Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/8896903.
  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:
      Future_Fic, Established_Relationship, D/s_themes, Kink_Negotiation, Oral
      Sex, Anal_Sex, flexible_figure_skaters_having_bendy_sex, Porn_with
      Feelings
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-18 Words: 3052
****** Teach Me Just What Fast Is ******
by Zee
Summary
     “You don't like it when other people tell you what to do,” Otabek
     said, “but you accept it from me. Why is that?”
     Yuri likes it when Otabek bosses him around, and Otabek calls him on
     it.
Notes
     I'm pretty vague on when this takes place, but it's at least a year
     after the current events of the anime.
     Title is from Lana Del Rey's "Diet Mountain Dew."
“You don't like it when people tell you what to do,” Otabek observed as they
made their way through the rush hour crowds in the train station. They'd just
left a press conference where Yuri had gotten into a fight with a reporter and
he was still fuming about it, still itching to further rip into the man even
though he'd yelled ‘enough’ according to Yakov.
“Of course not,” Yuri grumbled, turning his glare on Otabek. “What's your
point?”
Otabek didn't react to Yuri’s ire, giving him a calm glance before his gaze
flicked back to the train platform ahead. “You don't like it when other people
tell you what to do,” he repeated, and Yuri was not in the mood for this slow
meandering musing, he was going to snap, “but you accept it from me. Why is
that?”
Whatever words Yuri had been about to yell died in his throat. Otabek, damn
him, wasn't even looking to see what reaction his question had caused, which
actually might be for the best since Yuri was turning red. He could hardly
believe Otabek was bringing this up in public; although he'd said nothing that
might scandalize a bystander, Yuri felt paranoid that everyone around him could
read his mind and make the connection between this topic and his blush.
Last night they’d had a long day of training followed by a night of drinking
and watching the final day Skate Canada International on TV, during which Yuri
had said horrible things about each skater in the competition and in response
Otabek had sometimes nodded in agreement, sometimes smiled at him with
affection and sometimes rolled his eyes. It was their usual routine.
Afterwards, as soon as they'd stepped inside the door of the apartment they
were renting in St. Petersburg for the season, Otabek had stepped behind Yuri
and taken him by the shoulders and pushed him against the wall, pinning him
with his hips and putting his mouth close to his ear.
“Not another word about the silver medalist or the judges,” Otabek said, his
voice only exactly as loud as he needed it to be. “And don't move.”
They hadn't even closed the front door all the way. Yuri shivered, his mind
pleasantly buzzing from the beer his older boyfriend had bought for him. The
wall was cool against his cheek where Otabek was pressing his face into it, and
he was already getting hard.
He hadn't spoken another word about the Skate Canada results, at least not that
night. He stood obediently still in the hallway while Otabek got his pants
down, jerked him off and fingered him, keeping Yuri pinned against the wall the
whole time. He let Otabek carry him to their bedroom and spread him open,
fingering him some more (for ages, not listening when Yuri said he was ready to
be fucked for real now, not obeying the way Yuri obeyed him) before pressing
him deep into the mattress just as he'd pressed him into the door and fucking
him hard enough and long enough that Yuri had passed out immediately afterward,
blissfully unconscious despite the agitated state he'd been in after watching
the competition.
And now Otabek was asking him why, as if that was something Yuri understood.
Yuri glared up at the back of Otabek’s head, the cropped hair of his stupid
undercut that had already grown out long compared to how closely shaved it was
when they'd first reunited for the season, and thought about kicking him.
Denying it would be pointless, so instead Yuri snarled, “Don't ask me that!
What do you care, anyway? Want me to yell at you instead?”
Otabek looked at him, blinking. “No, I don't. It was just a question. You know
I'm not making fun of you, right?”
Yuri hesitated, deflating slightly. He did know that. His usual hostility and
defensiveness wasn’t necessary between them, it never had been.
Otabek’s hand touched Yuri’s elbow, further settling him, and he leaned down
until he could speak low in Yuri’s ear, with no chance of anyone overhearing.
“And I wasn't just asking about sex. I meant… all of it. The way you are with
me.”
It was a fair question. Yuri was always content to let Otabek take him places,
to let Otabek speak for him to waiters or hotel staff or any of the people
milling around skating competitions that Yuri didn't care about speaking to
himself (which was almost all of them). He didn't mind Otabek taking the lead.
If he was being honest, he liked it.
“Is it because I'm older than you?” Now Yuri could hear a faint note of
consternation in Otabek’s voice, like this was the possibility that really
concerned him. When Yuri looked up to meet his eyes, there was a faint worry
line creased between his eyebrows.
“JJ’s older than me,” Yuri said. “You don't see me taking orders from him or
sucking his dick, do you?” The last part of this question was hard to get out
without shuddering, but Yuri did it because he wanted to even the scales a bit
and fluster Otabek, and he didn't stumble on a single word.
It paid off: Otabek’s cheeks bloomed pink. “You don't have to be gross,” he
muttered, and Yuri grinned savagely. “And I don't give you orders.”
“Yeah, but you could.” The words slipped out half-consciously, without a
thought, and Yuri immediately wanted to clap a hand over his mouth. Otabek’s
eyes widened.
“Uh,” Otabek said, and they were saved for the moment by the noisy arrival of
their train. Yuri stepped forward amongst the crush of the crowd, and inside
the train was standing room only, and there was no more discussion.
Yuri could feel Otabek’s presence beside him the whole trip. Despite the
crowding of the train, other passengers were pressed much closer to Yuri than
he was, unfortunately touching him. Not Otabek. Otabek was giving him space.
Yuri would much prefer Otabek crowd him than any of these strangers, regardless
of any discomfort he might feel at Otabek's directness and his honesty.
Yuri was a little afraid that their conversation would make things awkward once
they were alone, but Otabek kissed him as soon as he'd stepped inside the door
and tossed his bag aside. Yuri responded eagerly, wrapping his arms around
Otabek's neck and clinging to him, relief making his shoulders sag.
But it was slightly different. Otabek was keeping the kiss chaste, and he
wasn't--wasn't moving at all, wasn't bending Yuri back or pushing his hands
under his shirt or picking him up so that Yuri could wrap his legs around
otabek's waist. There wasn’t the physicality that Yuri had come to associate
with being kissed by Otabek.
He wasn't taking the initiative, Yuri realized. Frustrated, he twisted his
fingers in Otabek's hair and yanked. Otabek yelped, and Yuri nipped at his
bottom lip.
“Come on,” he said, meeting Otabek’s startled look with a glare. “Come on,
Beka.”
Otabek stared, and then intensity shifted back into his expression, and Yuri
felt a ripple of excited warmth respond in his own groin. He started to grin
but Otabek was already kissing him again, harder this time, with more teeth the
way Yuri liked it. Yuri melted into him and was rewarded with otabek's hands on
his back and his ass, supporting him, keeping him close.
Otabek walked them into the bedroom and then shoved Yuri towards the bed,
tossing him with enough force that he bounced a bit upon hitting the mattress.
Yuri didn't have a second to contemplate how being thrown onto a bed made him
feel like a character in a trashy romance novel (but in a good way, somehow)
before Otabek was on top of him again, one of his thighs bracketing Yuri’s hips
and his hands planted on either side of Yuri’s neck.
He kissed a line down Yuri's throat, pulling his t-shirt to the side to access
skin that was covered by Yuri's costumes when he skated--the only places they
allowed each other to leave marks. Then Otabek was traveling further down
Yuri's body until he was kneeling on the floor between Yuri’s legs, and Yuri
let his head fall back and gasped.
Otabek blew him with a single-minded intensity, sliding his mouth most of the
way down Yuri’s cock right away and then keeping up a steady rhythm without
pausing to use his tongue or catch his breath. His hands were on Yuri’s hips,
keeping him from thrusting too hard and making Otabek gag, and as much as Yuri
wanted to move he liked being held down more.
He let himself be loud, because he knew Otabek liked it (“you yowl like a cat,”
he'd told Yuri the second time they'd had sex, and Yuri had hit him with a
pillow), and he felt Otabek's fingers flex on his hips when Yuri cried out.
When Otabek pulled back far enough to mouth the head, he let Yuri push the tip
of his cock into the roof of his mouth, over and over until Yuri grabbed
clumsily at Otabek's head and came.
Yuri didn't let go until he was spent, dazedly realizing as his body went limp
on the mattress that he'd been clutching Otabek's ear, of all things. If Otabek
minded, he didn't say anything, just pressing a kiss to Yuri’s hip before
wiping his mouth and climbing back onto the bed.
They both had most of their clothes still on. Yuri rolled lazily onto his side
as Otabek settled next to him, and made a pleased sound when Otabek took the
hint, spooning him.
Yuri could feel the hard bulge in Otabek's pants when he pushed back. Otabek
was working already, tugging Yuri's pants all the way off and coaxing Yuri to
lift his arms so that his shirt could be peeled off. Yuri heard the sound of
Otabek unbuckling his own belt, felt Otabek move slightly back in order to get
his own clothes off. It was a little slow and awkward doing this when they were
both lying on their sides but Yuri didn't feel like moving. He liked looking at
the wall in front of him and listening to the rustle of Otabek's clothes, the
hitch of his breath behind him.
And then they were skin to skin, and Yuri felt Otabek's dick (already a little
slippery with pre-come) slide against the crease of his thighs. Yuri bent his
knee and slid his leg forward to give Otabek better access, and then felt
Otabek’s fingers rub behind his balls and circle his asshole.
The lube bottle was still in the covers somewhere after being tossed carelessly
aside last night, and Yuri found it after not too much groping in the sheets,
handing it back over his shoulder to Otabek.
Otabek’s dick was pretty big, which was why he was usually careful to use his
fingers a lot beforehand and use plenty of lube. Yuri appreciated the thought,
but he was impatient right now and not in the mood to beg and plead to be
fucked the way he had last night. Otabek seemed to be of the same mind, though,
because he slipped his two fingers out before too long and Yuri felt him grip
his thigh instead, lifting Yuri’s leg up to get the angle right. It would be
easier to do this in another position, but Otabek seemed to want it this way,
and Yuri found it kind of exciting.
Otabek huffed a laugh into Yuri’s shoulder. “You're pointing your toes,” he
murmured. “I can feel it in your muscles bunching.” He ran a hand up Yuri’s
thigh for emphasis, and Yuri started. It was just his automatic impulse to
raise his leg fully and point his toes, like he was stretching or doing a floor
exercise.
“You can relax, Yurochka.” Otabek’s voice was a pleasant rumble against the
back of his neck, and Yuri consciously relaxed his muscles, letting his knee
bend and his ankle be loose.
After Otabek used his hand to help guide his dick into Yuri’s hole, he held the
crook of Yuri’s knee, supporting his leg to allow him to relax even further.
Yuri loved this part, loved feeling Otabek push all the way inside him for the
first time, until he felt stretched and filled. Then Otabek began to move,
gently at first and then with enough force that Yuri could feel the shocks of
each thrust reverberate through his whole body.
Since they'd rented this apartment and thus had the opportunity to do this as
often as they wanted, Yuri had discovered it was his favorite way to wind down
after pushing his body to its limits on the ice or in Lillia’s classroom. He
felt worn out afterward in a way that was different from the usual exhaustion
in his muscles. It was a good workout, sure, and especially when they did stuff
like this it was particularly good for his hip flexors. But he liked that it
made his ass sore in such a specific way; liked knowing exactly why he was
feeling tender when he woke the next morning.
Otabek gripped Yuri’s leg harder when he came, bending his leg up enough that
Yuri’s knee was almost at his ear. Yuri didn't mind; he liked the idea of
Otabek bending his body this way and that, taking advantage of the flexibility
Yuri was relentless about maintaining. Then Otabek was shuddering and gasping
into Yuri’s shoulder as he finished, releasing Yuri's leg and curling into him.
Yuri reached back to stroke his hair, and Otabek caught his hand, kissed his
fingers.
Afterward, once they'd disentangled and rolled to a part of the bed that wasn't
messy from sex (their lube was lost in the covers again, and again Yuri was too
lazy to bother fishing it out and putting it away), Otabek brought up his
question from earlier.
“So why do you like me to take charge? You never actually answered,” he said,
idly tucking a strand of Yuri’s hair behind his ear.
Yuri snorted. “I don't know, why does anyone like anything that helps them
come?”
“No, I meant. Why let me?”
And now Yuri understood why Otabek wanted to know, why he was trying to puzzle
out this dynamic that they'd fallen into organically, almost subconsciously,
without any proposal ever being verbalized or accepted by either party. He
wanted to know why Yuri wanted this from him, specifically. He was right that
Yuri acted differently around him than he did around everyone else, correct in
assuming that Yuri wouldn’t embrace this with just anyone.
Why Otabek? That had been answered for Yuri before the question had even
thought to form. Otabek had slotted neatly into Yuri’s life the second Yuri had
made the decision to climb onto his bike in Barcelona, stepping into a friend-
shaped void before Yuri had even realized that the void was there in the first
place. When friendship had abruptly shifted into something more a few months
ago, Yuri put just as little conscious thought into it. It seemed natural, easy
in contrast to so much else in Yuri’s life that felt like a constant battle.
“I don’t know. There are a lot of reasons, I guess.” Yuri was using Otabek’s
bicep like a pillow, and when he rubbed his cheek against the warm skin he felt
his arm twitch just a bit.
The first reason that occurred to him was something he wasn’t sure he should
say--he didn’t want to give Otabek the wrong idea. The truth was that if Yuri
really thought about why he liked following Otabek’s lead, it had something to
do with his grandfather. Not that Yuri thought of his grandfather when he
looked at Otabek, and they didn’t have similar personalities. One didn’t remind
him of the other.
But Otabek had a kind of calm certainty to him, a sense of all-rightness that
was immediately apparent in the set of his shoulders, in the indifference on
his face whenever he looked at people he was about to be blunt to. He didn’t
move through the world with uncertainty and fire burning in his ribcage and
making him furious, like Yuri did. And Yuri didn’t think it had anything to do
with age--Yakov didn’t have this quality, Lillia didn’t have it. They were both
too neurotic.
But his grandfather did, and maybe that was why being with his grandfather felt
like resting. Being with Otabek restored something in him in much the same way.
Yuri didn’t know how to say any of this and Otabek was still looking at him,
waiting for an answer. He was no longer playing with Yuri’s hair. Now they were
just looking at each other, and Yuri knew that he would lose this waiting game.
Otabek was too patient.
“You just make it easy to be that way,” Yuri said. “You make it feel… nice.
Like I can relax for a while, let someone else push me.”
“Instead of always pushing yourself,” Otabek said, and Yuri nodded, relieved
that Otabek seemed to understand.
“I’m happy to do that for you, as long as you want me to,” Otabek said. Yuri
shoved at his chest, not hard, just enough to make Otabek lose that somber
tone.
“Idiot, I want you to. I’ll keep wanting you to, okay?” Yuri kissed Otabek
firmly, keeping their lips locked until Otabek relaxed against him and opened
his mouth, letting Yuri lick at his teeth.
The kissing went on for a while, and somehow Yuri ended up on top, straddling
Otabek’s lap without making a purposeful decision to do so. He let his nose
drag down Otabek’s cheek and nuzzled at his ear, catching his earlobe between
his teeth. Otabek sighed, a mellow contented sound that reminded Yuri that he
wanted to sleep soon.
“You like it too, don’t you,” Yuri flicked his tongue against the shell of
Otabek’s ear and Otabek’s hands found his hips, squeezing him.
“Yeah,” Otabek said. “I like pushing you around.” He said it softly, like he
was almost bashful, and then his hands moved up Yuri’s torso and he was
flipping them, landing Yuri on his back. Yuri laughed, and went with it.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!