#thoughtsappear

It was no secret that Otabek was a people pleaser.

It was a peculiar phrase, because he wasn’t an all-people pleaser. He only cared to please the ones he cared about.

His family (in all of their extension), his closest friends, and the entirety of his country were just a few examples of the people he liked to please.

None of them, however, could’ve prepared him for the hurricane that was Yuri Plisetsky.

He had to tread lightly with this one, he knew. Be aloof, be cool. If he was ever going to catch Yuri and even get a glimpse of a chance to please him, really please him the way he’d been dreaming of for a devotional number of years, he needed to take things slow.

He needed to draw him in slow, like collecting honey.

That all worked well and fine, that is, until they fell in love.

Love had a way of stripping away any masks of aloof or cool, despite Otabek’s carefully planned intentions to keep the allure and the mystery alive. Yuri didn’t seem to care about any of that when he would peel off his skin-tight jeans and crawl up the bed with an unnaturally feline dip of his shoulders and hips.

All bets for taking things slow were off when it was Yuri that kissed him first, Yuri that lay under him and pulled him in with his arms and legs, holding him as tight as a vice.

Truly, it was Yuri’s fault. All those wistful sighs and breathy moans did nothing to quell Otabek’s need to please, it only made him work harder (or slower, or whatever it was that Yuri asked for).

Sometimes, in the middle of everything, Yuri would get this look on his face like when they were on long plane trips and he was struggling not to fall asleep. Then he would smile, just a soft curve of his lips, and immediately cover it up with a kiss or a bite like he couldn’t control the heightened state of pleasure, and Yuri detested anything out of his control.

Those were the moments Otabek knew he was doing exceptionally well, and rewarded himself extra points.

However, it was difficult sometimes when he was trying to get Yuri there, but for reasons unknown his boyfriend seemed determined to turn the tables.

They were lying in bed still in their pajamas, and kissing. It was a typical Sunday morning for them. What started out as lazy toothpaste-flavored kisses had turned more heated, with Yuri already underneath Otabek, his legs parted to fit a set of wider hips between them. Yuri was digging his heel into the small of Otabek’s back, pushing him down in a tantalizingly slow grind. His hands were occupied, one weaved into dark hair and the other pressing crescent moons into the skin of Otabek’s back.

Otabek tried to sneak a hand between them so that he could touch Yuri, but he felt his hand being subtly pushed towards Yuri’s hip rather than its intended destination. Before he could react, Yuri was moving away from his lips and traveling across his jaw to land on a particular patch of skin just below his ear, and let his teeth graze teasingly, his warm breath making Otabek shiver and gasp quietly, just a slip of air.

Yuri knew, he knew that was the weak spot. He did it all the time, and sometimes he just did it to be a dick. It was enormously inconvenient when Yuri would kiss and bite him there just before going on the ice at practice or in line at the grocery shop. Both were embarrassing places to be half hard almost instantly.

Thankfully, they were in bed already. Otabek had no hopes they would make it out of bed before nine anyway.

He wanted it, he wanted to give in. More than that though, he wanted Yuri to give in. 

“No,” he murmured, and the husk of his voice seemed to have a mirroring effect on Yuri. “I’m supposed to be making you feel good.”

A feral glint of teeth and Yuri was laughing. He traced down the slope of Otabek’s nose and further down to the soft plush of his lips, lovingly going over the curve of them. When his finger fell to the bottom lip, Otabek could taste the salt of his skin and obligingly parted his lips, allowing the digit to slip inside. His smirk grew.

“Oh, Is that how that works?”

The coyness of his voice was as intoxicating as the taste of him.  

It didn’t happen so quickly that Otabek didn’t know what was happening, rather he let it occur with no resistance. Yuri extracted his hands and used them in tandem with the strength of his legs to reverse their position on the bed. Now, Yuri straddled his hips, with palms pressed flat to his chest and splayed over his heartbeat.