Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/9102826.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Yuri!!!_on_Ice_(Anime)
  Relationship:
      Jean-Jacques_Leroy/Yuri_Plisetsky
  Character:
      Yuri_Plisetsky, Jean_Jacques_Leroy, Yuuri_Katsuki, Victor_Nikiforov
  Additional Tags:
      Pliroy, jurio, Smut, Blowjobs, ass_eating, Riding, LOTS_OF_CONSENT,
      because_consent_is_important_kids, mostly_canon_compliant, slight_canon
      divergence_though_who_am_i_kidding, jj_is_a_sweetheart_and_yuri_is_a
      little_shit
  Series:
      Part 2 of and_my_bones
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-12-29 Words: 6187
****** are not gonna change your mind ******
by glasshalfempty
Summary
     Just like in Moscow, Yuri wakes up first.
     He’s wrapped in warmth once again, but this time, there’s no way he
     could mistake the arm around his stomach for a blanket. JJ’s forehead
     is pressed between his shoulder blades, and their legs are tangled
     together at the foot of the bed. It’s just like Moscow, except
     there’s one key difference.
     This time, when he opens his eyes, Yuri remembers everything.
Notes
     i'm on the last song of the hamilton soundtrack as I type this and i
     haven't skipped any songs i hope that tells you how fuckin long this
     took me to write this fic
     this is the part with the Actual Dick Touching, so if you're here for
     that, please enjoy
See the end of the work for more notes
Yuri finally takes his gold.
Barcelona nearly kills him, but it’s worth it, because as he steps onto the
podium, holding a bouquet of flowers and radiating victory, he feels as if he
could conquer the world.
Yuuri stands next to him, smiling brightly at the cameras, silver medal shining
on his chest, and Yuri is happy for him. He’s worked so hard to get here—Yuri
knows firsthand how difficult training with Victor can be—and he’s finally
found strength in himself to get what he wants, both on and off the ice. He
deserves this.
JJ stands on Yuri’s other side, and they don’t acknowledge each other. Yuri
knows the time isn’t right, and he knows JJ can sense it too, so they ignore
each other for now and focus on the cameras flashing in front of them.
They’ve been talking, in the month between Barcelona and Moscow. Yuri still
remembers the butterflies in his stomach when he woke up his first cold morning
back in St. Petersburg to a text from that same unknown number. It was a
picture of JJ and his dog, and JJ had captioned it with, “Isn’t she cute?”
This strikes the beginning of a long, frustrating month of poor communication.
Mostly it’s just small talk. JJ sends Yuri pictures of his dog, and Yuri sends
back pictures of his cat, and they talk about the weather, and training
regimens, and what they’re doing on the upcoming weekend. They don’t talk about
the night in Moscow, either because JJ knows Yuri is too embarrassed by it or
he just doesn’t feel the need. Yuri still remembers almost nothing, anyway. His
memory leaves off at the bar, where he can recall thinking how stupid JJ looked
for wearing his medal to the banquet. After that, it’s one big blur, with
slightly less blurry moments here and there—holding back sick while something
warm and heavy rests on his shoulders; laying on his back and staring at an
arched ceiling while someone fishes around in his pocket; a flash of blue and a
warm, heady scent that hangs heavy in Yuri’s nose when he lays on his bed and
shuts his eyes and tries to remember something, anything different from that
night.
He wants to remember it. He wants to know exactly what he did, and it kills him
that he can’t. He’s grateful that JJ stopped him, of course, but sometimes, in
the darkest hours before dawn when he’s alone in the quiet of his room with
nothing but his screaming thoughts, Yuri allows himself to wish for what would
have happened if he hadn’t.
He never tells JJ this, of course. As far as JJ knows, sober Yuri has no
interest in anything relating to him other than his skating routines, much less
his dick or how good it would taste in Yuri’s mouth, and Yuri intends to keep
it that way.
JJ, on the other hand, has fewer inhibitions than Yuri. For every selfie Yuri
sends, he receives back endless compliments, from the state of his hair to how
nice his arms look to his choice in clothing brands. Yuri probably would have
told him off harder if he didn’t blush every time he opened a new message.
This is the game they play. They prowl around each other in an endless circle,
neither willing to be the first to give in. JJ sends Yuri a winking emoji, and
Yuri tells him to fuck off, but sends him another selfie, and the cycle repeats
itself. Every time, Yuri can feel the dare behind JJ’s words: Go on, do it. Say
something already. We both want this. What’s holding you back?
Yuri knows it’s not that simple. If he folds his cards first, he’ll never hear
the end of it from both himself and from JJ.
The walk from the podium to the locker room is over before Yuri even realizes
it’s happening, and then he’s changing into his exhibition costume and
returning to the rink. His skates hit the ice and he flies, putting every last
drop of his soul into his final performance of the season. As he get off the
ice, he passes Yuuri, who is dressed in a midnight blue suit and looks like
he’s been crying. Yuri smiles at him, a real, genuine smile, and Yuuri gapes as
if he doesn’t believe his eyes. Yeah, well. Yuri can be nice when he wants. He
turns toward the locker rooms and listens to the crowd cheer as the silver
medalist takes the ice.
The locker room is empty as Yuri sits down on the bench and slowly takes off
his skates. He stares at his feet as warmth blooms through his chest. He’s done
it. He’s actually done it. All of his hard work and heartbreak has paid off.
Every loss along the way had brought him here to this night, and Yuri relishes
it. He doesn’t think he’s ever been happier in his life than he is right now,
and the only thing that could possibly make it better would be if—
“That was a good performance,” a voice says from the doorway, and Yuri is hit
by a strong sense of deja vu.
JJ is smiling again, just like in Moscow, but this time it’s genuine. Yuri
blinks.
“Uh. Thanks.”
“Yeah.” They sit in silence for a moment before JJ asks, “You going to the
banquet tonight?”
Yuri half-smiles. “Yes.”
“Well. Maybe we can get a do-over for Moscow, huh?”
What the hell does he mean by that? Yuri opens his mouth to ask, but before he
can say anything, the locker room door slams shut, and JJ is gone, leaving
behind a familiar pang in Yuri’s stomach.
===============================================================================
 
The Grand Prix banquet is much more crowded than the Rostelecom banquet had
been. Everyone and their mother seems to have entered the building, no one
wanting to miss out on the celebration. All the skaters from the junior
division are here too, most of them huddled in the corner and eyeballing Victor
as he sips a glass of wine and rests his free hand comfortably on the small of
Yuuri’s back.
Yuri is in alone the corner of the bar again. In front of him sit a bottle of
vodka, a shot glass, and a cup of orange juice. The difference between now and
last time, though, is that Yuri hasn’t even tried to break the seal on the
bottle. The shot glass is still clean, and the orange juice is untouched.
Yuri’s fingers drum on his leg as his eyes scan the crowd.
Yuri took his gold, and he knows he deserves to celebrate, but he’s not
drinking tonight.
“Of course you wouldn’t take off your medal, even for a formal banquet, you
shithead,” a familiar voice says behind him. Yuri blinks; he’d been so focused
on finding JJ that he hadn’t even considered the possibility of JJ finding him
first. Yuri smiles, picking up the shot glass and turning to face him with
unfocused eyes.
“Я вас знаю?” He says in slurred Russian, staring at a spot above JJ’s
shoulder, and JJ blinks in surprise.
“Oh,” JJ huffs, shoulders drooping slightly. “You’re drunk again.” It’s a
statement, not a question, and Yuri can’t help but notice that he sounds deeply
disappointed.
Yuri smiles a shit-eating grin and tosses him the shot glass.
JJ yelps, and his hands shoot forward, catching the glass to stop the imaginary
contents from spilling all over the floor. He blinks for a second, staring into
an empty cup, and Yuri laughs as the light bulb finally blinks to life over his
head.
“Wrong,” Yuri corrects him in a sing-song voice. “I haven’t had a single drop.”
JJ sighs, shoulders slumping. “Fucker. That wasn’t funny.”
“Yes it was.” Yuri spins the stool around all the way so he can look JJ in the
eyes. Green meets blue, and, oh. Yuri swallows and pulls a neutral expression
onto his face. “Well.”
“What?”
“I finally beat you.”
JJ huffs. “You did. Are you happy now?”
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, I’ll beat you next year,” JJ promises, but there’s no malice behind the
threat. In fact, JJ is smiling. Yuri takes a sip of the orange juice and
smirks.
“Are you upset?”
JJ frowns. “About what?”
“About losing.”
He sighs. “Of course I am.”
“You really don’t have a reason to be, you know. I know Victor promised the
Katsudon a wedding if he won gold, but what did anyone promise you?” Yuri asks,
tracing the rim of his orange juice with a finger.
JJ chuckles and meets his gaze levelly. “Well. Every other time I’ve won gold,
I’ve almost gotten laid.” Yuri wrinkles his nose at his lack of tact. “So I was
hoping for the something along those lines this time, too. Unfortunately, it
appears that isn't happening.”
“Says who?” Yuri asks. “I’m sure you could find some pretty face who’d be all
over you, bronze and all.”
JJ stares at him, his expression dangerously calm. “Oh, could I?”
Yuri’s not laughing anymore. This convoluted game they’ve been playing since
Moscow is crumbling at their feet. They’ve been dancing around each other for a
month, neither of them wanting to take the final step forward and face the risk
of losing their footing, but now they’re both here, face-to-face, and
everything is laid out on the table for all eyes to see. JJ’s just taken all
the power and put it in Yuri’s hands. The ball is in his court now. All he has
to do is shoot.
And fuck it, Yuri’s done with the games. He wants this, and he’s going to have
it, pride and dignity be damned.
“Sure you could. All you’d have to do is ask.”
JJ is silent for a moment, rolling the open invitation over in his head, and
Yuri thinks, this is it. His risk has paid off, and he’s won the game. He waits
with bated breath for his answer, and JJ smiles, abruptly handing Yuri his shot
glass.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I guess I’ll think about it.”
Yuri’s mouth falls open as JJ winks and turns, walking over to where Emil and
Mickey are standing not far away and smoothly striking up a conversation. Yuri
scowls, setting the glass on the counter and rising to his feet.
Damn him. Damn him to hell and back. Yuri had given in, had cast all hesitation
aside and broken first, and JJ had rejected him. How dare he? If he expected
anything from Yuri after this, he was horribly misinformed. Yuri sighs, cursing
his shit luck.
Well, what was he going to do now? His evening plans had apparently been
canceled, so now, hypothetically, he could drink if he wanted to. He doesn’t,
particularly, but, after a moment of hesitation, he raises his hand and gets
the attention of the bartender.
“Do you have any of this in a smaller bottle?” He asks, gesturing at the vodka.
The bartender nods and reaches behind the counter, handing him a bottle small
enough to fit in his pocket. How convenient, he thinks, taking the bottle and
telling the bartender to put it on Victor’s tab. He glances around quickly to
make sure no one is watching before sliding it into his pants pocket, where it
rests comfortably against his thigh.
Just in case.
JJ is still talking to Emil and Mickey, and Yuri’s not going to interrupt, so
he crosses the room to talk to Victor and Yuuri. Victor is mostly sober
tonight, but it looks like Yuuri is well on his way to another dance-off.
Thankfully, Chris is nowhere in sight, so maybe Yuuri will keep his clothes on
this time.
Victor hugs Yuri and congratulates him on his gold, telling him that even
though he wishes Yuuri would have won, Yuri deserves it too. Yuri smiles and
thanks him all while keeping an eye on the black and blue blur across the room,
who has now started a conversation with a group of girls Yuri doesn’t
recognize. Fans, Yuri thinks, and narrows his eyes when one of them puts her
hand on JJ’s arm as she laughs at a joke he can't hear.
Victor is oblivious, so Yuri excuses himself and quickly makes a beeline for
the wall next to the group—close enough to eavesdrop but far away enough that
he won’t be forced to get involved. If JJ thinks he can ditch Yuri’s offer and
then get laid with some other girl, he’s horribly misinformed. Yuri’s skin
itches as he prepares to prove just how big of a cockblock he can be.
He leans against the wall and pulls out his phone so he appears occupied, and
strains his ears to hear what’s going on in the conversation next to him. It’s
not hard; most of the girls are drunk and trying to speak over each other to
capture JJ’s attention.
“—so good,” one of the girls says, and the others nod. “Even bronze, that’s so
impressive. Especially up against such tough competition. That kid Yurio is
something else, isn’t he?”
“He sure is,” JJ replies, and when Yuri sneaks a glance, JJ is staring right at
him. Yuri scowls and ducks back behind his phone, angry that he’s been caught
so early on in the new game.
“Oh, let’s not talk about him. Let’s talk about you,” one of the other girls
simpers, followed by a chorus of agreements. “You were incredible, JJ.
Absolutely amazing. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you.”
“Thank you, that’s very kind,” JJ replies, and Yuri scowls so hard he thinks he
feels his jaw crack.
“You know…” one of the other girls pipes up in a low tone, and Yuri has to
strain his to hear. “If you’re not doing anything tonight after this, JJ,
I—well, I was wondering if you’d like to maybe come back to my place and watch
a movie or something?”
Yuri’s blood freezes over. He clenches his phone so hard he thinks he might
break it and looks up, eyes challenging.
Go on, do it. I fucking dare you, you piece of shit.
JJ’s face is unreadable, but when he meets Yuri’s glare, his mouth hints at the
ghost of a smile. He sighs, long and exaggerated, and announces “I’m sorry, but
I’m afraid I’ve got a previous engagement. Can I take a rain check?”
“Oh,” the girl says, surprised, as if she’d fully been expecting him to agree.
“Well, I mean—yeah. Yes. Yes, I’m sorry, it’s my mistake.”
“No problem at all,” JJ says, like the true gentleman he is, and Yuri doesn’t
care that it looks like the girl is about to cry. He’s had enough of this.
Fuck the games, he decides as he marches over and wraps his hand around JJ’s
arm.
“Yuri! Hi,” JJ says, surprised, and Yuri doesn’t meet his eyes as he wordlessly
tugs, trying to get JJ to move. The girls hiss and stare at him with
reproachful glares, but Yuri ignores them.
“We’re leaving,” he growls, and JJ laughs, shaking his head and turning back to
his fans
“Well, I’m sorry, ladies, but it appears I’m needed elsewhere,” JJ announces,
and the girls look like they’re about to protest, but they take one look at
Yuri’s face and shut right up. Yuri shoots them one final glare and yanks as
hard as he can, and JJ finally moves. Yuri marches them straight out of the
banquet hall and into the dimly lit hallway, and it’s only there that he
releases JJ’s arm and slumps against the wall. JJ stares at him as he
unashamedly takes the bottle out of his pocket and takes a swig, grimacing at
the taste.
“What has gotten into you?” JJ asks, dumbfounded, and Yuri glares at him from
under his bangs.
“A previous engagement, huh?” Yuri asks bitterly, and JJ huffs as he realizes
what’s going on.
“Jesus, you scared me,” he sighs, rubbing his jaw. “I just said that to get her
out of my hair. I’m not actually doing anything after this.”
“And that’s the problem,” Yuri mutters, and claps a hand over his mouth as he
realizes what he’s just said.
JJ blinks at him, and Yuri can practically hear the gears turning in his head.
“Wait,” he says slowly, putting the pieces together. “Really?”
Yuri stares at him and lowers his hand, figuring that since he's already dug
his grave, he might as well bury himself alive while he’s at it. “Yes, really.”
JJ flounders for a bit as he thinks about this. Finally, he points at the
bottle Yuri’s holding and asks, “How much of that have you had?”
Yuri scoffs. “Not nearly enough.” When JJ looks unimpressed, he sighs and says,
“Next to none. What you just saw is all I’ve had.”
“If you have any more, we’re not doing this,” JJ tells him. “I’m not having a
repeat of Moscow.”
Yuri doesn’t hesitate as he sets the bottle on the floor and kicks it away.
They watch it roll down the hall and bump into the wall, and neither of them
move to retrieve it.
“Yours or mine?” Yuri asks, and that’s when it sets in that, oh, they’re
actually doing this.
“I’m probably closer,” JJ says. “My hotel is just down the block.”
Yuri nods, and without a word, the two walk down the hall and file into the
elevator.
 
===============================================================================
The hotel room is dark, and JJ doesn’t bother to switch on the light as the
stumble through the door. JJ kicks off his shoes and swats them under the desk
with his foot, and Yuri dances in place impatiently as he removes his own
shoes. The second his hands are free, he reaches for JJ’s tie.
“Whoa, there, tiger,” JJ chastises him, and Yuri grimaces at the nickname but
ignores it. His hands yank greedily on JJ’s shirt collar, and JJ laughs in
surprise as Yuri pulls him across the room to the bed.
“Yuri. Settle,” he says, but Yuri can’t, not when they’re this close and
breathing in the same space and Yuri’s feeling all these feelings he’s ben
suppressing for a month. JJ sighs and gives in, and allows Yuri to push him
down onto the bed. Yuri kicks the blankets out of the way to make space, and
they make a loud thump as they fall to the floor, but he couldn’t care less;
couldn’t care less about anything right now, except for his explicit need to
thrust his mouth against JJ’s in a bruising kiss.
JJ groans and melts beneath him at the first damp press, and that helps calm
the beast in Yuri’s chest just a little bit. JJ’s hands cup his face, thumb
brushing his cheekbone, and Yuri relaxes into the touch. He’s only kissed a
small number of people in his life, so he doesn’t have much to compare this to,
but he’s pretty sure that even someone more experienced than he would agree
that JJ is an excellent kisser.
JJ’s tongue teases at the seam of Yuri’s lips, hesitant and questioning, and
Yuri allows it, opening his mouth and letting JJ inside. Their tongues clash,
and Yuri winces as he feels teeth, but he loves it, loves how messy and sloppy
and uncoordinated it is. He reaches between them with nimble hands, and his
fingers tug at the buttons on JJ’s suit jacket, pulling it open. JJ gets the
message and sits up, letting Yuri slide the jacket off his shoulders and down
his arms. It quickly joins the pile of blankets of the floor, and once Yuri has
his hands back, he grips the sides of JJ's face and stares into his eyes.
“Are you sure about this?” He asks.
JJ blinks at him in confusion. “You’re asking me this now?”
Yuri nods.
“If I wasn’t sure, we wouldn’t be here,” JJ tells him, and reaches for Yuri’s
own jacket. Yuri lets him undo the buttons and slide it off his arms. Once it’s
gone, JJ’s hands fumble for his pants, unzipping them. Yuri shimmies them off
along with his underwear and kicks them aside, setting himself back down once
he’s finished. He flushes as JJ’s eyes flick to his dick, which lays warm and
heavy against his hip. JJ’s eyelids flutter, and he groans, throwing an arm
over his face.
“Jesus Christ, you’re—you’re, already. You’re hard already,” he says, as if
this is a stunning revelation. Yuri huffs in response and rolls up his sleeves
before diving down to unbutton JJ’s pants. A few minutes later and JJ is
splayed out beneath him, completely naked. Yuri sits on his thighs and observes
his cock through heavily-lidded eyes. It’s just as gorgeous as Yuri had always
pictured, not too long and perfectly thick. JJ’s hands roam over Yuri’s
shoulders, dragging his unbuttoned shirt down his arms and sliding it off as
Yuri wraps his hand around JJ’s dick and give it an experimental stroke. JJ
makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat, and his hands reach for
Yuri’s gold medal, the only thing he still has on. Yuri’s hands leave JJ’s dick
to grab his wrist, stopping him.
“Leave it,” he commands, and JJ gulps and nods, dropping the medal back down
onto his chest.
Yuri slides down to rest in between JJ’s legs and presses his fingers into his
inner thighs as he thinks. He feels high, like he’s injected something sugary
sweet and boiling into his veins, and it gives him courage to do what he's been
dreaming of doing for months. He lowers his head and licks one long stripe from
the base of JJ’s dick all the way to the head.
JJ’s whole body jerks like he’s been tased, and he chokes, “Ack, Yuri, you
don’t have to—“
“I want to,” Yuri says, and JJ’s dick twitches against his lips at his words.
“I guess you remembered my promise, then,” JJ manages, and Yuri glances up at
him in confusion.
“What the hell are you talking about?” He asks, and JJ’s eyes flash as he
realizes his mistake.
“Ah. Uh. I guess you don’t, then,” he corrects, and when Yuri raises an eyebrow
for him to elaborate, he sighs. “In Moscow. When you—tried to do this. The only
way I could get you to stop was to tell you that you could suck my dick
whenever you wanted when you were sober.”
Yuri blinks. He vaguely senses that he should be embarrassed by that, but he’s
not, really. “Well, drunk me knows what he’s talking about,” he replies, and
dives back down, and neither of them are prepared for the feeling of Yuri
wrapping his lips all the way around JJ’s dick and dragging his teeth lightly
across his skin. The sensation of JJ resting hot and heavy in his mouth is
absolutely incredible, and Yuri feels blood pooling in his gut as he works his
tongue at the sensitive spot just beneath the head.
He’s never done this before, but Yuri’s always been a fast learner. He relaxes
his throat and lets JJ slide as far down as he can, and what he can’t take in
his mouth, he strokes with his hand. His eyes water as JJ’s fingers tangle
themselves in his hair and pull, but the action sends a jolt of heat straight
to his dick, and he moans around the cock in his mouth. He tastes precome,
bitter and thick, and he laps it up hungrily as spit drips down his chin. JJ
rambles nonsense as he watches the blond head bob up and down between his legs,
worshipping his cock.
“God, Yuri, chaton, so good—oh, fuck—oh, your mouth—“ he gaps, and Yuri hums in
response, tongue flicking over JJ’s slit. “God, so good—need more, need more,
oh, God, want you on top of me, want you—want you to ride me, oh, God, please—“
“Lube,” Yuri gasps as he pops off and his chest heaves for breath. “If we’re
gonna—I need—“
“No,” JJ says, and doesn’t hesitate as he pulls Yuri up to sit on his face.
Yuri makes a sound that would be positively humiliating if he had the mental
capacity to be embarrassed right now. JJ positions him, fingers digging on his
hips, and encourages him to sit. Yuri’s knuckles are white as he wraps his
hands around the headboard and throws his head back, lowering himself down.
He’s already embarrassingly hard just from having JJ in his mouth, but JJ
doesn’t seem to care. He wastes no time, swiping his tongue over Yuri’s
entrance in a slick swipe that sends a flash of heat blazing up his spine, and
Yuri cries out.
It’s a strange sensation, having someone’s tongue in your ass, especially when
that tongue belongs to Jean Jacques Leroy. Yuri tries to relax as JJ teases
around his entrance in small licks, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles on
Yuri’s tense thighs. Little by little, Yuri’s muscles loosen, and he braces
most of his weight on the headboard as JJ’s tongue finally enters him on one
long, slow drag.
“Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up,” Yuri gasps, and JJ hums as
his tongue prods wetly into Yuri’s hole. He really has no shame, Yuri thinks as
he grinds down, but then, he’s one to talk. He feels slick and absolutely
filthy as JJ opens him up, sliding his tongue into Yuri in slow, lazy thrusts.
JJ eats him out like it’s all he’s ever wanted to do, and Yuri sighs as he
takes it, he takes it all, takes every last thing JJ wants to give him. He
wants to swallow up every last drop of sensation he’s offered like water in a
desert, so he does just that, fucking himself down onto JJ’s tongue like he was
born to do so. His medal bounces against his chest with every thrust, and he
relishes the feeling, loves the weight of it tugging unforgivingly at his neck.
JJ’s hands, which have been gently tracing his hips, slide to the crease of his
ass, and Yuri chokes on air and tenses as one bold finger slides into him along
with the tongue. JJ grunts and lightly slaps his ass cheek, and Yuri gets the
message: relax. He grits his teeth and eases his legs further apart, adjusting
to the feeling of being so full. One finger quickly becomes two, and then
three, and Yuri’s panting as he rocks back onto JJ’s fingers and tongue. He
yelps as JJ becomes bolder, dig deeper, and his fingertips brush against
something inside him that sends liquid fire through his veins.
“Stop,” he groans just as the sensations are beginning to become too much, and
JJ pauses, removing his fingers. He gives Yuri’s hole one final parting lick
before pulling him back down to sit on his stomach. Yuri’s neglected cock
stares at him, angry and red leaking precome, and JJ stares back with a hungry
look in his eyes, pupils blown wide. He reaches up to give it one long, slow
stroke, rubbing his thumb over the slit, and Yuri’s entire body convulses.
“If you do that, I’m not gonna make it,” he warns, so JJ reluctantly lets go.
“Shame,” he breathes, and Yuri grunts in response, wiggling his hips
impatiently. JJ gets the message and leans to the side, reaching for his bag on
the floor near the bed. Yuri watches him like a hawk, not comprehending the
reason behind his actions.
“What are you doing?”
JJ looks at him like he’s an idiot. “Getting a condom.”
Yuri blushes, and it’s one of the cutest things JJ’s ever seen: Yuri Plisetsky,
naked on top of him with a dick that looks like it's about to burst, blushing
over condoms. He sticks his hand into the bag and feels around, trying to find
the small foil packet. He grabs the lube for good measure while he’s at it, and
once he rolls the condom on, he thoroughly slicks himself up. Yuri waits,
poised on JJ’s chest and whining anxiously as he ruts against JJ’s abs just to
get some friction. JJ’s gut tightens as Yuri finally gives in and strokes
himself, hair falling in his eyes as he frantically fists his dick in his hand.
“Stop that,” JJ orders him, and Yuri mewls pitifully but obeys and releases his
cock. It bobs helplessly, dripping onto JJ’s stomach, and Yuri bows his head,
shivering at the loss of contact. JJ’s done prepping, but Yuri doesn’t know
that, and, well, JJ’s not ready for the show to be over just yet. Yuri stares
at him spitefully as JJ’s thumbs roll over his thighs, massaging the muscles as
his eyes roam over Yuri’s body.
“You’re so beautiful, chaton,” he sighs, and Yuri bares his teeth in a snarl,
but his cock betrays him, twitching at the words. JJ raises his eyebrows. “You
like that, huh?”
“Shut up, Leroy,” Yuri growls, but his voice breaks on the last syllable, and
JJ smiles.
He’s done with the teasing. He grips his cock with one hand and Yuri’s hip with
the other, and Yuri places his hands on either side of JJ’s head, bracing
himself. Together they slide Yuri down JJ’s body until the tip of his cock is
pressing at Yuri’s entrance. Yuri grits his teeth and relaxes as much as he can
as JJ slowly pushes in, and they both gasp.
It’s. Well. It’s a lot, at first, and Yuri’s hands clamp down on the sheets,
holding himself steady as he adjusts. JJ is wide, and Yuri feels like he’s
being stretched to the point of breaking, but it’s good. God, it’s good. JJ
waits, staring blissfully at Yuri’s bowed head, the elegant curve of his spine,
the rise and fall of his chest as he takes slow, measured breaths. After a few
moments, he nods, telling JJ to go ahead, and JJ pushes in further.
Yuri falls to his elbows with a gasp, forehead crashing onto JJ’s shoulder. He
turns his face into the crook of JJ’s neck and places a kiss there, right at
the junction of his shoulder and neck. JJ sighs and thrusts up into him in a
tight, slick slide. His hand threads through Yuri’s hair and lightly pulls his
head up to press a kiss to his jaw, and Yuri hisses, feeling utterly
submissive.
“God, you’re so tight,” JJ mutters into his skin, and Yuri agrees, tentatively
pushing back to meet JJ’s thrust. Yuri’s cock is trapped between them, rubbing
against JJ’s stomach, and both sensations are so overwhelming that Yuri's eyes
roll back in his head.
“You can go faster,” he pants, and JJ doesn’t hesitate, picking up the pace and
thrusting up into him. Yuri does his best to sit up and grinds his hips down,
matching JJ’s thrusts with his own. They quickly find a good rhythm that works
and run with it. Yuri’s spine arches as he writhes in JJ’s lap, and his hands
splay out on JJ’s chest as he rides. The hot, velvet slide of JJ inside him is
almost too much to bear.
“Sit up,” Yuri gasps, and JJ groans, adjusting his grip on Yuri’s waist and
shuffling up the bed. He tucks a pillow behind his back and rests against the
headboard, making sure that Yuri doesn’t slip off his lap. Yuri waits
impatiently, face sweaty, stomach muscles contracting as he breathes heavily
and stares at JJ’s face. Once JJ’s comfortable, Yuri begins to move; he lifts
himself up slowly and drops back down, watching JJ’s expression the entire
time. JJ’s mouth falls open and his eyes fall shut, and he gasps at the
sensation. Yuri anchors his hands on JJ’s shoulders and rolls his hips, and
they moan together at the feeling. Yuri stares through half-lidded eyes at JJ’s
face, watching him. God, he’s gorgeous. Yuri doesn’t know how he got so lucky.
He shakes himself out of his reverie and rolls his hips again, humming
drunkenly as JJ’s dick drags deliciously against his prostate.
JJ’s hands are everywhere: his chest, his thighs, his hips. He touches every
bit of Yuri he can reach, worshipping. Yuri whimpers as JJ finally grips his
cock, jerking him in time with his thrusts. Yuri can feel himself beginning to
fall apart, and he quickly warns JJ. “I’m close.”
“Me, too,” JJ breathes, and Yuri leans forward and buries his face in JJ’s
shoulder. JJ grasps his hair and pulls his head back in order to mouth at his
neck, licking over every biting kiss and making a mess out of Yuri's skin.
Yuri comes first, moaning loudly into the open room as he spills over JJ’s
fist. JJ bites down on his neck and growls as he follows. His legs twitch, and
Yuri’s shoulders slump as he collapses against JJ’s chest, aching and
exhausted. JJ wraps his arms around him and pulls him close, and Yuri clings to
him as they both cool down.
Eventually, they have to move. JJ gently rolls them over and pulls out, and
Yuri almost shrieks at how badly it hurts. JJ’s hands flutter as he tries to
help, but Yuri, wincing, tells him that he’s fine.
“What can I do?” JJ frets, and Yuri smacks his arm, shooing him away.
“You can go get a washrag,” he tells him, and JJ frowns but complies, sliding
out of bed and walking to the bathroom. Yuri hears the sink run, and then JJ’s
back, climbing back over him and running the warm cloth across his stomach.
Yuri sighs and lets JJ take care of him, and when JJ lifts his leg to wipe
between his cheeks, Yuri doesn’t protest.
JJ tosses the rag into the bathroom and remembers the condom. He rolls it off
and tosses it into the trash can under the desk before rejoining Yuri in bed.
He pulls the blanket off the floor and situates it over them, making sure Yuri
is covered, and Yuri squirms closer, pulling JJ to him. JJ wraps his arms
around Yuri and pulls him against his chest, burying his face in his hair. Yuri
breathes evenly, fingers idly stroking along his side. The silence is
comfortable, and JJ’s consciousness begins to drift. He’s almost asleep when
Yuri stirs in his arms, attempting to roll over. JJ blinks awake and lets him
move, and Yuri flops back down a second later, pressing his back against JJ’s
chest. JJ tightens his ams and presses a soft kiss to Yuri’s shoulder, and Yuri
sighs, covering JJ’s hands with his own. They spoon in silence, and the last
thing JJ remembers before he drifts off is the damp press of Yuri’s mouth
against his fingers, conveying all the things neither of them can put into
words.
===============================================================================
 
Just like in Moscow, Yuri wakes up first.
He’s wrapped in warmth once again, but this time, there’s no way he could
mistake the arm around his stomach for a blanket. JJ’s forehead is pressed
between his shoulder blades, and their legs are tangled together at the foot of
the bed. It’s just like Moscow, except there’s one key difference.
This time, when he opens his eyes, Yuri remembers everything.
===============================================================================
 
Yuri’s afraid that things will be awkward when JJ wakes up, but they’re not.
They both get dressed. JJ feels horribly guilty when Yuri stands up for the
first time and almost falls over, but Yuri insists vehemently that he shouldn’t
worry about it. Yuri blushes when JJ hands him a pair of sweatpants and a t-
shirt and firmly says, “Keep them.”
He walks Yuri down to the lobby and hails him a cab. They face each other as
Yuri opens the door and throws his suit and medal into the backseat.
“Well,” JJ says, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“I guess it is,” Yuri replies. The wind whips his hair around his face, and JJ
reaches out to tuck it behind his ear.
“Hit me up if you’re ever in Canada, yeah?” JJ asks, and Yuri grins, leaning
into his hand.
“Same goes for you,” Yuri replies, and JJ’s smile is absolutely dazzling.
Yuri tells the cab driver the address of his hotel and watches JJ through the
rear window until he can’t see him anymore. Once he’s out of eyeshot, Yuri
turns around and picks up his medal, inspecting it. It doesn’t look any
different from than it did last night, but it feels heavier somehow, like it’s
absorbed the events of the previous night and is holding them inside. Yuri
slides it over his head and pulls out his phone, quickly snapping a picture of
the gold circle resting against his borrowed t-shirt. He sends the image to JJ
and, not thirty second later, his phone buzzes.
that shirt is almost as gorgeous as its wearer ;)
Yuri will never tell anyone, but he smiles.
End Notes
     fun fact: im a mess
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