Yuri's fingers trace a cool path up along his neck, towards the base of his skull, and he's trying not to let it ruin him, but it's all getting a little difficult. Wanting to push up into that touch. To turn over so he can catch those fingers and kiss them. Breath coming a little more shallowly as his pulse picks up and stays there, thrumming like a wingbeat under his skin.

Unable to keep himself from shifting a little more closely to Yuri, until he's lying with his chest against Yuri's hip and his stomach against Yuri's one extended leg, eyes open and listening, feeling a little like Yuri's just talking to the room and he's eavesdropping on something that isn't his business. "Different doesn't have to be bad."

If it is different. And how could it not be? He's just surprised by it because he's never felt any other way about Yuri, has only ever started out lost and only fallen in deeper. For him, none of this is new, except for Yuri's fingers against his throat, and Yuri melting into his kisses, and Yuri knowing everything.

But it's true, too. He's spent his life and career trying to be different, chasing surprises, never settling for doing the same thing twice. Different can be an adventure, something new and exciting, and even if what they had was good, it can always get better.

Underneath it all, he's still him, no matter how Yuri might scoff at that simple statement, and Yuri is still Yuri. The important parts haven't changed.

He hopes.