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

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.

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.