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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Ohshitohshitohshit.

Yuri automatically pulls tight in response. Everything all at once hot and close and he's still buzzing from the performance. From all the things he wanted, didn't get, couldn't get. In some ways this is the hardest part of competition. When you're still amped up, with nowhere to spend all the energy left.

And here is something Yuri suddenly can get.

He ends up half-climbing Otabek, because his mouth is too damn far away. Wrapping his arms around his neck, pressing their lips together.

Ohshitohshitohshit.

He's surprised.

He is not surprised.

He isn't sure what he is. Other than kissing Yuri-- he is pretty sure that is a thing he's doing, helping haul him upwards as soon as he sees where he's going, except he doesn't see where he's going. Everything feels instinctive, the way some of the simpler jumps are, when you've done them so much they're just a part of you now, not something you have to think about. Except he's never done this before.

A girl had kissed him, once, for a few minutes, after an evening out he didn't realize until almost a year later was supposed to be a date. She'd made some kind of comment about not being able to read him, at the end. He hadn't thought it was bad, but it clearly hadn't been the right reaction. This... has nothing to do with that. He's reasonably sure it's the same motions, is the same thing. But it feels nothing alike.

He slams Yuri against the wall he was already next to, but it's not with any intention other than to push closer, to hold him up at the right height to kiss more, deeper, desperate.

Kissing, like friendship, is not something Yuri can claim expertise on. Except this is Otabek and once again - things are simple with him. They weren't kissing, and now they are, and it feels fucking amazing.

Yuri growls when he's shoved into the wall. At this angle he can actually wrap his legs around Otabek's hips. Which at first is just to keep steady, but then there's a spike of heat between his legs. The friction turning the growl into a groan.

He ends up with his hands underneath Yuri's thighs, helping to hold him up. He doesn't quite think about it, though, it's just where his hands go, supporting, taking some of that weight for him so they can keep doing... this. Whatever this is.

He echoes more of the growl than the groan at the friction, pushes back, turns the friction into a grind and he's definitely never done that before, nothing even close, except with his hand. That's enough to know what that is. What this is, without further questioning, but all that does is turn the grind into a pulse.

He breaks for air, his noises soft, quick little sounds, like the sip of air he takes before he's moving one hand up to curl in Yuri's hair, the other still locked under his thigh, pulling him just barely into an angle before their mouths meet again.

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."

He half moans, half growls in response, pulls a little harder on Yuri's hair, just enough to tip his head back so his mouth can follow the path of his throat down. It's not enough to bruise, but it's close, careless and heated.

All of the skaters Yuri knows have pretty impressive muscle structure in their upper bodies, toned and powerful, that comes naturally from being as fit as they are in general. It's pretty clear, on the other hand, that Otabek lifts, has worked to make sure he's trained the upper half of his body along with the lower, instead of letting it follow along naturally. He doesn't have any trouble at all moving Yuri's weight around one-handed, not even a hint of strain in the effort, until their cocks can line up through their clothing and he can push the friction into Definitely Having Some Kind of Sex Against This Poor Wall territory.

After the first push of that, he does suck a bruise low into Yuri's neck and that's what gets him pulling back to kiss him with that same intensity instead, because suddenly if he doesn't, Yuri's going to end up with a mess of them.

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.

Everything with Otabek is distilled (some naysayers might say beaten) down to it's component parts, churned through until it's simplified, makes sense. This makes sense already, even though he doesn't know how it got started or why it's happening quite like this. He moves his hand out of Yuri's hair to get even better leverage under his thighs, ass, and everything is heated and perfect, exactly as it should be. He grips what might be bruises into tender skin, but it's in the name of finding an even better angle, a way to make this even more intense.

They're careening towards an edge, something irrevocable, here, and Otabek doesn't talk much but there's really no reason to hold a lot back when he does want to say something, so it's hardly something he has to think about, to growl out,

"Hurry up... I want to watch you come."

It is massively unfair Otabek sounds that hot right now. All Yuri can manage is various iterations of "Fuck."

There is no possible way to last any longer after that. Not with the rage of competition still seething through him, Otabek's hands on his ass and Yuri's not really though much about having a first time but this?

This is fucking perfect.

He unhinges on that thought, legs clamping tight. Burying his face into Otabek's shoulder with the last scrap of sense his has. Otherwise the whole damn stadium is going to hear the scream.

Otabek's close, because he doesn't talk much or seem to have all the massive outward energy of most of the others on the ice, but he's viciously competitive and he's won today, and here's another thing that he wants that he's being allowed to have, even before he really knew he'd reached for it.

He is not used to things being this easy.

Yuri pulls him in with his legs, tight, and the friction spikes, but if he had to peel apart this moment, he would say it's the scream that actually does it, even though it's felt in his shoulder more than heard, the way Yuri does this like everything else he does-- violent and angry and brilliant. His own noises are quiet, but there's a different quality to them for Yuri to squirrel away, something a little wounded, soft, in his ear.

He sinks down to the floor with Yuri's legs still slung over his hips a moment later and that he doesn't just fall on his ass is pretty impressive since he's sinking there because he's pretty sure he can't hold them both up anymore. He keeps Yuri locked tight in his arms though, and he's hit by an aftershock he's not expecting, when the weight of him settles in his lap, hands able to cup opposite sides of him around.

Probably this should be awkward. Maybe it's going to be awkward. They hadn't really even sort of been like this before or talked about this. But right now, Otabek really doesn't care about any of that. He wants to kiss Yuri some more, so he does, gentler now.

If they'd talked about it, Yuri would have shut it down. At once. Because kissing and relationships are for old married people to worry about. Who needs that drama?! Not him. If he can barely handle friends how is he supposed to deal with - a partner or a boyfriend or a girlfriend or whatever.

But Otabek snuck up on him. And whatever this is, it's good. So Yuri clings tight. Taking his time exploring Otabek's mouth, now that the frenzy has passed. It would be a lie to say he never wondered about how it would feel.

"Congratulations," he mumbles. Belatedly. He's smiling, and it probably looks stupid but he can't help it.

Otabek laughs at that, because it's very much a Yuri sort of thing and because it almost sounds like he's talking about what they just did. His laugh is quiet, always is, almost silent. He kisses him again, because he can, before he adds,

"Thanks. I should win more often," it's clear from the tone, low, pitched for the space between them, that he's not saying that because he wants a gold medal, not right now, but because of this.

"They are going to be looking for us," is what he follows that with, but there's also another kiss, and he doesn't seem to be in any particular hurry.

Yuri snorts. Tips his chin up into his best 'haughty' look.

"Tch. You can try."

Then he breaks into another stupid grin. Lets himself be kissed again. No really. Otabek should definitely try. Like. Maybe right now. Yuri sinks more against him, soaking in the warmth.

Except... ugh, Otabek's right. Yakov's going to start bellowing any second. As Yuri comes down from the high, reality begins to push back in. He's starting to get cold, and sticky, and... uh-oh. His costume is light, and there's... okay, there's kind of some evidence showing up now.

"Oh shit."

Otabek grins back to that, always seems to hear the things Yuri isn't saying, even when he's saying a lot of different things.

He looks to see what Yuri's upset about, and then flushes just a little because... oops? But he only takes a moment to be embarrassed before he's running through options. He's wearing pants over his costume and they're black, but if he gives them to Yuri, he's both in the same spot and Yuri is wearing his pants and as much as he suddenly realizes how hot that is, it's going to be just as suspicious.

"I can't help with your coach or anyone else, but I can go out first and keep the hyenas from seeing you." It's a hell of an offer, both with how much Otabek is not usually particularly sparkling in front of the press and that he's offering to do it sticky and tired.

(Of course, this also means there may be an interview later where no one else can tell what's happening, but Yuri can see himself written all over Otabek.)

Yuri visibly struggles. It's asking Otabek to save him again. But Otabek wouldn't offer if he really didn't want to do it.

"Yeah. Um. Okay."

He pushes off. Kind of stumbling, all grace gone. Not sure what he's supposed to do now, what to say. His face is bright red, hair in shambles. It's not hard to guess what he's been up to. Even if he could cover the stain,

There's some luck on their side, though - most of the reporters are still distracted. Something about Viktor getting a nosebleed. Between that and Otabek, there's definitely enough cover for Yuri to book it to the locker room. Run his costume under cold water. Hoping the trick for blood works here.

Otabek reels him back in one more time before he can vanish. His hands are steady, sure, no hesitation. He pulls the rest of Yuri's hair down, efficiently, hands him the ties, runs his fingers through it just a moment, to get it to lay a little better. He tugs up the neck on his jacket a bit, hiding the mark he made, that Yuri's not aware of yet. The whole thing isn't done either tenderly or like it's a burden, it's just something that needs to be done, so he does it.

It's not complicated.

Neither is pulling Yuri back in for a final kiss,

"See you at dinner?" it's a question, but it's rhetorical, more a confirmation that he's going out to dinner and an invitation for Yuri. But there's no real answer needed and probably no time for one anyway, before he's back out in the flashing lights.

This time, he does actually manage a smile. One reporter gets a really good shot of it, even.

No, what's complicated is convincing yourself your heart isn't going to beat out of your chest. Trying to hear anything over the weird ring in your ears. Feeling your best friends (?) hands in your hair hours later.

In short - Yuri's kind of a mess. But it gets folded into his usual short temper, his sure disappointment at only nabbing silver. (Sure. He'll just let everyone think that.)

He spends way too much time choosing clothes. Picks up the phone half a dozen times, torn whether he should text Otabek this soon? Or not? You know what, fuck this. He's not going to NOT text Otabek just because they... shit shit shit there goes the blush again.

you dressing up?

No more than usual.

Not that Otabek ever looks particularly fancy, but it's a nod to his fashion choices being deliberate, which Yuri actually might not know about him.

Should I?

There's no emoji and Otabek wouldn't be smiling anyway, not with his mouth, but there's something in the question that Yuri's come to recognize as more the tone of him smiling.

And Yuri knows it well enough that a smile sneaks onto his own face.

i mean
if you want
you always look good

It's not like dinner is going to be that big of a deal. Viktor has just announced everyone's coming, without really asking anyone, so... yeah. Yuri would have gotten dragged there one way or another. Now he's actually looking forward to it?

i have to wear a sweater tho
dont want to look stupid

Sorry.

He's not. They both know he's not. In fact, he only says it because they both know he's not.

You're welcome to your revenge later.

And there it is, subtle but plain enough. Yuri probably should have expected as much, that Otabek wouldn't shy away from things, but it might be surprising, to see how easily that's offered, no pause between the messages other than the time it would have taken to type.

yeah you BETTER be ready to make it up!!!

It's pretty much all bluster. Yuri has no idea how this is all supposed to go. What he does know is he likes the weird thrill from pulling his shirt over the bruise. The slightest twinge from sensitized skin. "Later" glows in his head, lit in neon and flashing. Later. Otabek wants to do that again.

How the hell is Yuri going to get through dinner.

Dinner? How's he going to make it through the appetizers?

Otabek shows up in a loose-fitting, v-necked shirt in some kind of soft black material that both clings a little bit, and also shows off all of his fucking neck like a dare. There's no way it's an accident, particularly since he has to take off his scarf for it to be seen, which he usually doesn't bother with to eat.

He's dressed nicely enough, but he's definitely not dressed up, either, which means, in no uncertain terms, that he's dressed this way for Yuri.

Of course, all he does is give a little wave and then go sit down next to him.

Yuri has never been so aware of any stretch of skin in his life. His own sweater is higher, but he didn't have to resort to a turtleneck. That would be a dead giveaway.

(Even so, he is maybe not fooling certain people at this party. Viktor seems to be smirking more then usual. Or maybe Yuri's just being paranoid?)

"Hey," he nods.

Great. One word out without attacking Otabek's neck. Hell, he should get a gold medal just for that.

Otabek is impassive as ever, but watching the things Yuri's face does, following the path of his eyes down his neck, gets him immediately impatient. Luckily, everyone's kind of used to almost ignoring that Otabek is there until he says something, so it's not like he's going to be the focus of any attention.

Except, as they wait for their food (he has no idea what he ordered) he catches several of the other skaters looking back and forth between him and Yuri. Although, they more look worried. He supposes the tension between them must look a lot like Yuri being upset at silver to his gold. Viktor is the only one who doesn't seem to be reacting that way, and that's because he's blushing every time he looks over at one of them, which is weird, but Viktor has always been weird.

He lets the conversation swirl around him, like always, but this time feels... different, with how attuned he is to the person beside him.

Thank God it's Emil and Mickey rounding out the rest of the group. Not JJ. There would be blood.

As it is, Yuri's quieter then usual. Eating whatever lands in front of him, pointedly not looking up. God, he never thought he would pray for Chris to start hitting on somebody. It would be a distraction from the attention pressing down on him like a weight.

(They don't know fuck does everybody know?!)

Otabek's hand is only a few inches away. Yuri can't stop thinking about that space. It feels like miles.