Feeling unsure and needing to do something to distract himself from the strangely sweet ache he felt while looking at a naked Yuri wrapped in his blanket, Angelo fled for his small, but modern and well-appointed kitchen. Angelo opened cupboards and rooted around until he found what he was looking for—a tin of Mirean cocoa. He wasn’t a huge fan of the drink, preferring tea, but he knew Yuri had always been piggy for it. While the kettle heated water for his own tea, Angelo began to steam some milk. As it warmed, he added sugar and the cocoa, stirring constantly until it was hot, then he poured it all into a mug. He took both drinks back over to the sofa where Yuri was still curled up.
“You awake, princess?”
Yuri grunted and lifted his head. “Is that cocoa?” he asked.
Angelo handed him the mug. “Not as good as what you’re used to, but yes.”
“You are the fucking best,” Yuri sighed, then took a sip. “Forget all the nasty things I’ve ever said about you.”
Angelo sat down carefully beside Yuri so he wouldn’t spill his tea. “The ones you said to my face or behind my back?”
Yuri took another sip of his chocolate and seemed to ponder the question. “I’m not sure I’ve ever said anything behind your back I wasn’t willing to say to your face.”
“How chivalrous of you.”
Laughter burst out of Yuri but he held his drink still. “Hardly. Saying mean things you don’t hear is never going to get my arse spanked, silly. I have my priorities.”
Angelo snorted. “True.”
They drifted into a companionable silence, each sipping his own drink and lost in his own thoughts. Angelo, for his part, felt restless as hell. He didn’t want to move or be anywhere but where he was at that moment, but at the same time, he wanted to be doing something. Even his fingers itched to do more than hold his mug of tea.
Angelo acknowledged he had some sort of unexpected and fucked-up sexual interest in Yuri, and he had no idea what to do about it. His body wanted to act, to pick Yuri up and carry him back to his bed and do some of the things he'd seen while researching gay porn. His mind, on the other hand, was far less sure that was a good idea. There were so many things that could go wrong between the two of them, not least of which was Angelo finding that while he was somewhat attracted to Yuri, he wasn’t attracted enough. What he was feeling had to be some sort of fluke. A misfiring in his brain, perhaps, or misdirection by his hormones. It was the only thing that made sense. The last thing Yuri needed was to get his hopes up thinking Angelo could or would be something he wasn’t, and never would be. That, in the end, would only hurt both of them and make the rest of their lives more miserable than they had to be.
Yuri put his mug down on a nearby table. “I should probably go,” he said, not sounding particularly eager to leave.
Angelo, who’d just been thinking it would be for the best if Yuri left, said, “You don’t have to. Not if you don’t want to.”
“I want…”
“Yes? What do you want?” Angelo asked, almost afraid to know but powerless not to ask.
Yuri laughed, and it was darker and more bitter than the chocolate he'd just drunk. Angelo hated that laugh. “I want so many, many things that I’ll never have. But for now, I just want to stay here a little bit longer. Be with you, but not like… fight and shit. Is that acceptable?”
“Sure.” Not sure what else to do, Angelo turned on the television. There was a football match on and he turned down the sound to the point where it wasn’t screeching at them, then looked at Yuri. “Is this okay?”
Yuri nodded, then crawled over to Angelo, tugging the duvet behind him. He climbed into Angelo’s lap.
“Yuri, what the hell are you up to?”
“Shh.” Yuri put his finger to Angelo’s lips. “No fighting. You promised. I’m just getting comfortable.” He tried several different positions, some of them making him wince or hiss with discomfort, and eventually settled on sitting on Angelo’s lap while facing him. Yuri dragged the duvet around him like it was a royal cloak then laid his head on Angelo’s shoulder, his nose brushing Angelo’s neck.
No fighting. Angelo hadn’t actually promised, per se, but he had agreed to it, so he let Yuri use him like a pillow while he watched the game. That soon, however, became harder and harder to do. Whether absently or with clear determination—Angelo couldn’t tell which one it was—Yuri began to press soft, slow kisses to the side of Angelo’s neck.
It didn’t bother him. There was nothing intrinsically wrong with it. But the kisses put Angelo on edge. His entire body tensed up in a way Yuri had to feel, but he ignored. He made small, satisfied noises and went on kissing Angelo, moving on to his jaw.
Angelo thought he should put a stop to it. Definitely. Soon, he would. He just needed to wait for the right time. Angelo wanted to be diplomatic about turning Yuri down. He could do the spanking thing—was more than happy to spank the shit out of Yuri on a regular basis, in fact—but this stuff was totally, completely, and utterly wrong. Yuri shouldn’t be kissing his throat, then slightly sucking on his skin. Angelo would make him
