Yuri's fingers tighten, and Yuri's head tips, and Yuri breathes out a surprised sigh that lands like a lit cigarette in the pool of petrol that Victor's stomach has become, sending flames licking out and along the empty space where his guts and lungs and heart used to be. This is an invitation he understands, the pale creamy column of Yuri's throat exposed as Yuri's head tilts, and relief is warm and flooding just ahead of mischievous and sparking delight.
He's doing that. To Yuri. Winning that sigh and that tip of his head and the invitation to press his mouth up under the angle of Yuri's jaw, which he does, right where the skin is softest and thinnest and the most sensitive and he can feel the steady pulse of blood beneath his lips. And. That smile. That wasn't quite a smile, never really came to life, but he'd felt it in the bunching of Yuri's cheek under his lips a second ago, in the way Yuri relaxed under his arms and tightened again, not like he was protecting himself, but like he was suddenly being tickled. It's a blink of a reaction, but Victor decides he wants that, too, wants to see Yuri smiling and laughing and sparkling against him, under his touch, his kiss. Wants Yuri happy and amused and affectionate, as well as sighing and melting and stumbling towards anything and everything he might want to give, or want from Victor.
He wants it all. After so long. He feels like a man who has wandered a desert for these two long years, and is suddenly faced with crystal clear water and a table laden with every kind of fresh fruit and sweet cream and fresh bread and heady wine. It feels like there isn't enough air in the air, but he has to try to find some, because he has to be able to think. At least a little.
Even when he'd much rather nuzzle his face affectionately into the curve of Yuri's neck where it meets his shoulder, unable to keep himself from pressing another kiss there, amusement chasing relief and warm, bubbling fondness while his arms slip from around Yuri's shoulders to loop lightly around his upper arms, as Victor works his way back up the perfect curve of Yuri's neck to his jaw, leans forward a little to press a kiss against his ear, before aiming for the ticklish spot just below it with a laugh that's too breathless and giddy to be anything other than pure happiness. "This is terrible. What have you done to me? How will I ever be able to stop?"
But that patch of skin is a little salty from the sweat that dried there after Yuri's performance, and Victor loses his train of thought again, as he focuses on it, before he remembers where he was headed with that thought to begin with. "I shouldn't be making you stay on your feet so long after a free skate, Yuri."
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Date: 2017-04-15 02:29 pm (UTC)He's doing that. To Yuri. Winning that sigh and that tip of his head and the invitation to press his mouth up under the angle of Yuri's jaw, which he does, right where the skin is softest and thinnest and the most sensitive and he can feel the steady pulse of blood beneath his lips. And. That smile. That wasn't quite a smile, never really came to life, but he'd felt it in the bunching of Yuri's cheek under his lips a second ago, in the way Yuri relaxed under his arms and tightened again, not like he was protecting himself, but like he was suddenly being tickled. It's a blink of a reaction, but Victor decides he wants that, too, wants to see Yuri smiling and laughing and sparkling against him, under his touch, his kiss. Wants Yuri happy and amused and affectionate, as well as sighing and melting and stumbling towards anything and everything he might want to give, or want from Victor.
He wants it all. After so long. He feels like a man who has wandered a desert for these two long years, and is suddenly faced with crystal clear water and a table laden with every kind of fresh fruit and sweet cream and fresh bread and heady wine. It feels like there isn't enough air in the air, but he has to try to find some, because he has to be able to think. At least a little.
Even when he'd much rather nuzzle his face affectionately into the curve of Yuri's neck where it meets his shoulder, unable to keep himself from pressing another kiss there, amusement chasing relief and warm, bubbling fondness while his arms slip from around Yuri's shoulders to loop lightly around his upper arms, as Victor works his way back up the perfect curve of Yuri's neck to his jaw, leans forward a little to press a kiss against his ear, before aiming for the ticklish spot just below it with a laugh that's too breathless and giddy to be anything other than pure happiness. "This is terrible. What have you done to me? How will I ever be able to stop?"
But that patch of skin is a little salty from the sweat that dried there after Yuri's performance, and Victor loses his train of thought again, as he focuses on it, before he remembers where he was headed with that thought to begin with. "I shouldn't be making you stay on your feet so long after a free skate, Yuri."