In the next breath the scarf gets pulled free. Yuuri's wrists are crossed together over his head, fabric draping over them.

"Hold still. Unless you want to pull it."

It isn't a request any more. Even Viktor has his limits. He's all at once impatient to be inside. Fingers already trailing between Yuuri's legs, slippery with lube.

There isn't enough physical tension to hold Yuuri back. It's more the idea of it that's important.