This is nothing like Yuri's earlier bewilderment or hesitation. There's no shock or surprise or wary uncertainty in his face. It's all been replaced by ... whatever this is, that makes Victor's heart skip and then stumble and then speed. That's poured across him like sunlight, shining from pink cheeks and bright eyes and that smile. No tremble left in the fingers that tighten in his hair, against his skull, and pull him steadily downwards, and where else could he go? Yuri is his only gravity.
Yuri. Reaching for him. Pulling him down for a kiss, and Victor wonders if he'll ever, past tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after, stop feeling like that thought alone has cracked him open like an earthquake, each and every time. Feeling like his blood would run the other way, if Yuri asked it to, unable to do anything but give into that pull, bend into it with his own fingers sinking into thick dark hair, eyes slipping heavy-lidded, and then closed at this kiss.
Wondering how he ever managed to breathe before this. Wondering if he'll ever manage it again, after.
Yuri's mouth too soft, and too sweet, and too perfect under his, for him to hold here and keep from slipping too far under, diving in too deep. (He has to be able to keep some sort of control.
He doesn't know how long that will possibly last.)
Hands cradling Yuri's head against the pillow, and pressing another kiss against it, and another, and another, until they start to blur together and he can't remember why he'd ever stopped kissing Yuri to begin with.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
zaluzianskya and ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
skylark_photos
no subject
Date: 2017-05-09 01:02 am (UTC)What does he do with this?
This is nothing like Yuri's earlier bewilderment or hesitation. There's no shock or surprise or wary uncertainty in his face. It's all been replaced by ... whatever this is, that makes Victor's heart skip and then stumble and then speed. That's poured across him like sunlight, shining from pink cheeks and bright eyes and that smile. No tremble left in the fingers that tighten in his hair, against his skull, and pull him steadily downwards, and where else could he go? Yuri is his only gravity.
Yuri. Reaching for him. Pulling him down for a kiss, and Victor wonders if he'll ever, past tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after, stop feeling like that thought alone has cracked him open like an earthquake, each and every time. Feeling like his blood would run the other way, if Yuri asked it to, unable to do anything but give into that pull, bend into it with his own fingers sinking into thick dark hair, eyes slipping heavy-lidded, and then closed at this kiss.
Wondering how he ever managed to breathe before this. Wondering if he'll ever manage it again, after.
Yuri's mouth too soft, and too sweet, and too perfect under his, for him to hold here and keep from slipping too far under, diving in too deep. (He has to be able to keep some sort of control.
He doesn't know how long that will possibly last.)
Hands cradling Yuri's head against the pillow, and pressing another kiss against it, and another, and another, until they start to blur together and he can't remember why he'd ever stopped kissing Yuri to begin with.