alwaysthequietones | (no subject)

(no subject)

It's different, he learns, actually being friends with someone on the ice.

It's not just Yuri, either-- Viktor's friendship kind of ends up being this weird package deal with that that he wasn't expecting and Yuuri's follows and Yuuri seems like one of those people everyone just likes for some reason and so everyone else seems to follow suit. He's not really much of a people person-- people tend to find him too quiet and get bored and he finds small talk pretty exhausting, himself-- so "friendship" in this case might be too strong a word for what any of them feel towards him, but he's invested now, enough that every now and again, he'll even post something on Instagram or like a few scattered posts here and there.

He and Yuri talk more often than that, but it's still just a smattering of texts here and there and he's no better at pleasantries on the internet than he is in person, but Yuri really doesn't seem to care, so it works out okay. It's... nice. Having someone to talk to. He's spent most of his skating career not being very good at... well, most of the things other skaters were good at. Dance, talking, smiling for the camera. He's not unaware of how sullen he looks next to Viktor and Chris in some of those pictures when it was the three of them on the podium. He's just not really someone to smile and play nice with a bunch of reporters. He prefers to mean it, when he smiles.

He doesn't smile a lot.

But that's okay, too. He's an athlete. He's good at what he does. It's enough. ... Except now he's getting out there, competition after competition and skating against people he knows and one person he knows in particular and it's... different, now. He feels things more. He's still a solid skater, does the same things he's always done, just better. He's getting silver suddenly, more than bronze, though the fight to land on the podium at all is getting rougher and he misses it more than once.

And then, on the first competition to the Grand Prix Finals, suddenly he's standing higher than everyone else, and it's just qualifier, but it matters, because it's Yuri with the silver around his neck.

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"Leggo," Yuri pants. Scrambling as best he can back to his feet.

Then it's his turn to yank Otabek in for a kiss. Tongue mapping out his mouth.

"It's a fucking great idea," he snarls. "But if you ruin these jeans you are paying for it the rest of your life Beka! Understand?!"

Yuri likes the jeans, okay?!

Yuri almost knocks the bike over scrambling off and maybe someone can take a moment to appreciate the strength needed to both keep the thing upright and have someone used to launching themselves into the air on blades push off it to get away, since it's probably not either of them at the moment.

Otabek has exactly five seconds to regret all of his life decisions when Yuri pushes away, but then he's got his tongue in his mouth and Otabek melts instead and just like there seems to be little contradiction in his head between not kissing in public and being perfectly happy to push Yuri down across the motorcycle, the handoff between acting like he might fuck Yuri across the bike and letting himself be manhandled into a kiss is seamless.

He kind of wants to point out that things called washing machines exist, but he also can tell this isn't really about the jeans.

"Then you should sit in the back. I can't let you up in the middle of traffic."

It's 2% about the jeans. They've both got flights tomorrow, when is Yuri going to have time to do more laundry?!

"Okay. Fine."

Yuri tucks himself behind Otabek. Wrapping both arms around his waist. This is familiar, settling, even if the vibrations back here aren't much better. And if he lays his cheek against Beka's back, breathes deep - who's going to see?

Probably, with a different two people, this entire thing would have gone quite differently. But neither of them are anyone else but who they are, and so Otabek just reaches down and splays his fingers across Yuri's around his waist for a moment, reassuring and there but without comment, and then at least attempts to pay more attention to driving than the feel of him settled in behind him.

It's probably good that they didn't do anything else on the bike for another reason by the time they get to the hotel, which is that they have to walk across the lobby and while Otabek doesn't have the same kind of fan following Yuri does, he did just win a gold medal.

(And there might, just might be some Yuri's Angels out there who've taken the whole "best friends" thing a little too far already. There's fanfic. Otabek is aware it exists, but hasn't dared look at it.)

(Yurio has avoided it, more from willful self-ignorance. God some people have to much free time! Who even writes this stuff?!)

There's still a few photographers hanging around. Since it's preliminaries, though, it isn't as bad a swarm. All they're getting is the pair walking together, Yuri's hands shoved in his pockets and scowling straight into the lenses. (And maybe flipping off one that gets too close. Ha! Now the asshole can't run that one at all!)

It is miles to the elevator.

Yuri has exactly enough patience for the doors to close before he's yanking at Otabek's collar. Ready to continue their earlier "conversation."

Edited 2017-04-10 23:50 (UTC)

Otabek crosses the lobby the same way he always does, which is to say he ignores anyone who doesn't directly approach him and no one directly approaches him. So there are a few really good pictures of Yuri acting like a cat dropped in a bathtub and Otabek impassive next to him.

There are speculations of course (a certain Thai skater has nothing to do with starting any of them (anywhere where anyone can prove it)) but nothing concrete, which is good, because the wait for the elevator almost crackles with tension when they both get on it.

He lets Yuri be the one to reach for him, not really cautious, but mindful that Yuri's the one who called a stop to things before, but he's happy to either lean down or help him up, either way, and he kisses back just as reckless as ever.

Leaning down is better. That way Yuri can get his hands on Otabek's ass. He hasn't got the momentum to shove him against the wall, but makes an effort anyway. Attacking the span of neck that's been taunting him since dinner.

He barely jumps off in time when the elevator rings.

"Wait - Which floor is this?"

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.

The eighth floor is the gym and swimming pool. No actual rooms. Somehow that translates, in Yuri's frazzled state, to "Time to kiss Otabek some more." And pull out more of those noises. Kissing is still new and weird but Yuri's always been a fast learner. His mouth is back on that spot like a magnet, sucking deep.

It takes a minute or so to realize the elevator isn't moving. Waiting for orders.

"Oh yeah," he pants. Cheeks bright, breath coming fast. He needs to get out of the jeans. It is becoming urgent. "What floor are you on?"

Which is pretty much inviting himself into Otabek's room. However, Yuri's isn't an option - it's connected to Viktor and Yuuri! No way in hell.

Yuri sets into that spot with a vengeance and it's only the fact that the wall can take some of Otabek's weight that saves him from falling over. He's never experienced his legs go weak from anything other than exhaustion before, but it's like something under Yuri's mouth is connected straight to every other nerve in his body and they all fire sideways when he does that. The noises shade pleading, desperate, and he's pulling Yuri closer by his ass because he can't think enough to do anything else.

"Eight," he says again, because for a second he thinks Yuri has asked the same question again-- they are, in fact, on Eight, after all. But he manages to parse that into the real question a moment later, "Twelve. My room's on twelve."

He doesn't care which of their rooms they end up in at this point. In fact, he might have cleaned up a tiny bit in anticipation that it might have been his.

That's good. Yuri's room, along with completely embarrassing semi-roommates, is a disaster. He doesn't mean for his clothes to explode everywhere, it just happens. It is even worse after preparing for the sort-of date.

He growls again, in response to the begging. That is something else he definitely likes. That Otabek's strong enough to pick him up but Yuri's got him whimpering. Knocked off balance.

Right. Room. They need a room. Yuri flails an arm for the buttons. Can't quite reach. He solves this by yanking Otabek forward a few steps, mouths locked together, until his hand lands on "12."

They almost end up on the ground, because Otabek's legs don't really work right now. If they end up on the ground, they're going to get arrested for at least some kind of public indecency, though, because getting up means getting too far away from one another. So Otabek makes a last ditch effort and catches himself on the corner wall.

It means he can hold onto Yuri less, because now he's holding himself up by his arms instead of his back, but it does mean it's his turn to press Yuri into the wall again to kiss which is more than alright with him.

8 to 12 is no time at all, thankfully, and the doors are dinging open.

"1224," Otabek says, because he's got no illusions that he's not getting all but dragged there.

Yeah, walls? Are becoming one of Yuri's favorite things.

He at least manages not to make out with Otabek in the middle of the hallway. Even manages not to sprint towards the room. Still, there's no questioning what they're up to. Not with Yuri's eyes flaring bright, his hand clamped down on Otabek's wrist and the wrinkles twisted into their clothes.

Hopefully their luck holds and no one's around to make assumptions.

"Hurry up," Yuri hisses at the door. Not because he doubts Otabek's speed, but if he doesn't talk he's going to explode.

Nothing about Otabek looks anywhere near as desperate. He's maybe a little flushed and mussed, but he's not giving off many signs of what they've been doing otherwise.

Except his hand slips on the door handle and puts the key in the wrong way and drops it once, fumbling, before they are finally slipping into the room and he doesn't even bother turning the light on before they're kissing again, though he fumbles for the switch without taking his mouth off of Yuri's. He drags him back in to the line of his body, hands and mouth starving for him, ravenous.

Yuri growls again. Which fades into a moan. Shit, he'd forgotten how good this feels in the few seconds it took to open the door. Best of all, he doesn't have to be quiet any more. Just concentrate on Otabek, letting whatever sounds come out that want to.

There's... rather a lot. And that's just from kissing.

Otabek is still quiet, but "quiet" is not the same as silent, the noises he makes are sharp, unselfconscious. He's got the same new appreciation for walls that Yuri does and he leans him into another one, just because it lets him get closer, press in more. He doesn't know where this is coming from-- it's never even been something he was interested in, beyond the typical adolescent fantasy or two. But those were safe in bed, alone, frustrated. Ever since he's made concrete decisions about his skating career there's been neither time, nor energy, nor desire for anything like this.

He doesn't care where it's coming from, though, just where it's going and that's his mouth down Yuri's neck to a place lower than before but where he's definitely leaving a mark this time, and either working on buttons or dragging every scrap of fabric on his torso up and over his head, hands back on skin as soon as he gets things open or out of the way.

Yuri slithers out of the sweater and jacket. Everything grace and lean sinew. His body's been honed to do what he wants. There's no hesitation. Because if he stops, even for a second, the whole thing crashes down. Just like on the ice. The only way he wants to go is forward.

The clothes get tossed aside in a snap of his wrist (even this is pretty, and someday he should really find a way to get that move on the rink...) There's time for Otabek to explore, but soon Yuri's hands are moving again. Dragging from Otabek's ass to his waistband, shoving at the shirt.

"Hurry up," Yuri demands again. Eager to have his turn, see the muscle

Otabek explores immediately, hands flat against Yuri's body, touching everywhere, everything, without any sign of hesitation or restraint. He gets caught up in it, actually, textures and feeling things move under the skin and he's got them fitted together against the wall before Yuri's pulling at his shirt.

His own is discarded without any kind of grace or care. He just pulls off his shirt and flings it somewhere, because what's in front of him is worth entirely more attention-- particularly now that suddenly there's so much skin agains skin. The next kiss is almost ferocious, hungry, and he's dragging Yuri away from the wall and into him by his ass a second later, not really heading for the bed so much as just tugging them off-balance into it's general vicinity.

Did Yuri say walls were his new favorite? He has changed his mind, this is now the winner. He hooks a leg around the outside of Otabek's. Anchoring himself so he can map out all the angles. Making appreciative noises as he drags his hands up the biceps, shoulders, feels them ripple.

There's teeth in the next kiss, clumsy. Maybe harder then Yuri means it to be.

Otabek has a moment to be startled at his own reaction to that kiss, the way the sharp flare of pain pulls everything tight for a moment, makes his skin feel like it's going to peel off, before they're tumbling down into the bed, Yuri on top of him. His hands clench harder on his ass in response, enough that he's probably leaving bruises in pale skin, but he needs that leverage to pull him down into his grind up hard enough.

Yuri's hands are everywhere and he's never really thought much about whether it would feel good to be touched like that, someone assessing the raw power tied up in his body through their palms. He's going to go mad with it, is the answer, needs more.

It does occur to him that this is the same feeling he had on the bike and Yuri hadn't responded well, but he also doesn't know how to stop at this point, doesn't even remember the word for it in a language they share, but he can at least manage,

"Pants," like it's an order. He's aware that that means he's going to have to stop grinding on Yuri for long enough to have that happen, but he also hasn't exactly worked out how he's going to do that either.

Yuri is not good with surprises. He can deal with them, but it's usually by shouting. Lashing out until he can get the new thing to stop, or control it. If he has space to think it all goes much better.

Like this. He's pushing his hips right back into Otabek's now, goading.

The order gets a grin. Dazed but definitely all for it. Yuri worms a hand between them to unhook the button, zipper, and then he's squirming forward. Leaving Otabek gripping the denim. He can either help or enjoy the show, Yuri's happy either way.

Whether he actually helps the process along or not is in some debate, but he definitely tries to. In fact, it might be more accurate to say that he tries to tear the pants off Yuri's body, the way he tugs and pulls, and there's entirely too much pressure and wiggling pressed tight against his cock for him to not arch his back and voice another one of those quiet but throaty moans.

"Yuri..." assessing a tone is impossible like this, but the name's heavy, weighted with all the things he wants right now. As soon as there's more skin, he's all over it, drunk on the texture of it under his palms, how it moves when Yuri does. The desire to put his mouth on all of it is almost overwhelming and takes him by surprise. It's not something he's ever even thought about before, and now he's got his mouth on Yuri's collarbone because it's the closest thing and he's not really biting, exactly, but there's definitely teeth.

Yuri's underwear slides off somewhere in the process. It doesn't quite register as being naked. There's too much sensation to think. He keens at having so much touch, like he's starving for it. Hips bucking erratically. Pulse after pulse of heat running up his dick.

Then there's teeth. A yelp. Next nails digging into shoulders, shoving Otabek into the sheets. Yuri stares down at him. The lamplight casting him half in shadow, hair spilling out of the ponytail. He looks wrecked. Bruises from Otabek's mouth already blooming on his skin.

He also looks like he could tear the room apart.

"How does this work?" he demands. "Is there - Do you want something?"

This is the closest he can get to actually asking Otabek if he's had sex. With... well, anyone else.

Edited 2017-04-16 21:54 (UTC)

For a second, all Otabek can do is stare, wide-eyed, at Yuri. He's never really gotten the whole "Russian Fairy" thing, but right now, he can't see anything else. They mean it like something delicate, small, pretty. All he sees is the kind with teeth-- soul stealers, beguilers, dangerous and mercurial, bloody and hungry.

He wants so much it's almost a physical pain in his chest. It takes a moment to focus on the words,

"I've never done this before," some people, maybe that would be a hard admission, but Otabek sees no reason to be embarrassed about it, it's just facts, "but I looked it up and it doesn't look too complicated" Yuri can do whatever he wants with the information that Otabek prepared for this, without knowing even how things stood between them.

Yuri decides he likes that look. Likes knowing he's the first one to get Beka like this. His eyes widen though, and for a second he does shade softer. As it hits how very, very much he actually likes this boy.

Good thing he's naked in his bed!

"Okay..."

The next kiss is long and affectionate. Helps Yuri get centered again. Then he sits back up. Hands dragging down Otabek's chest, tracing over the abs - seeing what response that gets. He tosses his hair out of the way and smirks. Returning to the mischievous sort of fairy.

"Okay - Tell me," he orders.