This? Fine. Breathing. It almost makes him laugh again, at the sheer inaccuracy of it, but Yuri looks defensive as well as aggravated now, and he's fairly sure that right now would be a bad time to laugh.
(That's probably what Chris would tell him, anyway, and in this instance, Victor thinks he'd be right.)
But it is laughable. Not funny, but laughable, because however he might look, he is the furthest from fine he's ever been. Or the closest? He honestly can't tell anymore, his whole world has been tipped upside down and shaken around and now it feels like down is up and hot is cold because Yuri is lying here beneath him, hair rumpled from Victor's fingers and lips pinked from Victor's kisses and saying it looks like Victor can breathe just fine, when Victor's not even sure what he's breathing is air, and not fire. He's not even sure he's breathing at all, too distracted by the way Yuri's skin feels under his fingertips, soft and warm, too distracted by Yuri's weight against his arms, the rise and fall of his chest beneath Victor's. "I'm not."
That's so easy. Maybe the truest thing he could say. He's not fine. Not with breathing, or anything else. Not now that he finally has Yuri here, after so long. Not now that it isn't just him, the way he always thought it was.
He's not fine, when all he wants to do is loose that shaky hold he has on his own self-restraint, and let the room burn down around them. When he knows there's so much more, so much past this, everything and anything Yuri could possibly want. All the ways to rip the air from both of their lungs, and wipe this expression from Yuri's face. The want to hear him gone wrecked and breathless, when the only word he can even find is Victor's name, and there's no room for any of this questioning.
Everything he wanted that night. Everything he put into Eros, pleasure after pleasure. Everything he ever dreamed about, fantasized, wished for.
Everything he can't do, because this is the first time Yuri has ever even been kissed, and Victor is thoughtless, and selfish, and impetuous, impulsive, but even Victor knows he can't just storm him with everything that's on offer, everything he could ever possibly ask for or imagine. He won't trade one night of perfection for the ruin of everything after.
And it would. Ruin everything. Even he knows that, knows that pushing Yuri too far now would mean wrecking everything once Yuri caught his breath and mind again, feet back on the ground, cold realization seeping through the steam and haze. "I've lost my mind." Did, long ago. Continued to do so in a very public fashion, when he dropped everything to come to Japan for someone he met once for only a few hours and had barely spoken to.
His mouth is dry and his heart is still racing; he swallows to try and find some normalcy, but the breath he lets out shakes, half with a laugh at himself, and half with the effort of just breathing. Normally. As if he didn't have to order himself to try and make his lungs world. "I'm just trying not to lose control."
For better or worse, he's the one here with experience, and that means he has to let Yuri set whatever pace he wants, is comfortable with. Has to be able to haul himself back from just pushing for more, more, more, and ruining everything. Eyes traveling to Yuri's mouth, the so-appealing line of his throat, and it bowls him over, again. A wave of desire that he feels like a punch to the gut. "I want you too much."
A pause, before he's lifting his eyes to meet Yuri's again, his smile gone wry and self-deprecating. "I have to remember to stop before I go too far. I just want you to feel ..."
What's the word he wants? Fine. Happy. Wanted. Secure.
Bending to mouth along that line of his neck, gently, with a sigh that feels like a held breath. "Safe."
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Date: 2017-05-10 01:37 pm (UTC)(That's probably what Chris would tell him, anyway, and in this instance, Victor thinks he'd be right.)
But it is laughable. Not funny, but laughable, because however he might look, he is the furthest from fine he's ever been. Or the closest? He honestly can't tell anymore, his whole world has been tipped upside down and shaken around and now it feels like down is up and hot is cold because Yuri is lying here beneath him, hair rumpled from Victor's fingers and lips pinked from Victor's kisses and saying it looks like Victor can breathe just fine, when Victor's not even sure what he's breathing is air, and not fire. He's not even sure he's breathing at all, too distracted by the way Yuri's skin feels under his fingertips, soft and warm, too distracted by Yuri's weight against his arms, the rise and fall of his chest beneath Victor's. "I'm not."
That's so easy. Maybe the truest thing he could say. He's not fine. Not with breathing, or anything else. Not now that he finally has Yuri here, after so long. Not now that it isn't just him, the way he always thought it was.
He's not fine, when all he wants to do is loose that shaky hold he has on his own self-restraint, and let the room burn down around them. When he knows there's so much more, so much past this, everything and anything Yuri could possibly want. All the ways to rip the air from both of their lungs, and wipe this expression from Yuri's face. The want to hear him gone wrecked and breathless, when the only word he can even find is Victor's name, and there's no room for any of this questioning.
Everything he wanted that night. Everything he put into Eros, pleasure after pleasure. Everything he ever dreamed about, fantasized, wished for.
Everything he can't do, because this is the first time Yuri has ever even been kissed, and Victor is thoughtless, and selfish, and impetuous, impulsive, but even Victor knows he can't just storm him with everything that's on offer, everything he could ever possibly ask for or imagine. He won't trade one night of perfection for the ruin of everything after.
And it would. Ruin everything. Even he knows that, knows that pushing Yuri too far now would mean wrecking everything once Yuri caught his breath and mind again, feet back on the ground, cold realization seeping through the steam and haze. "I've lost my mind." Did, long ago. Continued to do so in a very public fashion, when he dropped everything to come to Japan for someone he met once for only a few hours and had barely spoken to.
His mouth is dry and his heart is still racing; he swallows to try and find some normalcy, but the breath he lets out shakes, half with a laugh at himself, and half with the effort of just breathing. Normally. As if he didn't have to order himself to try and make his lungs world. "I'm just trying not to lose control."
For better or worse, he's the one here with experience, and that means he has to let Yuri set whatever pace he wants, is comfortable with. Has to be able to haul himself back from just pushing for more, more, more, and ruining everything. Eyes traveling to Yuri's mouth, the so-appealing line of his throat, and it bowls him over, again. A wave of desire that he feels like a punch to the gut. "I want you too much."
A pause, before he's lifting his eyes to meet Yuri's again, his smile gone wry and self-deprecating. "I have to remember to stop before I go too far. I just want you to feel ..."
What's the word he wants? Fine. Happy. Wanted. Secure.
Bending to mouth along that line of his neck, gently, with a sigh that feels like a held breath. "Safe."