Victor goes from faintly pressed to him to actively pressed to him, a distinction Yuri was not certain he knew was possible.
Not until Victor was suddenly humming into his neck, making everything under his skin shiver and shift, orienting half his body to that spot, while Victor just tipped into him. Like he planned to go about falling, and hanging his entire self on Yuri's body suddenly. Hands suddenly coiling around his shoulders, almost like a rope on a post, and then Victor's weight settles on him even more, like Victor's decided to defy gravity and any height difference.
This already something Yuri, even starting to heat like a summer morning, a little faster than expected, had been about to bluster some sort of comment on. At least he had been, before Victor's lips were brushing against his throat, again, in this - this - this - Yuri doesn't even have a word for it. Victor is basically curled up to his skin, humming, almost the way Maccachin sometimes showed up in his bed and curled up to his side and stayed there all night.
Except. Full body. Into his throat. With his mouth. While humming. To a note it felt like all of Yuri's body was scrambling to match somehow right under the stirred race of his heartbeat. The nothing like forgotten reactions boiling up. Making his arm tighten, fingers reflexively curling across the back of Victor's neck and part of his head, hazily aware of the soft, smooth hair suddenly under his fingers. Not sure he was ready for whatever exasperating, or confusing, or fluxing question Victor was starting to ask his skin more than him and already hanging himself on the idea of Victor kissing him, there, again.
Which definitely meant neither he, not his skin, is prepared for the knock on the door.
For the way it makes his spine stiffen, suddenly ultra aware of. Everything. Hands. Faces. Mouths. Bodies. The sudden embarrassment -- and disappointment?
That seems to find it's a perfect match in the sudden beleaguered sigh that shoves into his shoulder.
Yuri can't stop the chuckle that bubbles out. It's very Victor, and there's something very strangely, impossibly giddy warming in his stomach that he's not the only one who had that reaction. It makes him smile oddly, fingers cupping the back of Victor's head for just a second when he's taking a step backward, toward the door behind him, without quite walking that way, because he's getting a look at Victor's face. "Dinner time."
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a distinction Yuri was not certain he knew was possible.
Not until Victor was suddenly humming into his neck, making everything under his skin shiver and shift, orienting half his body to that spot, while Victor just tipped into him. Like he planned to go about falling, and hanging his entire self on Yuri's body suddenly. Hands suddenly coiling around his shoulders, almost like a rope on a post, and then Victor's weight settles on him even more, like Victor's decided to defy gravity and any height difference.
This already something Yuri, even starting to heat like a summer morning, a little faster than expected, had been about to bluster some sort of comment on. At least he had been, before Victor's lips were brushing against his throat, again, in this - this - this - Yuri doesn't even have a word for it. Victor is basically curled up to his skin, humming, almost the way Maccachin sometimes showed up in his bed and curled up to his side and stayed there all night.
Except. Full body. Into his throat. With his mouth. While humming. To a note it felt like all of Yuri's body was scrambling to match somehow right under the stirred race of his heartbeat. The nothing like forgotten reactions boiling up. Making his arm tighten, fingers reflexively curling across the back of Victor's neck and part of his head, hazily aware of the soft, smooth hair suddenly under his fingers. Not sure he was ready for whatever exasperating, or confusing, or fluxing question Victor was starting to ask his skin more than him and already hanging himself on the idea of Victor kissing him, there, again.
Which definitely meant neither he, not his skin, is prepared for the knock on the door.
For the way it makes his spine stiffen, suddenly ultra aware of. Everything.
Hands. Faces. Mouths. Bodies. The sudden embarrassment -- and disappointment?
That seems to find it's a perfect match in the sudden beleaguered sigh that shoves into his shoulder.
Yuri can't stop the chuckle that bubbles out. It's very Victor, and there's something very strangely, impossibly giddy warming in his stomach that he's not the only one who had that reaction. It makes him smile oddly, fingers cupping the back of Victor's head for just a second when he's taking a step backward, toward the door behind him, without quite walking that way, because he's getting a look at Victor's face. "Dinner time."