The fabric is thin, and even with the dance belt Yuri is pretty sure he's going to catch fire. Holy shit that's Otabek's prick pushing against him. Yuri has never wanted out of a costume so badly. Not even the stupid one with the giant ruffles. Except this one is all one piece, with the Russia jacket on top. Removing anything would mean letting go. Not fucking likely.

Especially not when Otabek just moves him like that. And hell, Mila can deadlift him, but this is different.

Yuri snarls at the mouth on his throat. Not connecting what that's going to look like when they get out of here. Who cares. He can think exactly as far as the next kiss, the next rub of Otabek's dick against his.