Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11980809.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin
  Additional Tags:
      otayuri_-_Freeform, Smut, a_strange_departure_from_angst_into_fluff,
      Underage_-_Freeform, Mutual_Masturbation, Beka_boners, Hung_Otabek,
      Voyeurism
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-02 Words: 1790
****** Bathtime ******
by annabeth
Summary
     It's true that Yuri adores just about everything Beka does, but
     bathtime is special.
Maybe one of Yuri's favorite routines of Beka's has to be bathtime. It's true
that he adores just about everything Beka does, but bathtime is special.
When he and Beka first hooked up, they were in Barcelona. Beka had taken Yuri
back to their hotel, and smuggled him into his room, because if Yakov had
caught them he might have shouted Yuri to deafness.
And when it was almost time to emerge for dinner, Beka had said in his quiet,
deep voice,
"I'm just going to wash up."
And Yuri learned just how special that could be.
Which is why, now, Yuri has pressed his back against the bathroom counter, his
knees drawn up to his chest, with his phone balanced atop them, his nose
practically becoming part of the screen.
This is because Beka is in Almaty right now, and his computer is open with
FaceTime engaged and the camera pointing at Beka's gorgeous, chiseled jaw and…
well.
Yuri takes a deep breath. This isn't the first time he's seen this, but there's
just something so… enthralling about Beka in his bath.
Beka's skin is flushed a delicate rose over the golden tone, and his body is
mostly hidden by water and suds. Yuri learned quite awhile ago that Beka,
despite being almost nineteen, likes bubble bath. Yuri would have teased… but
he found it too precious to say anything, especially when he was just as likely
to blurt out something dumb, childish, and mushy, than any actual decent
teasing.
But Beka's chest is perfectly displayed by the water lapping at his midsection,
throwing glimmering lights and gleams onto his gorgeous, flawless skin. His
nipples are already tightened, small dusky peaks that stand out off the valleys
and furrows of all that muscle. Yuri thinks if he tried to bite, he might chip
his teeth; that's how hard Beka's chest looks. And feels. But besides the hard,
unforgiving muscle, there is soft skin, and Yuri feels himself stir in his
shorts at the remembrance: the way Beka's skin felt against his cheek, the
beautiful way it smoothed beneath his fingers.
"Yura?" Beka breaks him out of his reverie. Well, no, that's not accurate: Beka
has disrupted his staring and—almost literal—drooling. "Are you ready?"
No. No, he is not ready, not quite yet. He wants to stare at the water droplets
as they caress Beka's chest a little longer, to imagine putting his mouth where
they've been, following their trails like it's a map to a treasure beyond the
rainbow.
Because as he watches and salivates, a lone, sugary-toned drop flits downwards,
catching in the hair that begins just above the water level and disappears
below, the arrow pointing to Beka's best feature. The bubbles pop and swish
around, slowly dissolving the longer Beka sits in his bath.
"Seriously, Yura," Beka says with a note of teasing, "it'll get cold and you
won't get your show."
He knows someday he's going to have to think of something just as entrancing
for Beka, something to make his lips swollen and his body strung taut, but
right now… yes, maybe it's best he lets things move on. Staring hungrily is
something to do… but this isn't even the best part.
"Okay," he says, having to clear his throat to make the words intelligible.
"Yes. I'm ready."
Beka stretches his arms over his head, displaying smooth, shaved underarms,
then gradually relaxes out of the stretch. His right hand slides down his
chest, displacing water everywhere, and dunks below the water. Yuri catches his
breath in his lungs and finds himself holding it as Beka's hand makes the water
slosh a little. It creates a little tidal wave, all while his left hand
torments a nipple, squeezing and releasing.
"If I were there," Yuri says in a low, scratchy voice, "I would bite you right
there. I would straddle you in the bath and—"
"Yura." His name is softly spoken, but it's firm. "If you don't want me to lose
it too fast, you need to slow down."
Yuri hates being told to slow down. He's always too fast, too impatient, too
greedy. That never bothers Beka, not the way it does others, but then, Beka is
a balm to his abrasive personality. Still. It eats at him like a physical itch,
until he can't stand it and all he wants to do is reach through the phone
screen and feel. Savor Beka's dichotomy of hardness and softness. Touch Beka's
cock with his own fingers and feel it grow against them.
Once, back in Barcelona, Beka had stood in front of Yuri in the bathroom, fresh
from the bath, and Yuri had stared, eyes almost glazed with desire, as Beka's
dick went from soft against his thigh to the way it lengthened and thickened
right before his eyes, swelling, rising, plumping up until Yuri had gasped into
his palm.
Yeah, Beka was big. So big. In fact, Beka was so blessed in that department he
had refused to fuck Yuri in Barcelona. He sent Yuri websites and login
information and told him to order something to play with, to prepare him
better.
Well…
"I fucked myself hard on my vibrator last night," Yuri tells Beka in a low
voice. "I'm ready, Beka. Please."
Beka's hand moves more swiftly even as he begins to speak, deep even tones
soothing in a way that his words definitely are not.
"Then I'd pull you into the tub," he says, "and on top of me. You'd be gasping,
your pretty pink lips parted for me, and I'd let my hand drift under the water,
touching your thigh, your knee… Pretty soon I would ghost my hand over that
lovely cock you've got, until it's practically bursting to come. Which is when
I'd finally slip my hand underneath you, and you would be warm, and wet from
the bath, and your hole will flutter… it will take my fingers easily,
swallowing them into tight heat…"
Yuri's breath whooshes out of him. His phone nearly falls from his hands and he
sprawls his legs out wide, shamelessly touching himself now, as he watches Beka
do the same.
"Be-eka," he moans, barely able to keep his focus on the screen; it feels so
good, and Beka's words are so enticing, they elicit every pleasurable feeling
Yuri's ever had into a heady brew that makes his head swim.
"When I take you, finally, you will be wild for me, thrashing against me, but
your body will know what to do and I'll slide inside, inch by inch, until
you're so full of me you can hardly breathe, but you will; pants and gasps and
desperation all over you in a scarlet flush. I've seen you, Yura. When you get
aroused— Take your shirt off."
It takes Yuri a second to realize Beka means right now, in real life, but when
he does, his mouth opens to protest.
"I'll wait for you," Beka tells him, hand going temporarily still beneath the
water, and Yuri sets the phone down and strips his shirt off as fast as he can.
When he picks it back up, Beka gives him a genuine smile. He starts to stroke
himself again, more slowly, but also with more intent; tighter, twistier
movements that imply he's applying a generous amount of pressure.
"Beka, G-god," Yuri whimpers, his own cock so unbearably stimulated mostly by
just watching Beka that he can't stand it.
"Just like that, Yura," Beka says, and Yuri follows his line of sight. "Flushed
red all the way down your chest, looking like your skin is hot enough to melt
butter. I love it. God, I love it. Touch yourself, Yura. I wanna come with you
coming, with you watching."
He's so close now. He can see a lot more than before, too; Beka's cock is hard
and flat to halfway up his belly. So huge Yuri doesn't know how he'll ever take
it all—but fuck, he will. Someday, he will; he'll sink down on it and make it
part of him, the way it feels like Beka's always been part of him.
Beka has abandoned the lazy strokes for something more purposeful, a rhythm
that is causing his hips to jerk, and the water to slosh like a boat coming
through, revealing tantalizing glimpses of parts of Beka's shaft that Yuri
can't normally see due to the water.
"I… oh, God," Yuri says, almost a wail, clapping a hand over his mouth and
biting his palm as his dick seeps fluid into his shorts, his balls going tight
like overfilled balloons, his legs almost cramping from the pleasure building
up at the base of his spine. "Oh, God," he repeats, "Fuck, Beka," he manages,
and comes; the spasms wring him dry, all energy fled, shorts tacky and drenched
with the size of the load he just blew. Huge, like Beka, because Beka makes him
feel things he's never felt before.
His eyes are wet, lashes clumped together, as he forces them open to watch the
rest of Beka's bathtime, the jerky movements of his hand, the ejaculate that
sprays out above the water and lands on Beka's chest, dipping into the valleys
between cuts of muscle. A glob slipslides its way down Beka's beautiful abs and
floats on the surface of the water for several seconds. When it sinks, Yuri
feels kind of like he's going under too.
They're both gasping like landed fish, and Yuri's heart is a pulsebeat that
wants to rip his chest open. It thunders against his ribcage so loudly it's all
Yuri can hear, at least until Beka says,
"And when you come, Yura, I'll catch it with my hands, and I'll drink it from
them. You'll fall forward, exhausted, and I'll catch you."
After a moment of near silence, with only Yuri's hitching breath and
jackrabbiting heart for a soundtrack, Beka says,
"I'll always catch you."
Instinctively Yuri knows that he doesn't mean after sex anymore. He leans as
close as he can to his phone, where it's lying between his legs. He doesn't
know if Beka can even see his face anymore.
"Beka." He swallows to get the thickness out of his throat. "I know. Me too."
Beka's smile is warm, his biggest, most valuable one. Yuri basks in it. So
rarely does Beka smile, and so unusual for it to be so tender… unless it's for
Yuri.
He presses his fingers to his lips, then to the screen. A kiss for distance, to
go all the miles between Saint Petersburg and Almaty. I love you, he thinks,
but he doesn't say it.
He doesn't need to. It's all reflected back to him in Beka's eyes.
                                     end.
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