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Yuri was still high on endorphin when he exited the ice rink, hair stuck on his damp forehead, each breath heaving his ribcage. He couldn’t distinguish Yakov’s death stare among the blinding flashes of cameras and the cries of the crowd, but he could feel it just the same. A small smirk bloomed on his lips at the thought. He was Yuri fucking Plisetsky. He won fucking gold at the Grand Prix. And he just fucking nailed his exhibition program. He barely registered Yuuri and Viktor coming to him, the latter draping his team Russia jacket over his shoulders, babbling about Yuri being half-naked and throwing his damn Chanel shades in the public - “Yuri, for god sake, do you have any idea how much I loved them ??”.
The smirk hadn’t left his lips and grew larger as he spotted Otabek leaving the ice rink and coming towards them. He even mimicked his small smile when he caught his eyes, and that vision ignited something in the pit of Yuri’s stomach. He was confused for an instant, still not registering whatever it was that Yakov and Viktor were trying to tell him. His senses were hyper, the flashes of the camera were still partly blinding his vision, the jacket felt heavy and hot on his skin and the endorphin continued to flow through every nerve of his body. The smile that had faded on his face slowly crept back, as he left his fellow Russians sides and walked determinedly towards Otabek.
“Yurio come back here!”
“Yura ?” Otabek looked at him, a slightly confused look messing his otherwise perfect features, making his brow crease.
“Come with me.” It wasn’t an affirmation as much as it was an order. Not that Yuri left Otabek much choice, grabbing the older man by the hem of his leather jacket and dragging him towards the locker rooms.
He pushed the door open hastily, relieved when he found the place empty. Otabek, who had been following him without much of a struggle – probably because they were in public, Yuri thought, only barely embarrassed as he finally registered what he had done – abruptly untangled himself from Yuri’s grip on his jacket and leaned against the door as he closed it behind him. The blond turned around to face him, suddenly not entirely sure how he was planning on this to go.
“Yura, are you okay ?”
Otabek’s face may have seemed emotionless, his usual resting bitch face on, but the slight tremor in his voice gave away how worried and confused he really was. Seconds of silence stretched as Yuri took some time to even his breathing, which hadn’t yet totally come back to normal after his impressive performance on the ice and the hurried walk to the locker rooms.
The team Russia jacket was still on, and every movement of the fabric against his skin sent what felt like little jolts of voltage across his barely covered shoulders and his bare arms. Without gratifying Otabek with an answer, he rapidly took the elastic of his hair off and jiggled his head so that his hair fell back in their usual fashion, blond strands coming to frame his pale face. He supposed the sight of his flushed skin and hair sticking to his damp cheeks did something to Otabek, as the Kazakh swallowed audibly and his eyes became instantly darker. Regaining his confidence, Yuri took a step, then two, then three, until his face was centimeters away from the older boy’s. Otabek tightened his jaw but didn’t make any other move, always the gentleman. Since they had started becoming friends, close friends, merely days ago even when it felt like years, it had always been Yuri who had made the first steps. Otabek, though, seemed more than happy to get on board with the barely discreet flirting, the lingering of hands on hands, on thighs, on biceps, on a chest, just a little too long to be accidental. Neither of them remembered how it had started, even if it was definitely after the free skating program and Yuri’s gold medal a few days ago. It had been natural, a welcomed addition to the dynamic of their friendship, if it could still be called that way. But see, Yuri wasn’t exactly famous for his patience. Had never been. So it was seriously starting to get on his nerves. He was almost sixteen, for heaven’s sake! And he was tired of everyone treating him like a big baby, despite being the best ice skater of his generation. Otabek, in particular, had no right to treat him that way, especially in situations like the one they were in right now.
The endorphin seemed to slow its continuous flow in Yuri’s veins, but it was being replaced with something else, a burn in the pit of his stomach and in his chest, which threatened to consume him whole if he didn’t do anything right about fucking now.
He locked his lips with Otabek’s in a hurried, awkward, messy, perfect kiss. He had to stand on his tiptoes to get in a better angle and properly continue kissing the Kazakh, who didn’t even hesitate a second – the bastard – before reciprocating the kiss and putting his hands on each side of Yuri’s frame to help him balance. It was Otabek who broke the kiss first, and for a split second, Yuri worried he had gone too far and screwed everything up. His feelings must have been apparent on his face, as Otabek flashed him a teasing smile before turning Yuri around and pushing him abruptly against the wall. The back of Yuri’s head knocked on the door and Yuri tried to suppress a groan, but it was soon lost in his throat as Otabek assaulted his mouth with his own, pushing the blonde’s lips apart to intrude his tongue in Yuri’s mouth. The latter couldn’t stifle the moan that escaped him, and he placed his arms around Otabek’s shoulder as he tried to keep up with the kiss. His eyes were still open, but he slowly closed them and began to lose himself in the wave of sensations he was experiencing. Without really registering, he hung his right thigh around the taller man’s waist, lost in the feeling of Otabek’s hands roaming his sides, his ribs, the small of his back. If his hands were pretty innocent, never going low enough in Yuri’s opinion, his mouth was definitely making up for it. The kiss was downright filthy, Otabek obviously knowing what he was doing, or at least compared to Yuri, whose enthusiasm made their teeth clash from time to time, although it didn’t seem like the Kazakh minded.
The heat was devouring the blond from the inside, and he was sure he could die right at this instant. Actually, he was pretty sure he would, if all the blood in his body didn’t stop going in the direction of his crotch. They parted for a second, and Otabek audibly swallowed. Yuri’s mind felt hazy and his vision was almost blurry, but he tried to focus and set his eyes determinedly on Otabek’s face. Their breaths were mixing in the chill air of the locker room, and Yuri noticed he wasn’t the only one affected by their make-out session. His friend’s cheeks were flushed, lips were swollen – Yuri faintly thought he must have bitten them at some point – and, most importantly, he noticed as he looked down, pants painfully tented in the front. Yuri tightened his leg that was still around Otabek’s hip, bringing them closer and making their erections touch to show him just how much he was affected too.
“Yura-” Otabek groaned, closing his eyes and resting his head in the crook of Yuri’s neck, biting lightly at the flesh, bringing their bodies even closer if it was possible. Yuri was fairly sure he wasn’t able to speak anymore, so instead, he caught Otabek’s black strands of hair in his hands and pulled, tilting his head to the side to give the man more room to nibble at his skin, and letting out soft whimpers that didn’t feel like sounds he would be able to produce in a normal situation.
His legs were beginning to feel like cotton, and he was struggling to focus and not feel like fainting, thank you very much, he was stronger than that. But he did feel pretty weak here, or at least small, grinding against Otabek’s hard-on, little moans escaping his lips without him being able to do anything to avoid it. The sounds the taller man was making right against his left ear were delicious, little suction noise blending with half-repressed groans and moans at each well-aimed thrust of Yuri’s hips. Fuck, Otabek’s cock felt huge against him, how had he not noticed that before ??
A very eloquent “Beka, fuck, I-” seemed to be the only thing that he could say to voice his thoughts. At that moment, he didn’t feel able to form a full sentence anyway. The fire in his body flared up even more at the thought that he was responsible for Otabek being in this state. He felt drunk on the feeling of power, intensifying his thrusts and grinding more vigorously, until it wasn’t enough anymore, no, he needed more. He opened his mouth to ask for more, something, anything- but all that escaped his lips was a high-pitched moan, to which Beka responded by biting and kissing more fervently on the skin of his neck, his collarbones, pushing the fabric of his top past his shoulder to access more skin. Biting his lower lip to stop more embarrassing sounds from escaping him – not that it did much –, Yuri screwed his eyes shut, trying again to focus, before coming to a conclusion. He knew what he wanted. And he wanted it now.
Abruptly pushing Otabek off of him and untangling the leg on his waist, Yuri sunk to his knees, albeit shakily. His breath was ragged, and his hands flew to Otabek’s fly hurriedly.
“Yura, no, stop.” The stern voice of the man above him made him froze in place, hands on the Kazakh’s jeans. The blond looked up. Otabek’s jaw seemed tight, his cheeks still flushed and his lips still swollen. His tanned hands came to fondle Yuri’s hair, and the youngest man leaned into the touch without thinking about it. Otabek began caressing his cheek with his thumb, a small smile forming on his lips, and it was so sweet and intoxicating that Yuri almost purred on the spot. After a while, eyes that he didn’t remember closing flew open as he shot a hopeful glance to the Kazakh. He was fairly certain his eyes betrayed just how needy and aroused he was, not bothering with putting up a facade, which he never did with Otabek anyway. At the sight, Otabek bit his lip, brows furrowing.
“Yura, we can’t-”
“Don’t you want me ?”
This wasn’t really a question though. If the tent in his jeans were any indication, of course, Otabek wanted him, wanted this as much as he did. The defiance translated from Yuri’s voice to his eyes, and he kept his eyes firmly locked on Otabek’s. When it seemed like he would get no answer, he changed tactics and raked his nails against the hard fabric of the jeans, and the harder bulge inside. This elicited a groan from Otabek, and the sound went straight to Yuri’s cock.
“I want to,” Yuri said defiantly, before remembering that another attitude may be more convincing. Otabek opened his mouth to speak, but Yuri cut him off, voice softer and big eyes pleading.
“Please ?”
“Fuck Yura- Me too. Me too, kitten.” The petname rolled of Otabek’s tongue without him meaning to, apparently, because his cheeks turned even redder, and he cleared his throat before continuing.
“Yura, we can’t. You’re...” The words trailed off but Yuri got the hint. Too young- and yet he had won a gold medal a few days ago. Underage- it was barely a few months before he turned sixteen. Jailbait. Okay, yeah, maybe. The thought only made Yuri angry, making his veins flame with more arousal and his words with more urgency.
“Please, please Beka. I want it so bad.” The fire in Otabek’s eyes that had never really died since they started making out seemed to flare up again. So the begging worked, Yuri mentally noted, repressing a smirk. “I’ll be good. Please. Let me ?”
The hands that had momentarily stilled on his cheek and in his hair started stroking the soft skin and hair again. Fuck yes.
The blond rapidly thought that that was as much approval as he would get at this point, so he decided to continue where he had left. His fingers grabbed the zipper of Otabek’s jeans and tried to pull it down, and he softly cursed in Russian as he noticed that his hands were slightly shaking.
“Let me.” Otabek simply said, pushing Yuri’s hands out of the way before undoing his jeans himself. He pushed his pants and his underwear in one go to his mid-thighs, and Yuri was left facing his erection. Okay, so it was definitely big. Bigger than him, Yuri thought dazedly, as he approached his hand, trying to fit his fingers around the girth.
It barely fit.
Yuri’s pretty sure he should have been worried, or at least a little stressed. But really, he was high on whatever hormone was responsible for arousal, high on the sight of a hazy look in deep brown eyes, high on the feeling of hot skin under his fingers as he tried a few lazy up and down movements of his hand, high on the sight of precum on the red tip of Otabek’s cock. Without really thinking about it, he gave a few tentative licks on the tip, collecting the precum on his tongue. He vaguely registered Otabek failing to suppress a moan. The awful taste he expected wasn’t there, so he continued licking in earnest, before realizing that as enthusiastic as he was, he didn’t fucking know how to give a blowjob. His eyes looked up to meet Otabek’s heated gaze, silently asking for help.
Beka’s lips were shut tight, his eyes lidded with lust. He was already so wrecked, and Yuri hadn’t even started.
“J-just” he stuttered, “Just go slow, okay ?” His finger drew small circles affectionately in Yuri’s blond hair, massaging his scalp. “Start by licking.”
The blond hummed softly in answer and went back to giving tentative licks with his tongue around the tip of Otabek’s cock. He began stroking lightly with his right hand, the other coming to the taller man’s hips to scratch gently at his hips. The flesh felt hot against his tongue. Yuri was having fun, but Otabek wasn’t making enough noise in his opinion. So he stuck his tongue out and licked a strip from the bottom of the shaft to the tip, closed his lips around it, and started sucking.
“A-ah !” Yes, better. “Mind the teeth, Yura”. Oh shit.
Adjusting his lips so his teeth weren’t scratching Otabek’s cock anymore, Yuri shot him an apologetic look. While continuing to suck lightly on the tip and stroking the rest, the blond tried to take more of the cock into his mouth, parting his lips even more and pressing his tongue flat against the underside of the shaft. He was barely able to take more than a few inches in his mouth. Still, this elicited more noise for Otabek, but, even now, he was too goddamn silent. Yuri wrapped his lips and tried sucking more earnestly. He was trying to lick and caress the shaft with the flat of his tongue at the same time. The cock felt heavy in his wet mouth. Looking up, he observed the Kazakh’s face. The man looked like he was trying his best to restrain himself, lower lip bitten, eyes screwed shut, a vibrant blush across his cheeks.
Yuri was furious.
He wanted to make Otabek fall apart. And what Yuri wanted, Yuri always got.
Withdrawing his mouth with an audible pop, he continued stroking and parted his knees so Otabek could have room to take a step forward. Shooting the taller man a heated glance, Yuri rested his head on the door behind him, his chin up and a mischievous smile on his lips.
“I wanna make you feel good. Come on Beka, pleaaase.” Yuri purred. Otabek groaned at that. On an impulse, the blond added: “I want you to fuck my mouth.”
The phrase seemed to surprise them both, but it was quickly forgotten when Yuri opened his mouth and stuck his tongue out. His own forgotten cock was still very hard in the tight pair of pants he was wearing, but he paid it no mind. Instead, he looked into Otabek’s eyes, trying to convey how horny he was as much as he could.
Something flashed in Otabek’s eyes, and he took a step forward between Yuri’s legs. “Open wide, kitten.” Grabbing his cock in his hand, he pushed the tip past the blond’s open lips. Yuri took a deep breath as he felt the shaft sink into his mouth, Beka’s hand went to his hair, gripping forcefully but not hurting. His slick cock quickly hit the back of Yuri’s throat, and the Russian willed his body to stay calm and not choke. He failed miserably at the gentle thrust of Otabek’s cock in his mouth, his throat constricting and a wet and gross noise escaping him. Not that Otabek seemed to mind, if the moan he let out was any indication. Clenching his hands in fists on his thighs, Yuri tried to relax his throat and stop the gagging sounds escaping him.
As Otabek began to thrust in and out of his mouth, never going too far, Yuri slowly got used to the rhythm, and soon he was drooling all over his chin. Otabek was making the most delicious sounds, all soft moans and grunts as he fucked Yuri’s mouth. The blond was feeling dizzy, either from the breathing pattern which was imposed to him, or how turned on Beka sounded, or how turned on he himself was. The feeling of a hot cock in his mouth was making him combust from the inside, it felt so dirty and lewd and fucking amazing. He was drowning in the feeling of being used and being the one making Otabek fall apart at the same time.
Unable to resist anymore, Yuri palmed his own erection, relief flowing through his veins at the touch. He hadn’t realized how horny he was and how almost painful his cock felt, trapped in his pants. He reached inside and moaned wantonly as he began stocking himself. The sound seemed to spur Otabek on even more, as he fucked deeper in his mouth and grasped his hair in an almost painful way, trying to fit as much of his cock in Yuri’s throat as he could. The blond began choking again, unable to relax his throat at the brutal pace Otabek was building. He felt the small teardrops roll down his cheeks before he even registered the stinging in his eyes.
Yuri thought it should have felt wrong, and he should have felt ashamed or disgusted. This was not how first blowjobs were supposed to go. But, fuck it, it was even better.
The restless thrusting of a hard cock in his mouth and his throat was starting to make Yuri’s jaw ache, but he tried his best to ignore the growing pain as he let Otabek set a rough pace. His breathing was reduced to quick pants interrupted by deep moans.
“Yura, fuck- Your mouth feels so good. You’re so fucking good to me kitten.” Yuri’s cock jerked at the praise. “Taking my cock so well, baby. Fuck- do you want more ?”
The blond honestly didn’t know if he could take more, but he was never one to turn down a challenge. He tried hollowing his cheeks and moaning around the cock in his mouth to communicate his approval. Already gripping his hair harder, Otabek was pushing Yuri’s head back a little bit, bending his neck a little more, and slowly sinking more of his cock inside the blonde’s throat. Yuri’s body was betraying him, trying to resist the intrusion, making him choke, even more, his frame shaking slightly. Tears were escaping his eyes freely, and he felt overwhelmed with the sensations.
“Shh, breathe through your nose, kitten”, Otabek instructed. Yuri did as he was told, somehow relaxing slightly. Otabek’s cock stayed deep in his throat for a few more seconds before he pulled away with a drawn moan. Yuri sputtered as the drool dripped from his chin to his lap, a dribble of saliva connecting his wet lips to the tip of Otabek’s flushed cock, which the taller man was gripping at the base, quick pants leaving him.
He looked like he was about to cum, sweat collecting on his forehead and on his temples, and the sight was perhaps the hottest fucking thing Yuri had ever witnessed.
His cock jerked again at the thought, and a few strokes later Yuri was cumming all over his hands and his black leather pants. His muscles tightened as he felt electricity run through his nerves, and he closed his eyes as he let out the most embarrassing, high-pitched moan. A few seconds passed. He opened his eyes again as he tried to regain his composure, but his vision was dark and unfocused, and it took him a few blinks before the room stopped being blurry and swaying. The remainder of his climax was still evident as he raised half-lidded eyes to Otabek.
If the previous sight had made him cum, this vision was just as wonderful. The Kazakh was stroking his cock furiously, eyes locked on Yuri, hungry moans leaving his lips. The hand that was left unused was flat against the door, keeping him upright.
“Fuck- Yura, kitten, baby- Fuck that was so hot.”
Not giving a flying fuck anymore, Yuri let out the most debauched moan, opening his mouth by reflex. He wanted Otabek to cum, desperately, needed him to cum. The words escaped his mouth before he could think, his needy voice begging: “Please please please please, Beka, please !” Fuck, his voice was wrecked from the throat-fucking. That seemed to turn the Kazakh on even more, and frankly, Yuri was drowning in pure ecstasy, his heart still beating hard in his ribcage as he put his hands on Otabek’s hips, approaching his head to the cock in front of him as he whined: “Please, please, I want it.”
A few more strokes, and Otabek moaned something in Kazakh that Yuri didn’t understand as he spilled inside Yuri’s waiting, open mouth, and all over in cheeks and chin. The blonde’s small needy moans echoed the taller man’s groans as he emptied himself on Yuri's face, the latter quickly swallowing what's in his mouth.
They stayed like this for several seconds, each catching their breath before Yuri burst into laughter. Otabek seemed a bit puzzled at first, but as the tension loosened he joined the blonde’s giggly laugh and sunk to his knees in front of Yuri. They gradually grew more silent, only little snorts escaping the youngest. Otabek’s eyes were right in front of Yuri, and a loving smile was resting across his lips. In truth, Yuri felt like he was floating, a big and sincere smile quickly blooming on his face as he looked into deep, affectionate brown eyes. The silence stretched, without any of them saying anything. It was a comfortable silence, as always with Beka – one thing Yuri greatly appreciated about his friend.
Friend?
Before his mind could dwell on the subject, Otabek caught Yuri in a tight hug, his head coming to rest in the crook of the blonde’s neck. The position felt similar to the one they had been in minutes ago, but the eagerness, the arousal, the fire had made way for a totally different atmosphere. The prickling heat that Yuri had felt in the pit of his stomach was replaced with a feeling of satisfaction, fondness, and safety. The rush of emotions he felt towards Otabek, which were unknown to him until now, made him shiver slightly, and Otabek tightened his arms around Yuri’s frame. The blonde’s reciprocated, almost pushing his nose against Beka’s jacket to get more of the manly, attractive scent of the leather – and of something else, something properly Otabek’s – but stopped himself as he remembered the sticky fluid spread on his face.
He tried talking, but his throat ached a little, and he gulped before trying again. “O-Otabek,” fuck, his voice was truly wrecked, “Gotta clean...”
Immediately, Otabek detached himself from the embrace. “Yeah, sure,” and, as he helped Yuri stand, he added “Lemme help.”
The Team Russia jacket had apparently fallen from Yuri’s shoulders at one point, and he grabbed it with one hand as he rose up. Packing himself back in his pants, ignoring the cum on his trousers, Yuri followed as Otabek went in the direction of the sinks. The blonde’s legs still felt like jelly, but he was pretty sure it didn’t show too much in the way he was walking. He could walk out of there as if nothing had happened. Or maybe not, Yuri thought as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror.
First of all, his hair was a mess. It was like a crow’s nest, only worse. Yuri quickly opened the faucet, he attempted to tame it with water, but his fingers kept getting stuck in the knots. Giving up, he examined his face instead. It was even worse if it were possible. His make-up was ruined, black liner and eye-shadow that had run in long streaks under his eyes on his cheeks. Dried cum painted his cheeks, his lips, his chin, and the tip of his nose. He looked positively debauched. And quite honestly, he was pretty satisfied at the sight.
“I’m so sorry.” Otabek simply whispered as he approached a soaked tissue to Yuri’s face. His movements were gentle and precise as he cleaned diligently the evidence of what they had done. The contrast between the slow and attentive gesture and the way he was fucking Yuri’s mouth roughly merely minutes ago made Yuri feel all sentimental and soft and quite honestly a little bit horny because damn. The boy would always surprise him.
As Otabek finished cleaning up as much as he could the mess that was Yuri’s face, the latter observed with a smile that his black hair was as much disheveled as his own. Good.
“You might want to wear that,” Otabek said as he pointed to the jacket Yuri was still holding. “What ?” “Look at your neck.”
Turning back towards the mirror, Yuri was freely able to admire the field of hickeys blooming across his neck, collarbone, and left shoulder. His cheeks heated up a little as he struggled to readjust his top and put the jacket on, zipping it up, which, okay- he felt a little stupid blushing at that, knowing what they had just done earlier and how messed up his face had been. At least Viktor’s oversized jacket covered the cum and drool spread over his tank top and the top of the leather pants. He studied Otabek’s reflection in the mirror as the taller man tried to fix Yuri’s hair after having pretty successfully fixed his own. His fingers were gentle as he carefully untangled knots after knots, a small smile on his face. Biting softly at his bottom lip, Yuri felt himself melt under the touch, enjoying the attention.
Getting out of the locker room and facing everyone was going to be fun. But for now, Yuri let himself enjoy the small bubble he and Otabek were in.