That sound is the thing that brings him back to himself. First sparking a deep and necessary need to go chasing it again, to hear it almost as often as he hears the shallow breaths they're both taking, or instead of any words Yuri might be able to pull together. He doesn't want words, he just wants that.
Tugged out of Yuri's throat without thought or embarrassment, because Yuri wants him, like Yuri hasn't ever wanted anybody.
Except Yuri's never wanted anybody before, and Yuri has no idea what Victor would do with, for, that sound if he could, and it's still not tonight. The right time to push for more, to give in to the incessant heat hammering at the back of his skull. Not here in this room, when Yuri was already worried about his parents and his sister, and Yuri's exhausted and so is Victor. Not with Maccachin a warm weight near their feet, and not enough hours of sleep in the last few days for either of them.
Not in barely the second week they've had this at all. (No matter how willing Yuri might have seemed that night at the banquet.)
All of it forcing Victor to slow himself down, like he's grabbed himself by the scruff of the neck, and throttle this kiss back down to something he can control, making them shorter and softer until he can pull back enough to try and see Yuri's face, blurred in the dark, while his heart hammers and shouts at him to keep going.
Find skin under his fingers. A pulse under his mouth.
(A better man than him wouldn't have let it get this far to begin with, probably.)
His thumb tracing along Yuri's cheek, while he tries to catch his breath, lick his lip, smile. "I shouldn't be keeping you up, Yuri."
It's not a very responsible thing for a coach to do, but then, he's not at all sure this falls anywhere within his coaching duties.
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Date: 2017-09-25 02:20 am (UTC)That sound is the thing that brings him back to himself. First sparking a deep and necessary need to go chasing it again, to hear it almost as often as he hears the shallow breaths they're both taking, or instead of any words Yuri might be able to pull together. He doesn't want words, he just wants that.
Tugged out of Yuri's throat without thought or embarrassment, because Yuri wants him, like Yuri hasn't ever wanted anybody.
Except Yuri's never wanted anybody before, and Yuri has no idea what Victor would do with, for, that sound if he could, and it's still not tonight. The right time to push for more, to give in to the incessant heat hammering at the back of his skull. Not here in this room, when Yuri was already worried about his parents and his sister, and Yuri's exhausted and so is Victor. Not with Maccachin a warm weight near their feet, and not enough hours of sleep in the last few days for either of them.
Not in barely the second week they've had this at all.
(No matter how willing Yuri might have seemed that night at the banquet.)
All of it forcing Victor to slow himself down, like he's grabbed himself by the scruff of the neck, and throttle this kiss back down to something he can control, making them shorter and softer until he can pull back enough to try and see Yuri's face, blurred in the dark, while his heart hammers and shouts at him to keep going.
Find skin under his fingers. A pulse under his mouth.
(A better man than him wouldn't have let it get this far to begin with, probably.)
His thumb tracing along Yuri's cheek, while he tries to catch his breath, lick his lip, smile. "I shouldn't be keeping you up, Yuri."
It's not a very responsible thing for a coach to do, but then, he's not at all sure this falls anywhere within his coaching duties.