unedited yikes

Waiting for the Altins to fall asleep and sneaking up to Otabek's room has become a guilty habit of mine in my time with Otabek. While he still lives at home, we have to be quiet, but he assures me that some day soon we will be through with the volume caps. We will have our own place somewhere.

We don't yet. So the low moaning and soft groaning is about as much as we allow ourselves. Even as we move to the bed, we are careful of creaking and thumping against the wall. Two parents, a small litter of kittens, and a kid-sister about to turn seven is not a small array of factors leading to our potential discovery. So every sound is suppressed and compacted into a soft hiss or gentle whisper.

The heat of the moment, however, does not fall down to match our volume. Th  heat is volcanic and threatens to become febrile. But I don't really care. I like it too much.

"Yura," Otabek pants. "Are you okay?"

I realize that I've closed my eyes, every muscle in my body clenched tightly around Otabek's body. I blink and loosen the grip of my legs thrown over his shoulders. I'm still madly blushing, though.

"Better than fine," my whisper is hoarse and froggy.

Otabek groans, approaching his climax. He pumps quick, and deep, like a hunter over his prey. I can see him riding the razor's edge, threatening to topple into blissful rhapsodic relief any moment now.

"Fuck," he sighs, filling my body with his liquid pleasure and dripping over the sheets. "That wasn't nearly exciting enough for you," Otabek leans over me and whispers in my ear.

I'd rather it not be, so that I can maintain the self-control to be quiet. But his voice sounds as if he is leading up to something interesting. The temptation worsens my blush, leaving me a sweaty, lusting mess of ruddy flesh beneath his ever-persuasive muscular mass.

"Beka," I exhale, airless. I swallow hard as his eyes glint with mischief.

His face looks hard with intent as he lowers himself, though his eyes are alight and excited. Surprise keeps my heart rate dancing. Then I realize what he's doing.

"Otabek!" I hiss, his tongue touching the base of my solid want. "Oh!" His tongue draws a hot stripe upward until he comes to the tip of my turgid length.

He licks his lips and purrs a low response.

"Like that?"

"You're teasing me," I gasp, throwing my head back as waves of pleasure crash like tidal waves beneath my skin. "Yes, I like it," I groan reluctantly. "I need more, Beka, please."

He hums a bit of laughter, obliging quietly. His mouth is so warm and wet, enveloping me so quickly I almost choke on the moan rising in my throat. I can feel the beginnings of ecstasy on the rise. As if reading my mind, and wishing to draw it to the surface, Otabek sucks suddenly sucks more harshly.

"Nmm," I bite my lip to staunch the eruption of a gratified cry. "Beka!" I hiss urgently.

My hands shakily crawl into his hair. Dutifully he sucks and swathes and licks and sucks. I lose control of the muscles in my back, jouncing and writhing as my back arches and stretches. I want to release, but do I want to release into his mouth?

"Otabek," I whisper, wheeze really. "I'm gonna cum, Beka."

But this only excites his tongue. I think I'm gonna pass out, the pleasure is so intense. My face heats and my vision goes red as I toss my head back in pleasure. I continue heat out of embarrassment though, wondering if Otabek will like the way I taste.

I have no time to dwell on the fear. The salty waves come up on their own accord. The relief is almost as enormous as the seemingly irrevocable blush over my skin. My entire body feels flushed and intoxicated with lust. Praise Brahma-- that was nice.

"Come here," I moan, watching Otabek swallow. "You're fucking incredible, Beka."

He presses a hot kiss against my shoulder, neck, cheek, finally my lips. He envelops me again, trapping me in the tempest of desire he never fails to instill. Even after release, I am still flustered and blushing. But his next cool remark sends shivers up my spine.

"Incredible-- me? Not hardly, compared to your ambrosial taste." A line like that was surely rehearsed but he delivers the words as smoothly and as seamlessly as Cupid himself.

"Smooth bastard," I groan, hugging into his chest. "I oughta get dressed and go back to the guest room, yeah?"

"In a minute," Otabek grumbles, returning my adoring embrace.

Am I the luckiest man alive? Peaking at the toned muscles in the arms holding me to the equally masculine chest, I'd say I have strong evidence to suggest that I am the luckiest man alive. But I don't have any real proof, until Otabek yawns, "I love you, Yuri," curling ever tighter around me.

"I love you too, my big bear," I mumble, settling into the warm embrace, and finally accepting and becoming used to the red dust coloring my face.