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The first time Viktor takes him out of the country is special, and Yuuri holds it in his heart always. That trip is one he will never share with anyone, the memories too deep and unexplainable to be voiced, a gift of love from the man who saved him.
(The first trip was to Japan, where Yuuri sees his family again. The meeting is both uncomfortable and precious, and Yuuri cannot think of his parents and their cautious, hopeful joy without wanting to cry. Their lost son, safe and alive -- and never once did they hate him or fear him for turning into a monster. They only loved him, and still love him, and it was only Viktor's existence that drew Yuuri back to Russia.
Yuuri still holds onto the pictures he has of his mother and father and sister, tucked away into a book of Japanese poetry that Viktor brought him for his first birthday after being freed. He has freedom to go return to Japan to visit them anytime he wants, and for that, Viktor will have his faith for the rest of eternity.)
The second time Viktor takes him out of the country is a little less emotional, but no less important to Yuuri, whose life has been defined by other people for years. Their words shape who and what he is, yet on the second trip, Yuuri learns that they have always been wrong.
He learns that he is not a whore.
The word was thrown at him often by his old master, and sometimes whispered by Viktor's minions when they thought their leader wasn't listening. If he was, those gossipers soon met a deadly end. If he wasn't, then Yuuri would find them later and smile at them until the jeering stopped and stark looks of fear appeared.
He likes being able to scare people. It's a welcome change from when people spat on him for existing.
Viktor, perhaps sensing that Yuuri might murder all of his minions given the chance, takes them both on a long vacation shortly after the idiots begin to call him demon, leaving his grandfather and uncles in charge while he whisks Yuuri away.
Their second trip, taken in the middle of September, is a bit different. Viktor flies them to Germany on a private jet, where he spends hours in long meetings with businessmen in expensive suits, sipping champagne and talking financial figures long into the night. Yuuri accompanies him to every meeting, which earns him suspicious looks from Viktor's associates, not that Yuuri cares.
Instead of doing anything about the dark glances sent his way, Yuuri stands at Viktor's back, silent and foreboding and wishing he could stab someone.
Viktor says that murdering someone in another country is a bit of a stretch, even for him, when he is here as a guest of one of the rich businessmen. He would lose his business prospects, he told Yuuri, and he does not want this part of his imports to suffer.
Yuuri sulks a little, but he does not stab anyone -- not even the twitchy man with the dark eyes who looks at him with lust. Yuuri doesn't bother remembering his name, even though Viktor told him to memorize everything.
"Whore," the man mutters into Yuuri's ear when he walks out of the meeting room. Yuuri catches a look from Viktor and holds his breath until the man passes. Viktor's eyes are very blue, striking in how they flash at the man's back, and for some reason, that calms Yuuri.
The man says it again the next day, this time out of Viktor's earshot. Yuuri gives him a long look before ignoring him, though he cannot help the way his ears turn red. The man notices, and he leers for a second, until Viktor turns to smile at them both.
"Yuuri, will you join me on the couch?" Viktor calls, his voice pleasant. Yuuri suppresses a shiver, then brushes past the annoying man and goes to join Viktor.
He sits down in Viktor's lap without hesitating. Viktor, to Yuuri's pleasure, doesn't bat an eyelash, simply adjusting his position slightly before picking up a champagne glass to offer to Yuuri.
"Drink, my love," Viktor says, smiling, and Yuuri obeys, taking a long, long drink until the alcohol is gone. It burns pleasantly in his throat, and he glances at Viktor teasingly, smiling behind the rim of the glass.
"Thank you, Vitya," Yuuri murmurs. He glances over Viktor's shoulder at the annoying man, who is staring at them in shock. Yuuri draws one finger along the line of Viktor's powerful shoulders, then winks.
"I thought this man was your bodyguard, Mr. Nikiforov," says someone.
"You could say that," Viktor says, amusement in his voice. "He does everything I ask of him."
It isn't a lie -- Yuuri will do anything Viktor asks, unless it offends him or falls outside of Viktor's rules. Yet Yuuri hears the implication in the words, that Yuuri is there more for Viktor's physical pleasure than as his equal, and he raises an eyebrow down at Viktor, unamused.
Viktor winks at him, then goes back to talking with the businessmen. They don't really like that Yuuri is on Viktor's lap now, but they know better than to say anything to his face. Yuuri thinks about it for a little while, then wonders if these people have something that Viktor wants. Probably something he told Yuuri before, but Yuuri tends to ignore everything that isn't directly related to Viktor, so if it has to do with the imports, he likely didn't care.
Viktor is using Yuuri as a message, to instill a sense of his own power. Yuuri can appreciate that.
With that in mind, Yuuri listens more closely to what Viktor says to these men. He amuses himself by ignoring the annoying man, who cannot stop glaring at him, and by unsettling anyone who meets his eyes. Then Viktor gives the order, and Yuuri's heart skips a beat.
"Yuuri, you're getting heavy. Sit somewhere else, would you, darling?"
Yuuri sets down the latest glass of champagne Viktor has given him and slides out of Viktor's lap, only to land on his knees on the floor. He doesn't bother with seiza, instead leaning heavily against Viktor's leg like a needy cat, glancing up at Viktor through his eyelashes and enjoying the shocked expression on Viktor's face, even if it only lasts an instant.
The shock is quickly followed by a flash of passion so hot that Yuuri nearly whimpers. This feels nothing like how his old master expected him to behave. For one thing, Yuuri wants it, wants Viktor to look upon him with that expression every day for the rest of his life. He would gladly kneel anywhere if it meant that Viktor would look at him so lovingly.
"Good," Viktor says, moving a hand to comb his fingers through Yuuri's hair, petting him. Yuuri spares a look for the other businessmen. All of them are staring, some with purpling faces -- but none dare to comment. Yuuri smiles and settles in.
Viktor's associates don't seem interested in much of anything after that, and Viktor lets them leave, smiling all the while, until the last man -- the annoying one, who turns white at the glare Viktor sends his way -- disappears out of the room. Then he grabs Yuuri and hauls him up into his lap again, catching his hair and dragging his head back to bare his throat.
"Tease," Viktor mutters, his breath hot against Yuuri's neck. Yuuri does whimper now, going pliant against him, and Viktor lets go of him and drags him in for a kiss by his tie.
"You just like to see me on my knees," Yuuri says, enjoying the way Viktor's hands settle on his backside and squeeze threateningly. Their hotel room is several stories up, and Yuuri has half a mind to ride Viktor in the elevator if Viktor makes them leave this room.
"I do, but perhaps not in front of my associates," Viktor grumbles, then sighs. He kisses Yuuri again, this time more gently, and smirks. "I did like the looks on their faces, though. Von Meyer will surely fold tomorrow, thanks to your little act."
"It was not an act. I belong at your side, in all ways."
Viktor breathes in softly, his hands tightening almost to bruising. Yuuri leans back but tightens his legs around Viktor's hips, rolling them firmly against Viktor's growing hardness. Viktor's eyes narrow, then grow distant, no longer seeing just Yuuri.
"I did not like the way that man stared at you."
"He called me a whore," Yuuri says mildly, smiling when Viktor's beautiful features twist in a snarl. "Do not be angry for me. I am a whore, am I not?"
"You are not! You are not, and have never been, a whore, Katsuki Yuuri," Viktor says fiercely.
The use of his full name jars Yuuri, leaving him silent for a moment. For a long time, Yuuri never felt attached to that name, like he had lost the right to use it when he had been taken from his family. Even after marrying, Viktor still insists on using his real name, sometimes calling him Yuuri Katsuki-Nikiforov, which Yuuri likes.
He takes a deep breath. "Am I not? I spend half my time on my knees with your cock in my mouth, Vitya. It is a fact."
"A whore is someone paid or forced to do such things, with whom there is no emotion in the act," Viktor says, dismissing his facts with blazing eyes. "The passion between us is love, and I would never force you, nor would I pay you all the gold in the world. Instead I would give it to you and beg for your love. Do you see the difference, my Yuuri?"
"You need not beg," Yuuri says softly after a long moment. His face feels strange. The fury fades from Viktor's eyes, and he lifts a hand to cup Yuuri's cheek, as soft and loving as the first time he touched Yuuri. He tucks himself close to Viktor, no longer thinking of the heat between them, but of the emotion in Viktor's voice, in the way he touches Yuuri's hair, his lips.
Viktor should not be real, yet he is. Viktor seems to understand Yuuri when Yuuri himself cannot, and the thought makes him relax, relieved that he doesn't need to have the answers. Yuuri takes comfort in knowing that whatever he is, he is not a whore -- not anymore. The past is beyond him now, erased by Viktor's powerful reach.
"Can we go to our room? I want to be with you," Yuuri finally says, and Viktor smiles at him, wide and joyous and a little too bright for Yuuri's heart. Yuuri cannot help but love him anyway.