They have five hours until Yuri has to meet the rest of his team at the hotel entrance. Four hours until they have to stop, because they'll have to clean up and get their clothes on and maybe shower, and Yuri's still planning on sneaking back into his room like he hasn't spent hours in Otabek's instead. The team all knows he's somewhere, but he doesn't have to give them the whole story. This is his. No one else's.

Otabek has gotten taller since the last time they were together. His head is just above Yuri's knee now. He looks good on his knees, but Yuri already knew that.

The last time they'd tried this, it had been Yuri, and for ten minutes it had been all right and for thirty seconds it'd been terrible and then for two hours Yuri had been curled on his bed repeating "I'm fine, don't touch me" every fifteen minutes. Otabek had asked, what if it's me next time?

So that's what they're trying, what if it's Otabek. Otabek on his knees, naked but for the leather cuffs keeping his hands in front of his body. Yuri runs his hands across Otabek's short hair and Otabek closes his eyes.

"No," Yuri said, and Otabek's eyes fly open, dark lashes still wearing last night's mascara. "Look at me."

Otabek's chin dips, just a little. Yes.

Yuri takes Otabek's chin in his hand. "Good," he says, squeezing. Fuck, he's hard. He'll be lucky if he didn't spill all over Otabek's face, before they even get started. The full-length mirror in the room is behind Otabek, which means Yuri can see all of him, the muscles in his back and shoulders and arms. The curve of his ass. Otabek is fucking perfect and strong as hell and he's here, kneeling at Yuri's feet. As willing to please as Victor's fucking dog.

Mine.

Yuri lets go of Otabek and unzips, willing his fucking dick to stay in line. Not yet. Nothing yet. He gets himself in hand and thinks of that goddamn dog, because if there's a bigger boner-killer than a fucking poodle he doesn't know what it is. It doesn't really help, because nothing fucking helps, but at least he doesn't feel quite as close to the edge. "Is this what you want?" He pauses, then realizes he hasn't given permission. "You can talk," he said. "Tell me. Is this what you want?"

"Yes," Otabek says, and his voice isn't the calm, measured tone Yuri's used to. Yuri's dick twitches in his hand. "Please."

"Please what?" Yuri says, hoping his voice sounds steadier than he feels. "Tell me."

"Let me."

Yuri slips a finger in Otabek's mouth, and Otabek sucks it, obedient, needy. Yuri's aching, but putting him off, teasing him, is almost as good. "You want to suck me?" Yuri asks, and Otabek moans, a deep, low sound that reverberates right in Yuri's spine.

Yuri pulls his finger out. "Tell me," he says, again.

"Let me suck you," Otabek says, his voice unsteady. "Please, Yuri."

"Beg me."

"I am begging you." Otabek licks his lips. "Please. Please."

"You want it."

"Yuri," Otabek said, and his voice is tight now, needy. "Please."

"Open your mouth," Yuri says, and okay, that sounded a little shaky, but Otabek sounded worse, so that was okay, probably. "Open it wide."

Otabek obeys, and Yuri grabs the base of his own cock, thinking about the cold air that hit you after the sauna, the kind that sent your balls running for cover and made you feel like your skin was coated with frost.

"You want it?"

"Please," Otabek says. "Let me. Let me suck you off." His eyes are glued to Yuri's cock, like it's the only thing he's ever wanted, like it's the only thing in the world that even exists.

"Lick it," Yuri says. "The tip. Be gentle."

When Otabek's tongue hits his cock he has to bite his fucking lip to keep from spilling. Otabek's eyes are as intense as always, dark and almost liquid. He licks gently, carefully, like Yuri's cock is something delicate and precious, and Yuri wants to kiss him or slap him or something, anything, he can't fucking stand it any more.

"Fuck," Yuri says, not bothering to try to control his voice. "Fuck, do it, suck me, just--"

Otabek doesn't even really get Yuri into his mouth before he comes, white lights flashing in the back of his vision, come streaking across Otabek's face and into his dark hair. Otabek takes him into his mouth for the aftershocks, and maybe it's okay when Otabek is stupidly gentle because that feels good, really good. He puts his hand on the back of Otabek's hair, strokes it as the world fades back into focus.

"Shit," he says, when he can talk again. "Are you--?"

Otabek nuzzles his cock. "I'm fine," he said. "Can I stand up?"

"Oh," Yuri said. "Sure, whatever. I--yeah." He takes a half-step back so he can collapse, back first, onto Otabek's mattress. "Fuck. Do you need me to--?"

Otabek has already pulled the cuffs off. He gestures down; he came without Yuri even touching him. Fuck. "I'll get a washcloth," he says.

"Yeah, but come here first," Yuri says, reaching for him. "I wanna lick the come off your face."

Otabek smiles.