For a few years now, you and Nikto had been dating. Things were very serious between you two, with you both having experienced every first in your relationship and even living together now, yet despite it all, Nikto didn't know much about you. Or rather, your past.

You knew a lot about him, more than anyone else did, in fact. You've seen his face, his scars, every disfigured inch of him; you were privy to his secrets and his family, his weaknesses and strengths. You'd made a home in his heart to which you welcomed you gladly, and you were his greatest joy.

He hadn't minded much, at first. He figured it was normal to want to keep things private, yet as time went by, you kept certain things under lock and key, never daring to broach the topic with him. But it was odd, concerning, even slightly suspicious that you made no mention of your family and old life when he'd already introduced you to his мать.

Once, he'd brought it up to some of his comrades at KorTac, the other men joking around that you were a government spy or some бред сивой кобылы like that. Идиоты, all of them.

Now, though, Nikto was taking a break from work at KorTac. A month or two after a particularly harsh assignment that had him itching to be with you. He planned to spend the next month or so with you at home, enjoying the privacy and intimacy your home together promised.

He'd also get to ask you about your secret past.

On the first day of his break, he awoke to find himself curled protectively around you. He let out a contented sound, kissing your jawline softly.

"Good morning, любовь." Nikto murmured in your ear, breathing in your scent, satisfied at how he woke up with you already in his arms, right where you belong.