Ice. That he should probably get to dump on top of his own head so he can cool off, because Yuri is only centimeters away and it feels like his head is already beginning to fill with steam, just from the way Yuri is looking at him. Color high in his cheeks and his eyes still that stunned stare that keeps traveling over Victor's face.
(How had he wanted this? Didn't he realize how useless it would make him, to be so caught just on Yuri's face, on the flicker of his eyes and the rising and falling color in his cheeks?) "Ice."
And Yuri should –– Yuri should shower. Change into his more comfortable sleep clothes. Eat something. Everything he usually does after a competition, before he and Victor would dissect the performance while Yuri iced whatever needed to be iced and chased his dinner with some ibuprofen.
But Yuri might take it the wrong way if Victor suggests that –– even if it might be, he might be, more comfortable if Victor's not in the room for some of it –– so he just swallows hard and pushes away, back to standing, and almost passes out from the lightness of his head.
(Love, it turns out, is dangerous on more than a strictly metaphorical level.)
But there's the ice bucket, over by the minifridge, and he takes a short reprieve in walking to grab it, before turning back to Yuri, and finding he has absolutely nothing useful to say, because stop looking so cute, I want to kiss you until we both die of dehydration isn't useful on any level, but he does stop back and lean towards him again, knee denting the mattress, and kiss the dip of his shoulder, just where his shirt collar gives way to skin. "I'll be right back."
Glancing up, and he's about to go again, but he pauses to kiss that mouth again, before pulling back with a grin. "Don't forget me."
Before he's heading for the door, steps quick and firm, and heads out into the hallway and the cool, Yuri-less air there.
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Date: 2017-04-16 01:02 am (UTC)Ice. That he should probably get to dump on top of his own head so he can cool off, because Yuri is only centimeters away and it feels like his head is already beginning to fill with steam, just from the way Yuri is looking at him. Color high in his cheeks and his eyes still that stunned stare that keeps traveling over Victor's face.
(How had he wanted this? Didn't he realize how useless it would make him, to be so caught just on Yuri's face, on the flicker of his eyes and the rising and falling color in his cheeks?) "Ice."
And Yuri should –– Yuri should shower. Change into his more comfortable sleep clothes. Eat something. Everything he usually does after a competition, before he and Victor would dissect the performance while Yuri iced whatever needed to be iced and chased his dinner with some ibuprofen.
But Yuri might take it the wrong way if Victor suggests that –– even if it might be, he might be, more comfortable if Victor's not in the room for some of it –– so he just swallows hard and pushes away, back to standing, and almost passes out from the lightness of his head.
(Love, it turns out, is dangerous on more than a strictly metaphorical level.)
But there's the ice bucket, over by the minifridge, and he takes a short reprieve in walking to grab it, before turning back to Yuri, and finding he has absolutely nothing useful to say, because stop looking so cute, I want to kiss you until we both die of dehydration isn't useful on any level, but he does stop back and lean towards him again, knee denting the mattress, and kiss the dip of his shoulder, just where his shirt collar gives way to skin. "I'll be right back."
Glancing up, and he's about to go again, but he pauses to kiss that mouth again, before pulling back with a grin. "Don't forget me."
Before he's heading for the door, steps quick and firm, and heads out into the hallway and the cool, Yuri-less air there.