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Yuuri ran his hands down the porcelain skin of the man below him. A blank canvas that stretched for eternity, no freckles, moles, bumps or bruises, but most importantly, no soulmark. There wasn't a single sketchy line, no tiny pinprick of ink, no splash of color. Victor Katsuki-Nikiforov was unmarked, just like his husband, Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov.
God, husband! It was only hours ago they had shared their vows with their beloved friends and family, sealing it with a perfect kiss under a spray of sea-salted air, the sand between their naked toes and the gentle ocean breeze cradling their newly-anointed family. The sun set behind them over the horizon of the water, people cried, people clapped, people threw rose petals and they danced under the rapidly darkening sky with all of their most important people and it was... perfect.
Yuuri, Yuuri, perfect Yuuri, his husband, Yuuri. His beautiful perfect incredible perfect husband(!!) Yuuri, who was tracing tantalizingly slow circles over Victor's hips and licking his lips like a predator about to pounce on his next meal.
"Yuuri," Victor sighed into the pillow he was currently stuffing his face into. He let his darling's hands roam freely, exploring the Olympian-class body that Victor had painstakingly carved for himself, and maintained for his beloved. "Yuuri, please."
"Please what, Vitya?"
"Mmhhph!" A groan punched itself through Victor's throat, as it always did when his Yuuri used that name. He would only ever do so in bed, preferring Vicchan in public. The younger man had reasoned that 'Vitya' was too intimate for everyday use. Russian naming conventions were complicated, and Victor had decided against the cultural lesson in favor of the surprise that came with letting Yuuri decide when he was Vicchan the lovable doting husband and Vitya the needy pillow princess.
Yuuri leaned towards Victor's ear, speaking low and soft to match the candlelight surrounding them. "Let it out, Vitya, you know I like to hear you."
Victor had never been a selfish lover. He'd never been lazy or greedy or whiny. Not until Yuuri. Their first time together, all those years ago in a small bedroom at the far end of Yutopia, where Victor fully intended to treat Yuuri with all the love and adoration he held in his gigantic Russian heart—he honestly did intend to—but Yuuri's touch, his body, his mouth, nothing had ever made Victor lose control that way. Nothing had ever had Victor so prepared to beg on his hands and knees. Yuuri barely let him move a muscle when it came to sex, seeming to prefer lavishing Victor with all the love and affection that Victor so dearly wanted to surround him with instead.
Yuuri had claimed to be a virgin when they had first begun their proper relationship, wanted to play it slow, gentle, wholesome. Victor was more than happy to oblige, he wanted Yuuri to be comfortable, after all! Victor would move heaven and earth for the sunshine of Yuuri's smile. He had no reason to doubt Yuuri's claim, but for a moment, in the dark of Yuuri's childhood bedroom, with the Japanese man's tongue working Victor's cock like a starving man at a buffet, he doubted.
But just for a moment.
"Lift your hips for me Vitya," Yuuri commanded. And who was Victor to deny his husband—can you fucking believe—what he wanted?
Victor lifted his ass into the air, expecting a finger at any moment, but it never came. Instead he felt a kiss planted at the base of his spine, and he moaned at the surprise. Yuuri placed smooch after wet smooch across Victor's back, lower and lower by fractions of centimeters until finally Yuuri was grabbing the meat of his ass with punishing force.
Victor hissed in pain and pleasure, where once there were no marks anywhere on his body, Yuuri was now leaving bruises. He leaned over Victor to kiss and suck at the pale column of flesh that housed his hammering pulse, more pink marks decorating his porcelain skin.
"Yuuri, you're teasing me—!" Victor whined.
As previously mentioned, Victor had never been a whiner.
Until Yuuri.
The high pitched, pathetic sound deeply embarrassed him, it was unbecoming of a Living Legend to be so... needy. So submissive. But, as previously mentioned, he'd do anything for his Yuuri. He'd take anything Yuuri wanted to give, he'd give Yuuri anything he wanted to take, he'd kick some ass, he'd kick your ass, he'd kick your dog's ass(gently, with love, more of a nudge), he'd kick his own ass.
Yuuri's talented fingers drifted towards Victor's entrance, the feather-light tickle of his neatly trimmed nails sending jolts of electricity up Victor's spine. "I'd like to do something for you, Vitya."
"Anything," Victor sobbed. "Anything for you."
Yuuri chuckled. "For you, I said." He moved back to sit on his heels and Victor turned his head to meet those deep red-brown eyes, sparkling with hunger. "I want to make you feel good." He licked his lips, and Victor caught the short glance directed at his own ass. They stared into each others eyes for what felt like years until finally it clicked and his eyes shot to the size of dinner plates.
"You want to—"
"Mhmm."
"T-to my—"
"Yep."
"And you... you're sure you want to do this...?"
"I really do."
Victor could cry, he really could. "Oh, Yuuri!" He twisted his body around to embrace his darling, his dearest, his beautiful perfect husband who was finally growing more comfortable with intimacies of a less-than-vanilla nature but as quickly as he'd reached out, he was being shoved back into the bed, face-first and startled breathless.
"You're going to have to stay very still for this, okay?"
"Yes. Yes Yuuri yes I promise—" He was panting wildly, focusing on the strong hand pinning him to the bed by his shoulder. Impossibly soft hands gripped at Victor's hip and pulled upwards. Victor took the hint and raised himself higher once again, presenting his ass for his precious Yuuri.
"Shhhh, calm down Vitya, I want you to enjoy yourself." The hand at Victor's shoulder slid slowly down his spine, leaving a trail of fire as it went. More kisses peppered his tight cheek, the muscle worked hard for sport once-upon-a-time, but now entirely for Yuuri's enjoyment, and god did Yuuri enjoy it.
Yuuri massaged the pale globes, worshipped them. Victor sighed and moaned and called out for Yuuri Yuuri Yuuri, until it was becoming too much.
"Please, Yuuri, I—"
"I know, Vitya, I know,"
He could feel the hot breath over the back of his balls, Yuuri was so close and yet so far away! He tried his best to relax as his cheeks were slowly—slowly—spread apart, his gorgeous considerate Yuuri spoiling him with all this teasing. A finger swiped over his puckered heat and Victor cried out for more, god he would kill for more. Yuuri was taking his sweet time, obviously, knowing that slower was usually better, and of course they wanted their wedding night to be gentle and loving, but in this particular instance Yuuri was practically torturing Victor! He couldn't take it anymore, the movement had stopped, he had to make him keep going, he turned his head around to beg Yuuri some more in that needy voice Victor knows he likes and—
Time seemed to stop.
One moment Victor was writhing under the attentions of his beloved husband, the next he felt like he was doused with cold water. Yuuri's eyes were glued to Victor's asshole, his face contorted into an expression of complete bewilderment. His cute little nose was scrunched up and his eyebrows were quirked like he'd just seen an alien.
"Y-Yuuri, what's—? Is something wrong...?"
But Yuuri didn't answer. His inquisitive eyes were squinting in deep concentration and he spread Victor's ass even further, as if trying to find something. Victor was softening quickly under Yuuri's scrutinizing gaze and the sudden shift in the atmosphere, it wasn't sexy.
"You're kind of making me feel embarrassed, darling." Victor chuckled dryly, a fake and hollow sound.
Still no reaction.
"Yuuri!" He shouted, smacking the distracted man's hand away and turning over to cover himself with the sheet. Victor was feeling self conscious now, his husband had been staring so intently without saying a word, was he... disgusted? Did Yuuri dislike the sight of Victor's ass? Oh, he didn't know what he'd do if Yuuri didn't find him attractive anymore dear god what if he hates assholes now and he just turned Yuuri straight oh god oh no—
"Victor," Yuuri's quiet tone and lack of diminutive startled him out of his panicking. "Victor you... your asshole is blue."
What.
"What."
"It's... it's blue!"
"What?" Victor repeated.
"There's blue stuff all over your asshole and I tried to wipe it away but it stayed put and I think—"
"What?"
"Victor oh my god why is your asshole blue?!"
"What?"
"Stop saying what!"
"What do you mean it's blue?!"
"I mean it's blue—! H-here I'll take a picture, bring your butt this way."
Victor was at a loss for words. His... It was blue? What? He allowed Yuuri to maneuver his body around into a proper position, grabbing and stretching his perfect pink hole and Yuuri snapped three pictures, quickly moving back around to Victor's front and showing him his blue asshole.
It was literally blue.
There, around and across the folds of his sphincter, laid what looked to be a pile of blue spaghetti.
Yuuri swiped to the second picture and his cheeks were spread further apart, giving a better view of it. Blue lines that seemed to carry a distinct shape. The final picture showed what looked startlingly like—
"A rose?"
"I think so." Yuuri whispered.
Victor gulped in air as he tried to slow his rapid heartbeat. "Is that...? Do I have...?"
"You... you do..." Yuuri's throat hitched. "I thought we..."
No, no way, Victor wouldn't allow it.
Victor slid his arm under Yuuri's knees and flipped him onto his back, bouncing a bit with the fluffy hotel bed. They were both spectacularly naked so Victor spread Yuuri's legs wide open before he had a chance to protest and pulled his favorite squishy, stretch-marked cheeks apart.
"Victor what the hell are you doing?!"
There it was.
"Victor!" Yuuri struggled. "Stop staring at that place, it's dirty!"
Victor held him open with one strong hand and grabbed Yuuri's phone with the other, still open to the camera app. He stretched the skin a little and Yuuri yelped in time with the snapping of the shutter noise. Finally Yuuri pushed him away and demanded to know what the hell was going on.
He held up the phone to Yuuri's face, panting heavily. The dark blue lines hard to see with the dark color around his hole, but absolutely, definitively present.
Silence enveloped them.
Neither man moved.
Moments passed, and at the same time, both of their faces split into giant grins and they crashed into each other, drowning in their embrace.
It seemed they had soulmarks after all.