
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11017104.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Otabek_Altin, Yuri_Plisetsky
  Additional Tags:
      Established_Relationship, Welcome_to_the_Madness_(Yuri!!!_on_Ice), Hotel
      Sex
  Collections:
      write_to_my_heart
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-05-27 Words: 3060
****** Could You Write a Song For Me ******
by mousapelli
Summary
     Yuri and Otabek have slightly more laid-back post-competition plans
     during Worlds than they did during the Grand Prix finals.
Notes
     Uh so Welcome to the Madness dropped, and it's wrecking my LIFE, like
     everything Yoi ever does, but to compound that effect i'm on Team
     YuraBeka for SASO which is also starting, so our team chat is
     basically a high screeching "AAAAAGGHHHH" for the last couple days.
     Oh, and Hawberries drew me a commission of Otabek_with_his_pet
     hamster that is so cute it made me cry. This week. I'm so tired. LET
     ME LIVE.
     Anyway, so since Kubo is clearly using the 2014-15 season for all the
     canon Yoi events, that means that 2015 Worlds is at Shanghai, and
     Otabek (Denis Ten) wins bronze! So clearly celebratory sex is in
     order. That means he gets to do an exhibition skate, you know. And
     I'm sure what he does is this, which is Ten's Money on My Mind Ex
     Skate that year. UH HI ONE HANDED SKATE FLIPS. Title from lyrics to
     that.
     Set during the World Championships in the same year as canon, so Yuri
     is 16 by then, in case that's a thing that bothers you.
Not that he would ever admit it, but the drama of growing 4 cm during the
season seemed slightly less horrible now that it meant he was taller than
Otabek when seated firmly in Otabek's lap. Otabek wasn't even making it a
challenge, slumped against his pillows and headboard, grinning up at Yuri. He
had thrown on sweats and a worn, black V-neck after his shower, but he still
had his bronze medal around his neck.
Yuri was straddling Otabek's waist, wearing only Otabek's Winter Universiade T-
shirt that hung to his thighs, comically oversized. His hair was a waterfall of
damp tangles over his shoulders from the shower and Otabek's hands. He was
tracing the edge of Otabek's medal in slow circles with his fingertips. "Don't
look so pleased with yourself. Bronze, honestly."
"Well, I did get to take away the prettiest, sparkly thing in the rink."
Otabek's teasing was always done flat-faced, the sass of it all in his eyes.
His hands were so warm against Yuri's waist. "The medal's nice too, of course."
"Shut the fuck up," Yuri said in delight, slapping his palm down flat against
Otabek's chest. Pretty was the last thing Yuri felt, limbs stretched halfway
through a growth spurt, dark circles under his eyes, his knee already purple
from a muffed jump. But he wasn't that fucked up about any of it when Otabek
said shit like that. "I'm not even cute right now, you're just buttering me up
to get me into bed."
"You're already in bed," Otabek pointed out. His hands skated up higher, under
the T-shirt, tracing the lines of Yuri's abs and the bottom of his ribs. "I'd
still buy you dinner, though. I'm a gentleman."
"That's what you are, all right," Yuri snorted, tossing his hair back out of
his eyes. "Medal at Worlds and win a date with Kazakhstan's Hero."
"Come on, we've barely seen any of Shanghai," Otabek coaxed, not that he looked
in a big hurry to crawl out of bed. "Leo said Guanghong knows all the best
places for shady street food, Shanghai's famous for it." Yuri just stared down
at him, eyebrows raised. "What? Got a better offer here?"
Yuri threw himself down on Otabek suddenly, misjudging the distance to Otabek's
mouth because of his fucking new height and banging their noses together. He
grumbled a curse, but Otabek huffed a laugh and tilted his head back to get his
mouth on Yuri's after all. One hand stayed under Yuri's T-shirt, palm splayed
warm over the small of Yuri's back; Otabek's other hand worked into the hair on
the back of Yuri's head, tugging him into a better angle before their necks
started to hurt.
Kissing Otabek hadn't lost its electricity yet, small wonder since this was
only the third time they'd seen each other in person and only for a few days at
a time. They'd managed to sneak in a few makeouts this event so far, but Yuri
still kissed Otabek like they might be interrupted at any moment, too rough and
too messy. Otabek never tried to make it anything different, though, whether
because he liked it that way or because he was just waiting for Yuri to wear
himself out, Yuri never knew. What Yuri knew was that Otabek's fingers were
pulling tight in his unbrushed hair, making Yuri groan into the kiss when he
wound them tighter. In revenge, Yuri brought his own hands up to Otabek's hair,
dragging nails through the undercut.
Otabek used his grip on Yuri's hair to pull him back half a breath, eyes low-
lidded as they blinked at each other.
"Nothing is getting me out of this bed," Yuri growled, impatient at being
interrupted. He scowled when Otabek burst out laughing.
"You're a bizarre creature," Otabek said with affection. He smoothed some of
Yuri's hair back from his face, even though it fell right back down. "At the
Grand Prix you won gold, threw a tantrum, broke into several clubs, and stayed
up all night destroying your exhibition plus one of Mila's shirts. Here you
earned silver and you just want to stay in bed?"
"Fuck you," Yuri answered lazily, flopping down on Otabek's chest. In point of
fact, he had thrown a tantrum already. He'd been barely holding it together on
the podium when Katsuki had some kind of panic attack meltdown and gone into
hug monster mode. Katsuki had slid down to the silver platform, thrown arms
around Yuri, and clung stubbornly until Yuri's frayed self-control snapped and
he just started shouting out every frustration he'd been holding in for the
entire event. Then Katsuki had started to bawl on his shoulder, and Yuri was
sure his on-camera shriek of "STOP CRYING WHILE I'M YELLING AT YOU" would be
meme fodder for the next sixth months at least. If Chulanont hadn't made it
into a ringtone already, Yuri would eat a skate guard.
Anyway, after that whole incident Yuri had gone numb, almost tractable as Yakov
pushed him through press and interviews, too many emotions in too short a time
on top of the physical exhaustion. He still felt that exhaustion now, held
barely at bay by the physical want that being pressed up against Otabek always
brought.
Otabek was stroking the hair back from his face, and it felt incredibly nice,
but Yuri fought against letting his eyes slip shut, knowing that if he did, it
would likely be all over.
"Don't you dare fall asleep on me," Otabek said, as if reading his mind.
"You've been driving me crazy since this afternoon, and I'm definitely having
my way with you."
That made Yuri pop his head up. "Just since this afternoon?"
"Well, always," Otabek rolled his eyes, "but then you wouldn't put on your
jacket even though your costume was half mesh and your nipples were like party
hats."
"Like what?" Yuri cracked up. "They were not!"
"They were," Otabek insisted, rolling them on their sides suddenly. The hand
that was around Yuri's back slid front to thumb at one of the nipples in
question. Yuri arched into the touch in encouragement. "So cute. But very
annoying when everybody else can see you like that. When I can't get my mouth
on them."
"Hey," Yuri said, squirming as Otabek went from rubbing gently to pinching. He
slid one hand down from Otabek's hair to palm his jaw, and sure enough, Otabek
turned his head just enough to rub Yuri's thumb across his lower lip. "You kind
of have a mouth thing, huh."
Otabek opened his mouth to let Yuri's thumb fall into his mouth, giving it a
slow, deliberate suck before he answered. "Kind of? I want to put my mouth all
over you."
"Yeah?" Yuri shuddered, pinned by Otabek's heated gaze. He never knew what to
do when Otabek was so direct with him, except to dare him to do more, go
farther, wondering when he would hit Otabek's limit. "Why don't you, then?"
Growling instead of answering, Otabek leaned forward to crush his mouth against
Yuri's, kiss just as rough as any Yuri ever pinned him down with, until their
lips were slick and stinging. Did Otabek not actually have a limit, Yuri had to
wonder as Otabek moved to sucking a wet path down his neck, pushing the T-
shirt's collar over far enough to press his teeth against Yuri's collarbone in
fleeting points of jagged pleasure.
He sat up and reached for the hem of Yuri's T-shirt to pull it off, shaking it
impatiently when Yuri tried to help and got more in the way, elbows tangled.
Once it was off, Otabek tossed it aside carelessly and reached for the back of
his own, yanking it and his medal over his head in one smooth, brusque motion
that made Yuri's mouth go dry. Otabek got way better muscle definition out of
strength training than Yuri ever did, a fact Yuri was intensely jealous of, but
more than that it was the efficient power in all of Otabek's movements that got
to him the most, the way he always seemed to be made of tightly coiled strength
at his core.
Otabek was looking Yuri over head to thigh meanwhile, gaze as heavy as if it
were his hands, dragging Yuri's flush down lower along with it, spreading over
his shoulders. Yuri was most of the way hard, hardening more under Otabek's
watching, and he wanted to close his legs to hide, but couldn't with Otabek
kneeling between them.
"Well?" Yuri demanded, belligerent as always when uncertain. "Weren't you gonna
put your mouth all over or something?"
"You're so adorable," Otabek purred, leaning down. Yuri got out a squawk of
indignation before Otabek was on his elbows so he didn't crush Yuri as he
leaned into another rough kiss. Yuri's eyes fluttered shut at the rub of
Otabek's bare chest against his own, the drag of it against his nipples. He dug
his fingers hard into Otabek's bare shoulders, trying to ground himself, but it
was useless, exhaustion making him dizzy so that he was glad he was already on
his back.
They hadn't gotten any farther than this part the first time, back in
Barcelona, both of them too wired up from the exhibition, stamina already at
their limits from staying up all night. They'd only had seven hours in between
the banquet and Otabek's early flight, and they'd barely managed to rub off
against each other before passing out and wasting most of their time sleeping.
Yuri wondered what it would even be like to have more hours together than
either one of them could count, to have enough time that they could manage to
take it slower.
Didn't seem like they were going to find out this time either.
This time when Otabek moved down, over Yuri's throat and shoulder and
collarbone, he didn't stop, sliding down to press one deliberate kiss in the
center of Yuri's sternum before turning his head and licking at Yuri's left
nipple. He grazed it with his teeth, and Yuri let out a yelp that had him
throwing a hand over his mouth, face scarlet with embarrassment.
Otabek looked up just long enough for it to show how much he liked hearing Yuri
before switching to the other nipple.
"Fuck youuuu," Yuri hissed, trying to swallow the other, way more embarrassing
noises. Otabek bit down, not quite as gently this time, and Yuri gave Otabek a
pretty decent set of fingernail marks in the back of his shoulder, he assumed,
with the hand still clutching Otabek's shoulder.
Eventually he moved down further, partly a relief to Yuri and partly just more
torment, nuzzling and licking at Yuri's ribs, his stomach. He paused, like he
was thinking, lips on the top edge of Yuri's bellybutton, prompting a strangled
"What?" from Yuri.
"It's trendy in Almaty to get pierced here," Otabek told him. He flicked his
tongue against the tiny flap of skin above Yuri's innie, in case he was unclear
on the location Otabek meant.
"For girls?" Yuri asked.
"Not only," Otabek answered, making Yuri's breath catch in this throat. "How
much would Lilia kill you if—"
"NO," Yuri cut him off, because fuck everything, Otabek made every single
irresponsible thing sound like such a good time, and fuck everybody who thought
that just because he didn't run his mouth every time he was on camera, he
wasn't just as full of bad ideas as every other figure skater Yuri had
basically ever met. "Can't you just get on with it?!"
Otabek blinked slowly. "Hm? With what?"
Yuri shook his head, definitely not up to saying that kind of thing out loud,
when they both knew exactly what he meant. Yuri's cock was hard enough to pull
up, tip damp, and if Otabek slid down six more centimeters Yuri could slap him
across the face with it. If he didn't stop teasing, Yuri might actually do it.
"This?" Otabek wrapped a hand around Yuri's cock, not stroking, only squeezing
and letting Yuri do the work, bucking up into his grip. "Yeah, this is pretty
good."
Yuri threw his head back and grunted in pain when it hit the headboard with
dull thwack.
"Easy up there," Otabek said, gripping Yuri's hip with his free hand to drag
him down the bed a bit more without letting go of Yuri's cock. Otabek looked
entirely too amused as Yuri glared at him, reaching back to rub his head. "All
right?"
"Fine," Yuri snapped. "Hurry up! I'm dying up here!"
"Can't have that," Otabek murmured, and Yuri had half a mind to kick Otabek in
the chest for looking so goddamned delighted the more unreasonable Yuri got,
but then he was finally, fucking finally, sliding his mouth down over Yuri's
cock and Yuri was struggling just to breathe.
Cursing under his breath, Yuri twisted fingers in the sheets and tried to last
at least longer than the minute and a half he had the first time Otabek had
ever sucked him off. It was fucking hard, though, because Otabek's mouth was so
much hotter than his hand, slick and perfect, and he could get most of Yuri
into his mouth without seeming to try that hard at all. Otabek's fingers were
wrapped around Yuri's base, holding him steady, Yuri's balls brushing up
against his wrist every time Yuri's hips flexed up, and Otabek's free hand was
still on his hip, holding him down to the mattress with a surprisingly strong
grip for being one-handed.
But the most destructive part was that when Yuri struggled to pull his head up
to look—a huge mistake, but he always did it— Otabek always looked so into it,
eyes all but closed, cheeks flushed. He hummed low in his throat, pleased or
turned on or both, and Yuri was done for, coming apart in a shaking, whining
mess as his elbows gave out and dumped him on the mattress.
The room was spinning unpleasantly, making Yuri reluctant to open his eyes when
he felt the shift of the mattress beside him, but he held out his arms and let
Otabek crawl into them. Warm, solid Otabek made it a little easier for Yuri to
ground himself back in reality, and he let Otabek's lips part his for a deep,
messy kiss. Otabek must have swallowed, Yuri realized, but he couldn't hold
onto the thought long enough to care about it, or anything except the wet sweep
of Otabek's tongue, and the slide of his palms across Yuri's hip and back,
still hot despite how flushed Yuri's skin already was.
"Yura, please," Otabek murmured against Yuri's mouth. He was rocking against
Yuri's hip, Yuri realized, Otabek still hard.
"Yeah," Yuri agreed, fumbling a hand between them to wrap around Otabek.
Otabek's hand closed over top of his, making Yuri's slack grip much tighter,
stroking himself much tighter and rougher with Yuri's hand than Yuri would have
dared to even if he could manage any coordination at the moment.
Otabek made it maybe ten strokes before he was coming over Yuri's hip and
stomach with a low groan, and Yuri didn't feel that bad about his own stamina
after all.
"Damn, so fast," Yuri said, wiping off his hand as best he could on the sheets
while Otabek was clinging to him tightly, murmuring things that were possibly
words into his neck through his aftershocks. "Have some self-respect."
"Shut up, brat," Otabek purred, turning his head to steal another kiss, two,
three. "I can't think straight when you're under me, making all that noise.
It's a wonder I even make it until you can touch me."
"Why do you like that so much?" Yuri said, hoping it sounded skeptical rather
than embarrassed. It sure wasn't like he minded Otabek sucking his dick, but he
had the idea that dudes weren't supposed to be quite that enthusiastic about it
even if they were twinky figure skaters.
Otabek just laughed against Yuri's mouth, unoffended, still half blissed out.
His voice was low and scratchy in his throat, making Yuri shiver. "Try it and
see."
"I'd love to," Yuri said dryly. He reached down to drag two fingers through the
come still on his thigh and held them up for Otabek to see. "Except I never get
to because you come like a freak just from doing it to me." Otabek turned his
head and licked at the pads of Yuri's finger, making Yuri's breath hitch. Then
he sucked both fingers into his mouth properly, down to Yuri's second knuckle,
tongue rough and thorough. He kept his eyes on Yuri's the whole time. "Fuck,
Beka."
Otabek released Yuri's fingers with a wet pop, grinning, sly and shameless.
"I'm not so good at sharing. But I think I can be convinced to let you have
your turn next, if you really want to. Do you?"
"I…" Yuri squirmed, stupid fair skin flushing all over again, pinned down by
Otabek's direct question. The answer was yes, he definitely did want to get his
mouth on Otabek, but there was a big difference between wanting it and saying
he wanted it. "I guess? I mean, yeah, obviously. If you can do it, I can!"
Ugh, embarrassing, Yuri thought, but as far as the two of them went, it wasn't
the stupidest thing either one of them had said. At least it wasn't "Are you
going to suck my dick or not?" and Otabek didn't look like he thought Yuri was
embarrassing at all. Otabek looked amused and turned on, the flush of his skin
not nearly as obvious as Yuri's but more adorable because of that. He was
faintly pink across his nose, and Yuri wanted to put his mouth on that, too.
"Is everything a competition?" Otabek asked, trailing brushed kisses up Yuri's
jaw. Yuri tried to bite down on a whimper but it leaked out anyway through his
clenched teeth. "Because you know, it's fine if it is. I could even let you win
one, since it seems like you might need some practice—"
"HEY!"
Otabek bit down on Yuri's earlobe, cutting off his protest with a squeak. "You
might even catch up, although I can tell you I'm definitely worth more than a
bronze in this event. You've got all night to try."
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