Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/12676935. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime) Relationship: Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky, Emil_Nekola/Yuri_Plisetsky, Otabek_Altin/ Emil_Nekola/Yuri_Plisetsky Character: Otabek_Altin, Yuri_Plisetsky, Emil_Nekola Additional Tags: Gang_Bang, probation!otabek, Bad_boy_Otabek, Daddy_Kink, Recreational Drug_Use, Alcohol, Party, Fuck_Boys, Threesome_-_M/M/M, Voyeurism, Kitten, Cunt, Dirty_Talk Stats: Published: 2017-11-09 Words: 2792 ****** Fourth Prize ****** by djdaddybek_(llyn) Summary When will they learn that Otabek always gets the kitten Notes See the end of the work for notes “Where’re you going tonight?” Yura purrs over the phone. Little brat is so transparent. Otabek can picture him on his tummy in the hotel room bed, kicking his long legs in the air, twirling his hair around his finger. Just in his panties and a little cropped-- No. Bad. “Out,” Otabek says, fixing his hair in the bathroom mirror. He’s not in the Grande Plaza with the rest of the skaters. Couldn’t afford it. That’s what he told Yuri anyway. He’s across the street at the Detroit Inn. The lights have that sick green quality found in traps and films about dope. They flicker. “Can I--” “No,” Otabek says. Otabek’s on probation. Otabek’s lucky he’s allowed to compete at all. He’s not supposed to get too close to Yura, either. About 30 meters to be specific. The court order was. The timing couldn’t be worse--Yura’s bratty whines on the phone make his cock strain against his tight jeans. The kitty’s fucking ripe. Otabek knew when he watched him skate yesterday from the bleachers--Yuri tossing that hair so that everyone stopped to stare. Letting them look, skating this routine that just defied explanation, feeling up his own tight little body, back arching like a cat, eyes drowsy with his own heat. A real kitty show, making the older boys drool, but Otabek left before it was over. He knew it was all for him. “But I wanna hang out,” Yuri breathes into the phone. “So bad , Beka.” Otabek’s gotta close his eyes and lean on the wall, “No.” “I don’t get it,” Yuri says. “Don’t you like me?” “Kitty--” “I thought after, y’know--” The banquet. Yuri jerking off JJ and Otabek, until JJ thought he heard his Bella, head cocking like a spaniel before he scampered off, zipping up. It left Otabek with a lapful of giggly drunk kitty begging him to be his first. Otabek was. Behind a fabric wall the caterers had left. Nothing to stop them from being caught. No surprise when they were. “Babydoll--” Otabek says--whoops--and the kitten trills on the other end of the line. “Yura--” he corrects, “You’re jailbait.” “I know ,” not the ideal response. “I thought you liked breaking rules.” God, this kitten’s a terror. “No,” no choice, gotta break his heart. “I’ve got other plans.” It takes a moment for his meaning to sink in, then there’s an indignant little huff. Otabek knows why JJ calls him princess. “I just want you to be my daddy,” Yuri says. “And I’ll do anything.” Then the line goes dead. It sounds like a warning. Poor kitty, Otabek thinks, pulling on his jacket and glaring in the mirror. Must be hard having that sweet honeypot between his cheeks and no takers. He gets to the party late, big blue neon cross that marks the spot shining out on the dirty street, illuminating off and on a pack of dogs in the empty lot beyond growling as they drag a heavy bag of trash from a toppled can. His boots crunch the broken glass--everything bombed out, broken, and brought low in this skeleton town. He likes it here. He likes the dirty corners of the world where everyone hides their eyes behind shades or shadows. He likes racoon types that never sleep. He doubts he’s gonna find god under this blue cross tonight--or any night--but the aesthetic is pleasing. Inside, the party’s tipped. He can barely squeeze through the front door. Punks and their ilk piling on like roaches. Flip the light and watch them scatter. He’s near the light switch. He does it. Everyone shrieks like they’ve been hit with cold water. “Beka!” Emil pulls him in and pounds his back. His eyes are huge when he pulls away, leaning in to shout in Otabek’s ear, “Fuck! You’re not gonna guess who’s here.” Otabek can guess who’s here. His heart starts to pound. Someone reaches up to smash the ceiling fan lights, then gets a boost up from a friend to rip the whole fan down. It comes free raining plaster on everyone. The crowd roars and stomps, alive again in the dark. When Emil says c’mon , turning to lead him away, Otabek grabs his shoulder and says, “How’d he find us?” Emil smiles, “He begged me after he hung up with you. You know I got a weakness for the kitten.” “Emil, you shouldn't have done this.” “Aw, Beka. I like playin’ cupid,” he says. “You should’ve heard him mooning over you. He’s your biggest fan.” It doesn’t make his ears feet hot. He’s not supposed to be happy. They put him at risk. No, he’s not happy. It doesn’t make him feel anything. So what.   “Are you blushing?” “No. It’s hot,” some kid busts out of the living room mosh pit on his way to the one in the kitchen, crashing against Otabek in the process. He grabs him by the collar and pushes him into the wall, snarling, “Watch the fuck out.” Emil says, “Beka.” Then, “Otabek.” Then sighs and pulls him off himself, saying, “Chill, man,” in his ear. It works. He lets himself be led up the stairs to the slaughter, peaceful as a lamb. As they slip past a pretty boy getting fucked on the stairs Emil drops a pill in Otabek’s hand. Otabek’s gotta shake the kitty’s paws loose from his boot before he can swallow it dry. “Blastoff,” Emil says. Some asshole cranks the stereo so loud the stairs shake, but Otabek’s distracted by this kitten, watching for a second those slim hips twisting down. He’s not supposed to be looking at kittens, either. Six months of this. Just for popping one cherry. Some other asshole starts flipping the volume up and down, or else it’s two of them, at war, and Otabek can kind of hear Emil’s chatter, “--told me you told him you had plans--so cold, Beka, but you’re gonna love--” then he’s drowned out again when the volume cranks. Loud wins. Fucking Yuri telling everyone their business. Why does Beka have to love it so much, that the kitty can’t keep his mouth shut. Emil leads him down the hall past a line for the bathroom that ends in a kind of mob at the end of the hall. Then they pass the bathroom, and Otabek realizes that’s not the line they’re following. “No fucking cutting,” some asshole says, and Emil slips between him and Otabek with a grin. “Chill, man, it’s his boyfriend.” The dude boggles and demures, letting them squeeze past. Beka’s lips twitch, feeling the molly say hi to his bloodstream. “He’s not my boyfriend,” he says to no one, but it’s got a good ring to it. He turns into a fucking sap on molly, he knows this about himself. Then they break through the mob around the door. As soon as he lays eyes on Yuri he knows for sure he’s a fucking sap, cause there’s nothing prettier in all the world than this kitty show. The brat’s outdone himself. He’s face down on the bed with his ripped up jeans pushed down around his thighs and Otabek can see between every thrust of the dude on top of him how those thighs have been bitten and pinched and come on, again and again. On cue, the big brute who’s been fucking his Yura pulls out and lets loose on the kitty’s sticky ass, adding to the mess there. Yuri falls to the side, pliant and moaning, and blinks past his tangled hair in the half-light. The glow of blue neon’s the only light in the room except the orange tips of cigarettes like tigers’ eyes in the jungle as everybody waits their turn to pounce. He looks like a little sacrifice trussed up on an altar, and Otabek’s mouth waters for a bite of his blue-painted skin. Emil, too, says, “Fuck,” and into Otabek’s ear says, “Gotta be honest, man, I took a turn already. We kinda sparked it. His idea.” Otabek locks eyes with the kitten just as the punk by the headboard spurts a line of come across his precious porcelain cheek. “No kidding,” As if he can't see the kitten's clever work here, making all these boys accessories to Otabek's crime. “Want another?” he asks Emil, just before Yuri wiggles his messy little ass in the air and shouts, “Daddy! You came for me!” Otabek loves the moment the heads in the room--Ten? Twenty? Hard to tell in the sharp shadows--turn toward him. His babydoll’s not subtle. That mouth of his is the reason they got caught--but there’s no feeling better than this perfect pretty monster everybody wants jabbing his finger at Otabek and saying mine . He drops his cigarette into a row of empty cans left behind by the crowd and steps forward, kneeling on the bed to brush his angel’s hair from his face. It’s the first time he’s touched him in too long. His babysoft angel in a black velvet choker. It’s enough to make him want to cry. “Hi, daddy,” Yuri says, blinking big black eyes at him. “M’empty.” Fuck, it’s hard to fight his molly impulse to bury his face in the kitten’s hair and tell him daddy’s gonna make it alright, one day, they’re gonna be together, one day, they’re gonna remember how the world tried to keep them apart and couldn’t , one day, but he holds back. Takes a breath. Tells Yura, “Gonna fill you up, brat.”   He can’t be too sweet with so many scumbags watching but he sneaks a single, greedy kiss of his kitty’s bitten lips, sugarsweet mouth opening for daddy’s tongue. Otabek pushes his cock into the kitten’s soppy, dirty little hole, growling in his ear, “So you like playing nasty?” He runs his hands over the kitten’s neck, his sides, his peaked, sucked-on nipples, his smooth, white thighs, feeling these other boys--their spit, their come, their teeth-- “Nngh, jus’ for my daddy,” Yuri whines, gasping as his daddy fills his too- tender hole with his thick cock. Otabek snorts--little liar--but the molly in him says to keep the peace. “You look pretty like this, babydoll,” he says, spreading the kitten’s sticky cheeks apart with his hands to watch his cock in that torn up little ass. Each thrust in the cream and honey comes squelching out. He’s such a dirty little prize Otabek won at the GPF. His pretty fourth place trophy. He slaps his tiny ass cheek, “Did you tell Emil thank you?” Yuri lifts his woozy head from his folded arms to look up at Emil, waiting with his cock in his hand by the headboard. The kitty says thank you by kitten licking his cock with his eyes closed, his long lashes radioactive white in the blue neon bath of the room. The kitten’s the prissiest little cocksucker, licking all over but never sucking it deep the way his daddy taught him that first night until Otabek grabs his fucked-loose ponytail to push him down on Emil. It makes his tiny cunt squeeze around Otabek and he snaps his hips, eyes rolling back. “Pretty boy, Otabek growls. “I missed you.” Emil’s sleepy eyes flash up from watching the kitty slurping around the head of his cock. Then he grins his cupid grin. Otabek knows he’s a fucking sap. He just doesn’t care anymore. “Mnf, daddy,” Yuri purrs, lifting his ass for each thrust, just to get pounded back down, sharp snaps of Otabek’s hips making his wet little cheeks jiggle, so slick in the blue light. “Want you filling me up. A-always. So empty w-without your cock, ‘addy--I--” Emil traces the kitten’s lips with the big head of his cock to stop his babbling, giving the baby something to suck on instead. “Get him off, kitty,” Otabek says. “Show me how good you are.” He’s aware of the other boys jerking off in the room. He knows there’s some dude breathing heavy as he watches Yura’s fine ass bounce, thinking he’s next, but it’s not gonna happen. The kitty’s his. Yuri’s walls squeeze Otabek tight as Emil grabs his ponytail and fucks his mouth. Emil’s cock stretches the kitten’s poor swollen lips until he’s drooling, little body twisting as he chokes. “Don’t stop,” he tells Emil. The kitten’s cunt is so tight as he fights that big cock, as tight as that first time--kitty mewing in his lap, biting the back of his hand with his eyes squeezed shut as Otabek pushed past his virgin rim. Emil holds the kitten down on his cock until Otabek can’t resist the temptation of filling his baby up with cream. Yuri pulls of Emil’s cock to moan, “Yes, daddy!” Only to get a face-full of come from Emil. He’s still licking it off his lips like a happy cat when Otabek flips him onto his back to wrap his hand around his beautiful cock--pretty as the rest of him, slender and arching, but so clean. Otabek loves sucking this beautiful boy off- -brushing his drawn-tight balls with his thumb so the kitten comes with a squeal. He’s still got his baby’s taste in his mouth when he tosses him over his shoulder and heads for the door--until Yura whines, “Daddy! My jacket!” He’s forced to turn and set the kitten free--just long enough for him to grab up a big leather coat from the other side of the bed, giving all the hungry boys one more view of that sticky honeypot. Then he stumbles back into his daddy’s arms, thighs still trapped by his shredded jeans. Otabek pushes out of the room before a fight breaks out over his angel. The boys don’t like having their little treat stolen, he can hear the grumbles. He loses Emil in the rush to steal his baby away, not stopping to set him down again--not even on the stairs. He storms through the first moshpit, then the second, sidestepping the crushed ceiling fan, never looking back until he’s through the front door. The air is cool. The only signs of life are a few stray smokers and the big blue blinking cross, though these--Otabek thinks, his thoughts unspooling wildly now--are signs of death, too. No. He’s so happy, molly jubilant. He always gets the kitten. When will everyone learn. “Oh, daddy,” Yuri swoons against him, losing his balance, and Otabek catches him, helping him down to the ground. “It's a lot.” “Shh, daddy’s got you.” He does. He has the only boy he’s ever loved all to himself. Yuri must realize it too--his eyes crack open and he sighs, reaching his skinny arms out for Otabek. “You’re here,” he sighs. “I’m here, sweetheart. C’mon,” he tugs the kitten’s shirt down from where it’s rucked up above his nipples. He does the same for his jeans, sitting back on his heels when he’s done with a hum. “What’s this outfit?” he asks, trying to will the hunger for this perfect doll down at least long enough to get him cleaned up. But, fuck, what is his baby wearing? Yuri laughs, “‘N’ my jacket, too, daddy, ‘m cold.” Otabek drapes it over his shoulders, fingers lingering to admire the stitching he’s done on a sleeve, the spikes, the patches, chest tight seeing how his baby wanted to impress him. “This all for me?” he asks, brushing his thumb over Yuri’s come-crusty cheek. Yuri nods, messy ponytail flopping to the side. “Wanted to see you so bad,” he murmurs. “Me too, angel,” Otabek says. He sits on the ground beside Yuri, pulling him onto his lap. Yuri lays his head on Otabek’s shoulder with a shaky sigh. “Did you have fun?” A sleepy giggle. “Yeah. Lots.” “‘M proud of you, angel,” Otabek murmurs against his soft hair. “You fuck just like a grown up.” Yuri laughs and hides his face. “Daddy, you’re so fucked up.” “So are you,” he says. “You’re a nasty little slut, now, aren’t you?” The kitty kisses his jaw and says, “Yeah.” It’ll be over soon. Emil will come to take Yura back to the big hotel. They won’t be alone again. Not until their next chance. The kitten shifts in his lap to sit up, boots slipping over gravel. “I’m bad like you, now,” he says, so serious, a strand of blond hair caught on his puffy pink-blue bottom lip. Otabek brushes it away. His baby will do anything to get to his daddy, just like he promised. “You always were,” Otabek says. They kiss under the cross that blinks on and off on and off, slipping their tongues together slow, like they’ve got time. End Notes my babe kawaiilo-ren drew a_scene_from_this_fic for my birthday!! thank you so much <3 follow me on twitter @commandantllyn or on tumblr at djdaddybek Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!