Without the gel, Yuri's hair falls over his forehead in shaggy, unstudied bangs, and his glasses block off his eyes. This t-shirt is soft, but doesn't fit especially well, and the room smells like the food they'd just been eating.
None of this the sleek seduction of Eros, and yet for some reason, it feels like the only thing Victor has ever wanted.
This shy Japanese boy in his lap, head tipping into his touch, after spending nearly two years being totally unaffected by every one of Victor's charms and attempts in a way no one they were ever directed at has, and he wants to know when that changed. Was it just tonight? Has this been here the whole time? Or was it sometime in between? He wants to ask it all, has a million and one questions about what Yuri's feeling, how he's feeling, why he's feeling it, when it all shifted and turned into this.
Where that outburst from the garage came from, and yesterday's demand for Victor's full attention before he hit the ice. He wants to know it all and more.
(How much of this wait was because he never called, or came to Japan, until just this last spring?)
How did he go from running away from Victor's touch to leaning into it, eyes gone half-lidded and dopey, like a touch-starved cat? "When did this happen?"
How. Why. How long could he have had this, if he'd just known?
He is all wonder and wistfulness, even as his fingers tug lightly through Yuri's hair and run along his scalp. "I thought you didn't want me like this."
It's only a little bit of a falsehood. He had thought it, and then he didn't, and then there was nothing but copious proof that Yuri didn't, and now there's this, and he would really like to know just how right or wrong he has been this whole time.
Not that it matters, really. Now, with Yuri in his arms, looking at him with this intent focus, wrapped around him, it barely seems like a wait at all.
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Date: 2017-04-23 04:01 am (UTC)None of this the sleek seduction of Eros, and yet for some reason, it feels like the only thing Victor has ever wanted.
This shy Japanese boy in his lap, head tipping into his touch, after spending nearly two years being totally unaffected by every one of Victor's charms and attempts in a way no one they were ever directed at has, and he wants to know when that changed. Was it just tonight? Has this been here the whole time? Or was it sometime in between? He wants to ask it all, has a million and one questions about what Yuri's feeling, how he's feeling, why he's feeling it, when it all shifted and turned into this.
Where that outburst from the garage came from, and yesterday's demand for Victor's full attention before he hit the ice. He wants to know it all and more.
(How much of this wait was because he never called, or came to Japan, until just this last spring?)
How did he go from running away from Victor's touch to leaning into it, eyes gone half-lidded and dopey, like a touch-starved cat? "When did this happen?"
How. Why. How long could he have had this, if he'd just known?
He is all wonder and wistfulness, even as his fingers tug lightly through Yuri's hair and run along his scalp. "I thought you didn't want me like this."
It's only a little bit of a falsehood. He had thought it, and then he didn't, and then there was nothing but copious proof that Yuri didn't, and now there's this, and he would really like to know just how right or wrong he has been this whole time.
Not that it matters, really. Now, with Yuri in his arms, looking at him with this intent focus, wrapped around him, it barely seems like a wait at all.