Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/12114921.
  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:
      Mild_Smuttiness, Angst, otayuri_-_Freeform, Underage_-_Freeform,
      Vikturio, break_ups, Infidelity, Past_Infidelity
  Series:
      Part 4 of fumbling_towards_ecstasy
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-09-17 Words: 2348
****** Put Out The Flames ******
by annabeth
Summary
     "Maybe I didn't say this to you explicitly: we're done, old man. As
     soon as I left your hotel room, I was committed to Beka."
Notes
     This is the last part of my "fumbling towards ecstasy" series.
     This fic is a sequel.
See the end of the work for more notes
St. Petersburg
Viktor corners Yuri in the locker room after practice. He's still sweating, his
hair in damp clumps, and he's breathing extra hard, as if trying to get in
shape for his comeback is killing him.
"Yuuuuri," he says, and Yuri immediately flinches. That's the way he says his
name. He puts down his shower caddy with his soap and shampoo and rubs a hand
through his own sweaty hair. He hasn't showered yet, either, and he's got a
Skype date with Beka in less than an hour.
The last thing he wants to do—to think about—is Viktor looking lusciously
fuckable, because that exhaustion looks damn good on him.
"Don't say my name like that," Yuri snaps. "I'm not your fucking fiancé."
"Come closer, baby?" Viktor asks, but he doesn't wait for Yuri; he steps into
Yuri's personal space and crowds him up against the shower wall. "I've missed
you, so much. Surely you're not happy with your current situation?"
"I don't know why you'd think that," Yuri snarls. "I'm happy."
"You sound happy," Viktor says, and Yuri wants to punch him in his smug face.
"Your boyfriend is so far away, kitten."
"But, contrarily, your fiancé is right outside the locker room on the rink,"
Yuri reminds him. "Maybe I didn't say this to you explicitly: we're done, old
man. As soon as I left your hotel room, I was committed to Beka."
"Otabek can't give you what I can," Viktor wheedles. Yuri picks up his shampoo
and turns the water on, shedding his towel and hoping Viktor—still dressed in
his practice clothes—gets soaked. He turns away from Viktor, closes his eyes,
and begins to shampoo his hair.
"You know I'm serious, Yuri." Viktor's hand is suddenly a warm, almost
unwelcome weight on his back. "I know how you feel about me. You don't have to
limit yourself."
Yuri splashes the water on his face, finishes rinsing his hair, and shakes
Viktor off, turning around to face him. His cock is a bit hard, just from
Viktor's hand, but Yuri has the strength of his resolve.
He hopes.
"I belong to Beka. That's not going to change. I don't even understand what you
get out of it. You only fucked me because I asked. You only went along with
something I shouldn't have started."
Viktor hands Yuri his soap, then pulls it back, lathering up his hands and
beginning to coat Yuri's back in suds. This brings Viktor so close to Yuri's
front, to his cock, which doesn't know what's good for it, and his arms wind
around Yuri suddenly.
"Because I love you," Viktor says, and Yuri's back is hot from the water, and
Viktor doesn't seem to care about getting wet. He begins to mouth at Yuri's
jaw, and Yuri's head falls back without his permission; he drowns in the
feeling of Viktor, in the fact that his crush is still there—he can't just get
rid of it.
"I love you so much." Viktor's breath is so hot… and smells faintly of alcohol.
He's just spent hours practicing; when did he get the chance to drink?
Yuri shoves him back, remembering all at once that he has Beka waiting for him.
But then Viktor grabs his wrists and slams him against the shower wall, pinning
his hands above his head.
And Yuri gasps and his cock fills with blood, and there it is, Viktor's sudden
possessive manhandling of him has made him hot.
"You don't love me," Yuri says weakly against his own body's struggle, his
desires. Base desires—his heart does belong to Beka. "I'm just a little kid to
you, Vitya. If you love me at all, it's not as a lover. So why won't you let me
go?"
Viktor drops his hands and takes a step back. His front is drenched with water,
and his eyes are hooded. His lips are red, but Yuri doesn't think it's from
kissing him, actually.
"I just wanted to make you happy," Viktor says in a low voice. "I'm here.
Otabek is in Almaty. You want me, I know you do. Why are you being so
difficult?"
"Why are you being so pushy?" Yuri fires back. "I have a crush on you, Viktor.
I like your body. It's not the same as what I feel for Beka."
Viktor's face crumples, and he slides to the floor, his hands over his face.
From behind that wall he's created, he says,
"Yuuri's so sweet, Yurio. He's lovely. He's absolutely everything I don't
deserve."
"What are you trying to say, old man?" Yuri asks angrily.
"You understand me," Viktor says, still hiding behind his hands. "That I'm
flawed. That I'm really just a fraud. You've always known that but… you picked
me. I couldn't bear it if you left."
"Well, you're going to have to, because I'm not your fucktoy," Yuri says
brutally. "I'm not going to hang around and let you flick your finger when you
want me. I have a boyfriend now. I don't need you." He wraps a towel around his
waist, gathers up his things, and leaves Viktor sitting there, looking for all
the world like he's a pathetic, washed up skater who has no hope.
Which is the absolute, unvarnished truth. Yuri doesn't feel sorry for him. When
Yuri asked Viktor to fuck him, he hadn't needed any convincing. He's a dirty,
lowlife cheater who doesn't deserve Katsudon—whatever else the piggy is, Yuri
can admit he's not a bad person, if obviously oblivious.
Yuri hopes that the pig finds out what kind of person Viktor really is, before
it's too late and he marries the bastard. Because Viktor didn't exactly teach
Yuri anything; he fucked him, sure, but he did it for his own reasons—Yuri can
see that now.
And now that Yuri's with Beka, he understands that there's more to
relationships than just fucking or feelings; it's part and parcel of an entire
package, and Beka is the whole package. Yuri doesn't care about Viktor anymore.
He doesn't.
But Yuri knows it's a lie. He might not be in love with Viktor, but there are
feelings there. If those feelings are just infatuation, Yuri can't tell. And
he's made his choice. He's not going to change his mind for a pathetic old
wreck of a man who isn't satisfied with his fiancé, and who would rather fuck
around with a sixteen-year-old.
Yuri allows himself to briefly entertain the idea that maybe he made a mistake
fucking Viktor. Beka confirms this for him during their Skype date, when he
says,
"It's not always a good idea to actually get your crush." Beka's eating ice
cream, and every time he licks the spoon, Yuri gets a little bit harder. It's
making it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
"You did," Yuri points out, just to be contrary. He'd be awfully lonely right
now if Beka hadn't. Hell, he'd probably be fucking Viktor on a regular basis
right now if Beka hadn't taken him out on that date.
"And I'm very lucky," Beka says quietly. He puts the spoon in his mouth upside
down, then pulls it out slowly, licking every inch of it. Yuri's cock really
likes that.
"Viktor's a douche," Yuri says without really thinking. He's absentmindedly
wondering if he should wash his underwear pile tomorrow, or the next day? He
could probably just forgo underwear if he doesn't have any left… and tomorrow
is Saturday, he doesn't want to waste a whole Saturday doing laundry.
"Well, yes," Beka agrees. He gets up to put his bowl and spoon in the sink, and
disappears from the frame for a minute. Yuri hears the clink and clank of
dishes settling before Beka comes back. "Sorry, Yura. You were saying?"
"He tried to change my mind," Yuri says darkly. "He put his paws all over me
again. God, Beka, you should have seen it. It was so pathetic. He cried." Yeah,
he should wash his underwear. He's wearing only briefs right now and maybe it's
because he's turned on, but he can fucking smell them, and he only has one pair
of clean jeans left. If he goes commando, his jeans are gonna need to be washed
too.
"I hope you punched him in the face," Beka says with a scowl. "You do remember
you're mine? Did you drive that point home? Or do I have to punch his sorry ass
the next time I see him?"
"No! It's fine. He's not worth the effort." Maybe he can do the laundry on
Sunday, while Lilia's doing the shopping.
"You seem distracted," Beka notes with an unexpected smidge of amusement,
considering his anger moments before. Yuri kind of likes his temper.
"Yura, don't take this the wrong way, but how many pairs of tiger print briefs
do you own?"
"Huh?" Yuri glances down, then back to Beka. He meets Beka's pretty eyes for a
minute, then they both crack up laughing. No wonder they smell! "I didn't do
the sniff test this morning!" Yuri cries, guffawing. His underwear are dirty.
He wore the same pair two days in a row. At least. It's almost enough to make
him want to put his clothes in the laundry hamper instead of leaving them
strewn all about his room.
"I hope you don't think this is creepy, Yura, but I'd be glad to sniff your
underwear. For you." There's a glitter in his eye, though, that suggests Beka's
being cute. Ish.
"You pervert," laughs Yuri, and he can see the sudden way Beka's face brightens
into a beautiful, ear to ear smile. Huh. He's not seen Beka make that
expression very often.
"Guilty as charged," Beka says, still wearing that smile. "But it's so nice to
see you laugh. You can be so serious, Yura."
"Me?" Yuri reaches out to poke Beka in the chest and then stops, heart struck,
when he remembers the screen separating them. And in his mind, Viktor's words:
I'm here. Otabek is in Almaty.
"What is it?" Beka sobers immediately, and Yuri can feel his own face fall.
He's the worst.
"What if I always… shit, Beka. What if I do love that balding fuck? What if
it's more than a crush? What do I do?" He absently steps out of frame to strip
out of his dirty underwear, yanking on his sleep pants—at the last second he
realizes Beka might be able to see a glimpse of his bare ass. Why's he being so
coy, anyway? When he comes back, Beka's face is slightly flushed.
"I don't know," Beka says simply. "I don't have all the answers." He leans down
for a minute, and Yuri can see only the top of his head, the longer portion of
his haircut making Yuri want to rake his fingers through it, to scrape Beka's
scalp with his fingernails. When he straightens up, he's holding a pair of
underwear with cheetah print on them. Yuri stares, mouth open.
"Are those mine?" he asks incredulously. "And you're changing the subject!"
"Nah, I bought them," Beka says. "And tomorrow I'm going to put them in the
mail. And you're going to wear them, and when you do, you'll think of me. Not
that asshole." He flips them over, and sewn on them—in script, no less—are the
words, Property of Otabek Altin.
Yuri wants to laugh again. He's never felt the desire to laugh this much;
Viktor doesn't make him feel like this. Despite the crush, despite how much he
wants to touch Viktor sometimes, being with Viktor makes him feel oily, like
there's a film of slime over his skin.
"You can sew?" he asks instead. And then, "I'm an awful person."
"Don't," Beka says, eyebrows lowering, eyes dark. "You didn't do anything
wrong."
"I helped an engaged man cheat on his fiancé!" Yuri bursts out. Huh, he's
feeling more guilt than he thought.
"He knows better," Beka says, though. "He didn't have to take you up on it.
Yura, everyone makes mistakes. It's not repeating them that's important."
"I'm still… I suck," Yuri says. "I'm an ugly person. I don't know why you like
me."
"Stop putting yourself down, or I'm going to hang up for the night. I won't
listen to the person I love talk about himself that way."
"I love you, too," Yuri whispers. "For all the good it does me."
"Are you going to repeat that mistake?" Beka asks carefully. He isn't holding
the cheetah print underwear anymore. But he is chewing on the end of a pencil.
"Of course not!" Yuri says, leaning forward, feeling absolutely alight in his
conviction. "I'm never touching that asshole again."
"Then we're good." Beka's got the pencil held between his lips like a
cigarette. It's fucking hot as fuck.
"I want you to watch me get off," Yuri says, gesturing to the tent in his
sweatpants. Beka shakes his head, though.
"Not tonight. I have to go to work, remember?" He sucks the end of the pencil
and Yuri's dick gives a distinct, unmistakable throb.
"I'm going to come just watching you with that pencil," Yuri states, no frills,
no beating around the bush.
"Yura…" Beka puts the pencil down. "Goodnight. I love you."
Those three little words make something else throb, and Yuri swallows, feeling
tears prick at his eyes. He's not usually prone to tears, but he's had a very
emotional day. For all that he had to do it, breaking up with Viktor wasn't
exactly easy. He's still not sure he'll ever get past the emotions he has for
Viktor, no matter how deep he buries them.
"Yeah. Beka. I love you, too."
When Yuri gets the package from Beka a few days later, he immediately pulls
down the underwear he's wearing—he did laundry that Friday night, thinking
about Beka at work and because he had to wash the come out of his
sweatpants—and replaces them.
Property of Otabek Altin.
He likes the sound of that. Let Viktor stew on that.
                                     end.
End Notes
     Come find me (helm-puppet-trash) on Tumblr!
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