It's bad enough that he's getting to kiss Yuri, and hold Yuri, and have Yuri's hands against his chest, but when he pauses to take a quick breath and is interrupted by Yuri leaning up to kiss him, he loses what little was left of his sanity and self-preservation.
It pulls a strangled, longing noise from his throat, and his fingers tighten around one of the hands on his chest, while what's left of his brain desperately tries to remind him that Yuri has never been kissed before, and that he can't just shove Yuri into a wall, or pull him back towards the bed, and he shouldn't be overwhelming him with kisses, either. Probably.
But Yuri kissed him, and if he'd thought his heart had burst before, he was sorely mistaken, because there are these concussive waves pounding through his head and chest now, and he's not sure he could breathe again, even if he were to have the chance.
Because Yuri kissed him. Pushed up on his toes and pushed his mouth against Victor's, and isn't tearing himself away, and isn't in a confused and anxious ball on the floor, and Victor doesn't quite know what to do with this new information except for knowing that he never wants to let Yuri go. Possibly ever again. Definitely not in the next few hours, or days.
As long as he can have this, he wants it. Him. Them. Yuri's hands on his chest and Yuri's mouth pressing more and more confidently against his, making him groan and laugh and say, against Yuri's mouth, "You are going to be the death of me, Мой Yuri."
His heart is going to explode. Or he's going to collapse from a lack of oxygen. Or he'll simply die right here, of happiness, because all he's known for the last eight months was that it wasn't going to happen.
But he takes a second to lift one of Yuri's hands from his chest to his lips, to kiss those fingers and his palm, before settling it back on the rich fabric of his coat and vest and smiling into this next kiss. "But I can't think of a better way to go."
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It pulls a strangled, longing noise from his throat, and his fingers tighten around one of the hands on his chest, while what's left of his brain desperately tries to remind him that Yuri has never been kissed before, and that he can't just shove Yuri into a wall, or pull him back towards the bed, and he shouldn't be overwhelming him with kisses, either. Probably.
But Yuri kissed him, and if he'd thought his heart had burst before, he was sorely mistaken, because there are these concussive waves pounding through his head and chest now, and he's not sure he could breathe again, even if he were to have the chance.
Because Yuri kissed him. Pushed up on his toes and pushed his mouth against Victor's, and isn't tearing himself away, and isn't in a confused and anxious ball on the floor, and Victor doesn't quite know what to do with this new information except for knowing that he never wants to let Yuri go. Possibly ever again. Definitely not in the next few hours, or days.
As long as he can have this, he wants it. Him. Them. Yuri's hands on his chest and Yuri's mouth pressing more and more confidently against his, making him groan and laugh and say, against Yuri's mouth, "You are going to be the death of me, Мой Yuri."
His heart is going to explode. Or he's going to collapse from a lack of oxygen. Or he'll simply die right here, of happiness, because all he's known for the last eight months was that it wasn't going to happen.
But he takes a second to lift one of Yuri's hands from his chest to his lips, to kiss those fingers and his palm, before settling it back on the rich fabric of his coat and vest and smiling into this next kiss. "But I can't think of a better way to go."