Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/11183739.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Katsuki_Yuuri/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Katsuki_Yuuri, Yuri_Plisetsky
  Additional Tags:
      Masturbation, yuri_gets_off_to_yuuri_getting_off, Yurio's_Awkward_Teenage
      Crush, Eros_Mode_Katsuki_Yuuri, Voyeurism, Exhibitionism
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-06-12 Words: 4143
****** You Lead Me Like A Siren ******
by blackmountainbones
Summary
     Just days before Onsen on Ice, Yuri wakes up in the middle of the
     night to discover Yuuri discovering his Eros.
Notes
     slowly working my way through my tumblr ask box prompts! my darling
     saltwife asked for yuri watching yuuri jerk off. well, darling, hope
     this gets you off.
See the end of the work for more notes
It was two in the morning when Yuri woke up.
You would think that after three years of competing as an athlete on an
international level, Yuri would have found a way to deal with jetlag. However,
despite having arrived in Hasetsu four days ago, Yuri’s body remained
stubbornly on St Petersburg time.
He laid in bed for several minutes, attempting to lie still enough to trick his
body back to sleep. However, after a while, it was obvious that he was far too
awake to drift off so easily.
Cursing, Yuri dragged himself out of bed. He had to pee, and he was hungry--all
the years of early practice meant that Yuri’s body was conditioned to eat as
soon as he awakened. He knew that if he didn’t eat something soon, his stomach
would turn sour and acidic, and he’d be weak and useless for the rest of the
day.
He cracked open his door to walk down the hall to the bathroom, stepping
lightly so as not to disturb anyone. The onsen was curiously quiet at night,
which was vaguely unsettling to Yuri, who was a city boy through and through.
He’d rarely even visited a town as small and tranquil as Hasetsu, since most of
his skate competitions took place in major cities.
The inn was quiet, the hallway sparsely illuminated by a series of dim
nightlights that cast barely enough light to see. Yuri slid the bathroom door
open, and the sound of his piss hitting the bowl of the toilet sounded obscene
in the silence. He flushed and turned, exiting the small bathroom back into the
hall.
After a moment, he decided to head downstairs. Though the kitchen was closed,
perhaps he would find some leftovers or cereal to settle his stomach. Surely
the Katsukis were used to the appetite of a competitive athlete, and would not
mind if he helped himself...
Yuri let himself into the kitchen, rummaging around in the large, stainless
steel refrigerator that took over nearly half the room. He found a container of
leftover fish and rice, sprinkling it with soy sauce and the seaweed seasoning
to which he’d grown addicted since he’d arrived in Japan, then ate cold in the
dining room with a spoon he’d salvaged from the rack by the sink.
The dining room was adjacent to the entrance for the bathhouse locker rooms,
and Yuri’s late-night snack was interrupted by an unexpected sound from the hot
springs. His first reaction was to freeze--he wasn’t certain of Japanese hot
spring etiquette, but something told him that guests generally didn’t raid the
kitchen in the middle of the night. Still, it was their own damn fault for not
having bothered to lock the door.
Another sound echoed from the hot spring. Yuri swallowed and pushed his plate
away, suddenly more curious than hungry.
He made his way out of the kitchen on light feet, careful not to make noise as
he stepped. He pushed open the door to the hot spring locker room and showers,
but the room was dark and silent.
As Yuri waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness around him, he heard
another sound. This time, he was close enough to identify it as... a moan? And
it was definitely coming from the hot spring itself, not the locker room....
Carefully, Yuri stepped toward the glass door that separated the hot spring
from the locker room. Before opening it, he gazed through the glass. What he
saw made him stop short: Yuuri Katsuki, his first crush and arch rival, lying
at the edge of the hot pool, hard cock in his stroking hand.
Yuri gasped before he could stop himself, then froze, eyes locked on Yuuri’s
naked body. Thankfully, Yuuri was too lost in his pleasure to notice that he
had an audience, and Yuri briefly crossed himself out of habit before settling
back to watch.
Yuri had long known that Yuuri Katsuki was a beautiful man--he’d known long
before that idiot Viktor Nikiforov, anyhow, at least since Yuuri’s breathtaking
bronze finish at NHK three years ago. The instant that Katsuki had glided out
onto the ice, young Yuri, only twelve years old, had lost his innocence
forever.
Even then, Yuuri had moved like music flowed through his veins where normal
people had blood. Yuri had been instantly mesmerized by the sinuous flow of his
hips, the way that his thick ass had jiggled ever-so-slightly with each jump he
landed. Despite his under-rotated, sloppy triples and utter lack of quads, Yuri
had fallen in instant lust with Japan’s young ace.
Two minutes later, by the end of Yuuri’s incredibly sensual short program, Yuri
also had an erection, which he dealt with by excusing himself immediately
afterward to masturbate frantically in the privacy of his bedroom. There had
still been two skaters left to perform, and Yuri had never before stopped
watching an international figure skating competition before the final scores
were announced, not even for dinner--but Yuuri Katsuki danced dirty, and Yuri,
a dancer himself, could not help but be affected.
That very first time, Yuri had barely managed to get his dick out of his
underwear before coming all over himself. Though he’d learned since then how to
tease himself, maximising his pleasure by drawing close to orgasm and then
backing off, he was instantly hard and throbbing in his pajamas at the sight of
Yuuri discovering his Eros.
He knew he should sneak back out into the dining room and clean up his dishes,
then tiptoe upstairs to his room. He definitely shouldn’t have been caressing
himself through the silky pajamas as he watched Yuuri’s fine-boned fingers fly
up and down his dick while he did something filthy with his hips, something
that was not altogether unfamiliar to Yuri. He was certain he had seen the
Japanese skater make exactly the same motion in some of his programs--the very
ones that Yuri liked best.
Yuuri made a sound that was halfway between whimper and a moan, a pathetic,
needy thing. It should have made Yuri sneer, but he stared at the scene before
him, transfixed, unable to pretend that he was disgusted when this was one of
his shameful wank fantasies come to life. Yuri cradled his own erection in his
hand, holding onto himself through the silky fabric but not stroking just yet.
How many times had he imagined Yuuri’s cock? Yet despite all the time he’d
spent thinking about what Yuuri’s dick might look like, it was still a surprise
to see it in the flesh: red and thick with a fat, purpling head. It was obvious
that Yuuri had been at this for a while; his dick was dark with blood, his
balls drawn tight between his legs despite the steam from the hot spring.
Fuck pork cutlet bowls--this was Eros, Yuuri Katsuki with his dick in his hand,
touching himself with abandon, completely unselfconscious.
Maybe, Yuri wondered, it was performance anxiety that caused Yuuri to fail at
skating Viktor’s routine. Yuuri’s attempts at Eros had failed for precisely one
reason: Yuuri’s insecurity. He was too deliberate, too conscious when he
performed, yet it was obvious that Yuuri knew exactly what sexual pleasure was
like. No one could be innocent and touch himself like this. Even someone as
inexperienced as Yuri could see that.
Yuri had never even seen another erect penis in the flesh before, but he could
already tell how hot and heavy Yuuri would feel in his hand. He groped his own
dick, which was already wet enough to leave a small spot on his silky green
yukata, then pushed down his pajamas and underwear with a decisive motion.
Fuck it--Yuri wasn’t going to be able to sleep until he’d come at least once to
this. How could anyone blame him, when the object of his fantasies was laid out
against the steps leading into the hot spring? Certainly if Yuuri hadn’t wanted
someone to see him jerk off, he would have chosen somewhere more private to do
it.
Yuri reached down to grab his dick as he watched Yuuri touch himself. His cock
was fat enough that his fingers barely closed around it, and from where he was
crouched, Yuri could see the way the skin pulled up and down the shaft,
covering and uncovering the plump purple head. Yuri's own foreskin wasn’t as
long, and didn’t cover the pink tip of his own cock completely, even when he
stretched it as far as it would go.
Yuri tried to pace himself to match Yuuri’s rhythm, but his hand sped up on his
dick without his permission. He slowed himself down, but as soon as he started
to watch Yuuri again, his hand increased its tempo, sliding up and down the
shaft more quickly.
He groaned in frustration, pausing to squeeze his dick at the base just as
Yuuri pulled on his balls, twisting them a bit as he yanked them down. To
Yuri’s surprise, Yuuri’s dick seemed to get even harder from the rough
treatment, and he found himself copying the motion.
It hurt--maybe it wasn’t all bad, but Yuri let out a soft painful sound all the
same. Immediately, he let go, biting his lip to force himself silent. Though he
was sure Katsuki couldn’t see him through the darkened glass, Yuri’s cheeks
flared with shame all the same. He had to stay silent; if Yuuri found him with
his dick in his hand, Yuri was certain he would either die or come or both,
instantly. But he sure as hell wasn’t going to stop now.
He curled his hand around his penis. It was neither as long or as thick as
Yuuri’s, but it filled Yuri’s palm perfectly all the same. God, he was so hard,
just watching as Yuuri humped his hand, screwing his hips as he twisted his
grip. The thick skin dragged on the fat head with a delicious filthy sound,
even more erotic than Yuuri’s throaty moans. He was definitely making himself
feel good...
All of a sudden, the hand that had been holding Yuuri’s balls dove down between
his cheeks. Yuri’s cock throbbed in his hand--it was obvious that Yuuri was
touching himself there. Yuri’s own hole clenched in sympathy. He’d recently
started touching himself there, imaging Yuuri’s thick fingers in place of his
own, but previous experience had informed Yuri that it was hopeless to even try
without lube, especially since he had ballet practice tomorrow. The last thing
he needed was to have his dance belt riding up his sore ass because he’d tried
to fuck himself open without lube.
Yuuri lifted his hand from between his legs and licked his fingers, filthy and
wet. It was all too easy for Yuri to imagine the man slobbering on his dick
instead, getting him wet enough to rut between Yuuri’s cheeks and tease that
tight hole with the tip of his cock... Fuck, this felt so good; Yuri wanted to
come now but he also wanted to come while watching Yuuri come, so he let go of
his dick, which throbbed in protest. Yuri ignored his stubborn penis, instead
watching Yuuri coat his fingers in saliva.
He continued to stare as Yuuri pulled himself off of the onsen steps to lie on
his side next to the hot spring, giving Yuri a perfect view of his perfect
round ass as well as the fingertips reaching in between his cheeks. Yuri had no
idea how he was supposed to share a ballet studio with Yuuri the next morning
without embarrassing himself. He made a mental note to make sure he wore his
sweats and not his leggings. Hopefully they were clear of any embarrassing
stains...
Yuri strained his eyes for a glimpse at Yuuri’s hole, but the light in the
onsen was dim, and all he saw was the the dark stripe of Yuuri’s crack, his
long, thick fingers disappearing into the shadow. It was enough--Yuri bit his
lip harder as his hand tightened around his own dick. Yuuri moaned, a long low
thing, so intimate that Yuri swore he could the sound rumbling against his own
chest.
He began stroking himself again, slowly this time, trying to match the languid
pace with which Yuuri was fucking his own fingers. Yuuri’s brown body was still
somewhat softer than one might expect for a world-class athlete, the cheeks of
his ass thick enough to ripple with the thrusting motions of his hand. His ass
was so thick that Yuri couldn’t be sure how many fingers he had up inside
himself, but he was certain that it had to be at least two...
Every time he’d imagined this, Yuri had thought about Yuuri fingering him,
never the other way around. It seemed like a gross oversight, especially
considering that Katsuki had the best ass in figure skating, male or female.
Yuri’s cock drooled as he considered the possibilities, the precum making a
slick sound as his fist stroked up and down his own dick.
His balls twinged again with the desire to come, and Yuri reached down to twist
them. This time, the pain was a welcome distraction from his orgasm, delaying
it without diminishing his erection. No wonder Katsuki liked it so much... Yuri
yanked again, a whimper escaping his bitten lips when another arc of pain
radiated from his groin, making his dick jump in his palm.
Just as Yuri managed to stave off his orgasm yet again, Yuuri twisted himself
onto his back, pushing his feet onto the ground. He lifted his right leg up,
pushing his thigh against his abdomen. Both knees were bent, his left foot
planted on the concrete, while his right foot dangled in the air, bent into a
delicate arch.
Perhaps it was all the ballet, but Yuri let himself be distracted from the
sight of Yuuri fingering himself by the graceful line of Yuuri’s foot where it
cast a shadow on his warm-toned skin. Despite the abuse Yuuri’s feet were
subject to each day, or maybe because of it, his feet were still one of the
most beautiful parts of his body, worthy of worship just as much as his plush
ass. They were thin and graceful with long toes and a high arch, the kind of
feet that made Yuri’s own look stubby and ugly in comparison.
Fuck, was Yuri really jerking off to the sight of Yuuri Katsuki’s feet? He was
spending way too much time with that pervert Viktor. He forced himself to watch
Yuuri fucking himself on his fingers, but kept sneaking glances at the acutely
arched sole of Yuuri’s foot from the corner of his eye while he stroked himself
frantically, still aching to get off. Yuri wished again that he had lube--his
precum was too thick and sticky to be slippery for long, and the tight grip
with which he held his dick as painful as it was pleasurable.
Still, he couldn’t let go of his penis, couldn’t take his eyes off of Yuuri’s
hand where it disappeared into the shadow between his cheeks, his graceful
feet, or the lock of Yuuri’s black hair that curled damply with sweat and steam
at the nape of his neck. His hand stuttered on his penis: that small detail was
unexpected, and Yuri was struck with the sudden desire to pull it, to yank
Yuuri back by his unkempt hair, and fit his dick between those round asscheeks
as he bit along the tendons cording Yuuri’s thick neck.
But all Yuri could do was stroke his own cock, kneeling shamefully behind dark
glass and hoping that the darkness was enough to cover his shame. As he touched
himself, he heard Yuuri let out a series of grunts, sounding like nothing more
than the pig he was as his untouched dick lurched between his legs and erupted
with semen. Two long jets of come arced over his abdomen, and then he gripped
his shooting penis with the hand that wasn’t currently in his ass, almost
certainly pressing down of his prostate, and stroked himself through the rest
of his orgasm.
Yuri tried to wait until Yuuri was done before coming, but just when he thought
the man was finished, he stroked himself faster, and another shot of semen
spilled into the hollow of his bellybutton, and it was all over--Yuri was
coming so hard, every muscle in his body tensed, including his eyelids.
Frantically, he cupped the wet head of his penis in his palm, trying to catch
as much of his cum as he could, not wanting to leave evidence of his spying for
Yuuri to discover. So Yuri drank the warm liquid from his hand. It was bitter,
but not in a bad way--an acquired taste, like coffee, or dark beer. Yuri had
grown to like it, had wondered what another man’s come would taste like as he’d
done this, and now he imagined Yuuri. He would be briny like the sea, bitter in
a different way, maybe like the bergamot he took in his tea...
When he opened his eyes, Yuuri was just coaxing himself through the last of his
orgasm, his dick jerking but dry. Finally, he let go of his penis, slowly
withdrawing his fingers from his hole with a slick sound that made Yuri’s mouth
water as he lapped the last of his own semen from his hand. It was dirtier than
anything he’d ever seen in porn or even his own imagination, and he knew that
he would be reliving this moment more than once, preferably in the comfort of
his own bed with a bottle of lube within reach.
Yuri was so zoned out on his orgasm that he barely noticed Yuuri lift himself
to his feet, stepping toward the door to the shower behind which Yuri was
crouched. Yuri froze, his penis soft and still sticking out from his pajamas,
afraid to move lest Yuuri catch a glimpse of shifting shadows behind the glass.
But Yuuri just grabbed a towel to wipe himself clean from the wooden bench near
the sauna, just a few meters from the shower room door. Yuri choked down a sigh
of relief, thankful that Yuuri wasn’t wearing his glasses--he almost certainly
was too blind to see Yuri, even from the short distance.
Yuri paused for a moment to appreciate Yuuri’s frame close-up: his belly puffed
out below his navel, and he had a slight muffin top to his flanks which only
served to make his ass look fuller. Though he knew the extra weight was likely
the reason Yuuri could not perform his quads reliably, Yuri thought he might
prefer this thicker version of Yuuri to the trimmer man he’d been at last
year’s Grand Prix Final in Sochi. It was selfish, but so was Yuri.
As deliberately and silently as he could, Yuri pulled his pajama pants up, and
did a once-over in the darkness, checking for any spilled come. There was a
small patch on the floor, thankfully just a few centimeters from the glass
window, and Yuri grimaced but used the sleeve of his robe to wipe it clean.
It had to be obvious how blissed out he was--his eyes were glassy and barely
focused, robes and hair rumpled. He’d have to rinse the cum stains out in the
sink before Mari came in to collect his sheets and laundry, but it would wait
until the morning. Yuri was far too tired to bother changing just to walk down
the hall to the bathroom and clean his robes, even if it meant he’d have to
scrub harder to get the dried stuff off. All Yuri could think of was sleep, and
how Yuuri had looked with his legs spread and his hand up his hole...
His dick twinged, and Yuri made his way back to his room on light feet before
he could get another erection. That would have to wait until he was lying back
on his futon, trying not to feel the way the soft sheets cradled his cock. 
Yuri groaned and rolled over onto his belly, dick plump and thick, not quite
hard but well on its way. He sighed, grinding his hips against the firm
cushion, already resigned to getting himself off once more before even trying
to get back to sleep--Goddamn Katsudon and his stupid Eros for interfering with
his rest just days before Onsen On Ice...
 
 
Yuuri stepped out of the hot springs, stretching languidly. He stood proudly
naked as he dripped off, not bothering with a towel--the one he’d brought out
with him was smeared with semen, and he liked the contrast of the brisk spring
air against his hot skin.
He lifted his arms over his head, and rolled his shoulders and neck back before
reaching for his robe, which was folded in a neat blue square on the bench with
his glasses atop. He slicked back his hair to keep it from dripping on the
lenses, then slipped the glasses onto his face.
The onsen was quiet, and a cursory glance informed him that all the guests were
sleeping, every window black. It must have been late, and Yuuri yawned,
suddenly exhausted. He’d been running on raw adrenaline for the past several
days, trying everything method he could think of to discover his Eros, and
after the endorphins from his earlier orgasm had worn off, Yuuri was sleepy and
sluggish.
He quickly wrapped himself in the blue silk robe, then opened the door to the
showers and locker rooms slowly enough to avoid making a noise. When he reached
for the handle to slide the door shut, however, he felt something sticky
against his fingers. Closer inspection revealed that the substance was white
and sticky and smelled kind of like bleach--someone had watched him touch
himself, and undoubtedly touched themselves too....
Yuuri’s cheeks flushed. He was half embarrassed, and half aroused... What if it
had been Viktor? The idea made the blush bloom on his chest. Surely if Viktor
had jerked off watching him, it meant he had enjoyed the show, right? The
possibility that Viktor had liked watching Yuuri enough to get himself off to
the sight made Yuuri’s blood pound in his veins.
He shivered and flicked on the light, using his dirty towel to wipe up the last
of the mess. The come had trickled down the wall, and it took Yuuri some
vigorous scrubbing to clear it away completely. He’d intended to throw the
towel directly into the laundry bin to avoid Mari’s snooping (his sister always
claimed was just her being thorough in her job, though Yuuri knew the truth);
instead, he took the towel upstairs with him to hide in his closet where even
Mari hadn’t dared look ever since she’d found his Fleshlight and the vibrating
dildo that one time.
Thankfully, the upstairs hallway was silent. It appeared that all the lodgers
were asleep; the motion-sensitive light in the hallway flickered on as soon as
Yuuri stepped out of the stairwell. Each door was tightly shut, and Yuuri felt
a little less exposed, even though the towel he was holding was filthy with the
proof that someone had masturbated as they watched.
Yuuri walked down the hallway carefully. The family’s quarters were on the
third floor, accessible only by a private stairwell at the end of the east
wing. He tiptoed down the hall, pausing to fish his key out of the pocket of
his robe, when he heard the sound coming from the last door on the left.
It was raspy, like sheets rustling, as though someone was tossing and turning
in an attempt to force themselves back to sleep. Yuuri noticed that the door to
Yuri’s room was cracked open, ever so slightly, no more than a centimeter or
two. He heard another sound, this time something low and rough, almost a growl.
 
Could it have been...? Yuuri flushed and shook his head, looking down at the
towel in his hand. No, no way. It wasn’t possible. Yuri Plisetsky hatedhis
guts.
A breathy sound escaped through the slim crack in the door. It sounded almost
like Yuri was saying his own name, except drawn out...
Fuck. Yuri wasn’t moaning his own name, he was moaning for Yuuri. There was
another rough rustling sound, and Yuuri forced the crack of Yuri’s slightly-
opened door a few centimeters wider, just enough to shove the towel through the
crack in Yuri’s door as he unlocked the stairwell. With shaking fingers, Yuuri
closed the security latch, something his family rarely bothered doing. However,
the Katsuki family had never before played host to an angry tiger, and Yuuri
wasn’t taking any chances.
End Notes
     let the muse know you liked it! keep those comments and kudos coming,
     all your kind words bring us to new lows!
     hit me up on tumblr @the-stoned-ranger
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