Said after a pause, and swallowing a dry throat, blinking himself back to this moment: Yuri on his lap, looking horrified and apologetic, Yuri blushing and unsure, Yuri. And Yuri's fingers that have curled into his palm, away from Victor, while Victor searches for saliva to keep his voice from sounding this hoarse, swallows until he finds some.
It's a start. He searches for a smile, something reassuring and warm and real, even if it isn't quite like the brilliant and nowhere near innocent grin of only moments ago. "Don't apologize."
Yuri has nothing to be sorry for at all. It's not like Victor hasn't become acutely, painfully aware that Yuri probably has no idea what he's doing, and that even a touch that tiny might be too much for him. That he might not know if it's wanted. Or even if it's allowed. "You can touch me if you want."
He lifts a hand from Yuri's hip to find Yuri's, clutched there near his chest, and lifts it to gently kiss those fingers. He could place them on his own cheek, or against his neck, or on his chest after, but he doesn't, just keeps his hand protectively around Yuri's when he looks back up, mouth still pressed in that small smile. "But you don't have to."
He doesn't have to do anything at all he doesn't want to do, isn't ready to do. That has been true this whole time, and it isn't like Victor hasn't already suddenly been given a thousand times more than he ever expected to have. "You have nothing to be sorry for, either way. Okay?"
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Date: 2017-04-15 05:30 pm (UTC)Said after a pause, and swallowing a dry throat, blinking himself back to this moment: Yuri on his lap, looking horrified and apologetic, Yuri blushing and unsure, Yuri. And Yuri's fingers that have curled into his palm, away from Victor, while Victor searches for saliva to keep his voice from sounding this hoarse, swallows until he finds some.
It's a start. He searches for a smile, something reassuring and warm and real, even if it isn't quite like the brilliant and nowhere near innocent grin of only moments ago. "Don't apologize."
Yuri has nothing to be sorry for at all. It's not like Victor hasn't become acutely, painfully aware that Yuri probably has no idea what he's doing, and that even a touch that tiny might be too much for him. That he might not know if it's wanted. Or even if it's allowed. "You can touch me if you want."
He lifts a hand from Yuri's hip to find Yuri's, clutched there near his chest, and lifts it to gently kiss those fingers. He could place them on his own cheek, or against his neck, or on his chest after, but he doesn't, just keeps his hand protectively around Yuri's when he looks back up, mouth still pressed in that small smile. "But you don't have to."
He doesn't have to do anything at all he doesn't want to do, isn't ready to do. That has been true this whole time, and it isn't like Victor hasn't already suddenly been given a thousand times more than he ever expected to have. "You have nothing to be sorry for, either way. Okay?"