
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12676701.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Otabek_Altin, Yuri_Plisetsky, Lilia_Baranovskaya
  Additional Tags:
      First_Time, Pet_Play, Pet_Names, Kitten, Good_boy_Otabek, and_also, Bad
      boy_Otabek
  Collections:
      Yuri!!!_On_Ice_Shit_Bang_2017
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-11-09 Words: 4864
****** The Kitten ******
by djdaddybek_(llyn)
Summary
     Yuri and Otabek aren't supposed to be playing Kitten, not after what
     Lilia saw
Notes
     kawaiilo-ren pinch hit art for this fic after my original artist
     dropped out of the yoi shit bang, you can find her beautiful piece
     right_here, thanks <3
See the end of the work for more notes
The Kitten game isn’t so bad, but it’s got a lot of rules. Yuri’s not allowed
to talk. He’s not allowed to walk. He can’t even use his phone. The most
important rule of all is that Lilia can’t find out that they’re playing. She’s
suspicious of him already, supervising Otabek’s visits: tea and strained
conversation in her white-gold sitting room while Yuri squirms in the seat
beside him, picking apart his sandwiches. Lilia is subtle but Lilia is clear,
if she catches Otabek in Yuri’s room again there will be hell to pay.
At the front door, Otabek says goodbye. He kisses the back of Lilia’s elegant
hand because he knows they both like it. He says  see ya  to Yura, thumbs up,
later . Yuri stares so intensely, bouncing on his toes. He acts like this every
time--like Otabek will drive off into the sleepy afternoon and disappear. His
body is a tight string, his anxious face the last thing Otabek sees as the door
closes.
Then he’s alone. He makes a show of peeling off loudly, picturing Lilia
frowning in the window. He fishtails down the drive, just a little  fuck you
to the situation. Just cause she caught him tickling Yuri  one time  he’s gotta
play by her rules.
The only rules he likes in this world are Yura’s.
He hides his bike a few blocks away and returns on foot, trying to look cool,
unhurried as he sneaks across her rose garden. He ducks, for a moment, when he
hears a door slam. Bees buzz, thorns tug, the sun beats down. But Otabek’s got
a leather jacket. He’s got black sunglasses. And he knows Yuri’s watching from
his window, bouncing on his toes with anticipation. As he climbs up the
lattice, Yuri pushes the window open and leans out, sunlight in his hair. He
smiles that smile that makes Otabek dizzy. It feels a lot like coming home.
Hard enough to climb through the window with any dignity, even harder with Yuri
mobbing him, two hands curled around his bicep as he purrs his name and  you’re
here , like he didn’t know Otabek was coming. It makes him smile. He’s a silly
boy.
His room is pink and white and sweet, Lilia’s heavy hand in the decor, Yuri’s
cat curled up on his frilly white bed, rose-gold chair pushed under the
doorknob. Yuri nuzzles against Otabek’s jacket, drawing his attention back.
“Where’s your kitty stuff?” he asks, petting Yuri’s soft hair, dipping his
fingers into the layers to pull his head back.
“Will you help me put it on?” Yuri asks, cheeks turning pink. Otabek knows he
likes to hide his face when he’s embarrassed--to wrap his long hair over his
mouth like a mask and look away--but he's held in place by Otabek’s hand.
“You can’t do it yourself?”
“No,” Yuri says, face burning brighter. “You have to help me.”
From his tone, the stubborn lift of his chin, it’s clear there’s no
negotiation. Still, Otabek glances at the door, biting his lip. If Lilia sees
this--
“Beka.” The kitten looks mutinous, bottom lip pushed out.
“Fine,” he says. Yuri hums and hides his blush against Otabek’s jacket, but
Otabek pulls his chin up again, eyes narrowed. “Are you gonna get undressed
first?”
Yuri’s eyes cut away. Otabek knows the answer.
“Yura--”
“Please?” Yuri asks.
“That’s not part of the game.”
“But I want it to be.”
Otabek lets him go, pushes him back a step to consider. Hard to think clearly
with Yuri so close. The problem is that he’s always changing the rules. At
first they didn’t touch. At first Yuri ate from a dish instead of Otabek’s
hand. At first he wore a catsuit. At first he’d stay calm when Otabek hid in
the bathroom. Now Yuri spends lazy long afternoons in his lap, licking peanut
butter from Otabek’s fingers, wearing his skimpy kitty outfits, meowing loudly
at the bathroom door when Otabek needs a minute to breathe, staring down his
dark impulses in the mirror.
And now Yuri stands there, bottom lip chewed red, asking Otabek to undress him.
Otabek looks back toward the bed, where Yuri’s little outfit waits in a fluffy
white pile.
“Beka, please? I know it’s not part of it, but it’d make me so--”
“Shh,” Otabek says, pulling him closer by his torn up t-shirt. He’s torn, too.
If they get caught, what then? And if they don’t get caught, what next? This is
why they never talk about Kitten. It’s more fun to play. He boops Yuri's little
nose. “Kitties don’t talk.”
Yuri hums, slipping his arms around Otabek, head heavy against his chest.
Otabek lets him have his hug, rubbing the back of his neck with his thumb and
forefinger, dipping his face down to smell his hair. Yuri’s lonely. They’ve
talked about it often. He’s lonely, and Otabek’s lonely now, too, ever since he
moved away from home to be by his side. They have to stick together.
“Who dressed you up like this, kitten?” he asks, to start the game. Yuri purrs
against his chest, making Otabek feel braver. Playing Kitten doesn’t come to
him naturally. He’s never had a cat before. “Where are your ears?” he asks,
feeling the top of Yuri’s head. The kitten laughs. “Where’s your pretty tail?”
Wide, green eyes stare up at him.
“Don’t look at me like that, when you know your tail is pretty.” Otabek scoops
him up easily into his arms and smiles when Yuri tucks his face into the armpit
of his jacket. He’s put on one of the mixes Otabek’s made for him, loud enough
to drown out their voices and Otabek’s heavy footsteps in his boots as he
carries him. He’s a smart boy. Otabek’s grateful for that.  
He lays him down on the bed in the same place he did that rainy afternoon when
Lilia burst in with her assumptions. Like that day, Otabek’s in his jacket and
ripped jeans, muddy boots on pink carpet. It was all a big misunderstanding.
Yuri had a secret he wouldn't tell. Otabek thought he could tickle it loose.
Such a simple explanation.
But useless to think about it now. It’s hot, but he knows Yuri will whine if he
takes his jacket off. That’s strictly against the rules. It gets a little
hotter as Otabek starts to undress him, sweat beading on the back of his neck,
mouth going dry. This explanation is less simple.
He pulls the ripped black shirt over Yuri’s head, and in an instant Yuri’s
hands are busy, smoothing out his mussed hair. “Vain kitty,” Otabek teases. He
tries not to look at the pretty picture Yura makes--lean tummy and slender
chest, pink nipples hard with his paws sunk in his own gold hair--but Yuri
catches him staring and smiles. Otabek looks down at his boots. The kitten is a
show-off.
“Who caught you, kitty?” he asks, shaking it off, peeling Yuri’s black sweats
down his long legs. “Some neighborhood boys?” He gets mad just thinking about
this--his perfect kitty with his pretty fur dirtied by mean little punks. For a
moment he's happy Lilia keeps his kitty locked up, until he remembers he's the
real punk Yuri needs protection from. He clears his dry throat, tearing his
eyes off Yuri's belly button. “Did they pull your tail? Dress you up in these
dirty clothes?”
Yuri purrs loudly, leaning back on his elbows to let Otabek work. He hesitates
over Yuri’s boxer-briefs. But Yuri blinks at him, waiting. Otabek takes a
breath, “Did they tug on your ears, kitten?” The anger at these faceless boys
helps him focus, keeps his hands from shaking, as he gently pulls Yuri’s boxers
down his hips. His pretty cock is hard. Otabek imagines the boys pinning his
kitten down and rubbing dirt in his fur. Petting him backwards. The kitty
crying for help.
His expression must be dark, because Yuri makes a curious sound, head tilted.
Otabek grabs the tight lacy white shorts Yuri likes and pulls them up his legs
in a hurry, trying not to love his little ass, then leans his kitten forward,
Yuri's breath warm through his shirt, to clip his fluffy white ears into place.
Yuri catches Otabek's forearm between his paws and licks his hand to say thank
you, eyes drowsy with pleasure.
“Good kitty,” Otabek murmurs, pulling his arm free--his jeans are too tight,
the room too hot and too close--”You’re safe from those other boys now.” Yuri
purrs. He’s so good at this game. Not like Otabek. He knows Yuri loves Kitten
but it’s a challenge to focus. There’s too much to see. He keeps his kitty
waiting.
Even now, Yuri meows and nudges his tail with his paw. Otabek forgot all about
it.
“Sorry, angel,” the word just slips out, and Yuri’s face turns bright red.
Otabek shakes his head, to clear it, “Kitten. Hey--” catching his chin, “I
meant kitten.”
But Yuri’s face stays red, and he breathes hard as Otabek ties his tail around
his slender hips, fingers suddenly clumsy with the white ribbon. Stupid Otabek.
He’d love to--one day, after Lilia cools off--he’d love to take Yuri on a date,
to spoil him with presents, to kiss him. But it’s wrong to let that slip now,
when they can't even play Kitten without whispering low under loud music. He
shouldn’t have said that. Yuri’s eyes are shining when he turns back to face
him, holding his fluffy white tail between his paws.
The last step is his collar, which Otabek bought him after their first time
playing. Or--well--he bought everything, but the collar was a surprise. Yuri
wanted some pretty rhinestone thing to match his white fur, but Otabek thought
he should be the one to pick, instead. Yuri was  his  kitten, and kittens don’t
get to make all the rules. It’s black leather with a heavy metal heart shaped
ring and spikes. So different from his delicate kitty, but so like his Yura.
Yuri holds up his hair for Otabek, humming as Otabek tightens it around his
slender neck.
When he's done the kitten mews and crawls up the bed, displacing Potya by the
pillows. Otabek follows him, sitting against the headboard as Yuri nuzzles his
arm. Otabek pets his soft hair slowly, until his own eyes begin to drop closed.
The sleepy afternoon air, the kitty's warmth, the soft bed--it's heaven. He's
not having much fun in Russia, not that he would admit it. He can't whisk his
Yura away on his bike, practice is uncomfortable, the gossip around them is
thick. Kitten is all he has, now. A few stolen hours, once a week. It's
tempting to curl around his kitten and sleep. But when Yuri's head starts to
droop, Otabek shifts his shoulder. They can’t take a cat nap. They’ve done that
before and woke in a panic--Lilia rattling the door handle, asking Yuri if he'd
like some tea.
“Psst, kitty, what’s this?” Otabek asks, with a better idea, making a finger
spider for Yuri to chase. Yuri blinks sleepily, then rolls onto all fours to
hunt it, wiggling his little ass. He pounces as it crawls onto Otabek’s chest.
Yuri bites his hand and rolls off of him, onto his back, nibbling and licking
Otabek’s fingers.
It’s so hard not to tickle him. There’s something about the kitten’s tight
tummy that makes him crazy, he can’t explain it. He wants to write poems. He
wants to take pictures. He wants to lick Yuri from his belly button up to his
collarbone, to clean him like cat--but he’s never touched the kitten like that
before. What if Yuri says no? But then he thinks of the kitten, so calm and
cool, as Otabek stripped him and dressed him. How he’d wanted it, asked for it,
got it. Maybe he should change the rules today, too.
“Are you gonna let me pet your tummy?” Otabek asks, staring down at the kitten.
He refuses to blush. And if his face is hot, it’s the heat of his jacket.
Otabek always gets what he wants. Yuri looks back at him, eyes narrowed, with
Otabek’s finger clamped between his teeth, just hard enough to hurt. One foot
lifts off the bed as if to warn him-- touch my tummy and I’ll kick you .
But Otabek isn’t convinced. He sees a smile in Yuri’s eyes. He pulls his hand
free and leans over the kitten, casting a shadow, hands on either side of his
bare shoulders. “I bet Yura would let me,” he says.
Yuri blinks up at him. He licks his pink lips, slowly. Otabek hooks his finger
through the heart-shaped loop in Yuri’s collar and watches his breath catch in
his throat.
“Pretty kitty,” Otabek murmurs. “Let me kiss your tummy. I promise it won’t
tickle.”
“Beka--” Yuri says.
“ Shh , baby. Kitties don’t talk.”
Yuri goes still, so that Otabek can’t tell--as he lowers his lips to the
kitten’s lovely, tempting little tummy--what will happen next. If the kitten
really is his, Otabek can take whatever he wants. And Yuri loves to tell him
every time how the kitten is his. All his.
The song ends, and in the quiet he can hear the click of Lilia’s heels passing
in the hall. But Otabek holds on tight to the kitten’s collar, keeping him in
place as he drags his lips over Yuri’s smooth skin. The next song begins,
drowning out Yuri’s moan. He arches his back as Otabek reaches his delicate
collarbone--his skin all vanilla and honey. Otabek drops down to start again
from his belly button, this time with his tongue.
Yuri’s little claws scratch at the back of his head, but he doesn’t kick. His
legs fall open for Otabek, and his lips, too, with breathy moans so they won’t
be overheard.
“Do you like it, kitty?” Otabek asks, looking up at the kitten’s sweet face. He
stares down at Otabek, biting his lip. “You want more?” he asks, drifting
lower--careful not to touch Yuri’s cock where it’s trapped in his shorts. He
gives the kitten plenty of time to bat him away, to clamp those loose legs
shut, to tell him no, shake his head, make a noise. He just watches instead,
propping himself up on his elbows as Otabek lays between his legs. It excites
him, knowing Yuri wanted this, too, that all those afternoons curled in
Otabek’s lap he was ready to be spread out and licked clean like this. A bath
for his dirty kitten.  
Otabek lifts one of his legs over his shoulder and takes a sloppy, wet bite
high up inside his kitty’s thigh, then another, greedy as a boy with ice cream,
forgetting even to watch his kitten’s face. When he does look up the kitten’s
biting the back of his hand to keep himself quiet--chest flushed and eyebrows
drawn together.
“Too much?” Otabek asks.
Yuri looks like he might laugh-- too much --his eyes dance, smiling behind his
paw, so Otabek grabs his hips and pulls him flat on his back in revenge, lacy
shorts slipping easily over the silky sheets. Otabek leans down to pin his paws
to the mattress. “If you want more I’ll give it to you.”
The kitty meows, lifting his hips.
“Still a dirty kitty?”
A shyer mew, Yuri hiding in his hair.
“Alright.” Otabek licks his pink nipples--first one, then the other--elbows on
Yuri’s arms when he tries to break loose. Otabek moves slow, rolling the little
gumdrops in his teeth, until the breathless little mews drive him out of his
senses and bites hard enough to earn a swipe from his paw.
“Whoops,” Otabek says, deadpan.
The kitty cuffs his cheek again, gentler.
But there’s still so much of him: legs that need to be kissed, beautiful,
bruised feet, toes like a pantheon of precious little gods to worship, slender
arms that Otabek traces with his lips, biting the thin skin of his wrist. He
locks eyes with the kitty and turns his pretty paw over to kiss the back. Yuri
raises an eyebrow, noble as a lord.
“It’s a bath, kitten,” Otabek tells him. “I thought this is how you take them.”
The kitty blushes so deep he turns his head toward the pillow, hair falling
down to hide him.
It’s only after he’s kissed the other shoulder, bicep, elbow, forearm,
fingertips, palm, with Yuri’s little claws curling on his jaw, that Yuri
emerges from hiding in his hair to take a turn--slipping his paw to the back of
Otabek’s head to pull him down. Otabek thinks, for a dizzy second, that he
might get a real kiss. But at the last moment Yuri tilts his head to the side,
nuzzling against Otabek’s cheek, ragged breath near his ear. He draws back, one
paw spread on Otabek's chest. Then he smooths his cheek on the other side of
Otabek’s face.
“Kitty kisses?” Otabek asks.
Yuri purrs. He butts his forehead against Otabek’s. He sinks his paws into his
own hair, rolling his hips up again.
“More?” Otabek asks.
“Mrow,” the kitten says. He tilts his head back in the pillows, and his collar
glints in the light. Otabek grabs the kitten’s hair and pulls his head to the
side, sinking his teeth into his neck. Spikes poke against his cheek as Yuri
whines, pushing on Otabek with his paws. He doesn’t let go, biting up his neck
high and higher to whisper in his ear. Nothing too bad. Just first date stuff.
That he’s spoiled and dirty. That he’s pretty and knows it. That Otabek’s going
to make him pay. Yuri sneaks a paw down to Otabek’s jeans, feeling up his cock-
-as if to prove how dirty he can be.
“Is that what you want?” Otabek asks, and the kitten turns his head to nuzzle
against him, again, cheek so soft against Otabek’s. “It’s not for good
kitties,” Otabek warns him, but he’s already sitting up to help Yuri unzip his
jeans. Yuri pounces, toppling him to the mattress, where he straddles one of
Otabek’s thighs, fighting Otabek’s zipper. Otabek sits up to strip off his
jacket, at least. He’s burning up. But the kitten stops what he’s doing and
narrows his eyes.
“Just the jacket,” Otabek says.
The kitten meows low, in the negative.
“You’ve got a fetish,” Otabek teases, but the kitten ignores him, too busy
tugging his boxers and jeans down. Otabek’s cock springs up so close to Yuri’s
curious face he jumps back, startled. Yuri darts a glance up, cheeks burning,
but Otabek's not laughing.  “Go ahead, kitten,” he tells him. “Get it wet.”
The kitty does what he’s told, nose scrunched up, pink tongue darting over the
head: once, twice. He treats the cock like strange candy--delicate licks before
he decides he likes it. Then he decides he loves it, big wide licks up the
sides, a swipe of his clever tongue over Otabek’s balls. His little ass sticks
up in the air, tail falling to the side. Otabek grabs it and tugs, getting a
squeal and a glare in return. Then he smirks, letting the cock run wet and
sloppy over his cheek, getting messy as he glances up at Otabek, gaze hot.
Otabek rubs his fluffy little ear between his fingers with a groan, “God,
you’re perfect, baby.”
“Fuck me,” Yuri answers, looking up at him as his hand slips up and down his
cock. That thin, biteable wrist. Face so serious. Otabek has to catch up,
blinking away the lovely haze of this afternoon when he realizes what’s being
asked and who’s asking.
“That’s not part of the game.” He’s too weak to scold him for speaking, too
dumb to just tell him, flat, no. Yuri’s hot mouth on his cock has left him
powerless. His little wrist goes up and down.
“Beka,” Yuri says. “Please.”
“Kitten,” Otabek says, a plea for mercy, even as he presses down on Yuri’s
head, guiding it back to his cock. “Yura,” his mouth is so good. He sucks
noisily, unpracticed slurps that make it hard for Otabek to breath. “Why can’t
you behave?”
“You wouldn’t like me,” Yuri murmurs, half to Otabek’s cock, before he licks it
again. God, it’s true. It’s so hard to stop him, when he's being bad.
“Come here.”
Yuri whines as Otabek pulls him off, sitting up to gather the kitty in his
arms. Yuri rests his paws on Otabek’s shoulders, little ass rubbing back
against Otabek’s cock, impatient.
He draws Yuri’s tail up to his lips to kiss the tip, stalling for time. Yuri
purrs, rocking his hips back. The kitten's so happy. He doesn’t want to break
the bad news.
“You know I shouldn’t fuck you,” he starts, looking into Yuri’s green eyes.
“I’ll get in trouble--”
The kitty interrupts him with a scoff. “Nu uh, though. I mean, whatever, you
shouldn’t fuck  Yuri . But you can fuck your kitten, can’t you?” A tilt of his
head, “Can't you, Beka?”
Otabek shakes his head, it’s not that simple. “If Lilia finds out--”
“She won’t.”
“She can’t.”
“I  promise . She won’t. Beka, don't you get it? She doesn’t even know about
me--about the kitten. She’ll never know, cause, y’know--” Yuri leans in close,
rubbing his nose against Otabek’s. “Kitties don’t talk.”  
It happens fast. He throws the kitten down on his back with a growl and strips
off his jacket. The kitten laughs, watching Otabek’s rush to get his pants off,
too--helping him, his little foot dragging off the black denim. But the
kitten’s snickers are interrupted with a gasp when Otabek hauls him back onto
his lap by the ring in his collar.
“You better not said a word about this, beautiful,” Otabek whispers in his ear,
pulling the collar tight to drive the point home. Yuri squirms in his lap,
hands flitting up to his neck. “If they try to keep you from me I might make a
kitty disappear.” Otabek releases him, Yuri sucking in a breath first, before
he smiles and grinds back against Otabek’s cock. Of course he’d like that best.
He’s a dirty little puss.
Otabek fishes the lube from his jeans one handed, the other holding Yuri in
place by his collar. He’s always got lube. Yuri’s found it before, soon after
they met, asking as he read the packaging with interest when’s the last time
Beka got laid. Otabek had put on his sunglasses and said he had to leave. But
now he holds the pack of lube up to his kitten’s red lips and says, “Bite.”
It’s been waiting for him all along. The kitty bites it open with a little
growl, watching smug as Otabek slicks up his fingers. “Gonna teach you how to
do this, baby,” Otabek tells him. “So you’ll be ready for me next time.”
Yuri shivers in his arms, leaning in with a whine to pepper kitten kisses on
Otabek’s face, but Otabek turns his head to trap his lips. No more games. He
doesn’t kiss--he takes a bite of that chewed red bottom lip and pulls, until
the kitty sinks his claws into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. Otabek opens
his mouth instead, tongue sliding against the kitten’s until neither can
breath. It’s their first kiss. Otabek slips his sticky fingers down the kitty’s
back to those tight little shorts, eager for more.
“Take them off,” he says. The kitten chirps, dubious--as if Otabek’s forgotten
that undressing is  his  job--and Otabek pushes him back down on the bed as
punishment, pulling the shorts down his legs and rolling him onto his stomach
with a rough hand on his hip.
“Up,” he says. The kitty raises up on all fours, looking behind him. Otabek
flips his tail up onto his back and gently pushes his little cheeks apart.
“You’re never going to fit this,” Otabek says, almost to himself, letting his
breath tease his rim.
“Am too,” Yuri says.
Otabek spanks him, once, “Don’t you dare talk, kitty.”
He rubs lube down the kitten’s thighs and over his own cock, holding the
kitty’s legs together as he fucks between his thighs. The kitten buries his
face in the pillows, but Otabek yanks him up by the hair, spreading his legs
and pulling him backward onto his lap, growling in his ear that now he’s going
to practice sitting on a cock. Yuri giggles, watching the head push in and out
between his thighs. Otabek can’t breathe. “Little slut,” he hisses. “Keep your
legs together.” He slides a finger against the kitten’s rim, letting him push
it in further with each bounce of his little ass.
Otabek hides his burning face between the kitten’s sharp shoulder blades,
thinking Lilia can find them and kill him and it would have been worth it just
to know how far his kitten would follow him over the edge. He knew Yuri wanted
to be bad like him but this--
His heart is pounding. The kitten’s spoiling him.
When he adds a second finger he has to slow his kitty down, pushing him forward
onto his tummy to get him ready the right way. “Keep them together,” he warns
when the kitty’s legs go loose, yowling around the two fingers pushing in. “I’m
not done fucking those pretty thighs.”
Yuri whines, whispers, “Fuck,” but Otabek doesn’t spank him, this time, worried
he won’t be able to stop.
“You’re gonna do this for me from now on,” he says, two fingers squeezed tight
inside his kitty. “Remember? You’re gonna be waiting right in this bed, all wet
and ready for me. No more wasting my time with your kitty games.”
The kitten mews, fucked into the mattress with Otabek’s cock between his
thighs, fingers working deeper. Then Otabek adds a third finger and the kitten
yowls.
“Fuck,” Otabek covers his mouth with his hand. “Kitty,  shh !”
Yuri nods weakly, giving little licks to his palm to say sorry. Otabek keeps
fucking his fingers in, until the kitten loosens up and he draws his hand back,
trusting him.
He watches his cock slick and red between Yuri’s creamy thighs, his fingers
pushed in with each push back of Yuri’s hips--rim stretched red and ready.
“You want this, angel?” Otabek asks, pulling his cock from between his messy
thighs to rub over the rim.
Yuri mrows, peeking back over his shoulder. His thighs shake as Otabek pushes
the head in, and his tail falls in the way. Otabek grabs it and pulls Yuri’s
hands behind his back. “Hold onto you tail, pretty kitten.” Otabek says,
pushing in a little further. Yuri whines against the mattress, tears shining in
his eye.
“ Shh , kitten. You make me so happy,” Otabek says. He grabs the kitten’s wrist
and pushes further in, the squeeze of the rim making his eyes roll back. “Ah--
fuck, you’ve been so good to me, Yura.”
At the sound of his name, Yuri whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as Otabek fucks in
a little further.
“It’s bigger than you thought, baby?”
Yuri nods, gasping as Otabek pulls out, pushes back in slowly.
“But you still want it, don’t you?”
The kitten meows, lifting his hips.
“Answer me, Yura.”
“Yes, Beka. Fuck--” a shiver runs through his body. “ Please .”
“ Shh ,” Otabek leans down to nuzzle a fluffy white ear and whisper in his
hair. “You gotta be quiet, baby.”
“Fuck, you’re so mean--” Yuri turns his head to kiss him, plush lips so sweet
just as Otabek bottoms out. Yuri moans into his mouth, eyes half-open watching
Otabek, who stares right back.
“You belong to me now, Yura,” Otabek says, dropping one last kiss on his red
lips. “You and this tight little kitten cunt are all mine.”
Yuri gasps, falling forward as Otabek snaps his hips, rubbing that spot deep
inside him that makes him whine  Beka , over and over, drooling on the sheets,
face half-hidden by his tangled hair. He lifts his little ass for more after
every thrust, until Otabek’s seeing stars. “You want your cream, kitty?”
A moan. A meow. Otabek slips his hand under Yuri to stroke his cock, “Gonna
fill you up, Yura, so you don’t forget who you belong to.” Yuri comes with a
cry that Otabek muffles with his hand. Otabek keeps him right there, ass high
in the air, face crushed to the mattress, as he comes inside him, pulling out
to see it spill down between his thighs.
“Good kitty,” Otabek kisses his sloppy, soaked rim and falls to the bed,
exhausted.
“Mrrr,” Yuri curls in close, a little shaky as he tucks in the crook of
Otabek’s arm, staring up at his face. His eyes shine, and Otabek thinks Lilia
might have a point. But him and Yura can’t be stopped. He knows he shouldn’t
fall asleep--she’ll come looking, eventually. But the tug down is as dangerous
as the kitten beside him and just as irresistible.
End Notes
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