There's a held breath of a moment where Yuri is still frozen, and maybe that look was a lie, or Victor's giddy brain melting its way into outright delusion as well as whatever insanity has taken him over, but then ––
But then there's a tiny sound, that's barely a sound, that almost can't be heard, but it lands in Victor's skin and burrows in, lighting a trail of fire in its wake and arrowing straight through his ribs, evaporating into steam that fills his skull and blots out anything, everything, but Yuri. Yuri, and that sound he just made. Yuri. Who is kissing him back.
Finally, finally, untying one knot in his stomach only to tangle a harder, larger one there, and the only thing he can do is try to get even closer. A factory whistle pouring steam couldn't have anything on the way his blood is boiling right out of his veins, leaving him light-headed and fever-warm; a single sound couldn't have hit him harder even if it had been the sharp report of a bullet, or the horn of a St. Petersburg car right before it smashed into him.
Like the slammed impact of a perfect landing, or the glint of a spotlight on a gold medal. Yuri against him, pressed all along him, and Yuri made that noise, and Yuri is kissing him back.
Even if it's cautious. Even if it's adorably uncertain. Even if it's unpracticed and a little messy, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands aside from let them float in the air, like an insect that's been rolled over and picked up.
But here. With him. Not pushing him away. Not saying don't. And even if this kiss is heart-achingly, breakingly, shy, it's his. From Yuri. If he could catch it in amber and keep it forever, he would.
All of it perfect, no part of it possible, but happening anyway, and he's idly considering catching one of Yuri's hands to ground it, when there's a sudden shake of the door, and a pause before a confused voice sounds outside and pulls Victor to the surface with a sudden deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been needing.
Well, perhaps his choice of place could have been better.
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Date: 2017-04-12 01:58 am (UTC)But then there's a tiny sound, that's barely a sound, that almost can't be heard, but it lands in Victor's skin and burrows in, lighting a trail of fire in its wake and arrowing straight through his ribs, evaporating into steam that fills his skull and blots out anything, everything, but Yuri. Yuri, and that sound he just made. Yuri. Who is kissing him back.
Finally, finally, untying one knot in his stomach only to tangle a harder, larger one there, and the only thing he can do is try to get even closer. A factory whistle pouring steam couldn't have anything on the way his blood is boiling right out of his veins, leaving him light-headed and fever-warm; a single sound couldn't have hit him harder even if it had been the sharp report of a bullet, or the horn of a St. Petersburg car right before it smashed into him.
Like the slammed impact of a perfect landing, or the glint of a spotlight on a gold medal. Yuri against him, pressed all along him, and Yuri made that noise, and Yuri is kissing him back.
Even if it's cautious. Even if it's adorably uncertain. Even if it's unpracticed and a little messy, and he doesn't seem to know what to do with his hands aside from let them float in the air, like an insect that's been rolled over and picked up.
But here. With him. Not pushing him away. Not saying don't. And even if this kiss is heart-achingly, breakingly, shy, it's his. From Yuri. If he could catch it in amber and keep it forever, he would.
All of it perfect, no part of it possible, but happening anyway, and he's idly considering catching one of Yuri's hands to ground it, when there's a sudden shake of the door, and a pause before a confused voice sounds outside and pulls Victor to the surface with a sudden deep breath he hadn't realized he'd been needing.
Well, perhaps his choice of place could have been better.