He might love that sigh even more than he loves the gasping, at least as much as the way Yuri leans into his kiss like a sailor on a heeling boat, stumbling into the pull of gravity. He definitely loves those mumbled words, that make him shine up, sudden as hitting a light switch, and laugh. Yuri's attempt to sound accusatory is about as sharp as a limp fish, and for a second Victor is gone, riding high on a cloud of being more appealing than breathing.
For Yuri. For Yuri who had never cared. Not in months, anyway, and at the banquet Victor had convinced himself Yuri never wanted it to get any further than the dance, the game, the challenge.
Maybe he'd only ever wanted Victor to come be his coach; Victor still doesn't know. All he knows is that Yuri is melting in his lap, warm and relaxed and flushed from the tips of his ears to where his throat disappears into the collar of his shirt, and he can barely talk, or breathe, and that's all because of Victor.
It boggles the mind. "Don't you want some ice?"
Even if he's not sure he'd even be able or willing to get up now and leave Yuri alone, to stop touching him even for the space of time it takes to go down the hall and visit the ice maker.
(He's even less sure that standing up, right now, would be a good idea or even possible.)
But he should try. Yuri still had a free skate today, and he'll still have the Exhibition tomorrow, and he hit the ice hard after that flip, and he should have some ice. And some food. And more water.
And none of those are going to be things Victor can get for him while he has Yuri curled around him, on his lap and ready, willing, wanting. So dazed from kisses that he can barely think, or even talk, at all.
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Date: 2017-04-15 10:29 pm (UTC)For Yuri. For Yuri who had never cared. Not in months, anyway, and at the banquet Victor had convinced himself Yuri never wanted it to get any further than the dance, the game, the challenge.
Maybe he'd only ever wanted Victor to come be his coach; Victor still doesn't know. All he knows is that Yuri is melting in his lap, warm and relaxed and flushed from the tips of his ears to where his throat disappears into the collar of his shirt, and he can barely talk, or breathe, and that's all because of Victor.
It boggles the mind. "Don't you want some ice?"
Even if he's not sure he'd even be able or willing to get up now and leave Yuri alone, to stop touching him even for the space of time it takes to go down the hall and visit the ice maker.
(He's even less sure that standing up, right now, would be a good idea or even possible.)
But he should try. Yuri still had a free skate today, and he'll still have the Exhibition tomorrow, and he hit the ice hard after that flip, and he should have some ice. And some food. And more water.
And none of those are going to be things Victor can get for him while he has Yuri curled around him, on his lap and ready, willing, wanting. So dazed from kisses that he can barely think, or even talk, at all.
(Still. He should try.)