The fabric of the suit coat is slippy in his hands, and it's not really made to be held on to. A thing hugging him hadn't needed. The same as it's not really meant to have give because all of Victor's suit always appear to be perfectly made for him.
None of which is really a full though except for the part where his fingers really don't have traction, and he's not sure whether it's a complaint, or a question, in his head, but that blurs almost immediately into the flutter of his lashes and sideways hiccup of his heart when Victor's fingers are suddenly curled around the side of his throat. Flooding his skin with a caustic, snapping jolt where they land, where they stay, making him feel the so clear, so steadily growing want to push into it.
Into Victor. Into this kiss with Victor. Into that warmth turning itself into a dizzying swirl to rival any spotlight. Victor's hands. Victor's body. Victor kissing him. Victor kissing him. Victor kissing him.
Victor whose face had been a million things in the last hour, last year, and is a millionth-and-one, again, as he pulls away, to rest his forehead against Yuri's, while Yuri's eyes have to refocus on him this time. His heart stumbling, swaying, drunk on light and warmth, in his chest. The light and warmth right there in Victor's eyes. The shine of whatever this expression is. Relief and attention and something something more, as Yuri's eyelashes flicker again, flutter, almost close and draw in and up his facial muscles when Victor's thumb starts moving.
Making him swallow reflexively as something tightened like a knot being pulled tight suddenly in his stomach.
When the question is soft as that kiss had been at it's beginning, and Yuri feels like he's both only in his skin, and just half outside of it, dazed. Better, like he wasn't afraid that this was all going to come down around his ears? Better, like this made any sense at all, that it was him, and not someone else, really? Better, like he wasn't going to very likely embarrass himself panicking about something inane and microscopic and childish and ignorant in about five minutes?
Maybe not.
But better in the way where he didn't even want to let his eyelids close all the way as Victor's thumb was brushing sensitive skin, making him start trembling, didn't even want to let that touch take away his ability to see Victor's face, this close? Better in the way where he didn't want to look away at all? Wasn't afraid to look at Victor? Wasn't afraid suddenly that he was afraid of Victor and the whole world had not only turned inside out but died on the floor of this room?
Better because he wanted to fall toward Victor's eyes, and Victor's touch, and Victor's mouth, as much that kiss a few seconds ago as the soft voice he was using and the soft pressure of his forehead now? At least as much, but steadily, so much more than he wanted to slip backward into the cold shadows of his own mind? More this one than the other, even if the other came to his mind first, fastest, reaching for the worst potential always first?
Yuri nodded against Victor's forehead, and took a deeper breath in his nose, letting it raise and lower his shoulders. Maybe feeling for the first time everything else. The weight on his skin, of the last hour as much as the last day, this whole three days, and the space of the room. The ability to just breathe.
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Date: 2017-04-15 04:10 am (UTC)The same as it's not really meant to have give because all of Victor's suit always appear to be perfectly made for him.
None of which is really a full though except for the part where his fingers really don't have traction, and he's not sure whether it's a complaint, or a question, in his head, but that blurs almost immediately into the flutter of his lashes and sideways hiccup of his heart when Victor's fingers are suddenly curled around the side of his throat. Flooding his skin with a caustic, snapping jolt where they land, where they stay, making him feel the so clear, so steadily growing want to push into it.
Into Victor. Into this kiss with Victor. Into that warmth turning itself into a dizzying swirl to rival any spotlight.
Victor's hands. Victor's body. Victor kissing him. Victor kissing him. Victor kissing him.
Victor whose face had been a million things in the last hour, last year, and is a millionth-and-one, again, as he pulls away, to rest his forehead against Yuri's, while Yuri's eyes have to refocus on him this time. His heart stumbling, swaying, drunk on light and warmth, in his chest. The light and warmth right there in Victor's eyes. The shine of whatever this expression is. Relief and attention and something something more, as Yuri's eyelashes flicker again, flutter, almost close and draw in and up his facial muscles when Victor's thumb starts moving.
Making him swallow reflexively as something tightened like a knot being pulled tight suddenly in his stomach.
When the question is soft as that kiss had been at it's beginning, and Yuri feels like he's both only in his skin, and just half outside of it, dazed. Better, like he wasn't afraid that this was all going to come down around his ears? Better, like this made any sense at all, that it was him, and not someone else, really? Better, like he wasn't going to very likely embarrass himself panicking about something inane and microscopic and childish and ignorant in about five minutes?
Maybe not.
But better in the way where he didn't even want to let his eyelids close all the way as Victor's thumb was brushing sensitive skin, making him start trembling, didn't even want to let that touch take away his ability to see Victor's face, this close? Better in the way where he didn't want to look away at all? Wasn't afraid to look at Victor? Wasn't afraid suddenly that he was afraid of Victor and the whole world had not only turned inside out but died on the floor of this room?
Better because he wanted to fall toward Victor's eyes, and Victor's touch, and Victor's mouth, as much that kiss a few seconds ago as the soft voice he was using and the soft pressure of his forehead now? At least as much, but steadily, so much more than he wanted to slip backward into the cold shadows of his own mind? More this one than the other, even if the other came to his mind first, fastest, reaching for the worst potential always first?
Yuri nodded against Victor's forehead, and took a deeper breath in his nose, letting it raise and lower his shoulders. Maybe feeling for the first time everything else. The weight on his skin, of the last hour as much as the last day, this whole three days, and the space of the room. The ability to just breathe.