Yuuri didn't once let go of Viktor's waist once they left the bathroom. Vitya thought that he might let go once they met up with the others, but if anything, Yuuri merely held on tighter, his jaw set and his eyes wary, defensive. He looked a bit like a child who was afraid that someone might take his favorite toy, and it made Vitya feel terribly guilty for not having noticed his husband's mental state until it was too late. He wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving his subordinates a swift glance that clearly warned them not to comment on the pakhan's behavior. Roma and Alyosha looked like they were dying to ask, either out of worry or plain curiosity, but Antosha and Petya pretended not to notice; of all the avtoriyets, Antona and Pyotr were the only ones who consistently worked in close contact with Yuuri, and they were aware of the special care and sensitivity that he sometimes required. Vitya knew they didn't think any less of him for it; they had both been around when Yuuri was young and had some idea of what had happened.

Yuuri didn't know that, because Viktor had gone to great lengths to ensure his safety and stability behind his back, and both Antona and Petya had special orders in the case of an emergency. So far that measure hadn't been needed, but it was reassuring for Viktor to know that he wasn't the only one looking out for Yuuri in a personal capacity, and he appreciated their feigned normalcy now.

Mari, however, was not one of Viktor's subordinates. She looked openly worried and confused as they were ushered through the passport screening. Up until now she hadn't really seen Yuuri like this, wound up and territorial, and while he and Viktor had always been playfully intimate in front of her, this was different, and she could sense it.

Once they were passed through and they made their way to their gate, she tapped Viktor on the shoulder inconspicuously. He turned, slightly startled, his arm still around Yuuri's shoulder as they walked. He opened his mouth to ask what she wanted but she shook her head almost imperceptibly and made a small gesture toward Yuuri.

"Is he alright?" her brown eyes seemed to be asking, her eyebrow furrowed with concern. Viktor managed a small smile for her.

She's only known him for a few days, and already she treats him like a little brother. I like her. A lot.

He nodded at her, and she seemed to bite the inside of her cheek. Clearly she was burning to ask more, but perhaps out of respect for their marital privacy, she held her tongue. Viktor appreciated her thoughtfulness, because while Yuuri wasn't quite there at the moment, he was still stressed and it was dangerous to push him in that state.

It wasn't until they were boarded and waiting for the plane to take off that Yuuri finally spoke.

"Vitya," he said, so quietly that only Viktor, who was constantly on alert, would have heard. Even in their seats, his cheek was pressed to Viktor's shoulder, his fingers clinging to Viktor's right hand.

"Hmm? What is it, Yuratchka?" Vitya asked, rubbing the back of Yuuri's hand with his thumb.

"I'm sorry. For shooting at you."

Viktor blinked, then chuckled.

"Don't worry about it. It's not like you to apologize after something like that."

"Mm, but... still."

He fell silent for a moment, his grip tightening slightly.

"Vitya... you remember, don't you?"

"Remember what, Yuuri?"

"Your vows," he said, his finger caressing Viktor's ring.

"Of course," Viktor said, a bit lost as to what Yuuri was getting at.

"You promised me you would always stay with me."

"I did."

"And... you promised you would never lie to me." Yuuri paused, his fingernails digging into Viktor's flesh slightly.

"...I did."

"So, you aren't lying, right?" Yuuri asked, his voice small and hurt. "You don't want to leave me, do you, Vitya?" He turned his eyes to Vitya, looking like he might cry, like he might break if Viktor confirmed his fears.

Viktor's throat ran dry with guilt. He felt like he was walking on ice; one wrong move, and everything would break beneath his feet. He stared back into those eyes he loved so much, those brown, warm irises that looked like they could pull him in and envelop him for a lifetime. He took Yuuri's face in his hands and kissed his eyelids and his nose with as much tenderness as he could muster, leaning in to press his lips to Yuuri's mouth last.

"No," he said, murmuring reassurances into Yuuri's skin, as though the words could melt into him, into his flesh and into his bloodstream, and reach his guarded heart. "Never."

He wasn't sure if Yuuri believed him or not. He gave a small sigh of relief, but there was fear and anxiety in his eyes, like he wanted to believe the words but couldn't quite bring himself to relax.

"No matter what...?" he asked, his voice a whisper.

"No matter what, Yuratchka," Viktor said, stroking his cheek gently with his thumb. "You're my treasure. My whole life. My everything. I love you."

Yuuri closed his eyes and nodded to himself slightly, raising a hand to touch Viktor's arm.

"Right... you're mine..." he mumbled under his breath.

"Yes, I'm yours," Vitya agreed, his heart aching as Yuuri settled in his arms, his face buried in Vitya's shoulder. "All yours, zolotse moyo."

I'm tired, he realized, staring blankly at nothing, his cheek pressed to Yuuri's hair. What good does it do, telling him this over and over again if he never believes it? What's the point of showering him in my feelings if they just won't get through?

He thought he'd been making progress. He thought that Yuuri had started to heal just a little, that he might start understanding just how much Viktor cared for him. He'd thought that being married might prove how devoted he was, how his words weren't just lies and lip service. But no matter how many kisses they shared, no matter how many caresses and reassurances Viktor gave him, they were always thrown back to square one by the ghost of the man who haunted them both. His efforts were never enough.

They're not enough to erase the damage Nikita left behind.

I'm not enough.

His eyes stung, but he forced the tears back with all of his self-control.

He had to be enough. He had to do it, or Yuuri would have nothing left to hold on to.

"We're here, Vitya."

He didn't realize he was being spoken to until Chris gently shook his shoulder a moment later.

"We're here," he said, echoing his mother. In the year Viktor had been gone, Chris had grown into a very handsome young man, full of the same charm and confidence that Viktor had once so proudly worn on his sleeve. The two boys had been as close as brothers, sharing everything from secrets to nail polish to weapons and advice, but now Vitya's cousin seemed so far away from him, a stranger in familiar guise.

"Oh," he said, trying to remember what it was he was doing. He glanced out the window and was reminded that they were at the airport; after a few weeks of waiting for his leg to heal, he was finally being sent home.

He didn't feel anything in particular about it.

His time seemed to have stopped the moment Luci's heart had. The world was rushing past him, but he felt detached, strung along. He was alive, but only in the most basic sense, and only because his aunt had walked in on him during his second suicide attempt, a knife pressed to the skin of his throat. After that, Chris had been at his side at all times, even in the shower, to make sure he didn't try to hurt himself.

I just want it to end,he thought sluggishly as Chris helped him get out of the car. He couldn't feel afraid or excited about seeing his parents again; he couldn't even feel sad about saying goodbye to his aunt and cousin. His uncle had refused to come see him off; he was still angry about what had happened, though he was the one who had insisted on taking Vitya to get his gunshot wound looked at by a doctor.

"Looks like we're a little early," Lena noted, glancing at her watch. "Chris, look after him for a bit, yes? I'll get his luggage checked in."

"Yes, mom."

Viktor felt himself being steered into the terminal, but he blinked and he was suddenly seated on a chair in what looked like the lobby outside his flight gate. His aunt and cousin were standing at his side, a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Will he be alright on the flight?" Lena was asking Chris worriedly. "They allowed us to come in with him because of the circumstances, but-"

"They'll make sure he's not by himself for too long," Chris said in a reassuring tone. "They have protocol for this, apparently."

"I wish one of us could have gone with him..."

"He'll be alright, don't worry." Viktor glanced up, but Chris didn't look nearly as confident as he sounded. His brow was furrowed, his hands twitching slightly at his side. He seemed to notice Vitya staring up at him and his expression changed.

"You'll be fine," he said, ruffling Viktor's hair affectionately, as though he were the older one. "Aunt Katya and Uncle Misha are waiting for you at the airport. Don't you want to see them? Don't you want to see Yuuri again?"

Vitya blinked, slightly confused.

"Yuu... ri?"

"Yeah. Your little brother. Don't you remember? You were always talking about him, about how cute and sweet he is. You called him a lot, when you were younger." Chris' green eyes softened as he knelt in front of Viktor, taking his hands. "Vitya, I know you're hurting after what happened, but it's going to be okay. You're strong. You're Viktor Nikiforov, remember?"

"That doesn't mean anything," he said, his voice thick with pain.

"It means everything to me," Chris said firmly. "You and I might not be blood related, but the Nikiforov name makes us brothers, and it's what allowed us to meet in the first place. Was all the time we spent together pointless, Vitya?"

Viktor grimaced, shaking his head slightly.

"There, see? Someone you care about might be gone, but we're still here, and we're here for you. Your family in Russia too. You have to stay alive for them, okay?"

Vitya didn't make any move to agree or disagree. Chris' grip tightened on his hands.

"You have to live, Vitya," he insisted, and his eyes were tearing up. "If you won't do it for us, or for Aunt Katya and Uncle Misha, do it for your brother. You promised you'd go back to him, didn't you?"

"That... that was a long time ago," Viktor said, surprised that Chris remembered such a small detail. Vitya had been so preoccupied with his own worries that he'd almost forgotten it himself. They hadn't spoken much for the last few years, and not at all while he was living with Nicole. It wasn't that he didn't care about Yuuri; they'd just grown apart after seven years of living so far from each other. "Yuuri's doing fine now."

"Promises are promises," Chris said stubbornly. "So promise me you'll go back and live, okay? At least... at least try."

It hit Vitya suddenly, with all the force of an oncoming train. This was goodbye; he couldn't guarantee that they'd ever meet again. Even if Vitya lived on, Chris could be hurt or killed on the job, Aunt Lena or Uncle Valya could die from age or illness, anything could happen. Life was not a given. Life was not eternal.

"I'll... I'll try," he said, and he couldn't help crying a little as he tried not to think of his cousin and aunt, lying dead in a pool of their own blood.

"I'm gonna miss you," his cousin said sadly. "I missed you all that time you were gone, but at least we get to say goodbye this time."

He stood up, only to throw his arms around Viktor and pull him into a tight embrace.

"You better call me, you bloody, glorious son of a bitch," he said, his voice thick with tears. "And if I don't get at least one sexy selfie a week I'm gonna run right to Russia and smack you until you come back to your senses."

"...Yeah, please do," Viktor managed to laugh slightly. Chris kissed his cheek.

"Dosvidanya, Vitya. Don't forget your promise."

He pulled away, and then it was Aunt Lena smothering him in hugs and kisses.

"I know Valya isn't here because he's stubborn, but he was worried about you the whole time you were gone," she said, stroking his hair. "We both were. Please take care of yourself, Vitya. You'll always be like our second son, mon petit argent," she whispered, using an old childhood nickname. "I love you, dosvidanya."

"Dosvidanya, Aunt Lena," he cried, clinging to her desperately. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry..."

He kept apologizing long after she let go and she and Chris saw him board, waving at him sadly. He wasn't sure who he was asking for forgiveness, but the words wouldn't stop, and his heart hurt too much to ask himself why.

"Ane-ue!"

Yuuri saw the change that came over Mari almost immediately. The relaxed, casual demeanor she'd had in front of the Russians while in China vanished as she stepped out of the car, her eyes glinting coldly in the sun as her subordinates came to the gate of the inn to greet her.

"Okaerinasai, Kumichou!" they said together, bowing low. She stopped in front of them, crossing her arms.

"I'm back," she said flatly in Japanese. "You idiots better have kept the place running smoothly while I was gone."

"Yes, Ane-ue," one man at the front said, straightening. Yuuri vaguely recognized him as one of Mari's closest advisors, a short man with cropped, light brown hair and eyes. He looked quite a bit older than most of the other men under her command and was holding up a long, lacquered sheathe for her. "There were no problems with the inn or with the family in your absence."

"Good. Is mother home?" she asked as she handed her luggage off to the nearest underling and took the sheathe, inspecting the long blade lazily for a moment before sliding it back into place. At the same time, Yuuri felt Viktor protectively place a hand around his hip as he joined him, the others close behind with their suitcases. Normally he wouldn't allow Vitya to show such an intimate side in public, but at the moment, Yuuri was grateful for it, so he said nothing and continued to watch the exchange.

"Yes, ma'am. Hiroko-san arrived last night."

"Perfect," she said, the corner of her mouth twitching slightly. "You did reserve the rooms I told you to, Jirou?"

"Of course, Ane-ue."

Mari nodded.

"Come along," she barked behind her in English, gesturing for the Russians to follow her. "You rosuke can use the same rooms as before, as long as you don't trash 'em. Jirou, ask Takeda to bring some sake to the banquet hall. And tell mother I'm home."

"Yes, kumichou."

"So that was Jirou, your right hand?" Vitya asked once they'd passed the congregation of subordinates and dismissed the avtoriyets. His hand was still on Yuuri's waist, his thumb rubbing gentle circles against the bone.

"Minami Jirou," Mari said. "He worked for my father while he was still alive, though he was very young at the time. He was one of the few survivors of the fire."

"I don't remember him," Yuuri said, surprised to hear that Jirou had served the Katsukis in the past.

"He was a low ranking member," she shrugged. "I doubt you two ever met, though he says he saw you a few times around the house. He's in his late forties now, but he's the one who came to look for me when the group decided to re-form. He and my mother went to school together, so he knew I was Toshiya's daughter."

"Speaking of your mother," Yuuri said, finally disentangling himself from Viktor's embrace so he could search his pockets for a cigarette. "I heard you say she's here now."

Mari looked over her shoulder, looking a little nervous as she led the way down the hall.

"Err, well, yes. She cut her vacation short to come back."

"Why?" Viktor asked, curious.

Yuuri's sister paused outside of a paper screen door, her hand on the wooden frame.

"Uh, well, I mentioned that Yuuri is here, and she insisted on coming to see you. I hope that's... not a problem?" she asked, glancing at Viktor for some reason. Yuuri frowned.

"Why would it be?"

"Well, my mother can be a bit... overbearing... and... enthusiastic."

"So? Aren't all mothers?" Yuuri asked. Vitya chuckled slightly.

"Ours certainly is," he noted. "It's not a problem, Ane-ue." Mari breathed a sigh of relief.

"Good," she said, sliding the door open. "Have a seat, I'll go get her." She left the doors open to the courtyard. As soon as she was gone, Vitya nudged him forward gently.

"Do you need an ashtray?" he asked as Yuuri took a seat on one of the floor cushions around the low table.

"Mm, please."

Viktor went to the small cabinet in the corner and returned with one for him, setting it in on the table. He made to get up, but Yuuri took his sleeve.

"Sit with me today," he said, unable to keep the plea from his voice.

Vitya hesitated.

"But, I should be standing guard-"

"Stay with me," Yuuri repeated, his grip tightening slightly around the fabric. The panic attack had faded some time ago, but he was still anxious, still afraid that if he let Vitya out of his sight, his husband might disappear.

The flight had been long, but Viktor hardly seemed to notice when it was over. Before he knew it he was being ushered off the plane, and then he was back in Russia for the first time in seven years, confused and lost. It had been so long since he'd heard so many people speaking Russian around him, so long since he'd seen his language printed on signs, that he was slightly overwhelmed. He kept confusing the letters for English ones, kept asking people for help in the wrong language, and it was a miracle that he ever managed to collect his things and make his way to Arrivals.

His mother was waiting for him, just as his aunt had promised. She didn't seem to have aged a day since he'd last seen her, her silvery blond hair tied over her shoulder, but now she seemed much shorter than he remembered. He had to remind himself that he was the one who had changed, who had grown taller, as he dragged his suitcase over to her.

"Hello, mama," he said awkwardly, unable to look her in the eyes. There was a small pause, and then she slapped him across the face so hard that the sound of it echoed ominously through the airport. Several people turned to watch.

"'Hello' my foot!" Katerina hissed, grabbing him by the ear. She was only an inch or so shorter than him, but she nevertheless pulled him down to her level. "If you hadn't already been shot, I would have done it myself, you little bastard!" Viktor winced. She only ever called him a bastard when she was furious.

"Ow!" he cried as she grinded her heel into his foot.

"Shut up! Do you have any idea how worried your father and I have been?! Do you know how upset Yuuri was when he heard you were missing?!He cried for a week!"

"I'm sor-"

"And then you go and try to kill yourself?!" she cried, real tears dripping down her cheeks. "You idiot son," she wailed, letting go of his ear and wrapping her arms around his neck. "You poor, stupid, foolish boy..."

Vitya was reminded of Nicole, of her warmth, her kindness. Katerina had sent him away, but it wasn't fair to blame her for abandoning him, he realized. It was the bratva that was responsible for sending him away, it was the bratva who had killed all those innocent people he'd failed to protect. Katerina was just his mother, a fierce, trigger-happy woman, but his mother all the same, and she loved him no matter how disappointed she was in what he'd done.

Just like Nicole had said.

"I'm sorry, mama,"he sobbed into her shoulder, clinging to her tightly. I'm so, so sorry, Nicole... if I'd done as you asked, if I'd just gone home... Luci would still be alive.

He wasn't sure how long they stood there, but finally Katerina stepped back and frowned, placing her hands on his face and examining him carefully.

"There's so much I want to ask you, so much we need to talk about. But we need to get you home first. You've grown thin," she said, "We'll get food in you as soon as we get back, da?"

"Okay," he sniffled, feeling like an overgrown boy. She took his luggage and his hand, pulling him toward the parking lot.

"Misha is sorry he couldn't come," she said as they walked. "Something came up in Staraya, and he had to go in person."

"Mm," he replied, not all that concerned with his father's absence. He knew he would need to explain what he'd done, and why he didn't intend to return to the bratva, so he was glad their meeting was delayed, if only for a little while.

"I told Yuratchka not to skip school, but he wanted to. Nikita will drop him off after."

She paused, stopping on the asphalt.

"Vitya, I think something is wrong with Yuratchka," she said suddenly, nervously. "He's closing himself off, he's not smiling anymore. He won't talk to anyone, but I don't want to push him... Your father says I'm overreacting, that he's just like that because he's a teenager, but..."

Her fingers squeezed his hand tightly.

"No, never mind," she muttered. "I'm sure it's nothing... and the last thing you need is to hear an old woman's silly concerns right now," she said, turning to give him a small smile over her shoulder.

Vitya chuckled slightly.

"You're not old, mama. But Father is probably right, I'm sure Yuuri is fine."

After all, he's always sounded fine whenever we talked over the phone. He's probably just going through a phase.

There was a small voice somewhere in his head that told him that he'd been sixteen not that long ago himself, and that he'd had very real worries and concerns, but he was still uncertain, still numb after losing Luci. It was all he could do to take each step forward and force himself to function at all.

"You must be Yuuri," Mari's mother said in Japanese as soon as she saw him. She looked nothing like Mari, Viktor thought. She was heavyset and had a rounded, kind face, with brown hair and eyes. Like Yuuri, she wore glasses, but it made her look ditzy instead of calculating. She smiled at them both and took a seat across from them. "You look a bit like Toshiya," she said, looking him over carefully. "But you're certainly Okukawa Yumi's son."

"Thank you," Yuuri said, being polite. "I'm told she was a beautiful woman, so it's flattering to be told I resemble her."

Mari cleared her throat.

"Yuuri, Brother-in-law, this is my mother, Hasegawa Hiroko," she said, sitting at her mother's side.

"A pleasure," Viktor said in his halting Japanese, giving her his brightest smile.

"Likewise," Yuuri said, bowing slightly toward her. "It's an honor to meet my sister's mother."

"Ah, no, please, no need to be so formal," Hiroko laughed, waving her hand. "I'm not yakuza. I'm just a normal innkeeper." She gestured at her simple clothes.

"I wouldn't say normal, kaa-san," Mari snorted as she pulled a cigarette from her pocket. "Normal innkeepers don't seduce married men or run the yakuza out of their inns."

"Do you understand what we're saying?" Yuuri asked in Russian as Hiroko laughed, his hand on Vitya's underneath the table.

"Mm, I understand some," he said. "But a translation would be appreciated."

Yuuri nodded. "Mari, Vitya's Japanese is a little basic. Do you mind if we talk in English?"

"It should be fine," she said, looking at her mother. "Your English is passable, isn't it, mom?"

"I deal with travelers, so I speak a little," Hiroko said, smiling. "Mari can tell me if I don't know."

"Alright. Well, I suppose we should talk plans," Mari said, taking a drag from her cigarette. "I can arrange for a car to take us to Fukuoka tomorrow afternoon."

"So soon?" Viktor asked, a little surprised. He'd been hoping they'd have a day or two to rest; the entire trip had been incredibly stressful so far, and they could use a little time to unwind.

"If Agape really is still around, and if they catch wind of our little investigation, they could try to get rid of the evidence," Mari pointed out. "Or they could order us killed."

Hiroko stared down at her hands, but didn't make any move to interrupt. Vitya felt a stab of guilt.

Even the mothers involved in the mafia worry about their kids, he reminded himself. Mari should have waited until she left to start planning.

"How far is it from Saga to Fukuoka?" Yuuri asked, completely oblivious to Hiroko's discomfort.

"Not far," Mari shrugged.

"Are you still going to come?"

"Yes," she said firmly. "I'll dye my hair tonight. Dirty blonde should work alright, no?"

"I'd go with light brown," Yuuri said. "You don't want to call too much attention to yourself."

"Hmm, ok. What about the suits? Is there anything special you use for your subordinates?"

"Not in particular. We prefer black, because it hides stains well."

"Perfect, I have one," she said, tapping her cigarette against the ashtray. "If they're anything like they were last time I was there, they'll only let a few of us in. I'd pick your best fighters to come along."

"Noted," Yuuri said. Vitya made a mental note to remind Antosha and Petya that they would be on duty the next day.

"I still say this plan is a bad idea," Viktor muttered. "It's too simplistic; all kinds of things can go wrong."

"Lighten up, Brother-in-law," Mari said, grinning. "It'll be fun, an adventure. I thought mafiosos loved the thrill."

Sure, the ones who joined by choice, he thought ruefully.

"No, please-!"

Yuuri's cry was silenced as Nikita clamped his hand over Yuuri's mouth, muffling his voice.

Even after all those months, he couldn't help trying to fight back every time Nikita cornered him. He was reminded that he had to be good, that he had to atone and that in doing so he could prevent hurting anyone else, but as soon as Nikita touched his skin, panic overtook him, sending him into a frenzied, instinctual need to run away, to protect himself.

Usually Nikita easily overpowered him, but sometimes the fear was so strong that he had to be bound to keep him still. He came home with chafed wrists some days, and he had to wear long sweaters and shirts to keep them out of sight, but at least Nikita was mostly careful not to be too rough; he never bled anymore, though it still hurt terribly and Yuuri often suffered from lower back pain.

It'll be over soon, it'll be over in a minute!he thought to himself desperately, trying not to think of the pain in his body, of Nikita sliding in and out of him ruthlessly, of the heavy breathing behind him. He shut his eyes tightly, unable to hold back a cry as Nikita grabbed his hair and increased his pace. Stop, please stop, please, no more!

He was dropped suddenly onto the table face first, and he knew it was finally over.

He whimpered slightly as Nikita finally untied his wrists from behind his back, the blood rushing back into his hands painfully.

"Shit," Nikita muttered to himself, gripping his own hair with unnatural force as he pulled his slacks back on. His shirt was covered in blood; they had just finished killing someone when Nikita turned on Yuuri, blaming the boy's involuntary arousal for his actions. Even now, the sight of Nikita working, the sight of someone bleeding out, was enough to bring up the darkest parts of Yuuri's fantasies. Nikita seized on that fact whenever he could, even though Yuuri's excitement always faded as soon as he was touched, replaced by pure fear. "Get dressed," he said, his voice strained with what Yuuri recognized as guilt and self-hatred. Nikita often sat alone in the car for a good while after, and Yuuri knew he cried and hurt himself in small ways for the pain he caused Yuuri.

No, for the pain I cause him,Yuuri corrected himself, wiping the tears from his cheeks with a shaky hand as he tried to stand. I'm the one who does this to him, I'm the one who breaks him. He reached for his shirt, pulling it on slowly, trying not to strain his arms. His eyes fell on the toolbox on the table, and he had to stop himself from fantasizing about slitting his own throat, about shooting himself between the eyes.

This is all your fault. You can't run away,he thought desperately as he clutched the fabric of his shirt, trying to calm his breathing. He wasn't sure how he found the strength to finish dressing, but when he was done he grabbed the box and took it outside to the car, deliberately keeping his mind as blank as possible. He didn't want to break down in front of Nikita and make him feel worse for what happened.

They drove home in silence, Yuuri hugging his abdomen as he tried not to vomit. He often felt physically sick after Nikita touched him, but he wasn't sure if it was because of the physical acts or because of his own twisted thoughts. They reached the house relatively quickly, and Nikita parked the car outside the gate.

"Are you alright, Yuratchka?" he finally asked, staring out the window in order to avoid his gaze.

Yuuri merely nodded, and though Nikita couldn't see him, he knew he understood.

"Don't forget to burn the shirt," he said.

"Yes, I know."

"See you tomorrow."

"...Mm."

He opened the door and stepped out, and Nikita drove away. Yuuri waited until he was out of sight to clap a hand to his mouth and retch violently into the bushes nearby.

Fuck,he thought, tears stinging in the corner of his eyes. I didn't want this to happen today, of all days! I wanted to be able to welcome Vitya home with a smile, not like this!

His arms tightened around his own torso, pain burning in the pit of his stomach.

This must be punishment,he realized, crouching down and burying his face in his arms. God is punishing me, for tempting Nikita and then thinking I can go home to greet my brother like I've done nothing wrong. For thinking it's alright if I just see him...

He cried, curling in on himself.

God, I'm so scared. What if I break him? What if I dirty him, and make him ugly and twisted like Nikita?! I don't want to hurt Vitya, I just... I just want to see him, to hug him a little. Is that so awful? Is that so sinful?!

He didn't need an answer, because he already knew it was.

He poured water over Yuuri's hair and gently sunk his hands into the soft, black mess, his fingers brushing through it lovingly.

"I'm sure the soap has all been washed out, Vitya," Yuuri said pointedly.

"I know," Viktor said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "It just feels nice."

"So does being in the hot spring," Yuuri sighed. "Which will never happen if you don't finish washing me."

"Right, sorry," Vitya mumbled, picking up the soapy sponge and going to work on Yuuri's back. The scars were more pronounced on his back, a flame-like pattern of discolored skin, ridged in some places, smooth in others. Yuuri hated looking at them, but Viktor thought they were oddly beautiful; they called to mind some of the elaborate Japanese tattoos he'd seen on members of Mari's group. He always loved kissing them, though Yuuri didn't always allow it.

"You're daydreaming again," Yuuri huffed.

Viktor blinked.

"Oh, right." He shook himself awake, trying to focus. Yuuri needed to relax for at least a few hours before their operation the next day.

He finished scrubbing Yuuri's body and poured warm water over him one last time.

"There," he said, kissing his shoulder. "All clean." Yuuri hummed appreciatively and stood up. Vitya almost forgot to follow as he watched him walk over to the pool, his eyes fixed firmly on the swaying of Yuuri's hips, on the curve of his ass, on the soft skin between his thighs. He watched as Yuuri sunk into the water, sighing sensually, leaning his head back against the rocks at the edge of the pool.

"This is heaven," Yuuri said, and Vitya found himself agreeing wholeheartedly, even though he hadn't so much as touched the water.

He somehow pulled himself together enough to slip into the pool, the burning heat enveloping his skin deliciously.

"I could die in peace here," he sighed, closing his eyes.

"Right?" Yuuri muttered, his toes brushing against Vitya's leg. "It feels great."

Viktor opened one eye and saw that Yuuri was staring at him, his eyes glinting mischievously as his toes ran up his thigh.

"What are you doing?" he asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Nothing. Just thinking it could feel better."

"Is that an invitation, or an order, Yura?"

Yuuri smiled, a warm, soft smile, and Vitya didn't need to be told twice to take him in his arms, pressing their lips together into a breathless kiss. He forgot everything, forgot all of his earlier worries, all of the insecurities that had been plaguing him, all the weariness that came from being Yuuri's lover and only pillar of support. None of that mattered, not when Yuuri was right there, smiling at him so innocently, so sweetly.

He pushed his tongue into Yuuri's mouth, relishing the little moan of desire that vibrated against his lips, tangling his hands again in that soft black hair.

"Are you going to fuck me in the bath?" Yuuri asked seductively, gasping for breath when they broke apart.

Viktor groaned in frustration. He wanted to, he wanted to take Yuuri right there, but there was something more important than his own desires.

"No," he admitted, and obvious disappointment came over Yuuri's features. Viktor took him by the waist in response, lifting him up onto the edge of the pool.

"Vitya?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"I have something else in mind," he replied, pulling Yuuri down into another feverish kiss. Without letting go, he pushed himself between Yuuri's thighs, his hands caressing every bit of skin he could reach. He touched Yuuri's erection lightly, teasingly, coaxing another moan out of him before he pulled back.

"You said you wouldn't fuck me," Yuuri said in a strained voice as Vitya's fingertips brushed against him deliberately.

"And I won't," Vitya said meaningfully. He licked Yuuri gently for a moment before taking him in his mouth, placing both hands on Yuuri's hips as he worked. It felt good, somehow, knowing that Yuuri trusted him enough to let him do this, knowing that he could make Yuuri cry out like that, like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Vitya!" he cried, his hands pulling on Viktor's hair slightly, his legs locked around Vitya's shoulders. He began to move his hips, hitting the back of Viktor's throat with each thrust, but Vitya only massaged his fingers into Yuuri's flesh, his tongue caressing the underside of Yuuri's shaft as he sucked with varying force, trying to match Yuuri's pace.

Yes, call my name, he thought, moaning against Yuuri's dick as Yuuri's voice echoed in the night air. Louder, Yura, call me...!

"Vitya, Vitya, I'm-!" he cried senselessly, his head thrown back in pure ecstasy. Usually that was the moment he wanted Viktor to pull away, but this time Vitya dug his hands into the soft skin of Yuuri's ass, nearly choking with the effort of keeping Yuuri's frantic movements in his mouth.

"Vitya, let me- I'm going to-!"

He came almost violently, with a tremor, his toes curled and his voice cracking as he curled in on himself, his face buried in Vitya's hair.

Viktor closed his eyes, listening to the ragged breathing, feeling Yuuri twitch and throb against his tongue as he swallowed, his own body heavily aroused beneath the water.

He pulled away enough to let go, but then merely pressed his face against Yuuri's warm thigh, placing soft kisses on the skin.

"Why-?" Yuuri groaned a minute later, still too weak to move. "Why did you do that? I didn't want you to actually swallow..."

"Because I wanted to," Viktor murmured. "That's all."

"But it's dirty, it's-"

"It isn't, nothing about you is dirty, Yura." He kissed his stomach gently, tenderly. "I love everything about you, and I want you to feel that in the deepest part of your being."

"But I'll taint you, I'll-!"

Vitya took his arms and took a step back to look him in the face. He was crying, his face red with effort.

Beautiful...

"That's Nikita talking," he said firmly, staring up into those wide brown eyes. "We've been touching each other for years, Yuratchka. Do I look tainted to you?"

Yuuri bit his lip but shook his head slightly.

"No," he whispered. "You don't."

Viktor gently tugged him back into the water so they were standing chest to chest, Yuuri looking up at him with doubt and fear in his eyes.

"What do I look like to you, Yura?" he asked, pressing one hand to Yuuri's face, brushing the hair from his flushed cheek.

"Like... like Vitya."

"The same one you've known all along, right?"

Yuuri nodded.

"I'm still the Viktor who loves you, I haven't been corrupted in any way," he said, leaning in to kiss him deeply, wanting Yuuri to taste himself, to see that he wasn't poisoning anyone except his own heart.

"I'm still me. I'm still the same Viktor I was when I came back from the States," he breathed when they broke apart. Yuuri gave another small nod, the tears clinging to his eyelashes like a painting.

But it was a lie, and they both knew it. Everything was different now, for better or worse.

Vitya heard the key turn in the lock and sat up in the parlor apprehensively, expecting his father to come marching in and start shouting. Instead, a tired, unfamiliar voice called out from the hall.

"Mom, I'm home," it said, and Viktor had to remember that Yuuri was now sixteen, and that his voice must have changed in the time between their last phone call and now.

"Welcome back, pryanichek!" Katerina sang out from the kitchen. She had, under Viktor's supervision, made dinner and was now cleaning the stove. He heard her wash her hands and the clacking of her shoes on the floor. "Oh no, you're all dirty again," she said, her voice now in the hall as well. "Nikita really shouldn't make you work so hard, you're still so young..."

"It's fine," Yuuri said. "I'm used to it already. It doesn't bother me."

Curiosity got the better of Viktor, and he found himself lingering at the entrance to the parlor, wondering whether or not to announce himself. But then he caught sight of Yuuri, and he found himself staring at the young man that he could barely recognize.

He wasn't anything like the fragile little boy he'd left behind all those years before. This was something completely different, a sensual, almost feminine figure that looked far too graceful to belong to anything but a dancer. His jawline was pronounced in just such a way to suggest a more masculine feeling, and his shoulders and throat were definitely far too broad to belong to a woman, but there was a certain something that made it difficult to describe him as anything but 'beautiful.'

There were other words, but they were words that Viktor didn't feel comfortable applying to his little brother.

And then Viktor realized that Yuuri was covered in blood, his neck smeared with it, his shirt stained and his gloves dripping as he pulled them off without so much as a look of disgust.

He suddenly felt sick.

"Yu-Yuuri?" he asked, clutching the door frame and hoping that this indifferent person wasn't the brother he loved, that it wasn't the same boy who had so earnestly said he couldn't imagine hurting anyone.

The young man turned to look at him, and though the eyes were the same shade of brown, though they were the same, angled shape he remembered, they weren't Yuuri's eyes.

Yuuri's eyes weren't resigned and cold like this. They weren't steely or guarded. Never with Viktor, not with him.

"Vitya, you're home," he said, smiling slightly. It didn't reach his eyes.

"Wh-Who are you?" Viktor choked out, unable to stop himself from shaking. There was so much blood, so much, just like Lucía. He couldn't concentrate, he didn't know what he was saying; his vision was flickering between the house in St. Petersburg and the apartment in New York. He hardly noticed the hurt look that flickered in Yuuri's eyes a second later, or the concern in his mother's expression. "You're not Yuuri."

"What are you saying, Vitya, of course it's Yuratchka," Katerina said, but her voice sounded odd, as if from a distance. "He's just grown now. Don't tell me you expected him to still be the little boy tugging at your shirt?"

Yuuri didn't move, but Katerina placed a hand on his back, urging him forward.

"See? It's hi-"

"Stay away from me!"Viktor shrieked, nearly tripping over himself in his sudden need to get as far away from the blood as possible. "Yuuri isn't a killer! He's not a murderer!" he shouted, completely losing his head.

"Viktor!" Katerina said, taking his shoulders. "You know what we do in this family! You know that Yuuri's been training to become sovietnik! He's sixteen, a shetsyorka! It's not the same as what happened in New-"

None of the words were getting through to him. Yuuri was staring at him with a strange expression on his face, but all Viktor could see was the red blossom on his chest. He made a move, as if to take a step closer, and Viktor backed away immediately, shaking his mother off in one swift motion.

"Don't come near me!"he shouted, his heart pounding in his head. "I don't know a Yuuri who would hurt others! I don't know someone as disgusting or cruel as you!"

He ran for it, trying to forget the sight of the blood, trying not to think of Lucía's broken body in his arms, of the blood on his clothes when they dragged him back home, of the cold, empty look in Yuuri's eyes.

It took him a long time to calm down, and he found himself on the streets alone, unsure of where he'd ended up. He slumped against a wall, not caring that he was lost or that he'd have to try to get home soon.

"Lucía," he cried, burying his face in his hands. "I'm so, so sorry, Lucía... I couldn't protect you, I couldn't protect either of you... I'm sorry Lucía, I'm sorry... Yuuri."

Yuuri closed his eyes, his hands clutching at Viktor's back as he moved inside him, his mouth at Yuuri's throat.

"Vitya," he moaned as Viktor left another mark just beneath his Adam's apple, his teeth nipping at the skin.

"Louder," Vitya grunted, his voice thick with desire and possessiveness. "Louder, Yura, I want to hear you."

"Ah- wait!" he cried. Vitya bit the side of his neck almost ruthlessly, holding him in place as he thrust into him, their hands entwined together on the mattress.

He's acting strange, Yuuri thought vaguely, but he forgot a moment later as their lips met, sharing the same breath, crying into each other's mouths as Viktor's movements became shallower, faster.

"Call my name, Yura," he groaned, almost begging. "Call me, please!"

He was reaching his climax, Yuuri could feel it as his own mind went blank, as his muscles tightened in his belly.

"Vitya!" He cried as he came all over his stomach, his fingernails digging into Viktor's shoulders. Viktor buried his face into Yuuri's neck and almost screamed with pleasure as he followed suit, his body trembling over Yuuri's.

There was the sound of heavy breathing for several minutes, and then Viktor changed his position so that he was lying next to his husband and pulling him into his arms.

"Sorry," he whispered into his hair. "I didn't mean to be rough."

Yuuri scoffed, still short of breath. "That was supposed to be rough?"

"It was rough for me," Vitya said simply, pressing his nose to Yuuri's hairline. "I forgot to tell you I loved you."

"You're so dramatic," Yuuri laughed slightly. "How does that make it any different?"

"It does," Vitya insisted, kissing his forehead. "I want you to know how much you are loved."

"Words don't mean anything."

"Neither does sex," he said, holding Yuuri's waist. "But I want you to know with whatever means I have at my disposal. If sex and telling you that I love you is what it takes, then I'll use them as many times as I have to." He kissed his nose. "I love you, Yuuri."

"You're a hopeless, flattering, romantic," Yuuri said, but he didn't say that the words made him feel warm, or that they swept the anxieties in his heart aside, if only for a little while.

Because he knew they would be back, and he didn't want to admit to himself that he wished they wouldn't, that he just wanted to stay in Viktor's arms like this forever and hear their hearts beating together for eternity.

He didn't say it, because he knew that in the end, that was a dream, a childish, silly, fantasy that had nothing to do with the true nature of their relationship. He knew that words were just words, and no matter how many times Viktor repeated them, he would never mean them.

But he wanted to believe it was true. He wanted that more than anything.

Notes:

I am once again reminded that I am not suited to writing porn gdi. But TAKE IT ANYWAY, before I regret posting it.

Starting March 3rd, I'll be going on hiatus. This is because Zelda: BotW is coming out and I'm not delusional enough to think I'm not going to be glued to my television screen for at LEAST 300 hours. However, I'm releasing chapter 15 in the next day or two, and that will mark the exact halfway point in the story, and the end of Volume 1. Which means that once I'm back from Hyrule, I can start compiling and editing for the physical release. The pre-order post will probably go up soon after, so keep an eye out on my twitter (Okaeri_Kairi) or tumblr (limitofquestions) in the next few weeks! I'll be back with Chapter 16 once that's all sorted, though I'm still doing monthly requests for my patrons in March.