He's always been impossible, but Yuri had convinced himself he'd accepted that along with everything else.
Or at least put it somewhere else. Another room. In another closet, under another bed. Made it so they could work. Could. But the way Victor smiles and says his name, slow and low and amused, like this is the best entertainment he could even find, dips into whatever reserve of anything Yuri has left in his stomach, unfair and guttering when those fingers draw his chin up and Victor leans back into kiss him.
When everything revolts, and he pressed up ward, shifts, lifts, his hands almost raising to catch Victors one under his chin, with something like a trill of confused desperation against the idea of losing it again, Victor again, it not lasting -- and it doesn't. It's just the brush of lips, almost like a stamp, while Victor seems to laugh, and pulls back, just as quickly, just as smiling. Maybe smiling even more. Using words that make sense. So much sense, an every day kind of sense, if Victor hadn't kissed him a second ago.
And before that. (And that.) (And that.) (And that.)
Cementing it with a brush of that soft leather along the side of his face, and words that finally make Yuri brow crinkle.
Because Victor looks so amused, like he's telling a joke, and Yuri is going to be sick from the constant flip-flip of his heart, his stomach, his lungs. Not working, or working too hard. Everything falling into and out of his head. Things tugging at his thoughts, that he needs to remember, and then can't even think at all. Stormed. By Victor. By everything ... in himself, too? Nothing lining up, nothing holding still. Nothing rational, sensible, grounded.
While Victor just smiles at what Yuri can't even tell about that. Those words. His newest question. When the flounder of his hand is coming up to rub at his cheek, palm bumping Victor's hand.
"Don't I have to anyway?" It wasn't like they were going separate places, right? There was only one back to go to? And that just made it sound ... so pointless?
An empty joke at Yuri's already beyond confused expense for Victor's benefit?
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Date: 2017-04-12 11:26 pm (UTC)He's always been impossible, but Yuri had convinced himself he'd accepted that along with everything else.
Or at least put it somewhere else. Another room. In another closet, under another bed. Made it so they could work. Could. But the way Victor smiles and says his name, slow and low and amused, like this is the best entertainment he could even find, dips into whatever reserve of anything Yuri has left in his stomach, unfair and guttering when those fingers draw his chin up and Victor leans back into kiss him.
When everything revolts, and he pressed up ward, shifts, lifts, his hands almost raising to catch Victors one under his chin, with something like a trill of confused desperation against the idea of losing it again, Victor again, it not lasting -- and it doesn't. It's just the brush of lips, almost like a stamp, while Victor seems to laugh, and pulls back, just as quickly, just as smiling. Maybe smiling even more. Using words that make sense. So much sense, an every day kind of sense, if Victor hadn't kissed him a second ago.
And before that. (And that.) (And that.) (And that.)
Cementing it with a brush of that soft leather along the side of his face, and words that finally make Yuri brow crinkle.
Because Victor looks so amused, like he's telling a joke, and Yuri is going to be sick from the constant flip-flip of his heart, his stomach, his lungs. Not working, or working too hard. Everything falling into and out of his head. Things tugging at his thoughts, that he needs to remember, and then can't even think at all. Stormed. By Victor. By everything ... in himself, too? Nothing lining up, nothing holding still. Nothing rational, sensible, grounded.
While Victor just smiles at what Yuri can't even tell about that. Those words. His newest question.
When the flounder of his hand is coming up to rub at his cheek, palm bumping Victor's hand.
"Don't I have to anyway?" It wasn't like they were going separate places, right?
There was only one back to go to? And that just made it sound ... so pointless?
An empty joke at Yuri's already beyond confused expense for Victor's benefit?