Yuri's hand pauses, and lifts, and Victor is just about to look up and say ... something, he doesn't know what, about how Yuri doesn't have to touch him if he doesn't want to, even if the prospect makes him die a little inside, but before he can, there's a faint touch on his shoulder, tracking towards the center of his back, that has him shivering and arching up into it like a cat. He can't help it; it's such a novelty, being touched. Being touched by Yuri.
People don't do that, with him. Not Yakov. Not Chris. Nobody.
He'd forgotten how every single cell in his body could feel so attuned to the drag of a single finger. He'd forgotten how many nerves exist in the space of a few inches at the back of his shoulder, just under the collar of his shirt.
It's almost enough to make him miss that small word, that single, tiny word, but it drops into the silence of the room, and this time, Victor's grateful for the quiet. "Why stupid?"
Less tiny and less careful, but just as quiet, while his arms tighten around Yuri, one hand uncurling to settle gently over his ribs, thumb stroking softly back and forth over his shirt. "What's stupid?"
no subject
Date: 2017-04-29 01:16 am (UTC)People don't do that, with him. Not Yakov. Not Chris. Nobody.
He'd forgotten how every single cell in his body could feel so attuned to the drag of a single finger. He'd forgotten how many nerves exist in the space of a few inches at the back of his shoulder, just under the collar of his shirt.
It's almost enough to make him miss that small word, that single, tiny word, but it drops into the silence of the room, and this time, Victor's grateful for the quiet. "Why stupid?"
Less tiny and less careful, but just as quiet, while his arms tighten around Yuri, one hand uncurling to settle gently over his ribs, thumb stroking softly back and forth over his shirt. "What's stupid?"