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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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.

Shit.

Yuri's not sure if he yells that, or just thinks it, but it's that grind at the end that undoes him either way. There's a roaring crashing in his head. Louder then any crowd could possibly be. Whiting out his vision.

He stiffens, heat spilling out into his hand, over Beka's stomach. Frozen and burning all at once.

He's not quite close enough to immediately follow, but he's okay with that, since it means he gets to watch instead, feel the way everything in Yuri pulls tight for a moment. It's something beautiful and a little scary but in all the best ways and he actually finds he kind of likes how messy it is a little, knowing that that's Yuri.

He reaches up and runs his cleaner hand through Yuri's hair, the gesture more in wonder than in tenderness.

Yuri collapses into that touch. Hair sprawling in a bright arc across Otabek's chest as he sobs for air.

He's vaguely aware Beka's still hard. Heavy and hot inside his body. It's just - far away. Yuri feels like he should do something about that. But every muscle is twitching, trembling, out of his control.

"Are you okay?" the question is tender, sweet even, probably entirely too much so, particularly with the way he's carding through Yuri's hair. Coddling and cloying. He follows it with, "Because I really want to flip you over right now but you're going to have to walk at some point tomorrow."

There's maybe a hint of a grin.

He knows how to stack the odds in his favor.

Most people might want to accept that sweetness at face value. Except it's the one thing Yuri can't stand, being coddled. And he can hear how Otabek's grinning, goading, this is on purpose.

With a snarl Yuri manages to raise his head a few inches. Eyes steel. "Soldier's eyes," Beka called them, and just like he couldn't resist them years ago - no way he can now. Yuri's banking on it.

He's going to feel this tomorrow. And that is a problem for tomorrow.

Try me. Try me, I can take anything you throw at me.

Otabek laughs to that, warm and quiet, but wholeheartedly, and it's an unexpected kind of noise, hopefully enough so that he's not going to have Yuri mad enough about it to try to get off of him, because the sound hasn't faded from the room before he's got a hand low and firm on Yuri's spine, holding him in place while he rolls them, strong enough with one arm to keep his hips off the bed while he does it, before he's settling him down to the bed, following.

It does pull him most of the way out, but not all, and the sink back in is deeper. He waits to make sure the reaction to that isn't a bad one, but then he's got one of Yuri's legs up over his shoulder, even as he's leaning down to kiss him, trusting that's a stretch that he can take.

Yuri's breath catches at getting moved so easily.

Maybe Otabek expects a scream when he pushes back in. So deep Yuri wonders if he really is going to split. There's no way to be ready for it with everything frayed raw toomuch tooclose. In the few seconds of getting turned over it feels like Beka's gotten even bigger.

Instead the noise that comes out is a high, breathy keen. Yuri kisses back though. Fiercely. Nails digging into Otabek's shoulders.

There's a flicker of real concern at the noise, Otabek pushing some of Yuri's hair out of the way to search his face for just a moment, but he's satisfied that Yuri's telling the truth about being okay with this and, more importantly at the moment, that he's not hurting, just overwhelmed. It's a fine line, but it's one he's finding he really enjoys walking when it's Yuri.

He can't move very far like this if he wants to keep kissing Yuri, and he does, so the first few thrusts are deeper but small, almost incidental to what his mouth is doing, tongue playing with Yuri's, letting him get re-used to all the sensations without actually stopping anything. The nails in his shoulders get a low moan, more like Yuri was giving him a massage than clawing into him. He's not sure how he would feel about something just hurting to hurt, but the fire from everywhere Yuri's scratched him is amazing and the nails in his shoulder just make him feel that all the more acutely.

Yuri pants through the thrusting. Moans going shallow and almost wounded as Beka pushes him deeper into the sheets. Except the kissing doesn't stop. And if there's any pause at all Yuri's trying to grind his hips up again. He wants to do this for Otabek. Be good at this, make him feel as good as Yuri just did. Even as each move shakes him apart.

He's too far past the edge to consider anything else.

It's absolutely incredible. The hot physicality of what this feels like, skin against sensitive skin, the intimacy of being this caught up in another person, this close. That Yuri is letting him do this at all, snarling and writhing and demanding in his arms. How gorgeous he is unravelled like this, shaking, his, even if it's just right this moment. He can't think further than this bed anyway.

It's maybe that part that does it-- possession, partially, but in a way that's inclusive. Otabek doesn't own much, has never felt like he needed to call things "his" beyond what happens on the ice. But he's discovering he maybe has a little bit of a thing for "ours". And this, right here, this is their's. Yuri wouldn't let anyone else see him like this, and neither would he.

It's a thought that leads him to teeth, to setting a deep bruise in Yuri's shoulder and more on his hips, joining the others, as everything turns outright harsh for a moment, too far gone for anything else, before it's over.

The teeth get a roar and Yuri jerks wildly. It isn't possible to come again. Not so close to the last time. His body tries to anyway. Because having Beka here and pushing past every physical edge, pushing them both into something new - Yuri will pour every last scrap he has into that.

This is theirs. They did this, made this, claimed this.

He clings tight as the frantic pace dies down. Sobbing for breath. Refusing to let Beka up yet, even though that would help with the breathing.

He manages to hold himself up just a little bit, not enough to make it easy for Yuri to breathe, but enough to not completely crush him in this position. He thinks to roll off of him before Yuri lets him go, but that tug downward is irresistible right now, so he stays.

Finally, though, he rolls to one side, keeping Yuri's bent leg over his hip so he pulls from deep to shallow, but he's still inside him a little. The kiss that follows is soft, gentle, but it's not the kind of sweet he was earlier, intended as a goad. It's just calm.

Everything, for just a moment, feels calm.

It's like a cool down after practice. You can't just stop. You need to ramp back down to normal, or everything seizes up. Or something. All Yuri knows is the urge to curl up is irresistible. He presses into Otabek's shoulder. Lets his eyes slide closed. Not to sleep - not yet, anyway, not with Otabek still in his ass - he just - needs this. To hold on, at least until his body stops trying to shake apart.

After a second he pulls one of Otabek's hands back to his hair.

He takes that signal immediately because of course he does, fingers carding through Yuri's hair, tender but firm, almost possessive.

Probably it's a good thing neither one of them has more experience, because there's no prior sense of what's normal or isn't-- whether this kind of thing is supposed to happen, if it's better etiquette for him to pull completely out, if there's something either one of them should or shouldn't be doing.

Instead, both of them just kind of float for a while, Otabek's hand in his hair, the occasional kiss, until he finally does shift and slide out of him, until the shaking stops.

"Shower?" he rumbles out, finally.

Yuri appreciates that. He- - enjoyed it, all of it, but if Beka had asked how he felt, if he was okay - Yuri's not ready for that. Not yet. He's still too wrapped up in the thing itself. The buzz of release still ringing in his ears.

Anyway. This is better. Practical, like Beka always is. There's a small nod from Yuri, then he pushes up. Trying to remember how legs are supposed to work.

"Yeah, me too, though you've probably got it worse," he says, when Yuri struggles to the edge of the bed. And that's just like him, too, to just not even acknowledge something as weakness rather than try to convince someone it's okay to be a little coddled or helped. He manages his own feet but it's a little touch and go and he's right there if Yuri falters, to wind an arm around his waist and help him into the bathroom if he needs to.

Either way they get there, he'll let Yuri sit on the toilet or lean against the sink while he runs the shower. He doesn't seem concerned about the fact that both of them are naked, and while Yuri's got plenty of marks to investigate on his own body if he wants, there are definitely plenty to see on Otabek, mostly long, thin scratches, at least one of which looks like it's bleeding a little.

He doesn't seem to notice them at all.

Yuri clings to Otabek on the way over. Because it's true, he feels every inch of what they've been doing. And doesn't want to let go of it. Not before he has to. There's a small grunt as he's settled on the toilet.

He finds himself mesmerized by the scratches. How they stretch and pull over the muscles in Beka's back. The landscape of it changed, because of him. Yuri looks down at his hands. There's blood under one of the nails, drying a dark red.

"I didn't - I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Otabek looks up at that from testing the water tempature, the expression on his face sort of gently surprised, like he hadn't even considered that before. It melts into a softer expression, almost a smile, a moment later.

"It was worth it," he can't deny that it hurt, after all, he just didn't care at the time. Turning, it becomes obvious that his chest is scratched up as well, but he doesn't seem to notice that either, reaching out and rubbing a thumb, very gently, over one of of the deep bruises on Yuri's hips, "I could ask you the same thing."

Yuri puts his hand over Otabek's. Flattening his palm against the bruise. Even with light touch there's a twinge. It's going to ache tomorrow. Every move reminding Yuri where it came from. How it got there.

Most importantly - who put it there.

"Definitely worth it," Yuri agrees. The smile on his face fierce and disbelieving at the same time. He tugs Beka in for another kiss.

He leans gracefully over for the kiss, gets caught up in it for a long series of moments before he finally pulls away to adjust the water temperature and turn it to the shower.

Gathering Yuri up off the toilet could be something coddling, but it really feels more just like Otabek's pulling him back into his arms after too long away, so it's probably not too objectionable, particularly when there's an accompanying line of rough, thorough kisses down his neck, hands tight on Yuri's back.

Otabek is going to find he can get away with a lot of coddling as long as he provides proper distraction. Like those kisses. Yuri sways into him, because legs are Dumb and Beka can damn well take the weight anyway.

"Beka, come on, I'm tired of being sticky," he mumbles. Making no actual effort to pull away.