He's nodding even as his fingers tighten into Victor's hair and around the back of his neck like they have a mind of their own.
Like he was somewhere in the backseat of them, only catching what they were doing on the replay, even though it's his own hands, and he feels it instantly. The slide of fingertips into silken hair, that gives so little purchase without pressure. It's instantaneous, with the words, and even then, it's like the words and the action only process a second late. The suggestion, questioned as a smooth almost joke, about whether he was in the way, whether he should move.
(Should let go of even more of Yuri.) (So Yuri can lay down.)
The beat of the answer is yes, soft but bone-deep exacting, and nothing about laying down. Everything about moving, but nothing about moving away. Even when Victor's smile -- still perfect, still beautiful, a subtle shift to a different shape, a different facet of his face, that unfiltered warmth flitting sideways and smug, almost but not a smirk -- has turned familiar to the edge of teasing, and toward something, something else.
When in his life had he ever not been in awe of, in love with, this face -- Victor? How had he ever thought he'd buried it down, or moved beyond it? That it could ever be less than the sun?
His heart is in his ears, harder just because it seems impossible not to try and just as insane as earlier, jumping over a chasm of sudden stillness, tingling tightening across all of his skin, when leaning in feels as devoid of option or existence beyond, just like throwing himself up, up, up into the air earlier. The laughter has faded away, the shower of kisses and accosted mouthing and nosing of his skin, left in raindrops and puddles echoed all around him, to electric quiet steaming in his head on this face.
He wants that, too. He wants everything that Victor is. He always has. Whatever Victor is, has done, managed, winged through with ease, Yuri is only human, and maybe it sets a depth charge in his so needed giddy peace, but he can't not kiss Victor now. Try.
no subject
He's nodding even as his fingers tighten into Victor's hair and around the back of his neck like they have a mind of their own.
Like he was somewhere in the backseat of them, only catching what they were doing on the replay, even though it's his own hands, and he feels it instantly. The slide of fingertips into silken hair, that gives so little purchase without pressure. It's instantaneous, with the words, and even then, it's like the words and the action only process a second late. The suggestion, questioned as a smooth almost joke, about whether he was in the way, whether he should move.
(Should let go of even more of Yuri.) (So Yuri can lay down.)
The beat of the answer is yes, soft but bone-deep exacting, and nothing about laying down. Everything about moving, but nothing about moving away. Even when Victor's smile -- still perfect, still beautiful, a subtle shift to a different shape, a different facet of his face, that unfiltered warmth flitting sideways and smug, almost but not a smirk -- has turned familiar to the edge of teasing, and toward something, something else.
When in his life had he ever not been in awe of, in love with, this face -- Victor?
How had he ever thought he'd buried it down, or moved beyond it? That it could ever be less than the sun?
His heart is in his ears, harder just because it seems impossible not to try and just as insane as earlier, jumping over a chasm of sudden stillness, tingling tightening across all of his skin, when leaning in feels as devoid of option or existence beyond, just like throwing himself up, up, up into the air earlier. The laughter has faded away, the shower of kisses and accosted mouthing and nosing of his skin, left in raindrops and puddles echoed all around him, to electric quiet steaming in his head on this face.
He wants that, too. He wants everything that Victor is. He always has. Whatever Victor is, has done, managed, winged through with ease, Yuri is only human, and maybe it sets a depth charge in his so needed giddy peace, but he can't not kiss Victor now. Try.