“Just once,” Yuribegged in a low voice. Sometime during the Grand Prix banquet, he hadmanaged to get a hold of a little too much champagne. Really itwasn't too hard of a thing to do. There was a table laid out withopened bottles of bruts next to glasses ready to be filled. A quicksnatch and Yuri had managed to grab two glasses at a time. Each timehe would return to a secluded area where Otabek would be waiting forhim. The ever morally correct Kazakh would shake his head indisapproval, but not once did it stop him enjoying a glass or twowith his new found friend.
“No,” Otabek returnedin a whisper. People were starting to get closer to them as manystarted to say their goodbyes and make their way to their hotelrooms. “You're too young,” he scolded.
A choked laughter leftYuri's sweet lips, slowly licking off the last remains of the bubblyalcohol. “Now I'm too young?” his voice was slurred, his vision aslight blur. The young Russian took a step closer, his hand flat onOtabek's chest, as he looked into those dark eyes with a quirk of hislips.
“Yes, Yuri,” Otabekanswered, his own hand going up to take the dainty pale one, thickfingers wrapping around it. The small hand was brought up to theolder teen's lips to gently kiss it. Dark brown eyes opened once moreand shown with pure tenderness. “Not this time,” he was almostbegging. Hoping that he could get Yuri to understand the situation,that now was not the time. But when he looked back with those greeneyes, it was so hard to say now.
“This is the only time.Just once, please?” Yuri continued on, just hoping beyond hope thatOtabek would say yes.
“I will see you again, Ipromise,” Otabek kissed each knuckle, trying to get Yuri to dropthe issue. From behind them, Otabek could see that Yakov was headingover, looking for the young Russian.
“Promise?” The smallword was whispered, a deep sadness, hoping so deeply that they wouldsee each other sooner than later.
“I promise. I will evengive you just one.” The Kazakh smiled as he closed the gap betweenthem and softly placed his lips against Yuri's. The kiss was brief,just a press of the lips when Yakov was yanking Yuri from the hold.
“You are in trouble!”The old Russian shouted, having been told that the gold medalist hadstolen some champagne.
“Huh?” Green eyes werewide, shocked from the kiss and the sudden yank.
“See you at the airportfor another one,” Otabek chuckled, waving his new friend goodbyeand goodnight.
