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Summary
For as long as Viktor could remember, Yuuri had a peculiar aversion when it came to suits.
Regular complaints about the cuffs being too short, infrequent discomforts when the fabric tugged at his skin, the tightness around his collar, restraining every breath-- how has someone not died yet from this 'fashion over function?'--and Yuuri had an odd tendency to buy jackets that were two sizes too big or too small for his frame--it was a mess that left a bitter taste in Yuuri's mouth when his fingers browsed along the hangers in his closet.
Even so, something in Yuuri stirred when he slowly peeled a suit jacket off from the crook of Viktor's shoulders. One vulnerable heart to another when the fabric crumbled under Yuuri's touch. His fingers already curled around Viktor's tie, undoing the knot that held Viktor's ugly, yet beautiful passion away from Yuuri's world. This touch felt familiar, but it was unlike anything Yuuri had done before when he peered into Viktor's eyes. Asking if he could continue, because whatever happened from here was by feeling alone. No rationale, if Yuuri could help it, when Viktor sealed his response with a kiss.
Series
- Part 5 of A Teacup's Shatter