He could lie here and watch Yuri's thoughts play out across his face for hours. Flushed skin, shy eyes, the way Victor can see right before it happens how he plucks up his courage to lift his hands, slow and careful, to touch him.
Slowly enough Victor thinks his chest might crack from the force of this held breath. So shy Victor does his best not to move, afraid that even shifting an inch will frighten Yuri back off, like a rabbit sprinting from a sudden noise. All he can do is wait, and watch Yuri's face, until there are careful fingers against his cheeks, curling there to brush the backs of knuckles over his skin. Fingertips in his hair. Brushing along his neck. Making his breath come out in a shudder that matches the way Yuri's fingers tremble as they travel, making tiny discoveries everywhere they stop.
Half his vision a silver mist that he doesn't dare shake out of his face, even if he's slowly shifting, now, a little more comfortably over Yuri, elbows braced on either side of him, letting his fingers unfurl into soft dark hair, trace the edge of his ear, the hairline at the nape of his neck. It's slow, and focused, and he doesn't mind waiting while Yuri concentrates on each small, uncertain step, even if his touch is lighting fire under Victor's skin and it would be so easy to lean down and blow on this match, make it explode.
But he doesn't. Won't rush this. Yuri, touching him. Yuri, finding his way to understanding. Yuri, who hasn't had all the time Victor has to get used to the idea that this is how the world works, now, that this is what's meant to be. Yuri, who didn't know that Victor loved him, wanted him, dreamed of him, has longed for him for so long. Yuri, here in his arms, soft and sleepy, his sharp intent growing a little fuzzy around the edges now.
Yuri, who probably wouldn't believe Victor if he said what he was thinking. That he has never been so deeply, bone-deep happy, in his entire life, as he is right now.
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Date: 2017-05-08 06:38 pm (UTC)Slowly enough Victor thinks his chest might crack from the force of this held breath. So shy Victor does his best not to move, afraid that even shifting an inch will frighten Yuri back off, like a rabbit sprinting from a sudden noise. All he can do is wait, and watch Yuri's face, until there are careful fingers against his cheeks, curling there to brush the backs of knuckles over his skin. Fingertips in his hair. Brushing along his neck. Making his breath come out in a shudder that matches the way Yuri's fingers tremble as they travel, making tiny discoveries everywhere they stop.
Half his vision a silver mist that he doesn't dare shake out of his face, even if he's slowly shifting, now, a little more comfortably over Yuri, elbows braced on either side of him, letting his fingers unfurl into soft dark hair, trace the edge of his ear, the hairline at the nape of his neck. It's slow, and focused, and he doesn't mind waiting while Yuri concentrates on each small, uncertain step, even if his touch is lighting fire under Victor's skin and it would be so easy to lean down and blow on this match, make it explode.
But he doesn't. Won't rush this. Yuri, touching him. Yuri, finding his way to understanding. Yuri, who hasn't had all the time Victor has to get used to the idea that this is how the world works, now, that this is what's meant to be. Yuri, who didn't know that Victor loved him, wanted him, dreamed of him, has longed for him for so long. Yuri, here in his arms, soft and sleepy, his sharp intent growing a little fuzzy around the edges now.
Yuri, who probably wouldn't believe Victor if he said what he was thinking. That he has never been so deeply, bone-deep happy, in his entire life, as he is right now.
But the thought makes him smile, anyway.