Yuri's studying the figure of the girl under the glaring single spotlight, about to admit in the asking who she is that he can't remember at all, when suddenly arms circle his waist and he's being pulled back, with a garbled squeak of shocked-surprise.
The surprise comes from the movement, but there's a good deal of warmth that slams him everywhere at the sudden reminder of how close Victor's hands and sudden belting arms are. Can be. Could have been. Once were. His touch only the thinnest layer of a shirt from Yuri's skin suddenly breaking apart the savored spell of seconds that was them hugging or touching through coats in the airport.
Which is a shattering thought that only serves for a second, maybe less than a second, a second of a second, before even that is blown away. Because Victor's chest is against an arm and part of his back and Victor's face is pressed into his neck suddenly, hair against his neck, his shoulder, tickling at his skin, hot breath on his skin, mumbling words he can't hear at all, but can feel vibrating as though to reach his bones beneath the skin they're spoken into, and Yuri is shivering hard before he can even realize it's happening to stop it. "Oh --"
Doesn't know when his hands had gone reaching up to grasp Victor's arm on him. Whether it was for something to hold on to when he might be falling backwards, or just this second, while Victor's lips move against his skin, like the faintest press harder could break it open and tip Victor into the center of him, as Yuri's heart is certain it can exit straight through his ribs with a few more good spasms.
Especially as Victor says those three words that keep echoing and it feels like a knife that slices through anything he thought was pressing anything back, keeping him pieced together. Making his grip on the arm around his chest tighten. Nothing in him knowing how not to answer those words. To have not felt that. To still not be sure he hadn't missed Victor more than was even proper. Even correct.
More in the space of two days than he'd ever missed people that had been missing for half a decade.
"I - uh - sorry," falls out of his mouth, helplessly awkward, and a little desperately in search of any word, any response, any thing. It's wrong by the first syllable, making him flush what certainly can't matter since his face already feels hot from surprise (... and ...). He's not sure he's even seeing right now. Not sure there's anything except that thundered skip of his heart and the press of Victor's arms around his body and Victor face against his skin
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Date: 2017-08-05 01:33 pm (UTC)Yuri's studying the figure of the girl under the glaring single spotlight, about to admit in the asking who she is that he can't remember at all, when suddenly arms circle his waist and he's being pulled back, with a garbled squeak of shocked-surprise.
The surprise comes from the movement, but there's a good deal of warmth that slams him everywhere at the sudden reminder of how close Victor's hands and sudden belting arms are. Can be. Could have been. Once were. His touch only the thinnest layer of a shirt from Yuri's skin suddenly breaking apart the savored spell of seconds that was them hugging or touching through coats in the airport.
Which is a shattering thought that only serves for a second, maybe less than a second, a second of a second, before even that is blown away. Because Victor's chest is against an arm and part of his back and Victor's face is pressed into his neck suddenly, hair against his neck, his shoulder, tickling at his skin, hot breath on his skin, mumbling words he can't hear at all, but can feel vibrating as though to reach his bones beneath the skin they're spoken into, and Yuri is shivering hard before he can even realize it's happening to stop it. "Oh --"
Doesn't know when his hands had gone reaching up to grasp Victor's arm on him. Whether it was for something to hold on to when he might be falling backwards, or just this second, while Victor's lips move against his skin, like the faintest press harder could break it open and tip Victor into the center of him, as Yuri's heart is certain it can exit straight through his ribs with a few more good spasms.
Especially as Victor says those three words that keep echoing and it feels like a knife that slices through anything he thought was pressing anything back, keeping him pieced together. Making his grip on the arm around his chest tighten. Nothing in him knowing how not to answer those words. To have not felt that. To still not be sure he hadn't missed Victor more than was even proper. Even correct.
More in the space of two days than he'd ever missed people that had been missing for half a decade.
"I - uh - sorry," falls out of his mouth, helplessly awkward, and a little desperately in search of any word, any response, any thing. It's wrong by the first syllable, making him flush what certainly can't matter since his face already feels hot from surprise (... and ...). He's not sure he's even seeing right now. Not sure there's anything except that thundered skip of his heart and the press of Victor's arms around his body and Victor face against his skin