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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"It gets better, I promise. And I think it'll be better for you than it was for me anyway, because I didn't have a very good angle," he doesn't explain that. Either Yuri knows about what's coming or he doesn't and Otabek is fine with moving slow and letting Yuri know that he'll stop, but he's not really interested in providing anatomy lessons.

He's scissoring his fingers a little bit, testing his reaction, but only for a moment before he's reaching deeper, deliberately angling like the description he'd read told him to, searching for the right spot...

It is almost certain he is not ready for the reaction it's going to get, when he finds it.

Beka's fingers brush something electric, sending a bolt through Yuri. He arcs his back. Hand spasming off his dick, clutching at Otabek, trying to brace. Though he can't appreciate it, Yuri looks incredible like this. Completely out of control.

"The fuck," he finally manages to gasp out. "The fuck?!"

"Holy shit," Otabek says at the same time, wild-eyed as Yuri writhes. Nothing that he'd read had prepared him for that.

So of course, he does it again. Immediately.

And then if the reaction is even half as good the second time, he moves from "immediately" to relentlessly, at least for a minute, at least until his brain can catch up that he really doesn't want to actually get Yuri off like this, and he can make himself slow down, breathe.

Yuri is not helping at all. Figuring out that he can cant his hips down on the fingers, chase that sensation and make it even stronger. Which has the added bonus of opening things up much faster. There's sparks blooming in his head, by the time Beka slows.

"Again," he snarls as soon as he's got air back.

He does it again, once, on autopilot, and that's got to be intensely gratifying-- that he's taking Yuri apart, but there's no hesitation or thought behind following an order like that.

He does pause after that, though, shifts slightly, to bring them up to three, which doesn't let him reach as good, but has a fuller feeling to it, when he does brush against that spot next.

They do have a destination he very much wants to get to, after all. He has no idea what it's going to feel like when Yuri's riding him like that, but he wants to know as much as he's ever wanted anything.

It's fortunate one of them has a goal in mind. Yuri can't think from one second to the next. It's easier having the third finger added. Gives that bright spot a break, even as Yuri instantly wants it back. It's good, no one could ever really explain how good. And he'd resent that, but learning it from Beka makes up for it.

Sweat darkens his hair, beads on his forehead.

He doesn't work him like that for very long. Long enough to hopefully be enough, not long enough to be accused of coddling, before he's pulling his fingers out and helping to lift Yuri up and--

And he still has his fucking pants, on, doesn't he?

Look, Otabek doesn't whine. That's not a thing he's done since he was very, very small, a habit mostly beaten out of him. But he does make a frustrated growl, at himself, at the world, and then almost seems angry at Yuri when he rumbles out,

"Help me," fingers fumbling at his pants.

The not-whine gets a definite-snarl at that demand. Yuri's fingers whip to Otabek's waist, gaze hyper-focused, in a way that - until now - has only been seen on the ice. There's a goal in front of him and whatever needs undoing is suddenly done. He might not actually need Otabek's help at all.

There's an appreciative "Shit" as the underwear gets yanked off. Yuri's eyes wide at the twin realizations of he's looking at Beka's dick and it's going inside him.

If his pants or underwear are a lost cause after this, it's a sacrifice he's willing to make. He's definitely not thinking about it after Yuri makes an impressed noise at his cock. To be fair, it's actually pretty impressive, which is probably not particularly comforting at the moment. (There's maybe a reason he wears pants for his costumes, in fact.) He knows any comfort will be rejected, so he doesn't bother, just shifts them both so Yuri's positioned better on top of him, and then just hands things over to him.

"Go as slow as you need to. It's not a race. I don't want to hurt you," he says it, he means it, but they both know that that's absolutely 100% not what's about to happen. Since when has Yuri ever in his life done something either slow, or cautious? It would be a shame to start now.

Yuri at least makes one concession. He snatches up the Vaseline, smoothing more on Otabek's prick.

Then Yuri's pushing down before he can think more about it. Gravity helping. There's a hiss at the spread, and for a second he has to fight himself to stay in place. Even with the fingers before it's still strange, borders on pain.

Otabek's expression is probably worth it, though

At least for the first moments, Otabek is concentrating so hard on Yuri that he barely feels anything. He outright moans for the spread of vaseline on his cock, but once Yuri's actually lowering himself on him, he goes silent, has to force himself to breathe and ends up doing it in time to Yuri's probably less even breaths. He knows Yuri won't want to be coddled about, but his hands stroke his thighs up and down, soothingly, without him thinking about it.

It's when he gets about an inch down that Otabek's expression finally shifts from intensely focused on Yuri to the first signs that all of this is catching up with him. Another minute shift downwards has him catching his breath outside of the rhythm he was setting and then there's a low groan, expression melting into something Yuri's never seen on his face before, fingers clenching into skin suddenly with the effort of holding himself still while Yuri keeps going.

"Fuck... Yuri..." it's all he can manage.

Yuri likes hearing his name groaned.

A lot.

He flips his hair back, flashing a grin at Otabek that's almost wild. Then braces bracing again, sinking deeper over the cock. It's probably too much. Especially for a first time. A grunt escapes him, breath going ragged from the effort.

He doesn't care.

It's the grin that causes his fingers to raise bruises on Yuri's thighs, clenching tight on the skin, because if he doesn't, he's going to pull him the rest of the way down. It's a fight to do this slowly, now, willpower against instinct, and Otabek is definitely winning that fight, but it's easy to see how thin the control is, muscles trembling with the strain of not moving, instead of the other way around.

The clenching hands come just as Yuri manages to hit that bright spot again. He jerks, swears, and the bruises get ground even deeper, already blooming under Otabek's fingers. It is going to make putting the jeans back on very... interesting.

It's also enough to bring him all the way down. Thighs flush against Beka's hips, tremors racing over skin as Yuri tries to adjust. He's not sure he's going to be able to move. Still, the grin goes triumphant as it registers he's taken the whole thing.

Otabek manages to unlatch his fingers from his thighs, finally, spreading his hand up trembling skin, following the path of lithe muscle.

"Beautiful," it's breathed out, maybe involuntary. It doesn't really seem like a compliment so much as a fact, like many of the things he says. He looks less like he's having sex and more like he's just sort of amazed, eyes gone just a bit wide, expression open but intensely focused. He hasn't even attempted to share his "faerie" line of thought but he looks and feels enchanted, every expression Yuri makes gathered up in amazement.

Watching that fade into the same realm as the growling lust on the motorbike is an education. It's slow, but it starts with fingers holding tight to Yuri's hips, now, before Otabek pushes his own up, gets everything deeper for a moment. Yuri might not have to move much at all, at least at first.

Yuri knows he's beautiful. Weirdly, it's not something he's arrogant about. His pride is in skating, dancing, the things he's earned. Being pretty is a tool. Just one more advantage to be used. Hearing Beka say it like that, though - it's like Yuri's never heard it before. Not for him, not like this.

He keens. Wanting more, getting it as Otabek grinds into him. Sending another flare shooting out. It's different then with the two fingers. Only burning most of Yuri's thoughts, instead of all.

Maybe it's that this, too, is something earned.

Otabek pulls him up a little. At this angle, in this position, he's not strong enough to do this for long, but it suddenly puts to mind the fact that he probably could do it in some others-- just lift Yuri, let gravity pull him back down his cock. Even in this one, he can do it for a few moments, while Yuri is sorting himself out (though it's probably not helping that.)

Maybe he should give Yuri some more time to adjust, but he's impatient and he knows Yuri's not any more patient. He's still listening keenly for anything that sounds like pain or protest, but he's not stopping until he hears it, now.

It's too much. Beka already feels enormous and the noise that gets is a sharp cry. It's more startled then pained, though. And if there's any hesitation, Yuri digs deep and pushes. Working himself up and down the length. Muscles already shaking from the unfamiliar strain, from the pressure that keeps sending wave after wave through him.

He can't get used to it. Can't settle, and his eyes are wild.

"Come on," he pants. Barely aware of the words. "Come on."

Edited 2017-05-04 10:33 (UTC)

After that first lift-and-fall, Otabek kind of just has to let Yuri move, instead, because he can't actually keep up with how much Yuri can't settle. It's both something he'll take the time to be genuinely concerned about when he can think again and something that right now, is one of the hottest things he's ever seen, to watch Yuri move on him, driving himself out of control.

It occurs to him that the sex part of this is pretty fantastic, tight heat around his cock, but that maybe part of the reason he's never really been very interested in this before is because this is the part he really likes, watching someone else come completely unhinged. It's that more than any kind of physical pleasure that makes him grip into Yuri's hips and hold him down on the next rise and fall, grind up into him a little, but mostly just deny the motion for a moment, see what reaction that causes.

"Explosive" would be putting it mildly.

It takes Yuri a beat to realize what's happening. The pace he's been able to keep suddenly thrown off, like landing a jump wrong. When he realizes Otabek's doing it on purpose?

He thrashes, snarls, trying to get the hands off, trying to move. His own prick is aching, demanding attention, but he can'tmovecan'tthinkfuckfuckfuck

"Fuck!"

Otabek looks completely undone, watching him, even though Yuri's the one snarling and bucking around. The whole thing is just revelation and he can't wrap his entire mind around it.

He doesn't let go.

He sets the pace slow suddenly, letting Yuri up in inches, dragging him back down. He fully expects that he's going to pay for that, maybe twice, in scratches now and in payback later, but it will be worth it. Yuri struggling on his cock is probably the most gorgeous thing he's seen in his life and he's not going to give it up easily.

Well, at least not for a few minutes anyway.

Maybe it is not surprising that Yuri reacts like a cat. Hissing and clawing lines down Otabek's arms, chest, whatever he can reach. Not enough to draw blood but it's going to sting. Except it isn't from pain. None of it's to make any of this stop.

He can't explain why this makes it better, someone else having control, but it loops back to wanting to see what Beka can do. The heat and pressure and pace all because he wants Yuri this way.

That thunderbolt of being wanted is what wrenches out the first howl from Yuri.

And he just kind of bears it, the way he bears a lot of things, makes pained noises back but also doesn't try to get Yuri to stop, even if any of those scratches do draw blood or leave marks in his skin that will still be there tomorrow. He doesn't understand how he knows the difference between the clawing on the motorcycle and having it here, but he does, somehow, knows that Yuri's not really wanting this to stop.

"The whole hotel's going to know if you keep that up," his voice is remarkably steady, though there's a grunt of exertion in there as he has to reel Yuri back down his cock again as he tries to squirm away. It is not, notably, any kind of warning to keep quiet, just another fact, a reminder in case Yuri gives a shit. In fact, it really comes out more heated than anything else, like maybe he wants him to keep screaming.

He definitely doesn't let up.

There are very, very few people whose opinion Yuri cares about. And only one of them is in this room. Only one of them is under him, growling and pulling Yuri down onto his cock, over and over.

Scratching isn't helping. It is making zero progress in getting more, and it probably takes Yuri longer then it should to remember another option. When he does, though, it's gorgeous - hand flying back to his own prick, jerking frantically. Back arching as the pressure up front and behind sync.

A high, shattered cry spills out.

This isn't about stopping Yuri from doing anything so much as it's doing something himself, so Otabek doesn't try to stop Yuri from touching himself. In fact, the arch of his spine actually gains a faster pace all on it's own, Otabek dragging him up and back down again more firmly, deeper, but letting him up faster, pulling down immediately. It's a lot like letting Yuri go back to riding him, but with that extra bit of force at the end of the drop.