For a moment, he thinks it's the wrong thing –– too much of a push, too much of a request –– and that he should have let Yuri come to him again on his own time, but he's not sure he believes it. Not when Yuri looks so lost in his own head, frustrated and defeated. Not when this is the first time Yuri's ever had to try and explain this, a feeling that defies explanation or qualification. Not when Yuri needs to know that it's okay, that he can, that Victor wants him to, wants his touch and his kiss and every stumbling word and every attempt at answering that question.
But Yuri holds still for a moment, so for that moment he thinks maybe it was the wrong thing, but then Yuri's hand lifts, and fingertips ghost carefully across his cheek, making his heart hitch and his breath shake, eyes intent on Yuri's face.
(Yuri, touching him. Even by request. Yuri touching him of his own accord. His own choice. Because he wants to.
How is he supposed to be able to survive this?)
His own hand tightening on Yuri's chest, fingers knotting in that simple, soft shirt, while his breath has gone shallow and his heart has started racing, and by the time Yuri leans to place a kiss against his mouth, he's dizzy with it, can't stop the small sound that feels like it tears a short wound somewhere behind his ribs. Can't stop his fingers fisting in Yuri's shirt, can't stop the vibration trembling through his body trying to keep himself stable, steady, trying to keep this kiss gentle when all he wants is to blow the hinges off and allow the white-out that's threatening at the edge of his thoughts to wash in and sweep him away.
But he shouldn't. Shouldn't. Shouldn't, he tells himself, firm. Needs to let this be Yuri, for Yuri, about Yuri, should let Yuri direct this kiss that he asked for and that Yuri gifted.
His fingers and his heart don't seem to get the message, or the arm that he has around Yuri's waist that tightens reflexively, or the air he can't seem to get enough of to think clearly, but he can try. To kiss him soft and slow, to haul himself back from the brink. Hasn't he already done enough, tonight, without pushing this too far, too?
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Date: 2017-04-26 11:06 am (UTC)But Yuri holds still for a moment, so for that moment he thinks maybe it was the wrong thing, but then Yuri's hand lifts, and fingertips ghost carefully across his cheek, making his heart hitch and his breath shake, eyes intent on Yuri's face.
(Yuri, touching him. Even by request. Yuri touching him of his own accord. His own choice. Because he wants to.
How is he supposed to be able to survive this?)
His own hand tightening on Yuri's chest, fingers knotting in that simple, soft shirt, while his breath has gone shallow and his heart has started racing, and by the time Yuri leans to place a kiss against his mouth, he's dizzy with it, can't stop the small sound that feels like it tears a short wound somewhere behind his ribs. Can't stop his fingers fisting in Yuri's shirt, can't stop the vibration trembling through his body trying to keep himself stable, steady, trying to keep this kiss gentle when all he wants is to blow the hinges off and allow the white-out that's threatening at the edge of his thoughts to wash in and sweep him away.
But he shouldn't. Shouldn't. Shouldn't, he tells himself, firm. Needs to let this be Yuri, for Yuri, about Yuri, should let Yuri direct this kiss that he asked for and that Yuri gifted.
His fingers and his heart don't seem to get the message, or the arm that he has around Yuri's waist that tightens reflexively, or the air he can't seem to get enough of to think clearly, but he can try. To kiss him soft and slow, to haul himself back from the brink. Hasn't he already done enough, tonight, without pushing this too far, too?