Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/ works/12676701. Rating: Explicit Archive Warning: Underage Category: M/M Fandom: Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime) Relationship: Otabek_Altin/Yuri_Plisetsky Character: Otabek_Altin, Yuri_Plisetsky, Lilia_Baranovskaya Additional Tags: First_Time, Pet_Play, Pet_Names, Kitten, Good_boy_Otabek, and_also, Bad boy_Otabek Collections: Yuri!!!_On_Ice_Shit_Bang_2017 Stats: Published: 2017-11-09 Words: 4864 ****** The Kitten ****** by djdaddybek_(llyn) Summary Yuri and Otabek aren't supposed to be playing Kitten, not after what Lilia saw Notes kawaiilo-ren pinch hit art for this fic after my original artist dropped out of the yoi shit bang, you can find her beautiful piece right_here, thanks <3 See the end of the work for more notes The Kitten game isn’t so bad, but it’s got a lot of rules. Yuri’s not allowed to talk. He’s not allowed to walk. He can’t even use his phone. The most important rule of all is that Lilia can’t find out that they’re playing. She’s suspicious of him already, supervising Otabek’s visits: tea and strained conversation in her white-gold sitting room while Yuri squirms in the seat beside him, picking apart his sandwiches. Lilia is subtle but Lilia is clear, if she catches Otabek in Yuri’s room again there will be hell to pay. At the front door, Otabek says goodbye. He kisses the back of Lilia’s elegant hand because he knows they both like it. He says see ya to Yura, thumbs up, later . Yuri stares so intensely, bouncing on his toes. He acts like this every time--like Otabek will drive off into the sleepy afternoon and disappear. His body is a tight string, his anxious face the last thing Otabek sees as the door closes. Then he’s alone. He makes a show of peeling off loudly, picturing Lilia frowning in the window. He fishtails down the drive, just a little fuck you to the situation. Just cause she caught him tickling Yuri one time he’s gotta play by her rules. The only rules he likes in this world are Yura’s. He hides his bike a few blocks away and returns on foot, trying to look cool, unhurried as he sneaks across her rose garden. He ducks, for a moment, when he hears a door slam. Bees buzz, thorns tug, the sun beats down. But Otabek’s got a leather jacket. He’s got black sunglasses. And he knows Yuri’s watching from his window, bouncing on his toes with anticipation. As he climbs up the lattice, Yuri pushes the window open and leans out, sunlight in his hair. He smiles that smile that makes Otabek dizzy. It feels a lot like coming home. Hard enough to climb through the window with any dignity, even harder with Yuri mobbing him, two hands curled around his bicep as he purrs his name and you’re here , like he didn’t know Otabek was coming. It makes him smile. He’s a silly boy. His room is pink and white and sweet, Lilia’s heavy hand in the decor, Yuri’s cat curled up on his frilly white bed, rose-gold chair pushed under the doorknob. Yuri nuzzles against Otabek’s jacket, drawing his attention back. “Where’s your kitty stuff?” he asks, petting Yuri’s soft hair, dipping his fingers into the layers to pull his head back. “Will you help me put it on?” Yuri asks, cheeks turning pink. Otabek knows he likes to hide his face when he’s embarrassed--to wrap his long hair over his mouth like a mask and look away--but he's held in place by Otabek’s hand. “You can’t do it yourself?” “No,” Yuri says, face burning brighter. “You have to help me.” From his tone, the stubborn lift of his chin, it’s clear there’s no negotiation. Still, Otabek glances at the door, biting his lip. If Lilia sees this-- “Beka.” The kitten looks mutinous, bottom lip pushed out. “Fine,” he says. Yuri hums and hides his blush against Otabek’s jacket, but Otabek pulls his chin up again, eyes narrowed. “Are you gonna get undressed first?” Yuri’s eyes cut away. Otabek knows the answer. “Yura--” “Please?” Yuri asks. “That’s not part of the game.” “But I want it to be.” Otabek lets him go, pushes him back a step to consider. Hard to think clearly with Yuri so close. The problem is that he’s always changing the rules. At first they didn’t touch. At first Yuri ate from a dish instead of Otabek’s hand. At first he wore a catsuit. At first he’d stay calm when Otabek hid in the bathroom. Now Yuri spends lazy long afternoons in his lap, licking peanut butter from Otabek’s fingers, wearing his skimpy kitty outfits, meowing loudly at the bathroom door when Otabek needs a minute to breathe, staring down his dark impulses in the mirror. And now Yuri stands there, bottom lip chewed red, asking Otabek to undress him. Otabek looks back toward the bed, where Yuri’s little outfit waits in a fluffy white pile. “Beka, please? I know it’s not part of it, but it’d make me so--” “Shh,” Otabek says, pulling him closer by his torn up t-shirt. He’s torn, too. If they get caught, what then? And if they don’t get caught, what next? This is why they never talk about Kitten. It’s more fun to play. He boops Yuri's little nose. “Kitties don’t talk.” Yuri hums, slipping his arms around Otabek, head heavy against his chest. Otabek lets him have his hug, rubbing the back of his neck with his thumb and forefinger, dipping his face down to smell his hair. Yuri’s lonely. They’ve talked about it often. He’s lonely, and Otabek’s lonely now, too, ever since he moved away from home to be by his side. They have to stick together. “Who dressed you up like this, kitten?” he asks, to start the game. Yuri purrs against his chest, making Otabek feel braver. Playing Kitten doesn’t come to him naturally. He’s never had a cat before. “Where are your ears?” he asks, feeling the top of Yuri’s head. The kitten laughs. “Where’s your pretty tail?” Wide, green eyes stare up at him. “Don’t look at me like that, when you know your tail is pretty.” Otabek scoops him up easily into his arms and smiles when Yuri tucks his face into the armpit of his jacket. He’s put on one of the mixes Otabek’s made for him, loud enough to drown out their voices and Otabek’s heavy footsteps in his boots as he carries him. He’s a smart boy. Otabek’s grateful for that.   He lays him down on the bed in the same place he did that rainy afternoon when Lilia burst in with her assumptions. Like that day, Otabek’s in his jacket and ripped jeans, muddy boots on pink carpet. It was all a big misunderstanding. Yuri had a secret he wouldn't tell. Otabek thought he could tickle it loose. Such a simple explanation. But useless to think about it now. It’s hot, but he knows Yuri will whine if he takes his jacket off. That’s strictly against the rules. It gets a little hotter as Otabek starts to undress him, sweat beading on the back of his neck, mouth going dry. This explanation is less simple. He pulls the ripped black shirt over Yuri’s head, and in an instant Yuri’s hands are busy, smoothing out his mussed hair. “Vain kitty,” Otabek teases. He tries not to look at the pretty picture Yura makes--lean tummy and slender chest, pink nipples hard with his paws sunk in his own gold hair--but Yuri catches him staring and smiles. Otabek looks down at his boots. The kitten is a show-off. “Who caught you, kitty?” he asks, shaking it off, peeling Yuri’s black sweats down his long legs. “Some neighborhood boys?” He gets mad just thinking about this--his perfect kitty with his pretty fur dirtied by mean little punks. For a moment he's happy Lilia keeps his kitty locked up, until he remembers he's the real punk Yuri needs protection from. He clears his dry throat, tearing his eyes off Yuri's belly button. “Did they pull your tail? Dress you up in these dirty clothes?” Yuri purrs loudly, leaning back on his elbows to let Otabek work. He hesitates over Yuri’s boxer-briefs. But Yuri blinks at him, waiting. Otabek takes a breath, “Did they tug on your ears, kitten?” The anger at these faceless boys helps him focus, keeps his hands from shaking, as he gently pulls Yuri’s boxers down his hips. His pretty cock is hard. Otabek imagines the boys pinning his kitten down and rubbing dirt in his fur. Petting him backwards. The kitty crying for help. His expression must be dark, because Yuri makes a curious sound, head tilted. Otabek grabs the tight lacy white shorts Yuri likes and pulls them up his legs in a hurry, trying not to love his little ass, then leans his kitten forward, Yuri's breath warm through his shirt, to clip his fluffy white ears into place. Yuri catches Otabek's forearm between his paws and licks his hand to say thank you, eyes drowsy with pleasure. “Good kitty,” Otabek murmurs, pulling his arm free--his jeans are too tight, the room too hot and too close--”You’re safe from those other boys now.” Yuri purrs. He’s so good at this game. Not like Otabek. He knows Yuri loves Kitten but it’s a challenge to focus. There’s too much to see. He keeps his kitty waiting. Even now, Yuri meows and nudges his tail with his paw. Otabek forgot all about it. “Sorry, angel,” the word just slips out, and Yuri’s face turns bright red. Otabek shakes his head, to clear it, “Kitten. Hey--” catching his chin, “I meant kitten.” But Yuri’s face stays red, and he breathes hard as Otabek ties his tail around his slender hips, fingers suddenly clumsy with the white ribbon. Stupid Otabek. He’d love to--one day, after Lilia cools off--he’d love to take Yuri on a date, to spoil him with presents, to kiss him. But it’s wrong to let that slip now, when they can't even play Kitten without whispering low under loud music. He shouldn’t have said that. Yuri’s eyes are shining when he turns back to face him, holding his fluffy white tail between his paws. The last step is his collar, which Otabek bought him after their first time playing. Or--well--he bought everything, but the collar was a surprise. Yuri wanted some pretty rhinestone thing to match his white fur, but Otabek thought he should be the one to pick, instead. Yuri was his kitten, and kittens don’t get to make all the rules. It’s black leather with a heavy metal heart shaped ring and spikes. So different from his delicate kitty, but so like his Yura. Yuri holds up his hair for Otabek, humming as Otabek tightens it around his slender neck. When he's done the kitten mews and crawls up the bed, displacing Potya by the pillows. Otabek follows him, sitting against the headboard as Yuri nuzzles his arm. Otabek pets his soft hair slowly, until his own eyes begin to drop closed. The sleepy afternoon air, the kitty's warmth, the soft bed--it's heaven. He's not having much fun in Russia, not that he would admit it. He can't whisk his Yura away on his bike, practice is uncomfortable, the gossip around them is thick. Kitten is all he has, now. A few stolen hours, once a week. It's tempting to curl around his kitten and sleep. But when Yuri's head starts to droop, Otabek shifts his shoulder. They can’t take a cat nap. They’ve done that before and woke in a panic--Lilia rattling the door handle, asking Yuri if he'd like some tea. “Psst, kitty, what’s this?” Otabek asks, with a better idea, making a finger spider for Yuri to chase. Yuri blinks sleepily, then rolls onto all fours to hunt it, wiggling his little ass. He pounces as it crawls onto Otabek’s chest. Yuri bites his hand and rolls off of him, onto his back, nibbling and licking Otabek’s fingers. It’s so hard not to tickle him. There’s something about the kitten’s tight tummy that makes him crazy, he can’t explain it. He wants to write poems. He wants to take pictures. He wants to lick Yuri from his belly button up to his collarbone, to clean him like cat--but he’s never touched the kitten like that before. What if Yuri says no? But then he thinks of the kitten, so calm and cool, as Otabek stripped him and dressed him. How he’d wanted it, asked for it, got it. Maybe he should change the rules today, too. “Are you gonna let me pet your tummy?” Otabek asks, staring down at the kitten. He refuses to blush. And if his face is hot, it’s the heat of his jacket. Otabek always gets what he wants. Yuri looks back at him, eyes narrowed, with Otabek’s finger clamped between his teeth, just hard enough to hurt. One foot lifts off the bed as if to warn him-- touch my tummy and I’ll kick you . But Otabek isn’t convinced. He sees a smile in Yuri’s eyes. He pulls his hand free and leans over the kitten, casting a shadow, hands on either side of his bare shoulders. “I bet Yura would let me,” he says. Yuri blinks up at him. He licks his pink lips, slowly. Otabek hooks his finger through the heart-shaped loop in Yuri’s collar and watches his breath catch in his throat. “Pretty kitty,” Otabek murmurs. “Let me kiss your tummy. I promise it won’t tickle.” “Beka--” Yuri says. “ Shh , baby. Kitties don’t talk.” Yuri goes still, so that Otabek can’t tell--as he lowers his lips to the kitten’s lovely, tempting little tummy--what will happen next. If the kitten really is his, Otabek can take whatever he wants. And Yuri loves to tell him every time how the kitten is his. All his. The song ends, and in the quiet he can hear the click of Lilia’s heels passing in the hall. But Otabek holds on tight to the kitten’s collar, keeping him in place as he drags his lips over Yuri’s smooth skin. The next song begins, drowning out Yuri’s moan. He arches his back as Otabek reaches his delicate collarbone--his skin all vanilla and honey. Otabek drops down to start again from his belly button, this time with his tongue. Yuri’s little claws scratch at the back of his head, but he doesn’t kick. His legs fall open for Otabek, and his lips, too, with breathy moans so they won’t be overheard. “Do you like it, kitty?” Otabek asks, looking up at the kitten’s sweet face. He stares down at Otabek, biting his lip. “You want more?” he asks, drifting lower--careful not to touch Yuri’s cock where it’s trapped in his shorts. He gives the kitten plenty of time to bat him away, to clamp those loose legs shut, to tell him no, shake his head, make a noise. He just watches instead, propping himself up on his elbows as Otabek lays between his legs. It excites him, knowing Yuri wanted this, too, that all those afternoons curled in Otabek’s lap he was ready to be spread out and licked clean like this. A bath for his dirty kitten.   Otabek lifts one of his legs over his shoulder and takes a sloppy, wet bite high up inside his kitty’s thigh, then another, greedy as a boy with ice cream, forgetting even to watch his kitten’s face. When he does look up the kitten’s biting the back of his hand to keep himself quiet--chest flushed and eyebrows drawn together. “Too much?” Otabek asks. Yuri looks like he might laugh-- too much --his eyes dance, smiling behind his paw, so Otabek grabs his hips and pulls him flat on his back in revenge, lacy shorts slipping easily over the silky sheets. Otabek leans down to pin his paws to the mattress. “If you want more I’ll give it to you.” The kitty meows, lifting his hips. “Still a dirty kitty?” A shyer mew, Yuri hiding in his hair. “Alright.” Otabek licks his pink nipples--first one, then the other--elbows on Yuri’s arms when he tries to break loose. Otabek moves slow, rolling the little gumdrops in his teeth, until the breathless little mews drive him out of his senses and bites hard enough to earn a swipe from his paw. “Whoops,” Otabek says, deadpan. The kitty cuffs his cheek again, gentler. But there’s still so much of him: legs that need to be kissed, beautiful, bruised feet, toes like a pantheon of precious little gods to worship, slender arms that Otabek traces with his lips, biting the thin skin of his wrist. He locks eyes with the kitty and turns his pretty paw over to kiss the back. Yuri raises an eyebrow, noble as a lord. “It’s a bath, kitten,” Otabek tells him. “I thought this is how you take them.” The kitty blushes so deep he turns his head toward the pillow, hair falling down to hide him. It’s only after he’s kissed the other shoulder, bicep, elbow, forearm, fingertips, palm, with Yuri’s little claws curling on his jaw, that Yuri emerges from hiding in his hair to take a turn--slipping his paw to the back of Otabek’s head to pull him down. Otabek thinks, for a dizzy second, that he might get a real kiss. But at the last moment Yuri tilts his head to the side, nuzzling against Otabek’s cheek, ragged breath near his ear. He draws back, one paw spread on Otabek's chest. Then he smooths his cheek on the other side of Otabek’s face. “Kitty kisses?” Otabek asks. Yuri purrs. He butts his forehead against Otabek’s. He sinks his paws into his own hair, rolling his hips up again. “More?” Otabek asks. “Mrow,” the kitten says. He tilts his head back in the pillows, and his collar glints in the light. Otabek grabs the kitten’s hair and pulls his head to the side, sinking his teeth into his neck. Spikes poke against his cheek as Yuri whines, pushing on Otabek with his paws. He doesn’t let go, biting up his neck high and higher to whisper in his ear. Nothing too bad. Just first date stuff. That he’s spoiled and dirty. That he’s pretty and knows it. That Otabek’s going to make him pay. Yuri sneaks a paw down to Otabek’s jeans, feeling up his cock- -as if to prove how dirty he can be. “Is that what you want?” Otabek asks, and the kitten turns his head to nuzzle against him, again, cheek so soft against Otabek’s. “It’s not for good kitties,” Otabek warns him, but he’s already sitting up to help Yuri unzip his jeans. Yuri pounces, toppling him to the mattress, where he straddles one of Otabek’s thighs, fighting Otabek’s zipper. Otabek sits up to strip off his jacket, at least. He’s burning up. But the kitten stops what he’s doing and narrows his eyes. “Just the jacket,” Otabek says. The kitten meows low, in the negative. “You’ve got a fetish,” Otabek teases, but the kitten ignores him, too busy tugging his boxers and jeans down. Otabek’s cock springs up so close to Yuri’s curious face he jumps back, startled. Yuri darts a glance up, cheeks burning, but Otabek's not laughing.  “Go ahead, kitten,” he tells him. “Get it wet.” The kitty does what he’s told, nose scrunched up, pink tongue darting over the head: once, twice. He treats the cock like strange candy--delicate licks before he decides he likes it. Then he decides he loves it, big wide licks up the sides, a swipe of his clever tongue over Otabek’s balls. His little ass sticks up in the air, tail falling to the side. Otabek grabs it and tugs, getting a squeal and a glare in return. Then he smirks, letting the cock run wet and sloppy over his cheek, getting messy as he glances up at Otabek, gaze hot. Otabek rubs his fluffy little ear between his fingers with a groan, “God, you’re perfect, baby.” “Fuck me,” Yuri answers, looking up at him as his hand slips up and down his cock. That thin, biteable wrist. Face so serious. Otabek has to catch up, blinking away the lovely haze of this afternoon when he realizes what’s being asked and who’s asking. “That’s not part of the game.” He’s too weak to scold him for speaking, too dumb to just tell him, flat, no. Yuri’s hot mouth on his cock has left him powerless. His little wrist goes up and down. “Beka,” Yuri says. “Please.” “Kitten,” Otabek says, a plea for mercy, even as he presses down on Yuri’s head, guiding it back to his cock. “Yura,” his mouth is so good. He sucks noisily, unpracticed slurps that make it hard for Otabek to breath. “Why can’t you behave?” “You wouldn’t like me,” Yuri murmurs, half to Otabek’s cock, before he licks it again. God, it’s true. It’s so hard to stop him, when he's being bad. “Come here.” Yuri whines as Otabek pulls him off, sitting up to gather the kitty in his arms. Yuri rests his paws on Otabek’s shoulders, little ass rubbing back against Otabek’s cock, impatient. He draws Yuri’s tail up to his lips to kiss the tip, stalling for time. Yuri purrs, rocking his hips back. The kitten's so happy. He doesn’t want to break the bad news. “You know I shouldn’t fuck you,” he starts, looking into Yuri’s green eyes. “I’ll get in trouble--” The kitty interrupts him with a scoff. “Nu uh, though. I mean, whatever, you shouldn’t fuck Yuri . But you can fuck your kitten, can’t you?” A tilt of his head, “Can't you, Beka?” Otabek shakes his head, it’s not that simple. “If Lilia finds out--” “She won’t.” “She can’t.” “I promise . She won’t. Beka, don't you get it? She doesn’t even know about me--about the kitten. She’ll never know, cause, y’know--” Yuri leans in close, rubbing his nose against Otabek’s. “Kitties don’t talk.”   It happens fast. He throws the kitten down on his back with a growl and strips off his jacket. The kitten laughs, watching Otabek’s rush to get his pants off, too--helping him, his little foot dragging off the black denim. But the kitten’s snickers are interrupted with a gasp when Otabek hauls him back onto his lap by the ring in his collar. “You better not said a word about this, beautiful,” Otabek whispers in his ear, pulling the collar tight to drive the point home. Yuri squirms in his lap, hands flitting up to his neck. “If they try to keep you from me I might make a kitty disappear.” Otabek releases him, Yuri sucking in a breath first, before he smiles and grinds back against Otabek’s cock. Of course he’d like that best. He’s a dirty little puss. Otabek fishes the lube from his jeans one handed, the other holding Yuri in place by his collar. He’s always got lube. Yuri’s found it before, soon after they met, asking as he read the packaging with interest when’s the last time Beka got laid. Otabek had put on his sunglasses and said he had to leave. But now he holds the pack of lube up to his kitten’s red lips and says, “Bite.” It’s been waiting for him all along. The kitty bites it open with a little growl, watching smug as Otabek slicks up his fingers. “Gonna teach you how to do this, baby,” Otabek tells him. “So you’ll be ready for me next time.” Yuri shivers in his arms, leaning in with a whine to pepper kitten kisses on Otabek’s face, but Otabek turns his head to trap his lips. No more games. He doesn’t kiss--he takes a bite of that chewed red bottom lip and pulls, until the kitty sinks his claws into his shoulders hard enough to hurt. Otabek opens his mouth instead, tongue sliding against the kitten’s until neither can breath. It’s their first kiss. Otabek slips his sticky fingers down the kitty’s back to those tight little shorts, eager for more. “Take them off,” he says. The kitten chirps, dubious--as if Otabek’s forgotten that undressing is his job--and Otabek pushes him back down on the bed as punishment, pulling the shorts down his legs and rolling him onto his stomach with a rough hand on his hip. “Up,” he says. The kitty raises up on all fours, looking behind him. Otabek flips his tail up onto his back and gently pushes his little cheeks apart. “You’re never going to fit this,” Otabek says, almost to himself, letting his breath tease his rim. “Am too,” Yuri says. Otabek spanks him, once, “Don’t you dare talk, kitty.” He rubs lube down the kitten’s thighs and over his own cock, holding the kitty’s legs together as he fucks between his thighs. The kitten buries his face in the pillows, but Otabek yanks him up by the hair, spreading his legs and pulling him backward onto his lap, growling in his ear that now he’s going to practice sitting on a cock. Yuri giggles, watching the head push in and out between his thighs. Otabek can’t breathe. “Little slut,” he hisses. “Keep your legs together.” He slides a finger against the kitten’s rim, letting him push it in further with each bounce of his little ass. Otabek hides his burning face between the kitten’s sharp shoulder blades, thinking Lilia can find them and kill him and it would have been worth it just to know how far his kitten would follow him over the edge. He knew Yuri wanted to be bad like him but this-- His heart is pounding. The kitten’s spoiling him. When he adds a second finger he has to slow his kitty down, pushing him forward onto his tummy to get him ready the right way. “Keep them together,” he warns when the kitty’s legs go loose, yowling around the two fingers pushing in. “I’m not done fucking those pretty thighs.” Yuri whines, whispers, “Fuck,” but Otabek doesn’t spank him, this time, worried he won’t be able to stop. “You’re gonna do this for me from now on,” he says, two fingers squeezed tight inside his kitty. “Remember? You’re gonna be waiting right in this bed, all wet and ready for me. No more wasting my time with your kitty games.” The kitten mews, fucked into the mattress with Otabek’s cock between his thighs, fingers working deeper. Then Otabek adds a third finger and the kitten yowls. “Fuck,” Otabek covers his mouth with his hand. “Kitty, shh !” Yuri nods weakly, giving little licks to his palm to say sorry. Otabek keeps fucking his fingers in, until the kitten loosens up and he draws his hand back, trusting him. He watches his cock slick and red between Yuri’s creamy thighs, his fingers pushed in with each push back of Yuri’s hips--rim stretched red and ready. “You want this, angel?” Otabek asks, pulling his cock from between his messy thighs to rub over the rim. Yuri mrows, peeking back over his shoulder. His thighs shake as Otabek pushes the head in, and his tail falls in the way. Otabek grabs it and pulls Yuri’s hands behind his back. “Hold onto you tail, pretty kitten.” Otabek says, pushing in a little further. Yuri whines against the mattress, tears shining in his eye. “ Shh , kitten. You make me so happy,” Otabek says. He grabs the kitten’s wrist and pushes further in, the squeeze of the rim making his eyes roll back. “Ah-- fuck, you’ve been so good to me, Yura.” At the sound of his name, Yuri whimpers, eyes squeezing shut as Otabek fucks in a little further. “It’s bigger than you thought, baby?” Yuri nods, gasping as Otabek pulls out, pushes back in slowly. “But you still want it, don’t you?” The kitten meows, lifting his hips. “Answer me, Yura.” “Yes, Beka. Fuck--” a shiver runs through his body. “ Please .” “ Shh ,” Otabek leans down to nuzzle a fluffy white ear and whisper in his hair. “You gotta be quiet, baby.” “Fuck, you’re so mean--” Yuri turns his head to kiss him, plush lips so sweet just as Otabek bottoms out. Yuri moans into his mouth, eyes half-open watching Otabek, who stares right back. “You belong to me now, Yura,” Otabek says, dropping one last kiss on his red lips. “You and this tight little kitten cunt are all mine.” Yuri gasps, falling forward as Otabek snaps his hips, rubbing that spot deep inside him that makes him whine Beka , over and over, drooling on the sheets, face half-hidden by his tangled hair. He lifts his little ass for more after every thrust, until Otabek’s seeing stars. “You want your cream, kitty?” A moan. A meow. Otabek slips his hand under Yuri to stroke his cock, “Gonna fill you up, Yura, so you don’t forget who you belong to.” Yuri comes with a cry that Otabek muffles with his hand. Otabek keeps him right there, ass high in the air, face crushed to the mattress, as he comes inside him, pulling out to see it spill down between his thighs. “Good kitty,” Otabek kisses his sloppy, soaked rim and falls to the bed, exhausted. “Mrrr,” Yuri curls in close, a little shaky as he tucks in the crook of Otabek’s arm, staring up at his face. His eyes shine, and Otabek thinks Lilia might have a point. But him and Yura can’t be stopped. He knows he shouldn’t fall asleep--she’ll come looking, eventually. But the tug down is as dangerous as the kitten beside him and just as irresistible. End Notes 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!