It takes almost no effort to get Otabek's back up against the wall and his hands in Yuri's hair, tugging him first harder into the kiss and then clinging onto him when he gets his mouth on his neck. There's no one to hear them in the elevator so there's a low moan to the way Yuri's fingers clench on his ass, how that drags his hips forward, a louder one to a particular spot on his neck which, if it's not bruised now, is surely going to be, because the way it makes him shudder is probably too good to ignore.

"Eight," he says, quiet, automatic, to the question. Is that the floor they want? He has no idea. Had they even pushed a button? Surely they had.