confused sound, blinking up at him almost as if Yuuri is too bright to look at.

"How did it start? When? If it wasn't always the case for you. I want you to tell me."

It takes a few moments, but Yuuri doesn't push. He keeps the press of his shoe gentle on Viktor's cock, but it's probably still distracting. There's a look of deep concentration on Viktor's face and Yuuri knows he didn't forget the question. He's just trying to piece together his answer.

"You— Your— You let me take care of them. Massage and ointment and cleaning and— You let me do it." Viktor pauses, pants, struggling to maintain his line of thought when Yuuri rewards every interesting bit with an experimental press or slide of his foot. It draws fascinating responses. "And every time— ah— every time, after watching you, thinking about you moving, how you... Yuuri, you're amazing, they're amazing, and every time, I felt... a little more, and more, and more and more and— and— More, Yuuri," Viktor's voice rises and rises and breaks, "please, more."

Yuuri feels lightheaded. He presses harder, careful to push with the sole more than the heel, and Viktor yells, tears appearing in the corners of his eyes.

"I didn't realize before," Yuuri says musingly, "but this is very unfair."

"Ah—"

"I came on your glasses and it was over. The sexiest part — your new glasses, finally dirty — and I'm done. And I made my poor Vitya go through this every time."

"No, I—" More pressure. Viktor writhes under his feet. "Ah, Yuuri!"

"Don't contradict me."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, it—"

"I'm not done talking."

Mouth snapping shut, Viktor whines.

"Thank you, Vitya. Take the shoe off my other foot. So I thought," he says, ignoring the quivering hand that follows his instructions, "next time I let you come on my glasses, we'll do it before I come. Let you see me dirty, like you are now, for just a little longer." He switches his feet, the bare one resting on Viktor's cock and stroking up and down forcefully. "What do you think?"

He babbles a string of "yes" and "please", choking on the words, panting heavily around them. With the foot still encased in a high heeled shoe, Yuuri steps on Viktor's collarbone, pushing him back so Viktor has to lean on his elbows. His legs open wider. He's gone, his face so red. This reaction is far more extreme than Yuuri expected to see. Aftercare is going to look different than he thought.

"You're shaking. You want to move, don't you?"

Viktor tries to reply but none of the sounds leaving him resembles words.

"Go on," Yuuri says anyway.

With a cry of gratitude, Viktor lets his hips move freely. Yuuri only has to press his foot against the frantic movement of Viktor's cock as precum smears all over the arch, the toes, making the messy rutting smoother, almost a glide.

Viktor screams, the wet heat of his cum exploding against Yuuri's foot.

Yuuri is off the bed in an instant, discarding the remaining shoe with a shake of his foot and pushing Viktor onto the floor. He climbs on top of his quivering form and takes Viktor's face in his hands to kiss him. Deep, devouring, consuming. Viktor gasps like he's breathing air for the first time after drowning. His arms fly to Yuuri's back, gripping, pulling, scratching thrilling painful lines into Yuuri's back. He moans, kisses back, shaking so much he might bite an unintentional wound into Yuuri's lips.

"Shhh," Yuuri soothes without pulling away, hand coming to cradle the base of Viktor's head. "No more waiting. You can have as much as you want."

Viktor's arm hooks behind Yuuri's neck as if he's still worried Yuuri might leave. Yuuri laughs, kissing him some more.

"We should take this to bed," Yuuri says when Viktor breaks for breath.

"More," Viktor protests, not ready to part for long enough to leave the floor.

"My knees, Vitya," Yuuri says, reminding him of the position he's holding to keep himself above Viktor's body.

Saving Yuuri pain is the only thing that can get Viktor moving when he craves kisses and Yuuri is so close. They get off the floor and Yuuri admires his lovely husband. Smeared lipstick, drying cum, skin glistening with sweat. The neck of his outfit looks wet.

In bed Yuuri lies on Viktor, resting on Viktor's body instead of hovering above him. The solid weight is good for Viktor as he comes back to himself. Both pairs of glasses are put away and they kiss so much Yuuri's lips go numb and tingling. He keeps kissing, keeps licking Viktor's lips and into his mouth, letting Viktor's need slowly ebb away and fizzle into something calm and sweet. They roll to their sides together and touch their foreheads to each other.

"I love you," Viktor says with a quiet smile.

"I love you too." Yuuri strokes his cheek. His lips still feel numb when he licks them, hesitant. "Was this... difficult for you? You're usually only like this when I put you through a lot. I didn't expect it from today."

Viktor hums thoughtfully. "I don't know if difficult is the right word, but it was intense. Emotionally. Having no kisses was definitely a factor."

"Hmm." Yuuri places a little peck on Viktor's lips, trying not to make it an apology.

"It was perfect, though," Viktor says.

It probably still felt a little like an apology then. "You were perfect."

"So you said." Viktor's smile barely widens, but it becomes pleased and glowing, radiating satisfaction. "The moment I had my glasses on, actually."

Yuuri smiles back, but a little nagging thing at the back of his mind makes him ask, "Was that okay? I didn't think you liked your glasses, but I..."

"No, I hated them," Viktor agrees. "But I think I can learn to like them. With a little help." He looks at Yuuri meaningfully.

Yuuri laughs. "Sure. But you'll have to show me how you clean mine, so I can do that. Years of having glasses, but you do it so much better."

"I'll clean both. I handle alcohol better anyway."

Yuuri scoffs.

A yawn from Viktor reminds Yuuri that they should get up. Dry cum isn't pleasant on the skin. They're both sweaty, smelling of sex. Viktor will want his face cleaned properly from cum and lipstick, and Yuuri wants to be the one to do that. He has to clean the floors and change the sheets, rinse their lingerie in cool water and see how well it can be cleaned. There's probably more to do. The bench, the cushion.

He holds Viktor closer.

"Maybe I should get a new pair," Viktor muses. "Keep these for you to enjoy."

"I appreciate the thought, but I'll probably just want to get the new ones dirty as soon as you get them."

"Hmmm. Doing this again would be nice."

"We will. With these."

"I think this was your best surprise so far," Viktor mumbles, nuzzling in.

"You say that every time."

"I mean it every time. You keep getting better."

Yuuri laughs, so warm with affection his heart might burst. "Let's go shower. I'll take care of the bed and we can cuddle Makka."

"Mmm." Viktor pulls away. "Good idea. Carry me again?"

"Of course, Vitya. Anything you want."