Yuri nods, but he doesn't move away and Victor doesn't, either, looking up into Yuri's face with a smile that's almost certainly more smug than it ought to be, but he feels so vindicated. It's not just him, none of this is. Not anymore.
Somehow. After having changed somewhere along the line without him realizing it. Sometime between the beach and Shanghai, well after he'd given up, Yuri somehow started wanting him back. He doesn't understand it, can't put his finger on it, but there isn't a thing he owns in this world that he wouldn't give up just to make sure he can keep it.
The shy way Yuri looks down at him like this. His agreement, qualified or no. Yuri who doesn't want to leave yet, even if he thinks he should, ought to, as if Victor can imagine caring about what's appropriate or polite or expected in a moment like this. Yuri who agrees that Victor should go put the pirozhok away, but who isn't moving. Yuri who has been caught more than once over the last week, breathless and uncertain but unwilling to let go.
How could he ever be expected to give this up?
Or to keep himself from leaning up to kiss Yuri again, chaste and gentle, before laughing. "One of us has to move, Yuri, so I can go and then we can go to bed. But you aren't making it easy on me."
All his life, he's had ironclad willpower when it comes to what he should do, what was best for training, for his career. That all seems to have gone out the window now, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "Maybe I should see how quickly I can make it downstairs and back up again."
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Yuri nods, but he doesn't move away and Victor doesn't, either, looking up into Yuri's face with a smile that's almost certainly more smug than it ought to be, but he feels so vindicated. It's not just him, none of this is. Not anymore.
Somehow. After having changed somewhere along the line without him realizing it. Sometime between the beach and Shanghai, well after he'd given up, Yuri somehow started wanting him back. He doesn't understand it, can't put his finger on it, but there isn't a thing he owns in this world that he wouldn't give up just to make sure he can keep it.
The shy way Yuri looks down at him like this. His agreement, qualified or no. Yuri who doesn't want to leave yet, even if he thinks he should, ought to, as if Victor can imagine caring about what's appropriate or polite or expected in a moment like this. Yuri who agrees that Victor should go put the pirozhok away, but who isn't moving. Yuri who has been caught more than once over the last week, breathless and uncertain but unwilling to let go.
How could he ever be expected to give this up?
Or to keep himself from leaning up to kiss Yuri again, chaste and gentle, before laughing. "One of us has to move, Yuri, so I can go and then we can go to bed. But you aren't making it easy on me."
All his life, he's had ironclad willpower when it comes to what he should do, what was best for training, for his career. That all seems to have gone out the window now, but he can't quite bring himself to care. "Maybe I should see how quickly I can make it downstairs and back up again."