yurionicekink | Prompt Post 1

Prompt Post 1

Notes: This post might contain adult contents. Proceed at your own discretion.

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_{Names:
-Yuuri Katsuki
-Victor Nikiforov
-Yuri Plisetsky
-Seung Gil Lee
-Emil Nekola
-Otabek Altin
-Georgi Popovich
-Cristophe Giacometti
-Guang-Hong Il
-Jean-Jacques Leroy
-Phichit Chulanont
-Michele Crispino
-Kenjiro Minami
-Leo De La Iglesia

-Toshiya Katsuki, Hiroko Katsuki, Mari Katsuki
-Takeshi Nishigori, Yuko Nishigori, Axel / Lutz / Loop Nishigori
-Minako
-Hisashi Morooka
-Yakov Feltsman
-Celestino Cialdini
-Mira Babicheva
-Lilia Baranovskaya
-Sara Crispino
-Kolya Plisetsky}

Ao3 collection:
https://archiveofourown.org/collections/YuriOnIceKink

Threaded | Top-Level Comments Only

I'm loving this so much, anon <3 I laughed at them sniping at each other during training.

And I kind of want to deck Otabek's brother for being an asshole, but it's not like he has all the information...

I'm so happy to see another update. This fic continues to be great :) These two feel so much like themselves.

Thank you so much!

You can't angst all the time. :D

Sunnat made a completely different story in his head and is going to have a hard time letting it go. The good news is he cares about his brother. The bad news is he's kind of a dumbass and doesn't listen particularly well.

I hope you are able to post it soon! I’d love to read it ❤️

Not OP, but I also would love to read it!

Motorcycle racing au where fangirls catch Yurchka without his motorcycle and chase him into a frozen river. Where he is saved by Otabek who was ice skating there for fun.

Do you mind if they're a bit drunk? I have a scenario in mind but it starts with them having a celebratory drink together, and I know that tipsy/drunk sex can be a bit squicky for dub-con reasons for people!

Short update this time, but we are at a Revelation.

Mama emailed in the morning. We talked with your brother. We didn't tell him anything you wouldn't want him to, but I think he understands a little better what had happened.

I'm sorry that we didn't realize at the time; I think we were so focused on you that we didn't notice what your brother was seeing. Kids are always more observant than we give them credit for, I think.

I think for the short term he's decided to be angry with us, rather than with you and your friend, but he’s going to stay here another day so you could have some privacy.

Let us know if you need anything. We're still planning on having you over tonight, but if you'd rather not come, we'll understand.

“You still want to deal with the rest of my family?” he asked Yuri.

“Sure,” Yuri said. “You have, like, another brother and sister anyway, right? They can’t all hate me.”

“They might.” His parents would have tried some damage control, but Sunnat was persuasive. And he’d been angry as hell.

“Okay, maybe they do. At least I’ll have tried, right?”

“Right,” Otabek conceded.

Either Otabek’s family was the most accomplished group of liars he’d ever met, or they loved him. Either way, Yuri had decided to count it as a win.

Gulisa had chased him out of the kitchen with a spatula, and Damira had pinned him down to talk about music instead, because Beka never likes my suggestions, and they’re really good, and then Berik had insisted that both he and Otabek play with his toy trains. Sunnat lurked around, glowering at everything and everyone, and Yuri choked down his first instinct to glare and gave him a bright, pleasant smile instead. (Thanks, Katsudon.)

He sat by Ulbolsin at dinner, which was a huge mistake, because she worked at a fucking investment bank and had Opinions on what skaters should do to properly invest their winnings and sponsorship money. Otabek, apparently, had a trust that he couldn’t touch until he was twenty-five, and had had to beg his mothers for motorcycle lessons. “You have to be careful,” she said, sagely. “Too many professional athletes end their careers with chronic pain and empty bank accounts. You can’t always prevent the former, but--”

Otabek sighed, dramatically, and Yuri wondered how many times the Altin-Chorieva family had had this discussion. “Berik could probably start his banking career tomorrow, and he’s ten.”

“Well, Yuri’s never visited before, Zhanym.” Yuri had heard that one before, and made a mental note to figure out what it meant.

“Once they came to Skate America to cheer me on, and she practically taught a class,” Otabek said.

“And your friend Leo was very grateful,” she said, archly.

“None of us want to end up broke,” Yuri said, because it was true, and she smiled at him, pleased and just a little smug.

Sunnat snorted, and Otabek glared and maybe kicked him under the table. Yuri pretended he didn't notice, because he was the boyfriend and that meant grabbing every inch of moral high ground he could find.

Ulbolsin did, though. Sunnat was clearly on some kind of Mama Probation. Good. Sunnat could hate him all he wanted to, but he had no right to take it out on Otabek. And Yuri wasn't--shit, whatever Sunnat thought. He'd paid his own bills for most of his life. Spent half of his life paying other people's bills. Sunnat didn't have any idea how hard he worked, or how hard his brother had worked or for how long.

Fuck. He was thinking you don't know my life to his boyfriend's shitty brother. Time to let that shit go. "Beka says Berik skates," he said, instead. "Is he going to compete?"

"I don't think so," Gulisa said. "He's having fun but he's not as...driven."

"I'm going to be a train engineer," Berik said. "Skating's fun but I don't want to wear the costumes like Beka does. He looks silly."

Yuri tried to hide his smile, but Otabek kicked his ankle, so he must have caught it.

"I've worn the traditional costumes of our country," Otabek chided.

"Too many sequins."

"There's never enough sequins," Damira said. "Except that velvet suit your coach wouldn't let you wear. That had...too many sequins."

"Too many," Gulisa agreed, like she'd seen some shit. Yuri made a mental note to ask Otabek about it later. "But I do like the sequins. They make things stand out better in the spotlight."

"That's what they're supposed to do," Otabek said, and it sounded like he'd had this argument multiple times with multiple people, all of whom were sitting at the kitchen table. "I liked the velvet suit."

"We know," his mothers and sisters said, simultaneously, and Yuri had to bite back a laugh.

"Have you decided on a costume yet for this year?"

Otabek shook his head. "Need to settle on the music, first. I know some people do it when they choose a theme, but that never works for me."

"He hasn't even told us his theme yet," Gulisa confided. "Normally it's all settled by now."

"I know, I know," he said. "It's close. It...needs to say exactly what I want it to say."

"What's yours, Yuri?" Sunnat asked.

Yuri wondered if telling him would get his theme leaked all over the forums in the next two hours. Well, fuck it, he didn't care. "Heroes," he said. "For Moscow--because it's a Hero City--and for my grandfather. He took care of me when--when I didn't have anyone else. And he was a safety officer for the Kalinin power plant until he retired. He's brave. And he taught me to cook." Sunnat could say he came from nothing all he wanted to. It wasn't true. Not even close. "I know you wouldn't let me in the kitchen tonight, but--"

"We know," Gulisa said. "Beka has told us all about your cooking."

"You didn't want me to cook last night!"

"You're a guest!"

"I like cooking," he grumbled.

“Next time,” Gulisa said.

"Have you really not decided on a theme?" Otabek was always so determined. It wasn't like him to be the last one out.

He sat down heavily on the couch and pulled Yuri into his lap, his face resting against the back of Yuri's neck. "I know what I want to say and what I want to be skating about. But I have to say it the right way, and I haven't figured that out yet. It's kind of like how you've got a lot of things you want to talk about, with your theme. About home and about your grandfather. It's like that, only...it's more than that, I guess. I want to get it right in my own head first."

"That makes sense," Yuri said.

Otabek pressed his lips to Yuri's skin. "Are you going to skate a tribute to the Kalinin power plant?"

"Funny, asshole. But no. I...I want my free skate to be about. About--" He hadn't told Otabek much of this before. He'd mostly talked around it. "After Mama left, the last time. She'd promised--" She'd promised a lot of bullshit. "She promised that we'd go away for a week, fishing. I should've known. She didn't even know how to fish."

"And your grandfather took you instead."

"He rented a place. Took time off. I don't know how much it cost, because he never--if we were short, I didn't know it. And then I started skating, and I started winning, and it got easier." Otabek's thumb was stroking slow, down the bumps of his spine. It felt weirdly good. "But he--maybe I wouldn't have made it, you know? Maybe we would've kept...he gave up a lot. For me."

"I think it's a good theme," he said. "You don't have to tell anyone all that, but you can use it."

"Exactly," he said. "That's why I want the Stones song. He used to buy bootleg albums, you know. In secret. Lilia wants something classical, but she always wants something classical."

"You could do a cover."

"Fuck covers. All everyone does is those slowed-down bullshit covers. If I want to hear a children's choir sing something I'd--fuck. I don't know. Go to a children's choir concert? Watch a bunch of movie trailers?" He felt Otabek chuckling below him. "What would you do?"

"Complain. And probably fight. Does it have to be the Rolling Stones? Maybe you could pick another song he liked?"

"I remember him humming this one," he said. "I want it to be this one."

"Then you have to fight," he said. "And you'll win."

He closed his eyes, and thought: I love you.

And then thought: Oh, shit. I really do.

BEST GRANDPA

I don't think the problem with Otabek's velvet suit was the sequins, lol, but I like how it's apparently become infamous within the family.

I like their discussion about their themes and music! (And yes, you are totally in love, Yuri, you dork.) Thanks for the update <3

OP here, alcohol is fine! I'm fine with dub con too, lol just no wasteplay!
Glad ur interested in the prompt!

So this got a bit longer than intended. I may...do more to this, with 100% more Yuuri getting railed by Celestino. But hopefully what I have now will suffice, anon :>

- - - - - - - - -

He doesn’t, as a rule, get involved with students. Or colleagues. Too messy either side of things. But Yuuri is just shy of twenty, heart-achingly beautiful, and has an Ina Bauer that makes Celestino want to weep.

He’s not foolish enough to think he’s in love or anything. Yuuri is attractive, and dedicated, and if Celestino were a younger man, he might make a fool of himself trying to woo him the same way the hockey players who share their ice do. Yuuri, to his credit, either doesn’t notice their interest, or doesn’t care. The boy’s halfway in love with Victor Nikiforov - something more urgent and intense than a schoolboy crush - but he does show interest, in occasional, fleeting moments. Shoots little sidewards glances towards the hockey team. Sometimes gets even more flustered, tongue-tied around a couple of the older ice dancers; lets them lead him around when he can be persuaded to goof off, in between practices.

So Celestino doesn’t think much past acknowledging Yuuri’s attractiveness at first. Celestino has a job to do and Yuuri’s attractiveness is a fact in the way that the sky is blue. No need to go humiliating himself like a teenager over another pretty young thing.

Until Celestino notices Yuuri...noticing.

Yuuri thinks Celestino isn’t looking when he does it. Darts his gaze away when he realises he is. It’s a surprise, but a pleasant one, and Celestino is proud enough that he lets Yuuri take his time before disrupting him. He might not be in top shape for competing anymore, but Celestino keeps active, has always had a pretty athletic build that's only a little soft now, under what he does to maintain it.

Judging from the flush Yuuri gets, the nervous way his pink tongue darts out to wet his lower lip when they share the gym, the effort doesn’t go unappreciated.

It’s a funny little thing, once he notices it. Because he suddenly realises it’s everywhere. Yuuri goes quiet, red-faced when he adjusts him during practice and Celestino can feel the steady, slow burn of Yuuri’s gaze on his back - his hands - the side of his face.

And yet, somehow, it takes him a while to realise what it means. Is helping Yuuri through a stretch when it clicks into place, that Yuuri is interested in him, the way he was interested in the hockey players, and the ice dancers.

Celestino is many things, but he isn’t a liar - he’s interested too.

So he lets his hands linger on Yuuri’s shoulders. Feels the burning warmth of his skin through his exercise clothes. And when he helps with leg extensions, he may or may not let his hand drift a little further up Yuuri’s knee than is entirely necessary; Yuuri’s strong and soft there, at the same time. Apparently sensitive too, given the hitch in his breath, the way he goes taut for a moment - and Celestino wonders, briefly, if he’s pushed too much, or too far, before Yuuri slightly, subtly, spreads his legs just wide enough for his hand to creep up further.

Celestino lets his hand rest there, fingers just brushing the inside of Yuuri’s thigh, rubs the warm flesh beneath his thumb. He glances up at yuuri’s face, and is drawn to a sharp stop at the sight; Yuuri’s eyes are looking somewhere around Celestino’s torso, and his lips are parted, just enough that Celestino can see the nervous swipe of his tongue.

Then Yuuri looks up, catches Celestino’s eye. He gets that determined look, shuts his mouth and sets his jaw - and just like that, the moment’s gone. They finish up without any more wandering hands, and when Celestino watches Yuuri leave, he thinks maybe Yuuri’s back is a little straighter - his steps more sure than usual.

Celestino replays the scene in his head when he goes to bed that night.

He feels twitchy and excited, like a teenager. Gets hard as quick and easy as one, when he remembers the small acquiescence of Yuuri and imagines it on a grander scale. He strokes himself to the image of Yuuri spread out, open, beneath him. The beautiful strength in those arms, those legs, that chest as he strains and twists under Celestino's touch.

He imagines Yuuri under his hands, and spreading his legs - more than a fraction, more than enough for Celestino to slide in between them. He imagines how it would feel to press into him and is startled when some ragged, sharp part of him appears that wants to wreck Yuuri. Take him until he's senseless and stupid - give it to him how the young men he's flirted with couldn't possibly hope to. To drag pleasure out of him until he's overstimulated and fuck it into him until he's incoherent.

It's with this twisting, thorny though that Celestino comes, with a surprised gasp, into his fist.

- - -

It becomes a thing, when he helps Yuuri with his stretches. He lets his hands weigh heavy on him, and when he’s sure that Yuuri’s not actually going to pull a muscle, he lets his fingers roam; Yuuri lets them, gives no indication that there’s anything going on outside of the ordinary save for the way his ears go pink.

Celestino’s hands slide further up his legs, brush over the warm material of his track pants. Once he’s sure enough, Celestino lets his fingers slide from Yuuri’s shoulders to the small of his back - enjoys the flex of muscle there. After enough time his fingertips are shaping the curve of Yuuri’s ass and Yuuri is leaning into his touch, giving breathy little sighs when he’s feeling brave enough.

Yuuri starts touching him back - though not as bold as Celestino’s been. He lets their hands brush when a water bottle gets handed over, presses into Celestino’s side when he slings an arm round his shoulders.

Celestino’s letting his hand creep up Yuuri’s legs one night - in the middle of some stretches that have his eyes watering and his dick twitching - when Yuuri places his hand over Celestino’s and firmly guides his touch further up than he’s allowed himself before.

Yuuri’s shaking, and Celestino’s not sure how much of it is from exertion. He pauses when he’s got Celestino’s hand at the crease of his thigh. If Celestino moves an inch to the side, he’ll have Yuuri in his hand, so to speak. He’s frozen against Yuuri’s back, heart thudding and half-hard; he waits, and waits for Yuuri make his decision.

After a moment, he presses Celestino’s hand the last inch.

He’s hard under Celestino’s palm, and Celestino inhales sharply through his nose - is aching in his own pants now, and has to restrain himself from rubbing himself against Yuuri. From breaking the fragile beauty of this moment. Instead, he squeezes, lets his thumb circle the outline of Yuuri’s dick in his track pants, and drinks in the surprised, little sound Yuuri makes. The way he rocks his hips, can’t stop himself from trying to rut into Celestino’s palm.

They remain like that for what feels like a decade, but is probably barely a minute. Celestino rubbing, slowly, teasing, as Yuuri tries to push him harder, faster - all but humps his hand.

God, to be twenty again, Celestino thinks, as Yuuri writhes in his hands. Begs without saying a word. And that vicious little part of him crops up again, wants to have Yuuri shaking apart and speechless, unable to do or say anything that isn’t him. He slides his other hand round Yuuri’s hip, tugs his thighs further apart so he can’t get the friction he’s trying for, and lets his hand slide further between - under him now. Presses his palm against his erection as his fingers rub, probe, make a faint impression of intent in the direction of his ass. Of wanting to be inside him, to spread him open.

Yuuri grabs his forearm, nails digging in, and whines, “wait -”

It’s the most amazing sound Celestino’s ever heard him make, and it inspires him to play mean. Manhandles Yuuri shamelessly now, like he’s laying claim over what lies between his legs. Laying on hands like a priest, and enjoying the way Yuuri’s cock swells in his grip, the tacky, damp of precum spreading through the thin material of his workout gear.

Then, as Yuuri begins to draw in a taut arch away from him, utters a pitchy “please”, Celestino releases him. Dredges up a monumental amount of self-control to step, wobbly-legged, away from him. Take his hands off, and pretend like he doesn’t need the gulp of air he has to take.

He counts to ten as he breathes in, then out, and shuts his eyes to the sight of Yuuri trembling in front of him. When he opens them again, Yuuri’s still turned away from him, breathing like he’s just run a marathon and hips still moving, restlessly against nothing; he’s placed his hands on the wall before him, has arranged himself in an appealing arch, for Celestino to watch, or touch, or mount -

Celestino steps forward. Slides his hands gently round Yuuri’s hips, before yanking them back, making sure he feels how hard Celestino is. What he’s done to him, what he can expect if they continue this. He spreads one hand across the small of Yuuri's back in a proprietary gesture, then rolls his hips against Yuuri once, twice, enough to get his point across, for the glorious pressure of sliding his dick against Yuuri's warm body.

Then he releases him again. Lets his hands trail down Yuuri’s ass. Grabs and gropes it shamelessy before finally, finally stepping away.

Yuuri makes a desperate, wanting sound, releases the wall to try and catch Celestino's hands, keep them on his body.

Celestino sounds calmer than he feels when he finally manages to say “goodnight, Yuuri”, and turns to go.

It should be agonising, to leave him there, and it is. But mostly it soothes the feral thing in Celestino’s chest, in his dick, to think, with some wickedness, that Yuuri’s been left wanting. Practically gagging for him. He makes it to his car before he has to take himself in hand, and it’s almost violent this time, how he pulls pleasure from himself.

He touches himself to the image of Yuuri asking for things he doesn’t know he wants. The idea that he doesn’t understand what he’s begging for, that he just knows that he wants, that he aches for whatever Celestino will give him has him swearing, curling his toes. And then he thinks of the arch of his spine, the soft curve that is Yuuri’s body, being made available for him.

Celestino thinks of how easy he’ll be to open up, how warm he’ll feel around the head of his dick, and is halfway through the mental image of his own come sliding down those fucking perfect thighs when he has to stifle a yell. Spills over his own fingers, droplets of come running onto his own thighs, dark, wet spots of want on the material of his trousers.

After, when he tucks himself away, and has recovered enough to drive, he knows. The knowledge sits heavy in his gut, wrapped in tendrils of shame and desire, pride and guilt.

Celestino is going to fuck this boy. Maybe not tonight, but soon.

And he’s going to absolutely ruin him.

- - - - - - - - -

Celestino starts being careful when the season starts. Keeping touches to a minimum - a surreptitious grab here, and a pinch there. The furthest he’s gone is waiting until they’re in the hotel elevator, and sliding his hand under the back of Yuuri’s coat to grope down, squeeze his ass until he turns violently red. It’s the first time he’s been so forward since the time he had to pull away, before he despoiled Yuuri in the locker room.

There’s a few others in the confined space of the lift, but none of them pay any notice as Yuuri flushes, breath hitching when Celestino tucks his fingers under the waistband of his jeans, and repeats the same process with only Yuuri’s underwear between their flesh. He lets his fingers linger over where he wants, so much, to open Yuuri up. Presses against fabric to give the ghost of sensation there, and Yuuri shuts his eyes, takes a breath, before pushing back against his hand.

He trails his finger over Yuuri’s entrance, never quite pressing any significant force on it, then returns to groping his ass. When Yuuri makes an irritated sound under his breath, Celestino lets go. Returns his hand to his own pocket and pretends he doesn’t see the way Yuuri’s eyes fly open, or hear the surprised breath he lets out at the loss.

They have to share a room for this event, and it’s awful, trying not to touch Yuuri - who’s sending Celestino dark looks, and tensing like he expects them every other second. Looks disappointed when Celestino simply pats his shoulder instead of letting his hand run in a shivery line down his side.

Celestino knows how to work pretty, young men, and he keeps his hands to himself for the rest of the competition.

Between medal ceremony and hotel room, there’s a few drinks, and by the time they get back, Celestino is pleasantly warm. Buzzed, he believes the word is.

Yuuri is, technically, still not legally allowed to drink in this country, but somewhere along the way he’s managed to swipe a couple of glasses, and wears a pleasant blush on his cheeks as a result.Keeps giving Celestini expectant, fluttery looks as he shuts the hotel room door behind him.

Celestino knows that look. And he wants Yuuri. Wanted him before the drink, wants him like air in his lungs now. Wants to bury himself inside him, bite pleasure from his lips; he reaches out, touches Yuuri’s mouth with his fingertips, and Yuuri stills.

They stand like that, next to the door, for longer than is probably necessary. Celestino watching the way Yuuri’s lips give way under his touch, the way the soft, pinkness of them moulds to his fingers.

Yuuri blinks glassy eyes, and then there’s the press of wetness, the tip of his tongue against Celestino’s index finger.

Celestino gets harder faster than he’s ever done, and has to pull away. Staggers towards the nearest bed where he manages to sit, lean back and take a careful breath. He spreads his legs, tries to alleviate some of the pressure against his cock. When he looks up again, Yuuri is staring, unabashed, at his erection.

Yuuri’s eyes get, somehow, darker, and then he licks his lips - almost nervously.

Celestino, willpower already ragged, beckons him closer. And he comes, sits on the mattress next to him. Too close for this to be anything else. Close enough that Celestino can feel the heat of him. He’s unchartered, unknown territory.

So, Celestino starts with what he knows: he touches yuuri’s hip, as if adjusting his stance. He doesn’t push, or pull, instead trails fingers up Yuuri’s side - sweeps his thumb over his chest and pauses when Yuuri shivers. Smirks, more to himself than to Yuuri, as he spends a moment thumbing his nipple through his shirt - when Yuuri reaches out to return the touch, he catches his wrist. Strokes gently at the skin there, looks Yuuri in the eye and wonders if the want he sees there is reflected in his own gaze.

Then he brings Yuuri’s hand down and firmly presses it against his crotch. Guides Yuuri’s fingers to sit, just so, then releases him, and rests his own free hand against Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri looks like he’s working on a riddle, with his mouth fallen open, and his eyes sharp, assessing. After a moment, he tightens his hold, starts palming Celestino through his pants, and Celestino can see the exact moment he realises just how much he’s holding - the way his eyes widen, then smoulder, how he swallows and leans closer. Close enough that Celestino can smell the alcohol sweetness on his breath.

He’s so pretty, and so close, and as he tries to get his hand round as much of Celestino’s erection as he can, Celestino can do nothing but close the gap between them. Trap those pretty lips in a messy kiss; it’s not romantic, more like a plundering of Yuuri’s mouth, but Yuuri sighs into it and opens up for it like he was made for it. Sucks on Celestino’s tongue as Celestino drops his hands down to grope Yuuri’s chest again, pinch and tease the hard peaks of his nipples under his shirt.

Yuuri is so responsive under his touch. Maybe loosened by the drink - maybe by the privacy of the hotel room. Either way, he opens his shoulders to let Celestino grab handfuls of his chest, his shirt, and after parting for gasping, wet, breaths, he lets Celestino half yank, half rip his shirt off of him.

His chest is flushed pink as well, and Celestino wants to sink teeth into the flesh there. Leave a darker mark. His dick twitches at the thought, and Yuuri makes a curious sound. One Celestino’s never heard him make - but he knows Yuuri well enough now that he can guess what it means, and pushes Yuuri’s hands away so he can unbutton, unzip himself.

It’s not quite a relief to pull his dick out of the confines of his pants. So hard it’s nearly painful now. And when he checks Yuuri’s face, his suspicions are confirmed by the naked hunger written across it - the slight apprehension in his eyes, the bob of his adam’s apple as he eyes Celestino’s dick.

Celestino isn’t above posing - grips the base of it and strokes himself once, groans and watches Yuuri swallow at the sight. Then he draws his shaking hands up, to caress Yuuri’s cheeks. Smile at him, kiss him again and tangle his fingers in his hair.

Yuuri kisses back hungrily, and Celestino all but fucks his mouth with his tongue. Tries to devour him, to lay some sort of stake, an “I Was Here” for his own desire as much as Yuuri’s. When he releases him, Yuuri looks dazed, breathless, and Celestino tugs him down by his hair - as gently as he can - to his aching dick. Yuuri goes, willingly, and whimpers when he finds himself an inch away from the head of it; looks up at Celestino as if asking permission, as if asking advice.

Celestino stares at Yuuri’s mouth and Yuuri opens, easily. Wets his lips with his tongue and Celestino takes one hand out of his hair to guide his dick between Yuuri’s parted lips.

He’s warm around him - moans a little as Celestino uses his other hand to pull him further on to it. Bent over himself to take Celestino in his mouth, and stay seated on the mattress. Yuuri swallows, and Celestino gasps, has to tighten his grip on his hair to stop from fucking his mouth raw. After the urge subsides, he urges Yuuri down a little further - as far as he can go before choking, because much as Celestino wants to ruin this boy, he doesn’t want to hurt him. Scare him.

Yuuri sucks, experimentally, then presses his tongue flat under the head. Tasting, testing, and it’s nice, that he wants to take his time to explore Celestino’s dick.

Celestino, however, doesn’t have the patience, and after allowing his tentative touches for a moment, tugs Yuuri’s hair and says, “now, Yuuri.”

Yuuri raises a hand, slides it down to grasp the rest of Celestino’s dick, and begins to move. Devours him in a tight, wet heat that Celestino’s not felt in a long while; he shuts his eyes as he bobs down, makes a gorgeous, obscene sound when he comes back up, twisting his hand as he does and - oh, Celestino thrusts, can’t help himself, when Yuuri’s making that sound and doing that with his tongue.

“Fuck,” Celestino hisses, “you’re a natural at this.”

Yuuri’s eyes flicker open, and for a brief moment he looks amused, before he sinks back down - takes more of him than before, and Celestino realises, with a tight throb of pleasure.

“Ah - or you’ve had-” he pauses when Yuuri swallows around him, clamps his hand in his hair and holds them there for a second, “a lot more practice than I thought.”

And he does think, momentarily, of the hockey players, and the ice dancers, and the image of Yuuri on his knees for any of them. Of Yuuri wanting this from anyone.

Celestino’s fingers tighten in Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri stills, lets him thrust shallowly into his mouth. Drink and desire singing in his veins, Celestino slides his other hand back into Yuuri’s hair and starts to fuck his mouth in earnest - Yuuri lets loose a long, low sound that reverberates around Celestino’s cock, has him on the edge from toes to crown.

Yuuri opens up for him, like Celestino knew he would, drool and precum leaking out his mouth around Celestino’s rough thrusts; he’s clamped to his dick, almost comically, lips red and wet around him, hands coming up to hold Celestino’s wrists where he pulls Yuuri down and up again.

Celestino’s close, and he’ll blame the alcohol for how little it takes later. At the moment he looks at Yuuri’s eyes, cloudy in concentration, the way his mouth stretches to take Celestino in and - and an idea strike Celestino, so he pulls Yuuri off. Delights in the little wail he lets out, the string of spit that hangs between his bottom lip and Celestino’s cock.

Yuuri looks confused, disappointed, and when Celestino starts stroking himself, he reaches for him, whines, “Wait, I want to-”

Celestino holds him still by his hair, carries on, driven by the sharp, vicious thing that wants to mark Yuuri. He lasts only a few more strokes before he comes so strong, so hard that he thinks he might actually have died for a moment. Spilling over Yuuri’s lips, his pretty face. Celestino squeezes, pulls at himself, brings as much out of himself as he can. Wants to cover Yuuri in him - has to settle for glistening, white strands dripping down his cheek, turning his lips glossy while Yuuri gasps, “oh, oh” and lets him.

Yuuri’s mouth is open in surprise - in protest, maybe - and the sight of him with come on his face, draws one last, shuddering pulse out of Celestino.

He gasps, “come on”, and parts Yuuri’s mouth further with his thumb, in time to drip, thickly, onto his tongue - where Yuuri immediately shuts his mouth, swallows with a funny little look on his face.

Celestino sags back. Can’t seem to take his hand off himself, even in the oversensitivity of aftermath, and groans as Yuuri touches his fingers to the mess Celestino’s made of his pretty face. He seems ponderous, startled - and when Celestino looks down, he can see that there’s a wet spot on his pants. Can’t help the self-satisfied laugh that bubbles out of him.

“Ah, Yuuri,” he mumbles, and Yuuri looks at him, still awestruck, “next time we’ll have to avoid the drink. I’m not a young man anymore.”

Yuuri smiles, slightly, and Celestino drifts to sleep with the vision of that pretty face, wetted by his own release.

They don’t mention it, the next morning. Don’t have the time between packing bags and making their flight. By the time they’re back in Detroit Celestino’s not entirely sure Yuuri hasn’t just forgotten it - the way he throws himself back into practice without a second glance back at him.

Celestino wouldn’t mind if he had. Wouldn’t mind a repeat performance, don’t get him wrong, but he’s not an idiot, and he’s not interested in romance. Wouldn’t hold a grudge against Yuuri for wanting a one time thing. He keeps touches professional, and light, and waits for Yuuri to instigate. Which, he supposes, probably means it won’t happen again.

Then, Yuuri gives him a look during practice. Something smouldering and sure. He arches slightly when leaning against a wall, while Celestino’s in the middle of a sentence. He ends up parting Yuuri’s legs in one of the back corridors, wetting his fingers with spit and sliding them between Yuuri’s thighs, opening him up on them and studying every minute movement Yuuri makes. The way his cock - pretty, just like the rest of him - twitches into full hardness when he starts fucking Yuuri with his fingers.

Celestino leans in. Practically has Yuuri held up on his fingers alone, and it’s not long before he has to clamp his free hand over his mouth; Yuuri’s loud as he’s forced to ride Celestino’s fingers, or fall to the floor. He’s so good there, on his hand, and Celestino can’t stop thinking about how good he’ll be on his cock. Only stopped from pulling himself out and testing that theory by the faint idea that it’ll be better this way, to hold it off, drag it out. He wants, in a strange way, to torment him with it.

“I’m going to fuck you,” he whispers into Yuuri’s ear, as he scrabbles against Celestino’s arm and moans beneath his palm, “but only when you’re choking for it.”

Yuuri’s eyes turn saucer-like, and he sobs, then comes with a delicious twist of his hips all over himself.

He sags, and when Celestino helps him gently down, slides to his knees on the floor, which is all the warning Celestino has before Yuuri’s opening his flies and swallowing him down again. Mouth as good as it was in the hotel, and Celestino manages to hold back this time. Leans against the wall and gasps, rocks gently into Yuuri’s mouth.

Yuuri, conversely, is practically feral. He wraps his hands around Celestino’s thighs and holds him close, hangs off him as he twists his tongue and hollows his cheeks. Takes him in like he’s been craving it, needing it, and this time, when Celestino comes, Yuuri pulls back enough to let Celestino watch him catch it his come on the centre of his tongue. Like Yuuri’s remembered enough to allow an inkling of voyeurism into his desire to taste, to swallow.

Celestino wonders, when Yuuri gently tuuks him back into his trousers, and calmly makes himself look less debauched before wishing him goodnight, walking out of the rink with a soft smile. Wonders if maybe Yuuri is going to kill him. If his penance for ruining him is going to be dying because Yuuri sucked his brains out.

It’s not, he decides, a terrible idea.

- - -

Celestino has certain ideas about how it’s going to go when he finally does fuck Yuuri. Has had plenty of time to dwell on them, as they’ve returned to heated looks and teasing touches since he fingered Yuuri in the back rooms of the rink.

Some of the ideas are silly - in a hotel room, dim lit and fancy wine in the background. Some pure fantasy, like the idea of taking Yuuri apart in the ice rink showers (Celestino wouldn’t, in actuality, be caught dead in those showers, never mind have sex in them,)

What actually ends up happening is this:

He drives Yuuri back to campus, one night. It’s been a long day and neither of them have had much time for any teasing.

Celestino parks a block away from Yuuri’s hall, in a parking lot that’s practically empty because it’s stupid o’clock at night and that’s why he didn’t just let Yuuri walk home.

“Thank you,” Yuuri says, before giving him a long, lingering look, and moving to open the door.

Celestino reaches out to clasp his hand, has to lean into Yuuri’s space to do so, and then Yuuri’s mouth is opening under his. Sighing like it’s a relief when Celestino bites his way in.

He’s not entirely sure what does it. The loveliness of Yuuri when he’s not even trying, or the enclosed space, or the fact that he thinks he might die of waiting - but Celestino knows, as he unclips their seatbelts to press Yuuri back into his seat, that it’s happening now. In the front seat of his car, in an empty parking lot.

Yuuri clings to him when he lifts his legs to wrap them around his waist. Kisses the air out of Celestino’s lungs, while Celestino manages to undo his trousers and pull them halfway down his thighs. He opens Yuuri up with fingers and spit and Yuuri gasps, whines - doesn’t seem to realise this is anything else than a repeat of the hallway. Tries to fuck himself down onto Celestino’s hand and holds onto the headrest for support.

Celestino, with his free hand, undoes his own button, and the sound of the zip grabs Yuuri’s attention from where he’s sighing against the window.

He looks down, to where Celestino’s dick is hanging, thick, and hard, and being slicked up with one shaky hand; he looks up at Celestino’s face and worries his lower lip with his teeth, seems apprehensive.

Celestino presses the head of his dick against his opening - doesn’t push in, not yet - and watches Yuuri’s eyes widen, fractionally, before he spreads his legs in a movement so fluid he’s not sure it was entirely conscious. Then Celestino pushes. Groans at the tightness around him, the way Yuuri seems to grasp at him - he’s moaning, fingers white against the headrest and eyes fixed on Celestino’s dick as he slides into him.

Celestino gets an inch, maybe two before he pauses. Rocks a little, partly to let Yuuri get used to him, partly to tease himself. Then he keeps going, keeps sliding forwards, driven by the need to be buried in the heat of him.

“There can’t be more,” Yuuri gasps, faintly hysterical, when he’s halfway there, and Celestino thrusts hard, just to show him that there is - earns a wretched little cry in response, and Yuuri releases the headrest to start pushing at his chest - his stomach. No real strength to the movements, like he can’t decide if he wants Celestino close or to stop, and he’s leaking all over his own belly as he does.

“I can’t- oh,” he keens, and Celestino’s nearly fully inside, “fuck, it’s too big, I can’t-”

He cuts himself off with a sound worthy of professional porn, as Celestino finally, finally bottoms out. Pumps his hips a few times just for the way Yuuri tenses and strains, fingers clenched against Celestino’s chest and bent practically in half against the passenger seat.

He looks beautiful. Trying all at once to take Celestino whole and push him away; Celestino starts moving, slow, shallow thrusts that are hell to maintain. Wants to hold Yuuri back, pin him against the door and pound into him like his pleasure’s immaterial - like he’s only there for Celestino to take.

Instead, Celestino kisses the complaints from his lips. Chases any hints of discomfort away with his mouth, as he begins to deepen his movements. As Yuuri starts to move with him, hands slipping from Celestino’s chest to his abdomen, round to grasp his ass.

Celestino pulls back for breath and finds Yuuri staring up at him, eyes wide and awestruck, and Celestino grabs the headrest himself. Slips one arm round Yuuri’s hips, and shoves back inside him.

Yuuri’s hands tighten on his ass, and he’s pulling Celestino close - deeper, won’t let go enough for him to pull out and tease him with rolling, shallow movements. What is Celestino to do but start fucking him in earnest? Dragging him, one handed, back onto his dick again and again, chasing the crackling, almost painful sensation - burying himself so far into him, somewhere no one else will ever reach.

Yuuri’s wailing now, unable to stop making a sound as Celestino keeps up his cruel pace, and there’s not room enough between them for him to take himself in hand - instead he just hangs on to Celestino’s thighs and ass. He cries out particularly sharply on one thrust, and Celestino shifts to repeat it, over and over again until Yuuri’s shaking in his arms.

When he looks up from where he’s splitting Yuuri open, Yuuri’s staring at him, eyes deep, dark, and wet. Looking thoroughly overwhelmed and not at all sure he wants it to stop.

Celestino lets go of the headrest to hold Yuuri’s hips in place, and he shoves harder, faster. The car creaks around them, and the air turning humid with their actions.

Unable to rock back onto him, Yuuri starts pleading. Words broken and wet and making the sharp desire in Celestino tighten, insist that he ruin this boy, and ruin him now.

“Please - there-” he gasps, before sobbing and sinking his nails into Celestino’s flesh, “fuck -”

“Come on, Yuuri,” Celestino finally grunts, shaping words around the pure, perfect pleasure of Yuuri’s body yielding to him, every inch of him making a home in his skin, “you’re doing so good.”

At this Yuuri gasps so hard Celestino thinks maybe he’s hurt him - pauses, but Yuuri kicks him with his heel and he starts fucking him again - realises, with delight that spreads through his body, has his dick pulsing at the idea, what it is.

“You’re taking me so well,” he says, thrusts reaching a frantic pace that has Yuuri struggling for air, it seems, “you’re such a good boy, Yuuri.”

“Fuck,” Yuuri finally manages to say, sounding wounded and desperate, and Celestino knows that he’s going to come, soon. Just needs some help going over the edge.

“Use your words, Yuuri,” he teases, pounding so hard the wet sound fo skin on skin is almost deafening, “be a good boy.”

Yuuri arches off the seat, whole body taut as a bowstring, and the only thing stopping him from screaming seems to be the fact that all the air has left his lungs - the shift in position startles Celestino, and he comes, swearing, before he even realises that Yuuri’s doing the same. Stripes of it across his belly, and nearly hitting his chin.

Celestino, still sharp, and overcome with the need to take, all but yanks Yuuri’s thighs apart, to bury himself as deep as he physically can without climbing inside him - comes inside him with thick, violent pulses so strong he knows he’s filling Yuuri up. That cords of him will trickle back out the minute he pulls out of Yuuri.

So he collapses, sags into Yuuri’s chest and moans, hips still rocking into him as Yuuri’s body milks him for all he’s worth.

Yuuri is boneless beneath him. Seems almost comatose, if not for the way his ragged breathing begins to clear, even out.

Celestino’s not sure what day of the week it is, in the wake of what he’s just done. Just knows that Yuuri feels amazing around him. Feels perfect.

Yuuri finally shifts, and Celestino gains enough sense to pull out - swallows, dick giving an interested twitch when, sure enough, some of his come spills easily out of Yuuri.

“Um,” Yuuri rasps, and Celestino looks at him, smiles gently down, “thanks for driving me home?”

Yuuri doesn’t look like he could walk the distance from the car to his room, quite frankly. And Celestino clears his throat, tells him so. Yuuri gives him a look, that quite clearly says ‘and whose fault is that?’, before running his fingers idly through the mess on his stomach.

His look turns hooded, and Celestino already knows what he’s going to say, before he even suggests it.

“I don’t mean to impose but-”

“I live five minutes away,” Celestino tucks himself back into his pants, slides back into the driver’s seat.

Yuuri smiles. A crooked, sly thing, and Celestino rather feels like he’s being played as much as he’s playing Yuuri.

“You’ve got a day off tomorrow, haven’t you?” He asks, starting the engine.

Out the corner of his eye, Yuuri strokes his hands over himself. Slowly. Almost reverently.

And christ, Celestino knows how he feels.

Not OP, but great work, super hot! I like Yuuri's blend of nerves and experience here.

Goddamn. This is PERFECT, and so damn hot.

HE IS

Damira insists the velvet would have been fine without so much...so much. Gulisa thinks the whole thing was a terrible idea, and Ulbolsin insists that she has no opinion on costumes, she's a money person. (She is secretly relieved the costume never went live, though.) Berik thought it was cool.

No one cares about Sunnat's opinion right now.

OP here; that was so fast oh my god.

This is without a doubt the hottest smut I've ever read. Some of my favorite bits:

-Celestino vowing to ruin Yuuri
-Yuuri pulling Celestino's hand over himself
-Celestino grinding into Yuuri and walking away after
-him waiting until Yuuri is gagging for it
-also that bit with Yuuri arching off the wall before he gets himself fingered? Iconic. Legendary Thot Katsuki Yuuri.
-Celestino pushing faster in just to show Yuuri how in over his head he is re: dick size
-Yuuris truly canonical praise kink
-the bit with Celestine pulling out. Nice.
-Yuuri playing with the mess on him while asking his coach to take him home. Another iconically Thotty move by Japan's Ace.

Also the car fucking made me laugh a bit. As someone who is intimately familiar with fooling around in cars I know for a FACT those windows are horrifically fogged up now. Also Celestinos magical dick has given him the ability to somehow not hit the horn while he hits his students ass. Respectable.

All in all I adore it and the build up makes it sooooo much hotter. I'd love to see a continuation (especially if it involves more railing) but even as a standalone this deserves like, an oscar for niche anime smut.

Also; is there anyway to read your other works? I can de-anon if you feel comfortable messaging me a username? If not that's cool!

Again, amazing work. What a dream come true. Thank you for filling the prompt! And also Yuuri lmao.

This continues to be amazing. I love how Yuri and Otabek just get each other so well. And Otabek's family sound like a fun bunch (except for one person. lol)

Thank you! They're a good crowd. (And one dumbass.)

This is a work of art that I am going to treasure. So so so hot.

I'm so glad you enjoyed it! And thank you for the high praise :>

I actually planned the car sex to go differently but it got a bit too awkward logistically, so I decided to give them magical, non-injurous-or-humiliating car sex. They have to wait for the windows to clear tho.

And any future parts are definitely gonna feature Legendary Thot Katsuki Yuuri ~~both getting his way and getting in over his head~~ :D

I have no issue giving my ao3, though a heads up, I mostly use it for my kinda odd, slightly experimental things (so...kind of like this? I guess? None of them are pure smut, but feel free to have a look here! (https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoeliac/pseuds/thirstysixdegrees)

a situation arises in which omega yuuri finds out he's pregnant...and doesn't know whether victor or chris is the father.

maybe he and victor invited chris into their bedroom. maybe they had a drunken threesome at sochi (and yuuri actually remembers it.) maybe it's an au where yuuri just managed to hook up with both of them in the same span of time. don't really care how it happens.

but the crux of the situation is: yuuri is now having to deal with being a pregnant omega with two alphas doting on him; victor and chris' usually friendly rivalry is being compounded by awkward alpha instincts/urges; everyone's trying to work out if this baby's gonna have two dads, or three. (either way, victor's determined to be Best Dad.)

The only thing: no infidelity/cheating/general betrayal please. canon typical jealousy/possessiveness may apply, and either endgame victuuri or ot3 is fine.

This is fucking amazing and I am saving it forever.

St. Petersburg was pretty, and Yuri was more beautiful than ever. "Lilia says you can stay with us, and Victor and the pig have a spare room if you're afraid it's gonna be weird."

"Why would it be weird?"

"Lilia," he said. "I mean, she says you're welcome."

"It'll be fine," he said, hoping it would be.

They dropped his bags at the apartment--it was lovely, if a bit staid and extremely Russian--and Yuri said, "Look, if anything's wrong, you can--you'll tell me, right?"

"You don't have to act like I'm fragile," he said, more sharply than he should have.

"I--you're not," Yuri said. "Shit, I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'll tell you," Otabek said. "I trust you. Can you trust me?"

"It's not--I don't want to know after."

"I don't like thinking about it," Otabek said. "It's like--giving him space in my head. I don't want him there."

"That makes sense," Yuri said, and Otabek could hear how carefully he was choosing his words, how much he didn't want to push too hard or put his foot in it. "But if you want to. Or need to, or whatever. I don't mind. I just...want you to tell me. Shit. If you never want to say anything about it again. Ever. It's not--it's about you, not me."

"I kind of made it about you," he said.

Yuri shook his head. "If anybody did that it was me, come on." He held out a hand to Otabek. "Come on, we'll be late."

Otabek took his hand and pulled him in for a kiss.

"Not helping with the late thing," Yuri teased, but kissed him back, his hands sliding up Otabek's back.

"Like you care."

"I do," he said, kissing Otabek again. "But shit. When do I get you here? Fucking never--"

They did make it to the rink on time, a little mussed and out of breath, but Victor and Katsuki were having some kind of yelling match so no one noticed. As far as Otabek could tell, they were perfectly in harmony with each other until the switch flipped and they weren't. It seemed to work for them--Yuri had said once that normally they came back to the rink the next morning like nothing had happened, except for one time when Victor was notably sore from the makeup sex and Mila gave him merry hell about it.

"I've got some other ideas for my music," Yuri told Yakov, and Yakov glared at Otabek, but this one was all Yuri, so he went to warm up instead. Otabek normally went classical anyway, no one could pin Yuri's wildest experiments on him. Sure, he’d sent Yuri some music after Yuri had conceded to dropping the Rolling Stones down to his EX, but anyone who thought they could predict what Yuri would actually want to skate to was either stupid or insane. Otabek just shared stuff with Yuri he thought Yuri would like. He was right more often than not, and okay, he was kind of proud about that. Yuri wasn't always easy to please.

Lilia was watching him rinkside--it took him a second, but no, she was watching him, just him. That was...intimidating? Intimidating seemed like the right word.

She came up to him when he was getting water. "You are much improved this season," she said.

"Oh. Well. Thank you."

"You've been good influences on one another. It's not always that things work out that way. But good when they do."

Otabek waited. There was more, and he knew it.

"You are both young, I know. I married Yakov when we were...quite young. It is not easy, to be in love and be so young. It seems like a very long time ago, now."

"We--" They'd never talked about love. Or marriage. Anything like that. It was enough to be together. "I don't know what--if--we'll--"

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "I know, and I am not--I am not telling you this because I think you are going to do something. Or not do something. I am telling you this because I do not regret that time, or those years. And I do not think you will either. Even if it ends."

He wasn't sure exactly what the gift was she was giving him, but he recognized it as a gift. Recognized that she...approved? "Thank you," he said. "I think I agree."

Victor and Yuuri had insisted on having them for dinner, and the pig was a decent cook, so Yuri had decided it would be better to agree and get it over with. At least Victor could put the charm on when he had to, and he knew better than to try to fuck anything up for Yuri.

Not that he would have anyway, probably, not with the whole "life and love" crap he'd been on for the past couple years.

Katsudon made something he said his dad liked to make for him when he was at home, basically just steamed vegetables and noodles but with a light, savory sauce that made it less like eating as obligation. "We won't keep you too long," he said. "I know the flights can be rough."

"You'll want to get to bed," Victor said brightly. Yuri went to kick him under the table, but then Victor made a little squeak, which meant Katsudon had gotten to him first.

He wasn't sure he was ready to go back home, though. He didn't want to fuck up a minute with Otabek. They didn't have enough time to fuck up. There was never going to be enough time.

Otabek had taken his hand under the table. "We're all right," he said. "It's always easier to go west. It's when I get back home that it'll hit me."

"He never believes me when I tell him that," Yuuri said. "I think he's immune."

"Is that an old Japanese term that means 'oblivious?'" Yuri asked, and Otabek kicked him under the table, which, fuck, Otabek didn't realize how fucking annoying Victor could be as a rinkmate, so Yuri kicked back, and Katsudon snickered into his wine, and Yuri sulked for a little while, but not too long, because it was still nice having Otabek around.

Lilia had left a note on the kitchen table in her perfect old-lady handwriting: gone to the opera, staying with [wossname] tonight. Don’t be up too late.

Lilia was the fucking best.

Otabek looked at it like it was a singing frog. "I can't believe she just...gave us a free pass."

"She likes you," Yuri said.

"Okay," he said, putting the note down like it might dissolve at any moment. "I--can we--" Yuri expected just cuddle or something or maybe watch TV for a while, but what happened was that Otabek grabbed him, pulled him close, slid his hands down Yuri's waist to cup his ass.

"Yeah," Yuri said. "What--what do you want?"

"Fuck me?"

Holy shit. "You're--you sure?"

Otabek nodded, kissed him, hard, their teeth almost knocking together, his hands squeezing on Yuri's ass, and it felt so good, and Yuri hadn't thought Otabek would ever want to fuck at all, and it'd been okay, being with Otabek had been enough, but...he'd said fuck me, and they stumbled toward Yuri's bed, because Lilia might have given them the house to themselves, but that didn't mean they were free to fuck on her nice leather couch. The lube was in his room anyway. If Lilia had any, Yuri did not want to know.

They still lost half their clothes on the way in there, and pulled the rest off on the bed, Otabek on the mattress as Yuri stroked his shoulders and chest, Otabek’s mouth half-open, wet.

Mine, he thought, and his cock twitched.

“You’re sure,” he said, again, almost yanking the nightstand drawer onto the ground as he fumbled for the lube.

”Please,” Otabek said, his legs open wide.

Yuri tried to pretend his fingers were steady as he coated them, thick, and said, “Don’t let me hurt you.”

Otabek shook his head and stroked Yuri’s hip, soft, tender. “I won’t,” he said, his eyes on Yuri. “Don’t stop.”

Yuri slid a finger in and willed himself not to scream.

Otabek was so hot, and Yuri's cock was throbbing, and it was too much, he tried to think of something, anything else, but he couldn't take his eyes away from Otabek, couldn't stop thinking of how close he was, how close they were, finally, finally--

He tried to stop himself, but he was already too far gone, coming across the sheets, Otabek's stomach, fucking everywhere, with Otabek stroking his sides.

"Shit," Yuri said, "I didn't mean to--"

"It's okay," Otabek said, and guided Yuri's finger back in instead.

Yuri hadn't lied. He wasn't a virgin. But he'd decided pretty early on he could settle a little fooling around to take the edge off, that anything else tended to end in feelings and talking and a bunch of bullshit he never really cared about unless he was with Otabek.

But he did care with Otabek, and he cared too fucking much, he wanted to get this right, he wanted it to be good, the best that Otabek had ever had, good enough that Otabek would forget McManus and anyone who'd ever made him feel anything less than fucking perfect. "Okay?"

"Good," Otabek said, his eyes all but rolling back in his head. "Really. Really good."

Yuri shifted his finger, and Otabek made a tiny, eager noise in the back of his throat. Oh, that was good. He wanted to laugh. He'd never made anyone make noises like that. Otabek's cock twitched as Yuri pressed in further, felt the tight heat around his finger. Fuck, he'd get his cock inside Otabek, how was he even going to stand it?

"I've never," he said. "Never--you have to tell me."

"'s good," Otabek said, his eyes going wide and unfocused. "Don't stop."

"Okay," he said, and didn't, and shit, he was getting hard again, because this was the hottest fucking thing that had ever happened to him in his life. Otabek was spreading his legs further apart, and still moaning, hot and low, and Yuri worked his finger out, in, out, and he was melting, and Yuri was the one who was making him melt.

Fuck. Fuck. He'd never felt this powerful before. Never been needed like this.

"You want--another? Should I?"

Otabek nodded furiously.

Yuri hoped like hell he wasn't going to scratch Otabek, but he pushed another finger in, and fuck Otabek was tight and hot and all the crap they talked about in porn. And better yet, Otabek was moving against him, trying to push him further in, and Yuri had never had anyone want him like this.

Yuri never wanted anyone else to want him like this.

"I'm not gonna last if I fuck you," he said. "I'm not fucking--Beka--"

"It's okay," he said. "You...feels good. Don't--just don't stop."

Shit, he was hard. So fucking hard. "No," he said. He wanted to suck Otabek's dick, but he remembered that, too fucking well: Not your mouth. Maybe someday. Not today. Not now.

Like it wasn't enough to have Otabek hot and hard and naked. Shit.

“Okay,” he said. “You--I’m sorry if I don’t last. I--”

“Just--” Otabek said, and licked his lips. “Yura. Please.”

Yuri pulled his fingers out, feeling Otabek clench around him as he went, and slicked his cock. “I don’t--are we okay? Without--"

Otabek nodded. “If you are. I--I’ve been tested. I’m okay.”

“Okay,” he said, and he hoped he wasn’t fucking shaking when he slid in, but he probably was, and Otabek grabbed onto his hips hard enough to bruise, and it was good, fuck, it was good.

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Page 57 of 59

Prompt Post 1

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 4/?

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 4/?

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 4/?

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 4/?

Re: Victor Nikiforov/ Katsuki Yuuri, Unwitting Sugar Daddy AU, Office AU

Re: Victor Nikiforov/ Katsuki Yuuri, Unwitting Sugar Daddy AU, Office AU

Otayuri reverse-not-age-au

Re: Yuuri Katsuki x Celestino Cialdini, age gap, daddy kink

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 5/?

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 5/?

Re: Yuuri Katsuki x Celestino Cialdini, age gap, daddy kink

Dolcetto Part 1/3, groping, dub-con/drunk sex.

Dolcetto Part 2/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Re: Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Re: Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 5/?

Re: Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 5/?

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 5/?

Re: Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Author Anon Here!

victor nikiforov/yuuri katsuki/christophe giacometti, A/B/O, unplanned pregnancy, who's the daddy?

Re: Dolcetto Celestino Cialdini/Yuuri Katuski, Part 3/3, groping, dubcon/drunk sex.

Re: FILL: Otabek Altin/Yuri Plisetsky, first time, reluctant Otabek? 6/?