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I'm A Witch, Bitch

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“Oh wow, the three of cups,” Georgi mused. His hair held its pompadour even as he nodded his head in contemplation, staring at the tarot cards he had carefully arranged on the table. 

“What does that mean?” Mila asked, anxiously inspecting on the card as though trying to see the same sort of future Georgi could in the imagery.

Georgi hummed. “Well, it’s a symbol for relationships between women. And it’s in the future card position....” He trailed off, then tapped another card on the table. “This card here is the tower. It means change, an upheaval in your life, and it’s in the position for obstacles coming between you and your future self.”

“But what does it mean? ” Mila’s voice was a near-whine.

Yuri cleared his throat in an attempt to avoid saying something that was sure to hurt her feelings and turned the page of his magazine with an impatient snap.

“Well, it could mean that you’ll develop a relationship with a woman that will challenge the very foundations of your identity--”

“Oh my God, Mila, tell me you don’t believe in this shit,” Yuri said, looking up from the magazine he’d been paging.

“But Yurio,” Mila protested, “what if the woman he’s talking about is Sara?”

Yuri rolled his eyes. He was sick of listening to Mila talk about her latest crush. Sure, Sara had beautiful black hair and violet eyes, but she and her brother had the kind of close relationship that bordered on incest. “Are you serious?” he snorted.

Mila and Georgi exchanged a meaningful glance, the significance of which escaped Yuri completely.

“Of course she’s serious,” Georgi said. “The cards don’t lie, Yuri. Look at this--”

Yuri huffed his too-long blonde bangs off of his forehead and narrowed his green eyes to make his disapproval clearer. “Oh please, Georgi, you can cut this witch shit. There’s no such thing as magic.”

“Magic is real, Yuri,” Georgi said seriously. His black lacquered fingernails, sharpened into meticulous points, rapped on the glass table in a sinister staccato. “It helped me get Anya back, didn’t it?”

“Listen, hag,” Yuri snapped, “magic has nothing to do with that. Anya is just as pathetic as you are, and that’s literally the only reason why you’re back together.”

“You say this now,” Georgi threatened, the tapping of his fingernails intensifying. “But magic is real, and I’ll prove it to you.” The words were heavy as a threat.

“Go ahead, prove it,” Yuri dared. Nothing happened--Georgi didn’t even move; he just sat there staring at Yuri, his eyes smeared with cheap black eyeliner. Yuri waited a beat, then sneered. “See? You can’t. Because magic doesn’t exist.”

Georgi chuckled softly, and Yuri rolled his eyes when Mila joined in. The joke would be on her in the end when all of Georgi’s predictions failed to come true. Sara would never bang anyone unless her brother could watch. Or worse.

Yuri shivered. The Crispino twins were far too close for siblings, even two who had shared the womb. He immediately put all thoughts of the incest twins out of his head in favor of berating Mila and Georgi for their infantile interest in magic and make-believe until the two of them had had enough and shoved Yuri out the door of Mila’s apartment.

Not that Yuri cared. Besides, he had better things to do than think about Mila’s sex life. After all, Skate Canada was coming up, and he and Otabek had decided to share a hotel room in Ontario under the pretense that Yuri was avoiding the hotel room that Yakov had booked for he and Georgi to share. It was a convenient excuse, though the real reason was surely the unresolved sexual tension between he and Otabek. Yuri had some thoughts--quite a few, actually--about how to resolve that tension, and he needed all the time he had to prepare. 

Unlike Mila, Yuri wasn’t going to rely on a bunch of cards to tell him what to do in his life, or a spell to seduce someone. He was a practical man, which was why he was planning to order the lacy Natori bodysuit he’d seen on page 121 of Mila’s magazine as soon as he arrived home. Absentmindedly, he pondered whether or not he should splurge on overnight shipping just to make doubly-sure that the bodysuit would arrive before he had to leave for Ottawa, all of Georgi’s assertions about the existence of magic forgotten.

 

 

Georgi had his revenge three weeks later at the Skate Canada banquet.

He and Yuri had been assigned to the event together, and Yakov had booked them a room to share. Thankfully, Otabek had also been assigned to the event, and offered Yuri the spare bed in his hotel room. Yuri had accepted immediately--he could never breathe right when he and Georgi shared a room; his eyes and throat stung from all the sage Georgi burned to cleanse the hotel room of bad spirits. Georgi also had the tendency to engage in rituals that consisted of candlelight and chants before a both the short program and the free skate, keeping Yuri awake late into the night. Though Yuri was less concerned about getting a good night's sleep, and more interested in the whole unresolved sexual tension thing between he and Otabek had going.

“Ugh, did you smell him today? I swear to God, he smelled like a dirty hippie’s Birkenstocks,” Yuri complained after the competition, fidgeting uneasily with the silver medal around his neck. He was just pissed off that Georgi had placed first, having suddenly chosen to rally in his last season as a skater after having been perfectly satisfied being mediocre his whole life.

“It’s just patchouli,” Otabek said as he knotted his tie just above the dip of his collarbones. Yuri watched Otabek’s nimble fingers tap at his own throat as he looped the fabric over itself, then tightened the knot, and Yuri’s throat tightened too.

His eyes met Yuri’s in the mirror. Before his friend could see his blush, Yuri flopped back onto the bed. “I can’t believe Yakov wanted me to room with him. I don’t know why my coach hates me so much,” Yuri said, flopping dramatically on his bed in Otabek’s room. His silver medal thumped against his chest as he hit the mattress with a dull thud.

Otabek was arranging his tie in the mirror, but he glanced over his shoulder at Yuri with a reproachful arch of his eyebrow. “He doesn’t hate you, Yuri. He’s just trying to save money.”

“Ugh,” Yuri groaned. “But why Georgi? He’s the worst.” He settled back into the pillow, huffing his hair defiantly out of his face. It was still an uncombed mess

“Even worse than Viktor?”

“No one’s worse than Viktor,” Yuri grimaced, thinking back to the last time he’d been forced to share a room with Viktor. Katsuki had surprised his husband at Russian Nationals by showing up unannounced just hours after the Japanese Nationals had concluded. Yuri had been forced to spend half the night in the hall lounge by the elevators, slowly drinking his way through a pilfered bottle of red wine. Even worse, the next morning he’d been woken up by their loud and enthusiastic morning quickie by Katsuki’s balls in his face.

Otabek finished arranging his tie, then turned away from the mirror to face Yuri. “Don’t sprawl around like that. You’ll wrinkle your suit, and I’m not ironing it for you again,” he warned.

“Fine, dad,” Yuri said sarcastically. But he sat up on the bed, smoothing the creases that threatened to form in the fabric all the same.

Otabek startled, then ran his hand through his hair and self-consciously checked his reflection one last time. “Just don’t wrinkle it again,” he muttered, voice thick in his throat. Yuri looked at him, curious, but Otabek simply cleared his throat and said, “You haven’t brushed your hair yet.”

Yuri shook his head. Otabek looked at him for a long moment, then said, “Get the hairbrush.”

Yuri did just that, without thinking about it too much, then settled between Otabek’s legs on the bed. Otabek ran his hand through Yuri’s hair once, flinching when his fingers caught on the tangles. He held his palm out, expectant, and Yuri handed him the hairbrush.

Otabek hummed a soft melody as he brushed he tangles out of Yuri’s hair, which fell soft and smooth against his shoulders when it was done. Yuri preened a bit, and Otabek rewarded him by combing his fingers through Yuri’s hair, being sure to rub his scalp in the way that never failed to make Yuri boneless and compliant.

Just as Yuri began to lean back against Otabek’s chest, Otabek moved off of the bed, feet hitting the floor with a dull sound. “We should get going,” he said, offering a hand to Yuri, who let himself be lifted into a standing position.

They stood awkwardly for a moment, checking their suits for wrinkles. Otabek’s tie had loosened just enough to let the darkened dip of his collarbone peek through again, and Yuri had to swallow back the kiss that formed in his mouth, waiting to be pressed against that shadowed hollow.

Finally, Yuri pushed his bangs back behind his ear. “Let’s go.”

His hand guided Yuri by the small of his back all the way down to the ballroom, the gesture as claiming as a kiss. Otabek’s hand lingered at his hip until he was forced to let go by Yuri’s two effusive coaches, who were somehow already drunk and greeting everyone with aggressive hugs.

For some reason, Yuri could feel the weight and the heat of Otabek’s palm on his skin for a long time later.

 

 

The banquet was a bunch of ceremony and bullshit like always. Since his prize piggy was back in St Petersburg, preparing for a competition of his own, Viktor had to show Yuri off instead. Less than halfway through, Yuri found himself getting restless. He hated small spaces crowded with sweaty bodies and all the fake shit that Viktor called “networking.” Humans were far too exhausting.

Finally, Yuri managed to break away from the huddle of sponsors and officials where Viktor had trapped him for the last forty-five minutes. He was thirsty, but the drinking age in Ottawa was 19, and Yuri was still 18. Even worse, his coaches had decided to get all puritanical about respecting the local laws for some unfathomable reason, and it meant that for most of the night, Viktor and Yakov were watching him like hawks. In total, the entire thing was absolutely intolerable.

He hovered next to the dessert table, trying to remain inconspicuous as he contemplated whether he should put a third slice of lemon cake on his plate, when he was interrupted by a gentle tap at his elbow. Yuri turned to see Georgi behind him, proudly wearing his gold medal and holding two glasses of champagne.

Yuri pointed at his chest, and Georgi handed him one of the glasses of champagne. “To a golden final season,” he toasted, and Yuri clinked his glass with a furtive look over his shoulder to ensure that his coaches were still occupied. Georgi made an impatient noise in the back of his throat. “Drink up, Yurio,” he said, grinning darkly.

Yuri rolled his eyes at Georgi’s dramatics and took a deep sip before Yakov could catch him underage drinking. He swallowed, startled--the champagne tasted curiously sweet. He took another cautious sip, but it smelled and looked normal, so he finished the glass quickly. If he was only going to have one, he might as well make the most of it, Yuri though as he swallowed.

The champagne left a strange syrupy aftertaste in his mouth, but Yuri shrugged it off. It was probably cheap, but Yuri could understand--God knows, a room full of skaters went through enough of the stuff.

But soon enough afterward, Yuri began to feel sick, feverish and short of breath. When he blinked, black spots swarmed in front of his eyes and he felt dizzy, like he’d just completed the longest spin ever. He sank down into the first chair he found, resting his head in his hands.

Maybe it was the flu? Yuri traveled a lot during the flu season. Or perhaps the raw bar? Yuri had eaten a dozen shrimp, and at least as many oysters. You could never trust a banquet raw bar, and it was true he was weak for raw seafood...

“Yura?” a soft voice asked. “Are you OK?”

“I don’t feel so good,” Yuri admitted, talking into his hands.

Otabek gently pet his head, and Yuri groaned as another pang of heat arced through his body. “Can you make it to the room?” he asked, concerned.

“Fuck, I feel like hell,” Yuri said. It wasn’t really an answer to Otabek’s question.

His friend guided him into a sitting position and handed him a glass of ice water. Yuri took a sip, thankful for the cooling feeling that rushed through him as he did so.

Mila suddenly appeared at his side. “Is Yuri OK?”

“I think he’s a little drunk,” Otabek said.

“‘M not drunk,” Yuri protested. “I think I have the flu...” The world spun with another wave of nausea.

“I’m gonna bring you back upstairs, OK?” Mila said, shrugging an arm under Yuri’s armpits and hauling him to his feet. He immediately lurched away--her body was way too warm, and the excessive heat made him nauseous. “Do you think you can make it upstairs?” she asked, concerned.

Yuri groaned, but he managed to hold himself upright.

“Are you sure about this, Mila?” Otabek asked. He sounded doubtful and concerned.

She clucked her tongue. “I was about to head upstairs myself,” she admitted, meeting her Sara’s eye from across the room with an apologetic shrug.

“Yuri?” Otabek asked. “You have your keycard in your pocket, right?”

“Yeah,” he grumbled, but he made no motion to reach for it.

Otabek sighed, and reached for Yuri’s pants pocket. His hands lingered a few millimeters from Yuri’s skin. “Yura,” he said, “I’m just going to give Mila the keycard, OK?”

Yuri nodded, dimly aware of the hands hovering by his hipbones dipping into his pockets. The key was in his right pocket, and Otabek was careful to touch Yuri as little as possible as he removed it. Still, everywhere he touched Yuri flared with that awful heat.

He let Mila urge him along to the elevator on unsteady feet. Somehow, he managed to stay upright all the way until the ninth floor.

Mila arranged a bottle of juice and a couple bottles of water on the nightstand next to Yuri. “Ah, baba, stop babying me,” he snapped. “I can take care of myself.”

“You’ll appreciate it later.” Mila rolled her eyes, exasperated as always with Yuri’s stubbornness.

Yuri felt shitty enough that he didn’t bother to fight her anymore. He closed his eyes, trying to relieve the pain in his body by sleeping it off.

However, his aching body had other ideas. In addition to the feverish, dizzy feeling, Yuri could feel a familiar pressure between his legs. Fuck, seriously? He felt awful --sweaty and hot and light-headed, and his dick chose now to get hard?

The grasp of his hand immediately sent a cooling sensation through his body. Yuri shivered--the awful heat inside him seemed to be soothed by the touch. He stroked a few more times, and his penis jumped in his hand, already at the brink of orgasm.

Fuck. He might as well get this over will, have an orgasm, and then get to sleep. Maybe it would help soothe the terrible scorching fever inside.... Yuri spat in his hand, smearing the slick saliva over the head of his penis. He began pumping unceremoniously, just wanting to get off quick, then get some rest.

His cock felt overheated and oversensitive in his hand--it had been days since the last time Yuri had masturbated, and he was a healthy young man with an enthusiastic libido. With a moan, he tightened the squeeze of his hand, stroking faster. The friction still burned, and Yuri leaned down between his legs and spat on the head of his dick twice to wet it properly.

When he started stroking once more, his foreskin slid up and down his dickhead with a filthy slapping sound. Breathing hard, Yuri began thrusting into the tight fist of his hand as it slid up and down his erection, the spit slicking his way.

He knew the orgasm would come quickly, but it surprised him nonetheless when his cock erupted in a wet mess. He kept stroking himself through the aftershocks, surprised when that his erection showed no signs of diminishing. He took his hand off himself, figuring his arousal would die down if he stopped touching it.

No sooner had Yuri let go of himself than the awful heat began to build up again. This time, his whole body sizzled with it. He was certainly still dizzy and his stomach unsettled, but he was more aroused than anything else. He scratched his head--could someone have dosed his food or drink with something when he wasn’t looking? It didn’t make sense--the only drink he’d had was that shitty sweet champagne Georgi had given him...

Yuri shot upright on the bed, the heated haze of the last several minutes evaporated as he realized what had happened--Georgi. That spooky son of a bitch, he’d poisoned Yuri somehow...

He groped in the sheets for his phone, calling Georgi the instant he unlocked it. “What did you do to me, hag?” Yuri bellowed into the phone, hand already wrapped around his still-hard dick. The earlier orgasm hadn’t helped at all... if anything, he only felt more desperate to get off. The uncomfortable heat was already prickling beneath his skin and in his balls.

“What are you talking about?” Georgi sounded all too satisfied to hear Yuri like this.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Yuri groaned, slapping his penis onto the mattress with a dull thud. “You put something in the champagne, some kind of potion, I know you did!”

“But that’s impossible!” Georgi said in mock surprise. “Magic isn’t real.”

Fuck, he could imagine the smirk on Georgi’s face. “Georgi--fuck--”

Georgi laughed, the asshole. “Magic isn’t real,” he repeated, “but if it was real...”

Yuri’s dick spasmed between his legs, and he groaned, a low, painful-sounding thing. “Georgi,” he tried to threaten, but it came out wrong, all desperate and whining.

“If it was real, it might not wear off until you ride it out....” Georgi’s laughter crackled over the phone. “Get it? Ride it out?” he repeated obscenely.

Yuri wanted to throw his phone, but he simply hung up and tossed the offending gadget back into the sheets. He reached down for his naked penis, stroking once more, but only a moment later, he heard a knock at the door.

“Yuri? Are you awake?” Though he recognized the voice that spoke through the door as Otabek’s, the laugh that followed was brash and loud and certainly did not belong to the reserved Kazakh skater.

Yuri pulled the blankets over his naked lower body, pulling his knees up in a desperate attempt to hide his hardon only a moment before the lock clicked open and Otabek barged in, yanking a tall man with a matching dark-haired undercut through the door behind him.

“Yuri! Look who came to celebrate with us!” Otabek crowed as he stepped into their shared hotel room.

He was obviously drunk--hair undone and tie loose, another button undone at his neck to expose not only the shape of his collarbone but also the line of his pectoral muscles. Yuri’s dick pulsed with another rush of blood, but then Yuri saw just who had come to wish them luck, and he snarled: there JJ stood, flushed and proud, with a proprietary arm slung around Otabek’s shoulders.

“Why did you bring him here?” Yuri groaned, frustrated. He drew his knees up higher beneath the blankets, hoping that his erection wouldn’t be visible.

Otabek alone, Yuri could deal with. They were good friends, the best kind of friends. And if Yuri was being honest with himself, sometimes he wondered what it would be like if they were more. So maybe having Otabek see him like this wouldn’t have been the worst thing ever. But JJ--

JJ was the worst. Not worse than Viktor, but just as bad, in his own way. And just like Viktor, he had no sense of personal space. Even now, he was crowding into Yuri, attempting to trap him in a drunken hug.

Yuri tried to flinch away from JJ’s bear hug, but it was too late. All six feet of the Canadian skater launched onto him, directly onto the erection Yuri was so desperate to hide.

JJ stared wide eyed-for a moment, then his face cracked into a grin as he yanked the duvet off of the blonde man. “Look, Otabek!” JJ smirked. “Yuri has a boner!”

“It’s Georgi’s fault,” Yuri moaned, exposed, his swollen cock bobbing anxiously between his legs. “That Gothic bastard put a c-curse on me...” His whole cock lurched with a particularly hard throb that made his balls ache, and Yuri groaned.

“Look at him,” JJ teased, and Yuri wanted to slap the stupid self-satisfied grin off of JJ’s face but his penis throbbed painfully, and he had to wrap his hand around his dick to soothe it. He exhaled in a soft sigh, barely aware of JJ saying, “He can’t help himself, can he?”

“Be nice, JJ,” Otabek said, gazing sternly at JJ, whose smirk immediately faded. Yuri whimpered thankfully as he squeezed his eyes shut, the hand cradling his penis starting to stroke before he even realized what he was doing--jerking off in front of Otabek Altin and JJ Leroy, his fellow competitors. For a moment the hand on his cock stilled, but the ache in his balls returned, worse than before, and Yuri decided he didn’t care about that.

What he cared about was his dick in his hand, and getting off...

He cracked open a cautious eye. Otabek was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, watching Yuri intently, his face inscrutable as always. Though his suit was mussed and he smelled slightly of gin, Otabek remained stoic as he watched Yuri. The only hint that he was affected by Yuri’s display was the black gleam in his eye and the bulge in his trousers.

JJ, however, was staring at Yuri with naked lust, his mouth ajar and his cheeks flushed. Though he had not yet begun to unbutton his clothing, his jacket and pants were rumpled and askew as though he’d been fidgeting with the fabric. Yuri watched for a sign that JJ had been trying to touch himself beneath his clothing, waiting for a sign belying just how badly Yuri’s need had influenced him.

A burst of blood rushed into Yuri’s already-straining penis, and he tightened his grip, watching as JJ’s lust darkened his grey gaze. JJ’s hand came down on Yuri’s thigh, so close to where his aching balls were sticking to his skin. But before he could touch, Otabek slapped his hand away with a sharp sound. “Don’t touch,” he admonished, and JJ withdrew his hand sheepishly. “Not unless Yuri says it’s OK.”

“It’s OK,” Yuri whimpered.

JJ looked at Otabek, who nodded his assent before the other man reached cautiously for Yuri’s erection. Yuri sighed, but didn’t let go of his dick when JJ’s hand closed around his own, thicker, wider.

“Go on,” Otabek said, still standing.

JJ began to move his hand up and down the length of Yuri’s penis, moving Yuri’s hand with his own. Yuri bucked up and Yuri spread his legs wider, canting his hips up to expose his hole. Fuck, his dick was hard, but Georgi’s potion had done more than that--his asshole was twitching and his insides burned with the desire to be fucked.

The hand over his own tightened, stroking more quickly, and Yuri moaned, a deep animal sound. He pushed his hips into JJ’s hand, harder, faster, his urgency building. Yuri slid his hand out from under JJ’s, and slipped a fingertip between his own cheeks.

He was startled when Otabek reached out to grasp the hand between his legs with his wrist, preventing Yuri from penetrating himself.

“Is that what you want, Yura?” Otabek asked softly, sinking down to sit on the mattress where Yuri lay with JJ kneeling between his legs, a rough fingertip gently rubbing circles over Yuri’s wrist. “You want JJ to open you up with his fingers?”

JJ grabbed at his cock through the placket of his trousers with his free hand, careful not to interrupt the rhythm with which he stroked Yuri. Fuck, he loved when Otabek ordered him around like this; it went straight to his dick. JJ’s cock was so hot and solid in his palm, even under the layers of fabric, and he squeezed the sensitive head where the seam of his pants pushed his erection against his thigh. He could feel a drop of precum beading on the head as he watch Otabek pry Yuri’s asscheeks open to inspect the tight pink pucker.

Yuri’s answer was little more than a moan. “Yes.” He canted his hips up to show off his hole, pink and wrinkled between his cheeks.

“Your hole is so pretty,” Otabek murmured, using his grip on Yuri’s wrist to manipulate Yuri’s hand, brushing Yuri’s thumb against his own sphincter. “So pink.” Otabek made Yuri massage himself there for several seconds, before finally releasing Yuri’s wrist from his grasp. “Wait here,” he murmured. “I have lube in my suitcase.”

Yuri would have cocked an amused eyebrow at Otabek for being so presumptuous, but he was too desperate to do anything but whimper with need as he teased circles over his own anus. He could feel JJ watching his hole hungrily, though he sat obediently on his haunches, stroking Yuri’s pulsing penis without trying to sneak a touch of his ass until Otabek said it was OK.

It couldn’t have taken more than a minute or two before Otabek returned to the bed, but it felt like two hours to Yuri. He moaned when Otabek tossed the small clear vial onto his belly, jerking in arousal and surprise when it landed. “You heard him,” Otabek said, looking down at JJ. “Open him up.”

JJ let go of Yuri’s dick to reach for the bottle of lube and coated his fingers with a thin coat of liquid. He pushed Yuri’s hand away impatiently, replacing the teasing thumb with his middle finger and pressing in.

Yuri cursed. The awful heat flared for a moment, then, and his body relaxed around JJ’s knuckle, the burning sensation faded into the background. JJ slid the rest of his finger in slowly, then twisted, and Yuri yelped.

“Give him another,” Otabek ordered, and JJ obeyed, pulling his hand out, then pressing back in with his index finger, too. Yuri breathed deeply, slowly, as the muscle made way for JJ’s thick fingers.

JJ began twisting and scissoring his fingers rather than thrusting them in and out of Yuri’s body. It was unexpectedly sensual, sweeter than Yuri expected from a man as brash as JJ. Eventually, JJ located the spongy flesh of Yuri’s prostate.

Yuri’s body stiffened like he’d touched a live wire. His muscles tensed, his eyes screwed shut, and he grit his teeth together as he gasped, willing himself to calm down. The sensation radiated through his whole body--he’d never felt pleasure like this, bone-deep, and it was overwhelming...

The touch on his shoulders grounded him. “Was that too much, baby?” Otabek’s deep voice asked. He massaged the knot that was threatening to form at the base of Yuri’s neck..

Yuri shook his head and opened his eyes. Otabek’s black eyes stared back, so dark they appeared to be all pupil.

During it all, JJ had stopped twisting his fingers inside of Yuri, whose body had seized. He held still, waiting for Yuri to relax. Otabek continued massaging his neck, and eventually Yuri managed to take a deep breath as the tension in his muscles slackened.

“Is it ok? Do you want JJ to touch you some more, or...?” Otabek trailed off as Yuri shook his head.

“I’m ready,” Yuri said in a breathless voice.

JJ began thrusting his fingers in and out, scissoring them, but careful to avoid Yuri’s prostate. Yuri’s body yielded to him, spreading out around his knuckles. As JJ worked Yuri’s hole, Otabek’s hands continued their calming massage, pressing down torso until they rested at the small of Yuri’s hipbones, kneading the muscles at his hips.

A cautious finger teased Yuri’s rim where it was stretched around JJ’s fingers. Otabek looked up at Yuri, who nodded. “JJ,” Otabek said, “another.”

The teasing digit pressed inside with the others, and Yuri’s groan was so hoarse it was nearly a growl. His cock tensed and jumped up and down between his legs as JJ fucked his fingers in and out, this time allowing his fingertips to nudge at Yuri’s prostate but not overstimulate it.

Yuri threw his forearm over his eyes and wailed, too overwhelmed to do anything but feel as Otabek and JJ massaged him inside and out.

But then Otabek yanked on his hair, pulling his head back harshly. “Open your eyes, Yura,” he commanded, and Yuri had no choice but to obey. Otabek’s face loomed above his own, so close that it blocked everything else out of his vision. He tightened his grip on Yuri’s hair, maneuvering his mouth so that it fit over Yuri’s own, and Yuri let out a soft gasp as Otabek’s tongue traced the seam of his lips and slipped through.

Otabek tasted oaky and sweet like the scotch he’d been sipping all night. The flavor burst into Yuri’s mouth, and his mouth filled with spit, tantalized after a single sip. Their wet mouths slipped together and apart and together again, slicking Yuri’s lips with their mingling saliva.

Being kissed like this made Yuri dizzy, made his cock and his hole tense in anticipation. Otabek’s kisses were unhurried, still unflappably in control even as his breathing deepened and his heartbeat quickened against Yuri’s side. His eyelids fluttered shut again, and Otabek yanked at the his scalp, forcing him to keep looking as Otabek twisted his tongue around Yuri’s own.

Finally, Otabek broke the kiss, though he did not take his dark eyes off Yuri’s glinting green gaze. “You’re ready now.” It wasn’t a question, and Yuri nodded, dick pulsing with the heat that radiated from Otabek’s black eyes.

Otabek turned to JJ, who scrambled up the bed to arrange himself between Yuri’s legs. But Yuri clamped his thighs shut, and elbowed JJ out of the way. “Not you,” he spat, completely ungrateful for the way JJ had spread him with his fingers. Yuri Plisetsky would always be a brat.

JJ whined. His dick was already poking out of his fly, his underwear haphazardly pushed down just enough to let his cock out, his balls bulging below the red scrap of fabric. Yuri rolled his eyes and pressed a slim, high-arched foot to JJ’s chest, pushing him back down to the foot of the bed, until JJ sat at his feet with his shirt open and cock out.

Then Yuri twisted on his side to face Otabek. “I want you to fuck me, daddy,” he purred.

This time, Otabek’s eyes burned black when Yuri said the word. He nudged JJ away from where he knelt between Yuri’s legs, with his dick sticking out of his fly obscenely.

JJ had to duck to avoid Otabek’s elbow as he stepped back from the bed without taking his eyes off of Yuri. He removed his pants and boxers in one desperate motion, then pulled off his socks. Yuri took the opportunity to check Otabek out, and his asshole clenched when he saw the thick, meaty cock between Otabek’s legs.  He left his shirt and tie on as he reached into the sheets for the lube, slicking himself up with a generous handful before lining himself up with Yuri’s twitching hole.

Otabek paused for a moment to admire the way that Yuri’s wrinkled sphincter was stretched and smooth, ready for his cock. Holding his cock by the base, he dipped the tip in and out, just to watch how Yuri’s rim spread and contracted around his cut cockhead.

Yuri whined. “Please daddy--”

And Otabek’s willpower shattered.

He pulled Yuri’s hips into his own, not letting go until his cock was buried to the root between Yuri’s thick asscheeks. All Otabek could feel was the feverish pressure of Yuri’s anus around his cock and the word daddy ringing in his head. He bucked when Yuri bit down on his shoulder to muffle the pained yelp that he was trying desperately to swallow, driving himself even more deeply in Yuri’s hot heat.

The deep rocking thrusts made Yuri’s mouth unlatch from Otabek’s skin, and he yowled. Otabek felt so thick where his cock pierced Yuri’s insides; he felt so full--

Their reverie was interrupted by an obscene slapping sound. JJ was jerking his dick, which was shiny with lube, and his balls were smacking against his thighs.

Otabek stilled his thrusts, shushing Yuri when he protested. “Did I say you could touch yourself?” Otabek asked JJ, tone sharp. JJ immediately let go of his dick, looking ashamed. He clenched his fists restlessly, and Otabek noticed. “Look at how badly Yuri wants to come already,” Otabek crooned. “Touch him instead.”

JJ climbed up to the mattress, reaching down to where Yuri’s cock was leaking onto his thigh. He palmed the erection with a dry hand, his calluses tugging on Yuri’s foreskin. The sensation was too intense, and Yuri shuddered, grasping at Otabek, who had resumed his deep, rocking thrusts as he used his cock to pry Yuri open just a little bit more....

“You don’t want JJ to touch you, baby?” Otabek asked, voice hoarse with the effort of holding himself back from ravaging Yuri’s rim.

Yuri shook his head. “His hands are rough,” he said.

“JJ,” Otabek ordered, “get the lube.”

JJ reached across the rumpled sheets for the forgotten bottle of lube, wetting his hand while Otabek watched without breaking the forceful rhythm of his movements into Yuri’s hot hole. JJ warmed the lube in the palm of his hand before slicking the length of Yuri’s cock with the wet stuff. Once he’d spread the lube down the shaft, he squirted a few more drops on Yuri’s flared cockhead. The pooling lube soothed the burn of JJ’s calloused hand, and Yuri pushed against his palm impatiently.

When Yuri moved on his cock, Otabek let out a low, rolling moan, then shifted his hips back. He began to thrust in and out of Yuri’s body, no longer restricting himself to the rolling, hitching motions of before. Gradually, his thrusts grew longer and deeper, and he watched, satisfied, as Yuri writhed between Otabek’s cock in his ass and JJ’s hand around his dick. Yuri’s body pulsed around him, contracting and releasing with the pressure JJ put on his penis.

Yuri’s brow was furrowed and beaded with sweat, his hair a tangled halo on the pillow beneath his head. His green eyes were fixed on Otabek, who grabbed his thighs in his square stout hands, pushing them out and down toward the mattress. Yuri yielded to him, opening wide.

Otabek leaned onto his hands, lifting his hips as he leveraged his weight down. With his thighs spread so wide, nearly into a perfect straddle, Otabek was deeper inside Yuri that he’d imagined possible....

The need inside Yuri’s body was becoming unbearable. He could feel nothing but the twin points of stimulation on his body: the delicious press of Otabek’s penis pushing the flesh of his insides open to receive him, JJ’s fingers constricting on his cock...

“Let me,” Yuri whimpered, “I have to--let me come, Beshka, daddy, please--”

“Come,” Otabek roared, “Come, my Yura, come for me--”

His penis erupted in an arc of white semen. The first spurt reached his chest, the second, third, and fourth plastering his face and chin. JJ continued to stroke Yuri through his orgasm, the languid pace of his fist at odds with the fury with which Otabek fucked his hole.

JJ watched intently as Yuri came in his hand. Though his own cock ached with need, he was fascinated by watching as the thick, messy spurts faded into thick dribbles of come, then finally let go of Yuri’s cock. He wanted so badly to touch himself, to smear Yuri’s come all over his own erection until he came himself, but Otabek was too busy fucking into Yuri’s ass to tell JJ what he should do. He settled for tracing patterns through the mess that had pooled on Yuri’s chest and stomach as he watched and waited for another command.

Yuri sighed, the pressure in his dick finally relieved for a moment. He glanced down to see that his erection was wilting, just a little bit.... But then Otabek kept fucking into him at that same frantic pace, varying the intensity and depth of his thrusts. Otabek didn’t pound into Yuri’s prostate; rather, he teased it with the hot head of his cock as he fucked the blonde man. Yuri’s hole clenched: neither JJ nor Otabek had bothered to touch his prostate directly since he’d become overwhelmed earlier, and he wanted...

“Look at what you made Yuri do,” Otabek admonished. JJ looked down at the floor between his knees, a little bit ashamed at how badly he’d wanted to see Yuri come, but still so turned on by how hot it had been to watch Yuri spill and spurt in his hand.

Yuri squirmed. His body was lazy and loose in the aftermath of his orgasm, and it fluttered against Otabek as he sighed. He was only half paying attention to the way that Otabek bossed JJ around.

“Clean up your mess, bitch,” Otabek demanded.

JJ lay down with his head resting on Yuri’s hip. He rest his jaw in the dip between Yuri’s abs and his hipbone, smearing the come that had pooled there onto his cheek. Tentatively, JJ leaned forward between Yuri’s legs, then stuck out a hesitant tongue to lap at the head of his still-hard penis.

God, the semen on Yuri’s skin was still wet and warm, and his dick was already so hard, so needy. The come was thick and bitter in his mouth, but JJ licked him clean before drawing the desperate cock into his mouth, sucking hard for a moment.

Yuri bucked, turning red. “Ah!” he cried.

Otabek slapped JJ’s cheek. “Not so hard,” he admonished. “Not everyone is as big a slut as you.”

JJ moaned around the cock in his mouth, but he suckled Yuri’s penis more gently. Holding his jaw open and slack, he let the force from Otabek’s thrusts push Yuri’s dick against his tonsils. Each time Yuri’s cockhead dipped into his throat, JJ sucked. He relaxed again as Otabek thrust out, and Yuri’s cock withdrew a couple of inches, enough to give JJ some breathing room.

Otabek watched JJ swallow Yuri’s cock as he fucked in and out of Yuri’s pliant body. He loved to see JJ like this, his erection swollen and aching between his legs, as he pleasured Yuri according to Otabek’s will. And Yuri--Yuri was thrashing between JJ’s mouth and Otabek’s cock, sweat-drenched and swearing, all because Otabek had willed it so--

Overtaken by a surge of power, Otabek bore down into Yuri’s ass. Yuri, taken by surprise jerked up, choking JJ. JJ’s grey eyes teared as his mouth spread around Yuri’s cock, while Yuri’s ass spread around Otabek’s cock--

Grabbing JJ’s ears, Otabek forced JJ to follow the pace he set with his hips. He held JJ’s face down every time he thrust up into Yuri’s hole, a little bit longer each time.

"Beka,” Yuri cried, “Fuck me, oh, just fuck me--”

But Otabek didn’t break his rhythm. He manipulated Yuri and JJ methodically, until he heard the magic word...

Daddy, fuck me!” Yuri cried, and Otabek came with a powerful, echoing groan, a moan that lingered for as long as his penis pulsed in Yuri’s greedy hole. Just when Otabek thought he had no more sperm to shoot, Yuri would tighten his hole around his cock, and another shot of semen would dribble out.

He tore JJ’s mouth off Yuri’s cock as Yuri’s ass milked him, until Otabek was sure his cock had turned itself inside out. JJ lay on his side on the mattress, mouth gaping open, catching his breath. His cheeks were bright and slicked with tears from choking on Yuri’s cock.

Yuri wriggled against Otabek’s hips, pushing the come out around Otabek’s cock as it softened inside him. Yuri keened in senseless syllables, his abused penis finally beginning to soften between his legs as Otabek slowly and carefully slid himself out of Yuri’s hole.

He really was beautiful here, Otabek thought: his rim was pink, but a more violent shade than earlier, almost fuschia, his dick a deep magenta as it softened and shriveled back into its foreskin. Yuri’s chest flushed with the same rosy color as his cock, and it made Otabek’s chest seize in wonder to watch Yuri luxuriate in the aftermath of his orgasm.

Otabek’s contemplation was interrupted by a hot pressure against his shin. JJ, still hard, had pressed his erection against Otabek’s leg in a silent reminder that he had not yet been allowed to come. Otabek admonished himself--a good dom would not have come hard enough to forget about his sub--but JJ nodded. JJ had known just how badly Otabek had wanted Yuri, and for how long, and Otabek murmured silent thanks for to JJ for understanding.

“You may touch yourself now,” Otabek said.

He and Yuri watched as JJ tightened his fist around his cut cock. JJ didn’t even bother to try and lube himself--he was too desperate to come, pulling at himself quickly with a loose, lazy grip. The veins on his penis were blue and distended, and JJ’s balls ached with denial.

JJ had been holding back so long that it took a few minutes for him to let go and let himself come. Finally, with quickening strokes, he jerked himself onto the duvet while Otabek and Yuri watched.

“Look, Yura,” Otabek whispered, “at what a slut he is--”

JJ shuddered once more, then collapsed against the footboard of the bed, chest heaving, his thighs and stomach stained with his own semen. Otabek pressed his shins against JJ’s back, letting him lean back onto his thighs for comfort, while Yuri snuggled against his chest.

The three of them lay there in the aftermath, until the heat between them had grown cold and sticky. Carefully extricating himself from the long tangle of limbs on the bed, Otabek headed to the bathroom.

He turned on the hot water, letting it run until it began to steam. While he waited, Otabek inspected himself in the mirror, amused at the numerous scrapes and purpling suck marks Yuri had left on his skin like a feral cat. Finally, the hot water began to kiss the base of the mirror with steam, and Otabek grabbed a couple of hand towels, wetting them under the steaming faucet before heading back to the bedroom. Both JJ and Yuri languidly lay across the bed, Yuri at the head, JJ at the foot.

There was a conspicuous space between the two, which struck Otabek as strange, considering the intimacy they had shared just moments earlier. He handed them each a damp washcloth, cautiously helping a boneless Yuri clean up only when it was apparent that JJ could handle himself. When they were done swiping the worst of their mess from their skin, Otabek deposited the towels on the bathroom floor, then raided the minibar.

The three of them sat up, eating chocolate bars and watching late night television in bed, until Yuri drifted off after eating three Snickers and a Cadbury bar in quick succession.

Otabek clicked off the TV, then handed the remote to JJ, who reached over to place it on the nightstand.

He reached for JJ, burying his nose against JJ’s nape and exhaling. “Bro,” he said, “thanks.”

JJ shrugged, then snuggled a little bit closer. “You did the same for me with Bella. It’s the least I can do.”

Otabek shifted a bit more closely to Yuri, but dragged JJ along with him, so that he was touching each of his bedpartners equally. He was just about to drift to sleep when he was awakened by JJ tugging on his wrist.

Opening his eyes, he was greeted by the sight of JJ holding a king-sized bag of Reese’s pieces, shaking handful of candy into his hand. Otabek groaned, but let JJ toss a few pieces of the candy into his mouth anyway.

Yuri stirred in his sleep. “Go the fuck to sleep, assholes. You keep moving the bed.”

JJ and Otabek grinned at each other, JJ’s smile wide and white, Otabek’s sly and smirking, before jumping on Yuri and pinning the smaller blonde between them. “You guys are heavy and you smell like dick,” he protested, but he didn’t mean it, judging by the way that he curled into their bodies like a very contented cat.

Otabek looked down at where Yuri’s face was pressed against his chest, and gave him a soft kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight, kitten,” he murmured, and Yuri snuggled just a little bit closer with a rumble that could almost be mistaken for a purr.