Teasing, while his fingers slip along Yuri's skin and into his hair and he can savor the way it slides between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. Soft, silky. A little coarser than his own.
Teasing because he knows Yuri trusts him, even if Yuri doesn't always believe him. "How could you not believe me? Have I ever lied to you?"
Not knowingly. Not ever about anything big. Not ever about anything that meant something. Even keeping this to himself wasn't really a lie: his offers had been rejected, but they didn't vanish from existence simply because Yuri decided he didn't want them. Maybe the closest he's ever come to a lie being what he said in the garage today, and even that was a half-truth: if Yuri had failed, it would have been his failure as a coach. Yuri has all the tools he needs to succeed, it's Victor's job to make sure he can use them, to make sure he's in a good enough place, to make sure he's whole and happy and healthy and ready.
(But he never would have resigned. Not now. Not when they're so close. He said he'd help Yuri win the Grand Prix Final, and he meant it.)
He's still fun to tease, though, like this, and also in the way Victor leans closer, barely a breath away from kissing him again, with a sly smile and eyes sparkling even under their heavy lashes, under the fringe of his bangs that's covering half his vision with a silvery mist. "Oh, I'm hurt."
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Teasing, while his fingers slip along Yuri's skin and into his hair and he can savor the way it slides between his thumb and the knuckle of his forefinger. Soft, silky. A little coarser than his own.
Teasing because he knows Yuri trusts him, even if Yuri doesn't always believe him. "How could you not believe me? Have I ever lied to you?"
Not knowingly. Not ever about anything big. Not ever about anything that meant something. Even keeping this to himself wasn't really a lie: his offers had been rejected, but they didn't vanish from existence simply because Yuri decided he didn't want them. Maybe the closest he's ever come to a lie being what he said in the garage today, and even that was a half-truth: if Yuri had failed, it would have been his failure as a coach. Yuri has all the tools he needs to succeed, it's Victor's job to make sure he can use them, to make sure he's in a good enough place, to make sure he's whole and happy and healthy and ready.
(But he never would have resigned. Not now. Not when they're so close. He said he'd help Yuri win the Grand Prix Final, and he meant it.)
He's still fun to tease, though, like this, and also in the way Victor leans closer, barely a breath away from kissing him again, with a sly smile and eyes sparkling even under their heavy lashes, under the fringe of his bangs that's covering half his vision with a silvery mist. "Oh, I'm hurt."