solnyshko (слэш)

"So the little bird has flown his cage," Viktor murmurs, his lips curling. "You can come out now. That's a terrible position to sit in for so long."
Yuuri shifts uncertainly, then slowly crawls forward from under the desk. Viktor doesn't bother to move his chair any further back, and so Yuuri uses Viktor's knee to pull himself up, his gloved fingers trailing across the hard muscle of Viktor's thigh before he stands. Viktor spreads his legs obligingly to give him room, looking every inch the indolent king, and Yuuri trembles, gripping the knife tightly in his hand. One wrong move, and he will die. The right move, and Viktor Nikiforov's empire will fall apart.
He doesn't move at all.