You and Nikto were peacefully lead in bed, his head on your shoulder. After a moment of silence, he let out a short grunt of pain.

“Stinging” was all he said. You immediately understood, reaching for his burn cream. He was still healing, only being saved from the torture via the hands of Viktor Zakhaev half a year ago.

Nikto hadn’t been faring well, but he pushed through. For you. He’d do anything for you…