yurionicekink | Prompt Post 1

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Rules (May change later):
1.Anon not necessary but recommended.
2.Put pairings/kinks/tropes/warnings on the comment title.
3.Any kink is fine. Fic or art fills is fine. Multi fills is encouraged.
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5.For the ease of prompt finding and email tracking please use full names from the official site in the comment title, except please write Yuri Katsuki as Yuuri Katsuki to differentiate him from Yuri Plisetsky.
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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

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Otabek slept longer than he should have the next morning, and by the time he woke up, Yuri was in the shower. Sunnat was sitting at the kitchen table, squinting at his laptop, his face shadowed by anger.

"Morning," Otabek said, feeling the tension, hoping it wasn't about what he thought it was.

"You came back late," Sunnat said, into the screen.

"I was working," he said. "And we danced for a while after that. Have you had breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry."

Otabek had really been hoping that Sunnat would swallow down his objections long enough to eat breakfast, at least. To talk to Yuri and see who he really was.

It wasn't looking likely.

"Would you like to tell me what your problem is with him?"

Sunnat looked up. "Look, I don't have to like any random Russian you decide to take home," he said. "Did you forget he was a competitor? You're supposed to be winning gold medals, not dragging your boyfriend home."

The force in his voice took Otabek aback. Where had-- "Why are you so angry about this?"

"You think I don't remember what you were like when you came back from Colorado?"

Fuck. Otabek’s mind teetered between frustration and anger and chose the latter. "Are you--are you serious?"

"Three months. You sat in your room and you didn't talk to anybody. And then you left again, and you were so different when you came back--"

"That's not--you thought that was skating?"

"You've given your whole life to this," he said. "How can you just throw it away for him?"

"What did our parents tell you about Colorado?"

"They didn't need to tell me! You think I didn't know?"

"I think you didn't understand," Otabek said, as carefully as he could.

"I understand that skating took almost everything you are. And you still went back. And now you want to throw all that away!? For some Russian who's younger than me and--"

"Don't," Otabek said, because apparently that was where his limit was.

"I read," Sunnat said. "You think I don’t follow the sport? I know he comes from nothing. He's taking advantage of you, and--"

"You need to stop," Otabek said, and he was mentally wondering how to explain kicking his younger brother out to his parents, and how had this skidded so quickly out of his control?

"I'm stopping," he said, and grabbed his laptop. "I'm going back home. I'll come back when he's gone."

"Fine," he said. "Tell them--tell them what you told me. See what they tell you." He didn't want to talk about this again. Didn't want to think about it ever again. His parents could deal with this. They would. He could--

Shit. What the hell was he going to tell Yuri?

Sunnat had thrown his laptop in his messenger bag and was already out the door, slamming it hard enough the frame rattled, and Otabek closed his eyes, breathed. He sent Mama a text, which didn't begin to explain things, but at least would give his mothers something resembling a heads-up.

He'd known Sunnat had never understood how much skating meant to him. He hadn't realized how much had been lost, how much of his relationship with his own brother had years of misunderstandings built in.

He sighed.

"So," Yuri said, very quietly. "I turned the shower off, like. A while ago?"

"So you heard the whole thing."

"Up to you."

Otabek laughed, sort of. "At least I don’t have to make any excuses, I guess."

Yuri walked over and put his arms around Otabek. "Yeah. You want to come to bed? Just make out? We don't have to--"

I want you in me, Otabek thought, savage, greedy. Knowing he'd fuck it up if they tried now didn't change the hunger. "I'm--not now. Okay?"

"Okay," Yuri said, and slid a hand over his arm. "We could run?"

"You just got out of the shower."

Yuri shrugged. "I can't jump, I might as well run. We could go to that cafe you like, get breakfast on the way back."

"Okay," Otabek said. "Let me just throw some shorts on."

"Can I watch?"

"Yeah, sure," Otabek said, and he wasn't sure if Yuri had said it just to cheer him up, but it worked, anyway. He stripped down slow, glancing back to make sure Yuri was watching (he was, with one hand down his athletic pants, which, okay, that was flattering), and stroked himself half-hard before getting his shorts on. He walked over to Yuri when he was dressed and kissed him, long, slow.

"Better?" Yuri asked, his arms twined around Otabek's neck.

"Better," he said. "But he still had no right to--"

"It's okay," he said. "I don't care what he thinks about me. And I don't care if you kick my ass, either."

Otabek smiled in spite of himself. "Yes you do."

"Not like that," he said. '"If you held back on me, I wouldn't forgive you."

The good side of his brother taking off was that they knew they were alone when they got back to the apartment, so Otabek could push Yuri up against the door and peel his clothes off slowly, push his thumbs against Yuri's nipples, pull his hair out of its ponytail and rut against him.

"You want me to blow you?" Yuri offered, and Otabek shook his head, pushed the coolness that had hit his spine aside. No was enough for Yuri. He'd proven that, over and over again.

That was enough to get him back on track, pulling Yuri's shirt over his head. Yuri reached for the hem of Otabek's t-shirt and made a little huff of satisfaction as he got his hands on Otabek's back, trailing over the bumps of his spine, leaning down and sucking at Otabek's neck. "You're so fucking hot," Yuri said, and Otabek tipped Yuri's chin up to kiss him again.

They landed on the couch, Yuri straddling Otabek, sliding their cocks together hot and hard and desperate.

Yuri kissed and kissed him, and Otabek wanted the moment to last for the rest of eternity.

"You're such a sap," Yuri said, licking come off his fingers. "Shit, I really do need another shower."

Practice went well enough, aside from Yuri's near-constant complaints about the restrictions on his jumping, and Otabek's continued struggle with the quad loop.

"For fuck's sake, Altin, you're not going to win any medals with that form."

"I know," Otabek snapped. "Why don't you practice your doubles?"

He went back to work, ignoring the sound that was probably Yuri kicking something over.

After lunch, they crashed on the couch for a while. Otabek pulled out a track he'd been struggling with and Yuri lost himself in some game on his phone.

When he pulled his headphones off, Yuri's eyes were still glued to his screen.

"It's still okay?"

"What?" Yuri said, looking up.

"That...that we're just. Doing what we're doing."

"Yeah," Yuri said, once he’d caught up mentally to what Otabek had been saying. "It's okay. I mean, I'm still getting laid."

Otabek rolled his eyes, and Yuri laughed, low and satisfied.

"Seriously," he said. "You remember when Potya got sick?"

Of course he remembered. Yuri had been close to sick himself, and only a week away from Russian Nationals. He nodded. "I almost fell asleep on you on Skype."

"You almost fell asleep because you were staying up because you knew how freaked out I was. You didn't go anywhere. And I'm not going anywhere, okay?" He put a hand on Otabek's leg. "Okay?"

"Okay," he said, because Yuri clearly needed to hear it.

"Good." Yuri got up and kissed Otabek's forehead. "Now do you have any food in this place? I'm starving."

Yuri insisted on cooking, brushing him off so he could focus on chopping and frying, though he let Otabek steal a few soft kisses at the counter. They ate on the couch, Yuri's feet settled in Otabek's lap, and watched Night Watch together, which somehow Yuri had never seen.

Eventually they put their empty plates on the floor and Otabek rubbed Yuri's feet as the movie ended.

Yuri sighed a little and wiggled his toes in Otabek's hands. "Thanks," he said.

"You made dinner." He passed his thumb across Yuri's arch, and felt Yuri shiver.

"Wanted to," he said. "Shit, you want to--"

"Yes," Otabek said, and held out his hand so Yuri could pull himself up, into Otabek's arms.

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...

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

Thank you so much!

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