If Yuri felt stripped bare by the words he was already admitting, while Victor was running his fingers and his hand over (still, still doing it, still not stopping, right this second, the press of a kiss, and then his fingers, again, again, still, when it feels hypnotic and makes him want to sink heavier into his skin and the close of his eyes), the next he feels just as instantly even further stripped stupid.
The heat rising to his cheeks like a sudden, explosive cloud of steam inside him. One moment sinking, seductive dark and warmth. The next scalding heat and shock.
It does not encourage him to keep his eyes on Victor, though they had snapped open at the sudden surprise, sudden want for denial, sudden remembering he'd said, sudden realization his slip hadn't happily been missed. That weak, stupid admission about Victor not being real here, like this, as a some nights occasion as it was that he was a real presence in Yuri's life and on the ice with Yuri by ever day.
He feels as embarrassed, as ashamed, as chagrin at Victor's arrogant, already winning this, won this, grin. The one he'd seen for a second before his head ducked down, grumbling, as exasperated at himself as Victor, into his teeth and his own chest, "Everyone has dreams of you at some point. You know that."
Even if his cheeks and his chest contradict him, his words. That wasn't how he meant it. He'd meant it like that. That it felt like it might just be dream, because he'd more than simply dreamt of Victor, that was a given, with how much Victor was there and there, he'd meant he'd dreamt of Victor like that sometimes, now, even if was embarrassing, and wrong, and he couldn't help if after some of the longer days, some of things Victor said, and this could all just be another uncontrollable bout of ... that.
Not recognized correctly until he woke up gasping, or in a light sweat, every alive but fading fast.
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Date: 2017-05-08 01:57 pm (UTC)The heat rising to his cheeks like a sudden, explosive cloud of steam inside him.
One moment sinking, seductive dark and warmth. The next scalding heat and shock.
It does not encourage him to keep his eyes on Victor, though they had snapped open at the sudden surprise, sudden want for denial, sudden remembering he'd said, sudden realization his slip hadn't happily been missed. That weak, stupid admission about Victor not being real here, like this, as a some nights occasion as it was that he was a real presence in Yuri's life and on the ice with Yuri by ever day.
He feels as embarrassed, as ashamed, as chagrin at Victor's arrogant, already winning this, won this, grin. The one he'd seen for a second before his head ducked down, grumbling, as exasperated at himself as Victor, into his teeth and his own chest, "Everyone has dreams of you at some point. You know that."
Even if his cheeks and his chest contradict him, his words. That wasn't how he meant it. He'd meant it like that. That it felt like it might just be dream, because he'd more than simply dreamt of Victor, that was a given, with how much Victor was there and there, he'd meant he'd dreamt of Victor like that sometimes, now, even if was embarrassing, and wrong, and he couldn't help if after some of the longer days, some of things Victor said, and this could all just be another uncontrollable bout of ... that.
Not recognized correctly until he woke up gasping, or in a light sweat, every alive but fading fast.