"Fuck. Yuri." He says both words like facts when Yuri's hips rock against his hand. He doesn't say that Yuri's gorgeous, but his eyes are a little wide, pupils blown, tone hungry.

"Bedside table, in the drawer," it's reachable, though Yuri's going to have to stretch out over top of him to get there. It's possible that's been the plan all along. (It's not. Otabek is not nearly that prepared.)