He doesn't want this to end. Doesn't want to listen. Not even when something, some -- a sound, amused? -- comes from Victor, and Yuri can feel his cheeks getting hotter. Any sound shattering the silence of the elevator suddenly self-conscious and wrong. Maybe all wrong. Maybe he should pull back. If Victor is laughing at him?
Which still, still doesn't change that there's almost something helplessly, embarrassing, shamefully, like a whine or a whimper vibrating against the top of his chest, the bottom of his throat, when Victor pulls away, then kisses him again, fast as a breath, and the pulls away again. Hand taking his and leading him from the elevator, back to the elegant and empty hallway of endless doors, where people could emerge at any second.
Where Yuri has no choice but to follow.
His feet doing it before his head can even catch up to.
His hand feels. Like it isn't his. Warm. Too warm. Pressed in that glove.
Victor asking that question, and Yuri can't even help but fumble. The way he's looking down more than up, and he doesn't even know how. How to press his lips back together. How his own mouth works. Like he's been carrying it every day for years and never knew anything about it. "You just said you were sorry."
Before kissing Yuri. Again. Twice. Leaving him. He doesn't even know.
Drifting. Barely connected to his feet, his skin, the world, anything that made sense.
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Date: 2017-04-13 03:48 pm (UTC)Which still, still doesn't change that there's almost something helplessly, embarrassing, shamefully, like a whine or a whimper vibrating against the top of his chest, the bottom of his throat, when Victor pulls away, then kisses him again, fast as a breath, and the pulls away again. Hand taking his and leading him from the elevator, back to the elegant and empty hallway of endless doors, where people could emerge at any second.
Where Yuri has no choice but to follow.
His feet doing it before his head can even catch up to.
His hand feels. Like it isn't his. Warm. Too warm. Pressed in that glove.
Victor asking that question, and Yuri can't even help but fumble. The way he's looking down more than up, and he doesn't even know how. How to press his lips back together. How his own mouth works. Like he's been carrying it every day for years and never knew anything about it. "You just said you were sorry."
Before kissing Yuri. Again. Twice. Leaving him. He doesn't even know.
Drifting. Barely connected to his feet, his skin, the world, anything that made sense.