That squeak of laughter is so perfect Victor wants to do it again, tug it out, until it's in every word and breath Yuri takes against his hair and ear. Yuri's arms wind around his neck like it's already the natural, only place for them to be. Yuri's hand at the back of his head, making him sigh happily into the crook of his neck, a huge and contented huff of breath. It couldn't be better unless Yuri's fingers were sliding through his hair again, or along his neck, but that's a selfish thought, when this is already so perfect.
Beyond perfect. Whatever the next possible thing is, as close to heaven as he's ever been. "Are you calling me cruel?"
Maybe he is, a little, when those words are bracketed by kisses roaming up Yuri's neck, and the faint nip of his teeth at the column of muscle there, and at the lobe of his ear. "I'm insulted."
No, you're not, comes Yuri's voice in his head, from only moments ago, calling him on his exaggerations, deflating his antics. Not sorry. Not insulted. Not wounded to the core. Honestly, in this moment, he's not sure he can remember feeling anything at all aside from happy.
Yuri in his arms. Yuri who loves him back. Yuri who wants him. Yuri who isn't letting go of him, who hasn't run away all night. Yuri who Victor is sure wouldn't love him at all, if Victor actually were cruel. Yuri who tolerates his foolishness, and has a smile that fills his head like straight oxygen.
Yuri who he, really, honestly, may never actually let go of, again.
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Date: 2017-05-08 10:43 pm (UTC)That squeak of laughter is so perfect Victor wants to do it again, tug it out, until it's in every word and breath Yuri takes against his hair and ear. Yuri's arms wind around his neck like it's already the natural, only place for them to be. Yuri's hand at the back of his head, making him sigh happily into the crook of his neck, a huge and contented huff of breath. It couldn't be better unless Yuri's fingers were sliding through his hair again, or along his neck, but that's a selfish thought, when this is already so perfect.
Beyond perfect. Whatever the next possible thing is, as close to heaven as he's ever been. "Are you calling me cruel?"
Maybe he is, a little, when those words are bracketed by kisses roaming up Yuri's neck, and the faint nip of his teeth at the column of muscle there, and at the lobe of his ear. "I'm insulted."
No, you're not, comes Yuri's voice in his head, from only moments ago, calling him on his exaggerations, deflating his antics. Not sorry. Not insulted. Not wounded to the core. Honestly, in this moment, he's not sure he can remember feeling anything at all aside from happy.
Yuri in his arms. Yuri who loves him back. Yuri who wants him. Yuri who isn't letting go of him, who hasn't run away all night. Yuri who Victor is sure wouldn't love him at all, if Victor actually were cruel. Yuri who tolerates his foolishness, and has a smile that fills his head like straight oxygen.
Yuri who he, really, honestly, may never actually let go of, again.