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"Are you out of your mind?" When JJ had convinced the Russian Fairy to come back to his hotel room after the banquet, he'd been hoping to finally get in his pants—not this.

"It's not that weird, stop looking at me like I'm a fucking science experiment," Yuri groused. He flicked his hair out of his eyes. "I don't like you, JJ, but you seemed… repressed."

"This is not repressed," JJ said, motioning towards the bed where Yuri sat, hands bound in front of him with his own tie, on his knees. "This is something else."

"Jesus. Just do it. Piss on me. You Catholic boys are all secretly kinky." He smirked. "I know you have to go. You drank like an entire bottle of champagne all by yourself."

"I am not going to—" JJ rolled his eyes and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I just wanted a simple blowjob."

"And I'm telling you I'll give you the goods for free—all of them—if you piss on me first." Yuri's smile was angelic now. JJ had the distinct feeling he'd been played: how did Yuri know how much he wanted inside that tempting, tight little ass?

"It's gross," JJ protested. "I'd get it on me when I fucked you."

"That's the point," Yuri said. He wiggled on the bed. "Fine. Untie me."

JJ could see his opportunity falling by the wayside, wasted, just like he was. He must be. He jiggled one leg; Yuri was right about one thing: he was getting desperate. And Yuri refused to let him use the bathroom. He'd said he would leave if JJ tried, and JJ had been trying to get Yuri back to his hotel for the last two Grand Prix, since he'd joined Seniors. He was a cranky, petulant sixteen-year-old now, and his epic romance—at least so dubbed by the tabloids—with Otabek Altin didn't leave a lot of room for JJ, even if Yuri claimed they were just friends.

All this thinking was making his head hurt, and his urgent need was not going to dissipate from too much contemplation.

"C'mon, just lemme hold your cock as you piss at least!" Yuri was beginning to sound just as desperate. He squirmed again. "Also, I'm just saying, you better make up your mind, or I'm pissing this bed."

"Okay," JJ said. His mind was a muddled, champagney mess. What had he been disagreeing for? He stomped over to the bed, then regretted it as it sent jolts through his bladder. "This is what you want? You're not just gonna tell the tabloids tomorrow that I asked for this?" Shit, he was out of his mind—even as he unbuckled his belt and took his cock out. He was semi-hard, but that was mostly from having to piss so bad. He climbed onto the bed. He widened his legs and sat with his knees spread on either side of Yuri's.

Yuri's green eyes went so wide, pupils blown out like dark little galaxies lived in his eyes, and he tilted his head back. That seemed to be all the answer he was going to get, and he was too drunk to care as much as he should.

"Aim for my throat and down," he said. "Like a target."

JJ didn't have any idea what he was doing anymore. He just did what Yuri said: aimed for the little divot at his throat, where his collarbones met, and started going.

It was weak, at first, strangled by his awareness of the taboo of pissing anywhere but a toilet, but his drunkenness quickly overrode that impulse, and the impulse to feel that sweet relief took over, and it became powerful. He splashed Yuri's throat with piss, then watched it run in rivulets down his neck and bare chest and soak into his jeans. Yuri groaned and shuddered, hands flexing together, and JJ pissed like a river for awhile, his cock getting harder and harder.

He was getting off on this. He was practically about to come just from pissing on Yuri Plisetsky. His stream wavered, becoming thin and then tapering off, and when he glanced down, Yuri's jeans were drenched at the crotch, all down the legs. JJ ripped the tie from his hands and pushed Yuri back onto the bed.

He was so fucking hard. He struggled to get the lube out of his pocket, but he managed it; as he slicked up his cock, distantly aware that his fingers were sticky with hot piss, he noticed Yuri had kicked—with difficulty—out of his own jeans. He was watching JJ with half-lidded eyes and a finger furiously going in and out of his ass.

JJ grabbed his hand, yanking his finger free, and lined up and slid home and—fuck! That was all it took; he lost it, laboring over Yuri, hanging onto his balance by a thread as he pumped Yuri full of come.

"Oh my God," Yuri said, the first stirrings of disgust in his voice. "One thrust? That's it? That's all I get?"

"I'll make it up to you," JJ mumbled, feeling his alcohol-fuzzed brain going in and out, like a radio with bad reception. He found Yuri's cock, wet, so so wet, with more than just precome, and it had to be the champagne, but it didn't seem gross to be touching the cooling piss on his skin. He leaned down and wondered if Yuri would let him kiss him.

Yuri opened his mouth just slightly, and when JJ pushed his tongue inside, Yuri's cock jerked in his hand. The jets of white filled his vision, and then JJ rolled off and felt his hearing waver.

He'd drunk too much, he thought, as he blacked out.