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Yuri's feet were killing him. They were distracting they hurt so much.
Did this mean he was getting old?
"Am I getting old?" he asked Otabek, who was scrolling through his phone. "Is this what happens when you get old?"
"Your feet didn't hurt that much normally?"
"...no?"
Otabek looked at him like he was insane. "Even after your free skate?"
"So your feet hurt like this all the time?"
"Not all the time," he said. "Do you want me to rub your feet?"
"I don't know. Will it make it hurt worse?"
Otabek paused. "Sometimes it helps. I'll stop if it's worse." He had his sweatpants on, and a sweater still. Yuri couldn't understand it; the hotel was like a hundred degrees. Even Yuri had been reduced to wearing shorts. They looked stupid but he didn't want to die of heatstroke.
"Okay," Yuri said. He sat on the edge of the bed. "If you want to."
"I've got some hand cream somewhere," he said. He got up and came back with a white-and-blue tube of lotion Yuri didn't recognize.
Otabek pulled the chair up closer, so Yuri could settle his feet in Otabek's lap.
"This doesn't have any fragrance in it, or anything. So it won't, you know. Irritate you." He smiled for a second.
"What? What's so funny?"
"It's not--" He looked up. His lashes were so dark and pretty. "I just...it's not hard to irritate you, sometimes."
Yuri went to pull his feet back, but Otabek caught them.
"Let me try," he said. "If I can make you feel better--"
"Okay," Yuri said.
It hurt a little, as Otabek pressed into the bruises, but it felt better, too. He started with Yuri's heels, one in each hand, and after a while the pain faded and it just started feeling good.
"How'd you learn to do this?"
"Do what?"
"You know. Foot massages."
"I don't...I'm just. This is what I like, I guess."
"It's nice."
Otabek's thumbs stroked against his arches. Probably the painkillers were kicking in, but whatever worked. And it was kind of cool to have Otabek focused on him like this. Kind of...okay, it was sexy. "You okay?"
"Yeah," he said. "I'm...thanks. I can see how people get off on it, I guess."
"What...like, foot stuff?"
"Yeah." Yuri wiggled his foot a little. "it...feels good, and my feet are right--" Shit. Shit. He shouldn't have said anything. Now shit was going to be weird, and he'd--it'd felt good. It still felt good, but Otabek had slowed down. "You--I don't mean. I didn't mean." Fuck. Otabek was going to kick Yuri out of his hotel room and never speak to him again.
"I never did anything like that," Otabek said. He hadn't shifted Yuri's feet or pushed them away. "With anyone. I just--"
"No. I know. You don't have to stop." Please don't.
"Okay." His fingers moved again, but they were less certain, and he didn't get any more Vaseline out to smooth on Yuri's feet.
Shit. He'd made it weird. He didn't want to make it weird. Before it had been fine, normal that they weren't talking much, and now it was fucking weird that they weren't talking.
"I'm sorry," he said, eventually.
Otabek paused, and his eyes met Yuri's for a second, intense, unreadable. "You don't have to apologize for anything."
"I didn't mean you were...a pervert or anything."
Otabek swallowed. His eyes were back on Yuri's feet. "I know,' he said.
"What about you?"
"....what about me?"
"I could rub your feet. Afterward. Yours hurt too, right?"
"Yeah," he said. "I mean. They always do."
"Then it's only fair." That way maybe it was less like he was thinking that Otabek was a pervert, right? And Otabek was making him feel good. He could make Otabek feel good too. He wanted to. Wanted to make Otabek feel--
Fuck. Everything got him hard. He adjusted his weight a little and hoped Otabek hadn't noticed.
He didn't seem to. "This okay?"
"It's good," Yuri said. "Thanks."
Otabek's fingers got to Yuri's toes. There was a sensitive spot just below his big toe, and he almost jumped when Otabek got there.
"Did I--"
"Just--ticklish," he said.
Otabek's eyebrows raised. "Ticklish?"
"Not that--"
Otabek fucking tickled him, and Yuri squealed with indignation and yanked his foot back.
Otabek took advantage and pounced.
They half-wrestled--gently at first, but then Yuri realized he had the advantage and worked to pin Otabek. "You're bigger than me," he said, and couldn't resist the grin as Otabek struggled. "How are you so bad at this?"
"You're--" Otabek tried to move. "You're slippery."
Otabek probably hadn't been in as many fights as Yuri had, either. "I'm meaner," he said, shifting his weight to keep Otabek in place. That was true, too.
Otabek wrapped his legs around Yuri and shifted his weight, and it might have worked if Yuri hadn't been ready for it. But Yuri dropped down instead, and the motion pushed their bodies together--
Fuck. Fuck they were both hard now, and breathing hard, too.
Otabek's lips were parted, just a little. Yuri could see his tongue.
"I--your feet," Yuri said. He shifted back so Otabek could get back up if he wanted to, but he didn't take his hands off Otabek's wrists. "You--I should--"
Otabek said, "I don't care about my feet." His voice was deeper, rougher.
"Can I suck you off?" Yuri blurted out, and the second the words were out he thought I've finally fucked this up.
Otabek was wide-eyed, and he'd started blushing. Yuri'd never seen him blush before.
He had almost started apologizing when Otabek spoke.
"Please."
Yuri let go of him. He could see the bulge in Otabek's sweatpants. "Fuck, Altin," he said, and stroked him through the fabric. Otabek bucked against his fingers. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.
Otabek pulled his sweatpants down.
Yuri got stuck for a second, just looking. His cock was dark and hard, and it looked different. Right. It was, like, a Muslim thing. Otabek wasn't devout, but he didn't eat pork, and--
It looked weird. Not bad, but weird.
"You don't have to--"
"No," Yuri said. "I want to. I--"
Otabek wasn't squirming now. "I don't want you to do anything you don't want to."
"I've never done this," Yuri said, another thing that slipped out of his stupid fucking mouth without him having a chance to stop it.
"You don't have to," Otabek repeated. "It's okay." He lifted his hand, but didn't touch Yuri. "I'm not--I'm not going to be angry. You don't have to be ready or--"
Yuri looked at his face, his perfect dark eyes. He meant it. Otabek was always so fucking sincere. He was so hard the tip of his dick was wet, and he meant it. Yuri could tell him no, and he'd pull his pants back up and they'd both act like nothing had ever happened, except that Otabek would probably ask him later if he was okay, just to make sure. "Let me do this," he said. "I'm ready. I want to."
"Kiss me first," Otabek said. "Okay?"
Yuri nodded, and Otabek pulled him down.
He'd kissed a couple of guys in high school--he knew he wouldn't see them after graduation, it'd been safe, like practice. It'd felt good, but it didn't mean anything.
Otabek was his best friend.
Otabek was also a freaking amazing kisser.
Fuck, he'd thought he was as hard as he could get, but Otabek got him harder. He stroked Yuri's back, slid his hand under Yuri's shirt. Fuck, it felt good.
"Let me," he said, breaking the kiss. "Fuck, I want to. Please."
Otabek said, "Let me--kiss me first?"
Fuck. How was he real? Yuri kissed him, and yanked Otabek back on the bed. Otabek straddled him, and his sweatpants were riding back up again. Yuri got his hands on Otabek's ass and pushed the fabric back down. He was on fire.
"How are you so hot?" Yuri asked. "I can't--how are you real?"
"I'm not the one who gets called a fairy," Otabek said. "You don't even look human."
"Bullshit."
"You're perfect," Otabek said, and dipped back down, kissing him hard and hungry.
Yuri was harder still, getting desperate to just get off already. He thrust against Otabek, moaning.
Otabek broke the kiss, his mouth trailing up Yuri's jaw and to his ear. "Tell me," he said. "You want to get off now, or wait?"
Yuri just thrust, moaned. He felt like an idiot, but it was so good he couldn't really care.
Otabek reached down and stroked Yuri's cock through his shorts. "All right," he said. "Feel good?"
Every cell in Yuri's body caught fire at once.
"Fuck--" He came, wet and sloppy, through the fabric, a stupid, humiliating mess and it felt so good he hardly even cared.
Otabek kissed him again. He was still hard. Fuck, of course he was, Yuri had-- "Let me suck you off now," he said. "Please. Fuck. Please."
Otabek moved back, looked at Yuri, licked his lips. "Okay," he said. He moved back, sat on the mattress, his legs spread, his cock still out, hard.
I'm doing to do this. He was going to suck Otabek's cock, and he wasn't going to suck at it, because Yuri Plistetsky didn't suck at things. He was going to make Otabek feel as good as he did. He pulled his wet shorts and briefs off. Yuri licked his lips and breathed. "Okay," he said. "Stop me if--"
"It's okay," Otabek said.
I'm not a kid, Yuri thought, but realized saying that would make him sound like a fucking kid. "Don't let me hurt you, okay?"
"You won't," Otabek said.
Enough screwing around. He licked Otabek's cock, bottom to tip. It didn't feel that different from his own cock, not really. Tasted salty. Otabek groaned. "Okay?"
Otabek just moaned, and his hips thrust up a little.
Yuri took a deep breath. No turning back now. It was hard to figure out exactly where his body should be, but he settled for kind of kneeling on the mattress between Otabek's legs, one hand on each side of Otabek's hips. He dipped his head down again, and Otabek made a little deep noise in the back of his throat.
He slid Otabek's cock past his lips, sucked in. Otabek cried out. Well. Fuck. That was good. He sucked in, and it felt weird, but it didn't feel bad, and the way Otabek was trying not to thrust into his mouth, so he guessed he was doing okay. He shifted his weight so he could stroke Otabek's balls, but Otabek pushed his hand away.
Okay, that was a no. Yuri focused on sucking again. He sucked in harder, and stroked Otabek's cock with his fingers lightly as he moved his head. It was still kind of weird that he didn't have a foreskin, but Yuri was getting used to it. He'd been worried he'd pinch Otabek's dick or something, but Otabek didn't seem to mind.
His throat was starting to hurt a little--he wondered if that always happened or he needed to learn some kind of technique or something--when Otabek grunted, tapping Yuri's shoulder. Yuri realized what he meant, but he didn't move back. He caught Otabek's hand with his own and sucked hard.
Then Otabek actually came and he almost fucking choked.
"Yuri," Otabek said, half-panting.
"'s--" He coughed. "I'm okay. Just--fuck." He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Fuck. Otabek had come a lot. "Good?"
"Yuri," Otabek repeated. He sounded like the top of his head had blown off. Good.
He kind of wanted to rinse his mouth out. But he didn't want to leave Otabek or act like he was gross or anything.
"You didn't have to swallow," Otabek said.
"Wanted to," Yuri said. "But. Um. Might--"
"There's cups in the bathroom," he said. "If you want to, like. Rinse."
"I guess...I guess I should." Right? Did people--what did people normally do? Fuck. He felt stupid. But Otabek had come--he'd come fucking buckets--so he couldn't have fucked up too badly. He went into the bathroom and rinsed his mouth, then splashed some water on his face.
He still had his shirt on. He still had his fucking socks on. He looked ridiculous. He was still half-hard.
He pulled his shirt off and went back into the room.
Otabek's shirt was off, too, and he was in the bed with the duvet pulled over his lap. "It's cold," he said. "Come here?"
"Yeah," Yuri said. Otabek scooted over and Yuri came and sat next to him.
Otabek put his arm out, around Yuri's waist. "You're all right?"
"I'm fine."
"Can I kiss you?"
Fuck, he was asking? "Yeah. I mean, if you want--"
And then Otabek was kissing him, so he did want to, apparently. He cupped the back of Yuri's head like they were in a big romance movie or something. It felt good, though. It made him feel...kind of special. It was gentle, and warm, and Yuri tried not to think too much about how his mouth still tasted--he'd rinsed, but that wasn't like actually brushing his teeth.
When Otabek broke the kiss, he said, "Should we talk about this?"
"I don't know," Yuri said, blurting it out before he could think about what the cool answer would be.
"I really like you," Otabek said, and kissed Yuri again, close-mouthed, soft. "But I don't want you to...we don't see each other that often. And--"
"You want to be my boyfriend?"
"Yes." Otabek paused. "But--I mean it. I don't want to pressure you or--"
Yuri kissed him, not just to shut him up, but it shut him up, too, so that was better. He got that Otabek didn't want to hurt him, and he liked that, mostly, but it also made him think about Otabek being almost three years older, and Otabek being more experienced, and a bunch of shit he really, really didn't want to think about. It was easier to have Otabek's mouth on his. Hotter. Otabek stroked his hair back as they kissed; his braid had come pretty loose anyway, and Yuri put a hand up to pull the ponytail holder out.
"I wish you could stay," Otabek said. "But--"
They both looked at each other as reality hit. Fuck. Fuck.
"What time is it," Yuri said, his voice sounding like it came from far away, as Otabek darted over to his phone.
Otabek started curing in Kazakh, and Yuri scrambled for his clothes.
"How screwed are we?"
"Coach will probably come looking for me--now? Fuck--"
"I'll, fuck. Yakov's gonna kill me."
"I'm going to go in the shower," he said. "It'll be an excuse--" He paused. "I'll see you? There?" He reached out and cupped Yuri's chin.
"Yeah," Yuri said, and leaned toward him for another kiss. It had to be quick, and Yuri hated that, but he liked the soft way Otabek pushed his hair back again. "I'll--I'll get the rest of my shit on and--see you there."
Otabek disappeared into the bathroom, and Yuri pulled on enough clothes to not scandalize any Angels. He stole a hoodie from the pile of clothes on Otabek's dresser to hold over the wet spot. He was in the elevator before he started shaking.
What the fuck had just happened.
He had--
He had a boyfriend, what the fuck.
He closed his eyes until the elevator shuddered to a stop.
He wondered if he looked different, if anyone could tell. He wondered if he smelled funny. He probably should take a shower, too, but he didn't have time. He could wash up.
Shit, he absolutely had to brush his teeth. He'd go fucking crazy trying to figure out if Yakov could smell his breath.
No one else was in the room, which was good, but that probably meant that Vasily was already at the banquet, which was bad. He decided to soak a washcloth and skip the shower, and he brushed his teeth twice, which was stupid, but by then he was freaking out a little.
Yakov came in when he was spitting into the sink. "You're late,"he said. "Vasily is already--"
"Yeah, and he always hogs the fucking bathroom." He was sulking, too; he'd come in three points behind what he thought he should have. It wasn't Yuri's fucking fault he overrotated his jumps. Yuri wasn't going to accept silver to make him feel better.
Yakov was pulling his suit out like he was a little kid. "You have sponsors who are waiting for you," he said. "Remember that you were supposed to--"
"I'm on it! I just lost track of time, okay?"
"You are a professional now. You're almost eighteen. When you're an adult, you--"
"I know, I know," he said, and snatched the trousers from Yakov's hand. "I'm almost ready, anyway. I brushed my teeth and everything."
Yakov looked suspicious.
Yuri ignored him and threw the rest of his clothes on. He must have looked like he'd half-assed it, because Lilia came over and fussed with him the second he was out of the room. "Did you tie this?" she said, yanking at his tie. "Or did you just twist it around your neck?"
"It's fine," he protested, but he let her fix it. She was usually right, and it wasn't like he'd given it his full attention or anything. It made her happy to feel she was still taking care of him, too.
Yuuri and the old man were in Japan, so the banquet promised to be dull. JJ was recovering from an injury, so he wasn't even there to glare at. Yuri didn't see Otabek. Yakov dragged him over to a cologne company who was interested in doing a joint campaign with Georgi. Yuri still wasn't sure if the idea was more insulting to Yuri or Georgi, but the money would be good. He nodded and acted polite and tried to look ethereal.
"Not bad," Yakov muttered as he steered him toward the next group--officials to make nice with this time. "You almost stopped yourself from rolling your eyes."
"I did not--"
"Adam!" Yakov said, and extended his hand. "It has been too long. You remember Yuri Plisetsky?"
Yuri was transitioning from the third tedious conversation to the fourth when he finally saw Otabek. He was wearing a dark blue suit that he often got out for post-event parties, but Yuri was pretty sure the tie was new, and he looked good. He lifted his glass up at Yuri in greeting.
Yakov followed his gaze. "Go ahead," he said. "Just don't take too long."
"Really?"
"Easier than you sneaking off," he said. "Go, before I change my mind."
Yuri went, winding his way through Mickey Crispino glaring at an ice dancing couple who'd dared talk to Sara and Minami Kenjiro, who had a few girls absolutely enthralled with whatever he was bullshitting about. "Hey," he said, when he finally got to Otabek. "You okay?"
"Good," Otabek said. "You?"
"Good," Yuri said. "Halfway through the sponsors, anyway."
"That's good," Otabek said.
"I borrowed your hoodie."
"I know," he said. "You can...you can keep it if you want."
"Oh. Thanks."
They stood there, awkward. Yuri wanted to hold his hand, but they weren't ready to do that. They probably couldn't for a while. Fuck, would he have to talk to Yakov about this? Would he have to talk to the ISU?
"You sure you're okay?"
"Yeah," Yuri said. "Yeah. I--it's weird. It's not bad. I just--"
"It's weird," Otabek agreed. "We didn't really get to talk about--"
"I really like you," Yuri said.
Otabek hesitated. "I like you too." He leaned over toward Yuri's ear. "I really want to kiss you again."
"Good," Yuri said. He sighed. "I do too."
"We don't have to figure it all out tonight," Otabek said. "Right?"
"Right." It felt...better, somehow, to know that Otabek was as uncertain as he was. "I don't even know who I should tell."
"I told my moms," he said.
Already? "Yeah?"
He wasn't looking in Yuri's eyes. "I didn't--they called to see how I was doing and I kind of--yeah. Told them. They like you. They're--"
"It's okay," he said. "I trust you. I mean, you're my boyfriend, right?"
"Yeah," Otabek said, looking back up. He smiled, and it was sweet and perfect. Fuck. Fuck Yuri was lucky. "We probably ought to--"
"But...can I see you afterward? Stop by your room or something?"
"Please," he said.
"Okay." One of the little trays full of snacks passed by, and Yuri grabbed one. "Ooh, blini." Maybe they wouldn't be shit.
"They're supposed to be 'tastes of the world.' There's some kind of sushi going around that looks...." Otabek gave up. "Bad. The little taquitos are good, though. Leo would even approve of them, I think. How's the blini?"
It was...okay, actually pretty good. He nodded at Otabek and licked his lips.
Oh. Well, damn. Otabek seemed to like that.
"Um, so. See you later," Yuri said, so he wouldn't fuck up the impression he'd left.
"Not bad," Yakov said. "You didn't waste as much time as usual."
"I'm gonna meet up with him later," he said.
"Will you at least try not to stay up half the night?"
"I'll be jet-lagged tomorrow no matter what."
"You didn't answer the question."
"I'll be responsible," Yuri said. "Now who else do I have to pretend I like?"
Yakov tried not to snort.
He managed to steal a half-finished glass of champagne later on, not really enough to get him buzzed, but it felt warm and good. Minami cornered him for a minute, and it was actually okay. Yuri hadn't realized some of the weird stuff the JSF pulled until he'd started talking to Minami; Katsudon was too fucking quiet about everything. Minami talked too much a lot of the time, but he sure as fuck didn't hold back. He talked with Sara and Mila for a minute, ignoring Mickey's fucking glare--like Yuri was gonna go crazy over Sara Crispino, Christ--and Yakov had one more frigging potential sponsor for him to meet before the stupid party ground to a halt. Otabek had already left by then.
He stopped at his own room too. Vasily was already there, lying on the bed and scrolling through his phone with his headphones in. "I'm not going to want to sleep for a while," he said, without looking up.
"I don't give a fuck what you do," Yuri said, pulling off his jacket.
He wasn't sure what Otabek would want to do, so he went with jeans and a tight black t-shirt, which would go with anything and would look all right if he just wanted to stay in his room and fool around. He threw his Olympic jacket on and fixed his eyeliner.
"Yakov's gonna bitch if you stay out too late."
"I already talked to him," Yuri said, and left.
Otabek had changed too, but he had a big, bulky sweater on and fleece pants that looked better for sleeping than going out. "I wasn't sure if--"
"We don't have to--" Yuri said.
"Come in here," Otabek said, and stepped back. Yuri stepped in and kissed him. Otabek did that thing where he cradled the back of Yuri's head again, and it felt crazy good. Special.
He'd turned off all the lights but one by the bed, and there was music playing, soft and sweet. "Shit, you did this for me?"
"I didn't do--I turned on the lamp."
"Shut up and let me thank you, asshole."
He laughed. "Okay," he said. "You're welcome."
Yuri laughed too, and kissed him again. "Maybe I should rub your feet this time?"
Otabek hissed breath in, and Yuri felt warm all over again. "Maybe."