Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12020643.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky, Victor_Nikiforov_&_Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Victor_Nikiforov, Otabek_Altin
  Additional Tags:
      Underage_-_Freeform, Infidelity, Angst, Smut, otayuri_-_Freeform,
      Underage_Sex, past_vikturio, Crossdressing, Makeup_on_Boys
  Series:
      Part 2 of fumbling_towards_ecstasy
  Collections:
      NSFW_Yurio_Week_-_Unanon
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-12 Words: 2093
****** Fan the Flames ******
by annabeth
Summary
     "Suck in," Viktor says, tugging the laces tighter and tighter till
     Yuri can barely breathe. "Good boy."
     Yuri has a surprise planned for his new boyfriend, Otabek.
Notes
     Written for nsfwyurioweek on Tumblr, day 2, crossdressing, lingerie,
     makeup. There's a hint of marking, too, but not as much as I would
     have liked, alas.
     My regular partners in crime ShadesofHades, Ashii_Black, and Icicle
     looked at this first! (They usually do.)
     This fic is a sequel.
See the end of the work for more notes
  This work was inspired by
      Kiss_the_Flame by annabeth
"Suck in," Viktor says, tugging the laces tighter and tighter till Yuri can
barely breathe. "Good boy."
"You're way too into this, old man," Yuri says half-heartedly. In the weeks
that he's been oh-so-slowly working towards sleeping with Beka, he's spent a
lot of time with Viktor. He doesn't really want to admit that it's because
fucking Viktor reinvigorated his ancient crush.
He knows all those cliches about what happens when you lose your virginity, and
getting too attached, and he hates that it's happening to him—but who else was
he going to ask to help him with this?
In the short time he's been dating Beka, they've spent hours talking about
everything. So Yuri knows that Beka loves his delicate look, his fairy-like
exterior. He also knows from one drunken exchange—Beka gets remarkably chatty
when drunk—that he's daydreamed about this: Yuri in lingerie.
And when Yuri bought the corset, he already knew he was going to need Viktor's
help.
"All right," Viktor says, patting Yuri on the ass. "I've done your laces. Turn
around?"
"I don't wanna show you," Yuri says petulantly. "It's for Beka. Don't ruin it."
Viktor sighs, kissing the top of his shoulder, holding it slightly too long.
"Goddammit, Vitya, don't mark me up! Beka will see!" Yuri jerks away, then
whirls, throwing his arms out. Viktor whistles appreciatively.
"Otabek is a lucky man," Viktor says. Then his eyes crinkle at the corners.
"But I had you first."
"If you ever fucking tell anyone that, especially Beka, I will fucking tell
your fat pig that you misused me."
"He wouldn't believe you," Viktor says mildly, and Yuri hates that his heart
thumps erratically, not from Viktor's words, but because there's a light flush
dusting the roundness of his cheekbones and Yuri's stupid traitorous body and
heart still fucking want him.
He closes his eyes, and imagines Beka's face, his strong, gorgeous body.
Remember, it's Beka you love, Yuri reminds himself silently.
"He might," Yuri says, opening his eyes. "I'm still a kid, Vitya. If I said you
fucked me, he wouldn't believe it was my idea."
"You're a nasty brat, and he knows it. He wouldn't trust your word over mine."
"But he's so decent, Vitya. He would feel obligated to take me seriously. And
besides, you're just jealous because you know Katsudon likes me." Yuri grins,
hoping his teeth glint in the light. Viktor growls a little, but puts his hands
out, palms up.
"Relax, I'm not going to say anything. Besides, I know the truth, Yurio. You'll
fuck Otabek, but you'll always come back to me. I know that you have a crush on
me and, to this day, it's getting stronger. You sure that Otabek is really what
you want?"
"You're an old man, and you're going bald. Beka is young and hot and rides a
fucking motorcycle. Of course I want him over you!" Do you? a little voice in
his brain asks.
He stabs it into borscht. Then he grabs Viktor's trench coat and shoves his
arms into it, belting it and checking to make sure he's adequately covered.
This is the last day of a competition, and Yuri's ready to take his
relationship with Beka to the next level.
He grabs the duffle with the heels in it and after giving Viktor a death glare,
he swoops out of the room, walking fast down the hallway to the elevator.
He runs into Guang Hong in the elevator, but he's too busy on his phone to
comment on Yuri's rather strange attire.
The walk to Beka's hotel room feels endless—Yuri's bare legs are kind of cold,
chilly air blowing up the back of the trench coat and caressing his bare ass
with frigid fingers. He's not wearing anything but a fucking thong, of all
things, and he just hopes Beka's distracted enough by the getup not to notice
the trench coat is Viktor's.
He has to force himself not to touch his face, so that he doesn't smudge his
makeup: deep black eyeliner giving him a dramatic highlight to his already
cat's eyes with their green color. The gloss on his lips is flavored of
chocolate, and he almost can't resist licking it. Viktor didn't think he needed
blush—"Your skin is so pale, it shows off the other makeup better if we just
let your face glow." So he's got a dusting of glittery powder over his whole
face.
He doesn't know whether he feels stupid… or like the best temptation the world
has to offer.
Beka's face, when he answers the door, confirms which it is for him.
His eyes widen—a lot—and his own cheeks immediately color, dramatic against his
golden skin. His mouth parts and Yuri can hear his breathing speed up.
"Yura," he says, glancing down. "What—"
"I'm coming in," Yuri says, and makes sure to brush up against Beka very
closely as he walks through the door. "Close the door," he adds.
Beka complies, but he seems almost stupefied, and Yuri wants to laugh, a bit,
because he ain't seen nothing yet. Yuri perches on the edge of the rumpled
bed—breathing in Beka's scent from the sheets and pillow—and drops the duffle.
He toes off his sneakers and slips into the heels, then stands, unbelting the
trench coat.
Beka's eyes haven't left him for a second, and Yuri sways towards him, until
he's just out of reach but almost close enough to touch. He rolls his
shoulders, causing the trench coat to slip down, exposing the creamy pale
skin—and the light purple lacy straps of the corset.
He shimmies his body, holding his arms out a bit, until the trench coat slides
all the way off and flutters to the floor at his feet.
Yuri knows what Beka sees: a pale, slender boy with well-muscled biceps and
arms, and a purple jacquard corset that has black edging and black curleques
trailing throughout the scant amount of fabric covering him. His dick is
already half hard and peeping out of the top of the thong, soaking a minute
amount of precome into the hem of the corset.
Beka hasn't said a word. Not that it's unusual for Beka to be quiet—even with
Yuri, sometimes he's reticent, though not the same way as towards other
people—but this is a stunned, and hopefully pleased, silence.
He gets his answer when Beka closes the distance between them and gathers Yuri
into his arms, soft, almost like he's afraid Yuri will break, and then tilts
Yuri's chin up to claim his mouth in a searing kiss. Everything Beka doesn't
know how to say in words about the lingerie is conveyed in this kiss.
And boy, is it some kiss. It's elegant, at first, then devolves into a messy
worship of Yuri's mouth. Beka barely lets Yuri respond; he keeps chasing Yuri's
tongue back into Yuri's own mouth, then sucking at it. When he makes Yuri's
lower lip puffy and hot, he starts biting it, tiny nibbles that send shockwaves
through Yuri's body.
This isn't their first kiss, but this might be the first time that Beka's lost
all control, and that Yuri's had an opportunity to show Beka that he does know
what he's doing. He attacks Beka's mouth in return, forcing Beka to relinquish
some control. He nibbles at Beka's lips too, getting progressively more and
more aroused by the feel and shape of Beka's mouth, the taste of him, the
softness of his tongue.
Beka tightens his grasp, and begins to roll his hips against Yuri, and Yuri can
feel the throbbing of Beka's cock against his belly. His stomach muscles are so
taut that it must be the perfect thing for Beka to rut against, because
suddenly he relinquishes Yuri's lips on an almost breathless gasp.
His hands wander down Yuri's back, till they cup Yuri's ass and haul him up
towards Beka, closer together than even before.
"I can't believe what I'm seeing," Beka murmurs against the side of Yuri's
face. "It's like you walked right out of my fantasies."
"I hope so," Yuri replies, carding his hand through Beka's hair. He loves
everything about Beka. His hair, his eyes, his lips. "I love you."
Beka's eyes widen and his dick jumps against Yuri's abs. He squeezes Yuri's ass
and licks his lips, then a small smile blooms on his face.
"You taste like chocolate," Beka says, and Yuri starts to squirm a little bit
inside. Surely he's not—did Yuri fuck up? He shouldn't have said it.
"I, uh, I'm sorry—" he starts, but he doesn't know where to take that sentence,
so he just drops it like a hot potato.
"No, I'm sorry," Beka says, running his finger along Yuri's pouty lower lip. "I
should have said—but I'm so dazzled, Yura, I can barely think." He puts his
finger in his mouth and sucks the lip gloss off of it. "I love you too, Yura,"
he declares, his emotions splashed across his face in a way that they never
are. He looks like his heart has been cracked open and that everything he feels
flowed out against his will. It's messy—the most beautiful mess Yuri's ever
seen.
"Thank fuck," Yuri says with an exhale of deepest relief. "I was afraid… well."
"You never have to be afraid of me, Yura. I've loved you for… ages. It feels
like my whole life I've been loving you, even before I knew you existed."
Fuck, who knew that Beka was such a poet?
"I should—" Yuri plucks at the corset, and Beka turns him gently and slowly. He
unlaces the corset, loosening it and then finally pushing it off Yuri's arms
and down his chest onto the floor.
"God, Yura, I love you so much," Beka says, as if a dam has been broken. He
lays Yuri out on the bed like a treat to savor, but he's shaking, his fingers
trembling as he pushes the thong aside and presses into Yuri.
Yuri gasps and arches, finding Beka's eyes and training his gaze on them,
watching the way the pupils blow wide, the way the brown contracts. His body is
thrumming with desire and he realizes that Beka wasn't kidding when he said he
loved him.
He hadn't seen Beka pour lube onto his hands or his cock, and it's apparent
that's because he's wearing a condom. A fucking condom, like Yuri is a precious
treasure.
"Take it off," Yuri gasps, his hands roaming over every inch of Beka that he
can reach. "I wanna feel you. Please."
Beka blinks, and there's sweat in pearlized drops at his temples from the low
light in the room. Yuri wants pearly liquid all right, to smear over Beka, to
claim him.
"Yura, I want us to be safe—"
"Please," Yuri begs, but Beka shakes his head.
"Of course I trust you," he says, "but I want us both to be tested before we
take this to that step. Trust me."
Yuri feels guilt twist inside him like a vine curling up a trellis, twisting
him inside out. He swallows and tries to forget the blue-green of Viktor's eyes
and the feel of Viktor's cock.
Beka is bigger, if Yuri is any judge, and he moves within Yuri like the
inevitability of an ocean crashing on the shore. Yuri's head swims in pleasure
and his body feels outside of his control. Still, Beka slips inside like a
ghost, leaving behind tremors and cold chills as perspiration prickles all over
Yuri.
He's being driven inexorably upward, fighting to the top, his head feeling like
it's overweight and his lungs like they're collapsing.
When Yuri comes, he feels everything shatter at once: his pleasure, his love,
his infidelity. That infidelity tinges his orgasm with something sharp, almost
painful, a spike in his chest.
He's crying, he realizes, as Beka kisses his cheeks and smudges the tears with
his lips, as Beka carefully and gently thrusts into him a final time, the
muscles in his arms straining to hold himself up as he climaxes.
"I love you so much, Yura," Beka whispers against his overheated skin. Yuri
doesn't know whether the redness and heat in his cheeks is from orgasm or
guilt. He wraps his arms around Beka and clutches him tight, because now he's
desperately afraid he might lose him.
He's even more afraid that his feelings for Viktor will never subside, and Yuri
will always be torn between the two of them.
End Notes
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