Yuri is surprisingly compliant when he's drunk.
He lets Flynn push him back onto the bed, doesn't complain when he pins his arms to the mattress. He hums, tipping his head back, baring his throat. Rain patters on the inn room's glass window, turning the dying evening light grey.
"You trust me," Flynn says, a little taken aback. He kisses the tender place just below the curve of Yuri's jaw. "Even after all this time."
"Of course I do. I'm the vigilante, remember? You're honorable." His words taste of the brutal honesty of the inebriated.
Flynn chuckles softly, planting his weight on either side of Yuri, straddling his waist. He runs his fingers through all that soft, beautiful hair. "I'm not honorable at all. Look at me, taking advantage of you like this."
"Mmm..." Yuri's smile is lazy and playful. "Yes please."
How can he possibly argue with that?
He wants to, wants to be the responsible one, wants to tell Yuri to leave, or at least wait until he's sobered up, but he's not made of willpower. How could anyone resist this, Yuri, warm and pliant in his arms, hair fanned out against the pillow, eyes narrowed to slits.
"Come on," Yuri urges after a moment. "I want you."
God, it's been so long, and Flynn wants him so much, his arousal intense and alarming. He kisses the line of Yuri's throat, licking along his clavicles, hands fumbling at the belt that keeps his jacket from sliding off.
Yuri frowns, propping himself up, helping get the damn thing off. The two of them manhandle it onto the floor, until Yuri's lying back against the bedspread, sleek and gorgeous and everything Flynn's ever wanted.
He still makes the same low noises he remembers when Flynn sucks his cock, like it's almost more than he can handle. He moves his hips in the same needy thrusts, finger's sliding into his hair.
"Flynn..." Yuri says his name the same way he used to, back before life was complicated. Back when they were going to change the world, make it a better place, before words like 'rank' and 'duty' and 'chain of command' had any meaning. Back when things had been simple.
At least this has remained simple, going still, letting Yuri fuck his mouth, tug on his hair, moaning and gasping out his name. When he comes, Yuri shakes all over, like he can barely stand it, like it's been as long for him as it's been for Flynn, which is almost certainly not the case.
Flynn swallows, because there's nowhere handy to spit, and because Yuri's always liked that, always thought it was hot. He's smiling at him now, flushed and boneless against the mattress.
"Fuck, you're still good at that."
Flynn smiles back, because he doesn't know what else he can do. There's something deep and frightening inside him, something that's making a lump in his throat, fighting to get out and say fuck the Guilds, fuck the Empire, hell, fuck the world. As long as Yuri doesn't leave him again.
But instead he shucks his trousers off the rest of the way, cracks open a gel (one of the cheaper, slicker ones that taste pretty bad going down but work well for lubricant when there's nothing else on hand) and turns Yuri on his side.
Yuri sighs softly, arching his back, making a little noise of approval as Flynn braces a slender leg against his shoulder. He coats his cock with the slippery, viscous gel, lines himself up, then hesitates.
"Do you need--."
Yuri shakes his head, and when he glances of his shoulder, his eyes are surprisingly lucid. "I'm fine. Go ahead."
But Flynn's already breaking open another gel, pushing two slippery fingers into Yuri, making him moan, silencing any more protest. He laughs softly. "Y-You shouldn't waste the...the gels. 'Spensive."
Flynn scissors his fingers. "I've got an in with the Apothecary Guild. We get them wholesale."
That makes Yuri laugh harder. "Squandering government resources," he says, rolling his hips back, taking his fingers in deeper. "Mmm...Flynn...feels good."
Flynn kisses the curve of his knees, withdraws his fingers, lines his cock back up, pushes in slow and smooth.
"Nnn..." There's a pale blush spreading over the bridge of Yuri's nose, and his eyes screw up for a moment.
"Are you alright?"
Yuri bites his lip, nods. "Yeah, fine. Think I'm sobering up. Go ahead."
Flynn hikes his leg up a little higher, forcing Yuri nearly on his stomach, starts moving in and out. It's obscenely easy--Yuri already relaxed and nearly limp. Eager for it. He's not fully hard, but that's not surprising, judging by the force of his orgasm a few minutes ago.
Flynn wants to go slow, draw it out, make it last, but Yuri's so tight, so hot inside that he finds himself thrusting in sharp, hard motions, chasing it. He wants to finish, body straining for it, but he doesn't want it like this. So impersonal--Yuri's face buried in the pillow, fingers clutching at the sheets. Had so much gone sour between them that Yuri couldn't even look at him anymore?
And suddenly Flynn feels like he's the one who's drunk, because he's pulling Yuri up, sitting back, pulling him into his lap.
"Come here," he murmurs.
Yuri makes a little helpless noise, biting his lip. His eyes are unclouded--lucid and sharp, burned into Flynn's memory like a brand on his skin.
He moves in his lap, muscle working, skin sweaty slick. When Flynn bites down on the place where his shoulder meets his neck, Yuri writhes.
It doesn't last much longer. He's too overcome by it all, Yuri in his arms, the way he looks at him, how his body tightens down around him. He comes shaking all over, burying his face in Yuri's neck, unable to meet his eyes.
They sprawl out across the bed, much the same way they collapse to the grass after a good round of swordplay. Yuri is panting in exhausted pleasure, head pillowed on Flynn's chest, breath warm and humid against his skin.
He makes a pleased noise in his throat. "That was worth the lecture."
Yuri's eye opens, just a crack, mouth turning up into a sleepy grin. "The one you're probably going to give me about drinking too much, and abandoning my friends for the night. And something else that I can't even think of right now."
"Well, you're certainly not very careful about who you go home with," Flynn laughs, smoothing his hand through all that dark hair. "Someone could take advantage of you."
It's a sleepy chuckle, but it's a chuckle all the same. Yuri looks like he's well on his way to unconsciousness. Flynn should get up, get cleaned up. Find the rest of Brave Vesperia and tell them their leader isn't gone, just indisposed. They're most likely frantic by now. Yuri makes a contented noise, snuggling closer.
In a few minutes, he thinks, letting himself sink down into the mattress. Just a few minutes, and then they'll go back to saving the world.