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As a Piltovian Doctor, you felt you were quite well educated. A jack of all trades if you will. Well-versed in multiple forms of medicine, traditional and modern, different types of therapy, physical and mental- and a code of ethics that was stronger than all the espresso you’d drank during your time at the Academy- combined.
You’d genuinely felt you’d seen it all, so how could something like this slip under your radar for so long?
Viktor groaned beneath you.
“How the fuck are you this tense?” You said, leaning forward to put more pressure against Viktor’s shoulder blades, your thumbs rubbing deep circles against the trigger points there. You felt Viktor relax beneath you, his response muffled as he spoke into the pillows on the bed. Even though you asked how- you knew the answer. Sitting in a dingy chair for upwards of eighteen hours a day, followed by three hours of shitty sleep, and whatever “meal” he could find in the dead of night was a recipe for disaster, “Remind me to just kill you if I find you in the lab after ten,” Viktor replied with another groan, as you worked your magic and massaged your fingers outwards.
“eighmfar-” Viktor’s voice came out muffled again, and he just decided to move his head to the side. You looked at the exposed side of his face questionably, as you moved to the trigger points at the base of his spine, the leather of his brace woefully forgone in favor of your skilled hands, “-I fear that if you kill me, I can no longer take you to that art exhibit we’ve got tickets for on Friday.”
You hum, fingers delicately tracing the divots of his spine before splitting, mirroring each other as they dug into the Sciatica of his Gluteus Medius and Minimus. That brought about a jolt, as you lifted yourself from your knees to give him a bit more room, “I could always take Mel,” the tease brought about another groan, not one of pleasure, but of annoyance. It’s not that Viktor didn’t like Mel- it’s just that she tended to piss him off sometimes. Most times. A lot of the time. That wasn’t important.
Clicking off the cap of the massage oil you’d made, you shuffled back a bit, focusing on each leg individually.
“I don’t believe Mel could romance you the way I can- Ah fuck- ” His uptick of breath told you that you’d found the right spot, concentrating on the back of his right leg, working down to his knee and then back up again, “How do you do this? You unravel me so, my dear,”
You switched to the other leg, “Not much, just sold my soul,”
“It was entirely worth it,”
Letting out a laugh, you continued working away the tension in your beloved’s muscles, the man beneath you becoming a pile of mush against your sheets. Once you finished with the pads of his feet, you tapped against Viktor’s calf, “Turn around,” you asked, and with only minimal complaint, he flopped onto his back.
Rewarding him with a kiss for the oh-so difficult work of moving, you took his face in his hands. If he had melted at your touch before, he was practically a liquid beneath your steady hands, eagerly lifting in order to chase your kiss. As you pulled away, your breaths mingling, he kept his eyes shut tight, waiting for your return. Instead, Viktor got the sharp pinch of your fingers in his Masseter.
“You wound me,” He said, cheeks squished between your hands. You smiled, something taunting as you place a soft kiss on his lips again. The noises he makes as you work your way down his neck are familiarly enticing, gasps and whimpers as you ease his ever-present tension. Then you stop.
Leaning down, with purpose, you place your lips on his jaw, where your fingers first made contact. You were meant to kiss wounds better.
Viktors hands, larger than yours, but just as loving, came up to cup the nape of your neck- holding you close against him. Soft, open-mouthed pecks were pressed one after another against your partner, tracing along the soft ligaments and muscles of his neck until you felt a soft thrum .
The internal jugular vein and the carotid artery. Next to the Sternocleidomastoid.
Your tongue traced against the vein, a conveniently placed freckle marking the spot- like an x on a treasure map. Feeling the skin beneath your tongue pulse, you laved the area in attention, nipping, biting, kissing until a bruise started to form, the skin tender. You re-traced the planes of his body, caressing his limbs as you moved from one pulse point to another- down and down and down- over the elbows to the wrists. Viktor bruised easily, and it worked to your advantage, his blood pumping in your ears.
Moving lower, you hitched up the fabric of his briefs.
“This is the Femoral artery,” You instructed, kissing the juncture of where his hips and thighs meet, Viktor twitched under your breath, “There’s another one in your temple, but I feel like these marks will be easier to hide.”