Yuri's hair is well past his shoulders now. Long enough to braid in circles. And long enough to tangle in Otabek's fingers as it spills out of the elaborate crown. Yuri already knows he likes having it played with - he's never admitted it, of course, but there's something soothing about it. He'll sit still longer to have it braided then anything else.

This is having... rather the opposite effect. Especially with the pressure of Otabek rocking into him. Yuri keens as that heat keeps building. Deepening the kiss when he's got their mouths back together, swearing in the breaks for air.

"Fuck - Otabek - Fuck."