Dinner goes over surprisingly well. Katsudon traded places with Victor, which made eating a lot more enjoyable. I'm pleased with my presents, too-- mostly consisting of cat-related apparel. But I'm most pleased that it's over now, and Otabek can finally get me out of these pants.

"I'm taking these off," I grumble, stepping into the hotel room. "We have to be quiet," I add over my shoulder.
Otabek is shrugging out of his coat. "Yakov is in the next room."

Otabek simply nods, silently closing the distance between us.

My stomach somersaults as he continues to undress. A quiet groan slips from my lips as he gently pushes on my chest, guiding me down to the bed. He stands over me, shirtless and belt unbuckled.

"Let me help you, Yura," he says lowly, pushing on my chest again, directing me to lie back.

My heart inflates and threatens to burst as the clothes come away. Breathlessly, I sit up to unbutton my shirt. He breaks away to finish undressing himself. Before I've even finished, Otabek climbs over top me, pressing me into the mattress and holding me down by the wrists.

The kiss that follows steals every ounce of oxygen from my lungs and leaves my chest hungry not for air but for release from the hot confounded shirt and undershirt. I attempt to use my hands to finish unbuttoning my shirt, but Otabek has a firm grip on my wrists.

"Beka," I groan between kisses. "Please," I whisper.

"Only because you asked so nicely," he replies, the response muddled by sloppy oscillations of his large lips against my neck.

He reluctantly releases my hands and impatiently hovers over me while I gingerly discard the last of my clothing. He helps me lift the white v-neck over my shoulders. I shiver at the naked feeling of being fully exposed for him.

Disrobing in the presence of Otabek used to be harder-- heart-wrenching and panicking, actually. But it's almost as easy as tying a skate now. A lot has changed, I guessed.

"Beka, fuck me," I whimper as his teeth graze my clavicle.

"Mm," he moans huskily. "Yuri," he says my name like a praise.

His hands graze tenderly over my hips before his grip hardens with lust. I think I'm in for a wild ride. Otabek is not one to softly make love when I ask him to fuck. His hands travel down to my knees, lifting them up and back. He positions himself to tease me, but before he enters me, he presents me with his middle finger to suck.

I oblige, swathing my tongue around the length of it. He shudders as my lips part so that I can lick all the way up and down. That will be enough. He then inserts the wet length up my most intimate region, slowly at first and then building force and speed until I'm hoarsely hissing his name.

If I had the liberty of volume, I would be yelling his name and moaning for more of him. But all I can do is focus on my breathing right now-- and pray Otabek will show me just enough mercy to avoid an awkward conversation with Yakov tomorrow. He suddenly pushes his erect want along my skin, teasing me again before entering.

"Fuck," I plead. "O-- unh!-- O-Otabek, I nee-eed you, ple-ease, oh-h."

That appears to be all the encouragement he needed. He glides in smoothly. He hisses in satisfaction while I tense and desperately suck in air. As if to prevent me from bursting, he pushes down on my chest with the palm of his hand, simultaneously forcing my lower-body muscles to relax. He brushes the hair out of my eyes before going in for another sloppy kiss-- inculcating my body with his no sooner than do our lips meet again.

I feel hot. I feel wet with desire. With every febrile pump, I only get wetter and hotter. I slip my tongue into his mouth and try to mimic the love his body makes to mine. He accepts my presence, our tongues dancing like gliding pair-skaters. The sway of our lips feels almost as good the heavy rock of his hips.

"You're so tight," Otabek pants through the thumping passion.

"Unh! You're so big," I argue, throwing my head back as he hits deeper.

"Fuck, Yura," he groans. "Oh," a long string of curses, "I'm coming, Yuri!"

He pulls out and slams back in, each thrust desperately hitting harder and deeper. His name tumbles from my lips in a series of uncontrollably desperate moans. The warm release fills me at last. Otabek heaves a great sigh of relief and satisfaction, cupping my chin and kissing me again. I like his sloppy kisses. He is so impassioned, he can't even control the few muscles in his face that he does reign over.

"You're amazing, Yuri," he breathes, chest heaving.

"Not anything compared to you," I deny, rolling him over. I pause to look at him. "I love you."

"I love you, Yura," he returns evenly.

He sits up and pulls me into his lap to straddle him. He takes my own hard want into one hand before looking up into my face.

"Need me to take care of this?" he smirks.

"Nmugh!" I gasp as he suddenly begins pumping his wrist. "Beka-- Beka!"

And before I can even regret shouting his name for the world to hear, I am violently yielding liquid pleasure all over our chests. We are hot and sticky and breathless. We need a shower. When I propose as much, Otabek is more than willing to participate.