Victor shifts over him, slowly, further, but noticeable still. Noticeable enough, as Victor's chest brushes his, weight light against his body, as Victor's arms settle on either side of him. Like earlier but not. Earlier Victor had been holding himself over Yuri, had kissed him and left him there on the bed. He's not right now.
It makes his stomach curl, with fears not vanished at all, that are inky as the edges of his thoughts, stilling his fingers for a long second, the blurring tendrils of that dark taking his breath without a shape, an image, any knowledge of what, how, but Victor doesn't do anything more yet. His fingers move against Yuri's skin, leaving those same trails of tingling sparks, goosebumps and a too remembered series of shivers at the fingertips tracing the hair on the thin skin at the base of his neck making his eyes almost close.
Where Victor doesn't remember. That his lips had been there. How dangerous the sudden though that might not have been a mistake either. Something blurred, but still not pushed. Because of Yuri? But then what about him today was so different. Victor already answered that. When he asked about the flip. He thought it was a message he'd been waiting for. From Yuri.
How long had he been waiting? How long wanting? How long dreaming? Why, but, also, how.
The face framed by his fingers, again, the one he knows so well, starts shifting, the pull of Victor's facial muscles and softest skin as he begins smiling. This simple, pure smile, that Yuri doesn't know what is from, whether it's about a stray thought or himself, given Victor still hasn't looked away from him, only that it happens and pulls at Yuri's own mouth like a reflection in the glass.
Reverent awe, and such impossible warm affection that splashes everywhere.
He loves Victor, has always loved Victor, maybe not like this.
But like this so much more than just tonight, when it feels warm. Familiar. This smile feels like stumbling into a shaft of light better than the sun could ever make. Fond and perfect in front of him, already one of his very favorite things. One of his hands sliding further up, in, to let his thumb stroke the line of the muscle in Victor's cheek making that smile, unable to look away, amazed, again, that he ever can or could.
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Date: 2017-05-08 08:04 pm (UTC)It makes his stomach curl, with fears not vanished at all, that are inky as the edges of his thoughts, stilling his fingers for a long second, the blurring tendrils of that dark taking his breath without a shape, an image, any knowledge of what, how, but Victor doesn't do anything more yet. His fingers move against Yuri's skin, leaving those same trails of tingling sparks, goosebumps and a too remembered series of shivers at the fingertips tracing the hair on the thin skin at the base of his neck making his eyes almost close.
Where Victor doesn't remember. That his lips had been there. How dangerous the sudden though that might not have been a mistake either. Something blurred, but still not pushed. Because of Yuri? But then what about him today was so different. Victor already answered that. When he asked about the flip. He thought it was a message he'd been waiting for. From Yuri.
How long had he been waiting? How long wanting? How long dreaming? Why, but, also, how.
The face framed by his fingers, again, the one he knows so well, starts shifting, the pull of Victor's facial muscles and softest skin as he begins smiling. This simple, pure smile, that Yuri doesn't know what is from, whether it's about a stray thought or himself, given Victor still hasn't looked away from him, only that it happens and pulls at Yuri's own mouth like a reflection in the glass.
Reverent awe, and such impossible warm affection that splashes everywhere.
He loves Victor, has always loved Victor, maybe not like this.
But like this so much more than just tonight, when it feels warm. Familiar. This smile feels like stumbling into a shaft of light better than the sun could ever make. Fond and perfect in front of him, already one of his very favorite things. One of his hands sliding further up, in, to let his thumb stroke the line of the muscle in Victor's cheek making that smile, unable to look away, amazed, again, that he ever can or could.