bringbackgold | Catchall (for tigerprint)

This booth was smaller than the ones he normally worked in, but it was relatively private, he felt like. Sometimes, when he was working in DJ booths, he would have a lot of space to move around, but the booth would be a little to open for his taste. Plus, people somehow would find their way to his booth and into his space when they weren't supposed to be there. Otabek was organized, and uninvited guests being allowed to enter his space meant that things would stop being how he liked it.

Otabek would take a small, more private booth to a large open one any day. The privacy let him work.

Yuri was a different story, and Otabek didn't mind him finding his way to join him in the booth. In fact, he invited him back there, so that he could show him things, and spend time with him as he worked. It wasn't like he ever really invited people - so far, Yuri was the first he could recall.

He plugged in a splitter in the headphone jack, and offered Yuri a set of headphones if he should want a listen. He got up close, moving an arm around Yuri to move his fingers easily over some of the buttons, the current song fading into another.

Suffice to say that Yuri is fucking ecstatic at having finally been invited to join Beka in the booth. It isn't something he wanted to press too much - he knows that his music is very important to him, after all - but he's been ridiculously curious as to what he gets up to when he's giving performances off the ice. The club is loud and hot, and the air is tangy with puffs from the smoke machines, but right now there's honestly no-where else on earth he'd rather be.

"This is so fucking cool," he calls over the beat, taking the headphones offered to him so that he can jam them onto his head. Otabek is a man of few words so he doesn't worry about missing out on something important; he just wants to enjoy the music and watch those deft fingers nudge sliders up and down.

... And the other thing. The proximity thing. Yuri feels very pleasantly trapped between Otabek and the set-up before him; he was already hot but the warmth radiating from Otabek has him simmering, and when he leans over him to fiddle with a knob Yuri can't help but duck his head and bite his lip. He knows he should be on his best behaviour - he doesn't want to ruin Beka's reputation as a decent DJ - but God, it's tempting to press back into his arms.

He doesn't. Instead, Yuri brushes his hair back from his face and pulls his phone from his pocket, opening the camera and then gesturing to Beka to ask him if it's okay to snap a few selfies for Instagram.

He moves with ease around Yuri, fingers moving over sliders until he gets exactly what he desires. Otabek's movements and music are just as carefully planned off the ice as they are on. There's definitely confidence in each of his movements, too. Otabek really knows what he's doing here, he's comfortable and happy. Part of it is, though, he's simply glad to have Yuri there.

There's no one else he'd rather have there, either. He enjoys his company and feels comfortable with him there, even in the small spaces he sometimes worked. The closeness, the constant brushing against each other, is tempting for him - even when he's focused. The loud music and the headphones, though, mean he doesn't really have to say much. He's not much of a talker anyway. He's grateful for that.

He places a hand on Yuri's shoulder nods when he asks about the selfie. The loud music wouldn't allow them to hear each other anyway. What goes on back here is not huge secret, but Otabek just wasn't someone who shared, so people didn't really know things about him.

Except Yuri.

Otabek pulled out his own phone, and after a few moments, nudged Yuri to see if it was alright if he took a few pictures of him. Just him. He liked to have pictures of Yuri on his phone.

With Beka's permission secured Yuri extends his arm and pulls his best 'You Can't Sit With Us' face, snapping a few pictures of the pair of them from different angles so that he has a few options for Instagram. The Angels will shit themselves, that's for sure, and while he complains about his fans he does kind of enjoy being able to give them something to freak out about every now and then.

Satisfied, he pockets his phone again as Otabek gives him a nudge. Yuri has realised that while he prefers pictures of them both, Beka seems more inclined to fill up his photo reel with just Yuri, which is more than a little flattering for the sixteen year-old. It makes him feel cool and wanted, and kind of ...

Yeah. Warm.

He offers his friend a few different poses: bratty, throwing up the horns, pouting, tiger, but then he relaxes into a fit of laughter that likely lets Otabek get a few candid photos as well. When he deems them done, Yuri leans up close to Beka's un-headphoned ear and lets his lips brush against the shell.

"You got some good ones, right?"

Otabek takes the pictures, and will naturally treasure them. Yuri was one of the most important people in his own life, and it was nice to have pictures of him on his phone. He'd find himself looking at them from time to time when others weren't paying attention. Of all the pictures that Otabek got of Yuri, the candid photos are his favorite. He seems so natural, so happy in them. That was the Yuri that he knew and appreciated deeply. He wasn't so inclined to share any pictures he got like that, either, unless Yuri wanted to share or see.

Then there was Yuri leaning up, pressing so close to him, and his ear. And there's that warmth inside him. Thankfully, he can blame the temperature and the bodies in the room on the fact that his face is a little bit pink. He doesn't need to blame it on the closeness between himself and Yuri.

"A few," he said. His heart was racing, and he reaches out one hand to move over a dial with skilled fingers, before he moves it back, placing it on the small of Yuri's back to hold him close.

Yuri feels his heart flutter pleasantly the instant Otabek's hand touches the small of his back. He swallows hard and tries to push past it - tries not to let himself become suddenly distracted by their proximity - but it's hard when he can feel the heat of Beka's body against him; when he can smell the lingering notes of his cologne. Could he not just give him a quick kiss? No-one is watching them - Otabek's set is strong enough that everyone else in the club is wrapped up in the music.

"Beka," he murmurs, sinking his teeth into his lower lip as his gaze flickers to his mouth, then back up to his eyes. The other man's lips are so fucking soft, and he always kisses him with such surety. The thought alone has Yuri pressing even closer, crushing out any hint of a gap between them. "Just ..."

But the kiss doesn't come. Yuri exhales softly, their lips barely an inch apart, before forcing himself to turn his head and rest his cheek against Beka's shoulder. Honestly, he shouldn't be so turned on just from being hot and close to him, but he can't help the way he reacts when he's around the other skater. Otabek just - he does things to him.

"This is gonna kill me," he groans, screwing his eyes tightly closed as his hands fist in Beka's shirt.

It's almost too much and Otabek knows it. He's not sure how he's able to handle it; how he can control himself. He almost doesn't want to. He almost wants to forget what he's doing as a DJ for just a bit. He could, and he knows it - very little work actually needs to be done when what he's doing is strong enough. When you work as a DJ for long enough, you know the things that you can get away with here, and admittedly - he's considered the list of things he could do to Yuri here without people noticing or even caring. Still - just because he had thought about it didn't mean he'd actually believe it would happen.

His heart is racing, and then Yuri says it. That fist in his shirt, and he doesn't know if he should fight any temptation. He's breathing harder. He's turned on, and Yuri's words weren't helping him at all.

His hand lowers, shifting into the waistband of Yuri's pants. He uses that hand to tug Yuri's hips forward, pressing them against his own. "Yura..." he said. His voice low, raspy. He's no longer fiddling with the DJ deck, comfortable and happy with how things sound. "We could..." He finds himself a little surprised at what he's suggesting.

Otabek was admittedly quite proud of himself for having finally asked Yuri on a date. Something about the timing felt appropriate to him. They had become friendly, and started to talk a bit more. He could go into the question with a bit more confidence than he would have been able to previously. It wasn't something he wanted to dance around forever. He had to do it at some point, even if he felt like he'd get rejected.

That hadn't been the case, though.

Plans in place, he got himself ready to pick up Yuri at his apartment, before they'd go to dinner, and then a club. His own outfit was fairly simple and straight forward. Black leather pants and a black v-neck tee (most of his wardrobe, to be noted, was black - it made his life fairly easy when dressing for things). He slipped on his shoes, jacket, and scarf before heading out to his motorcycle to head to Yuri's apartment. He wanted to be there a little bit early.

The drive there was easy. He arrived ahead of schedule, as he wanted. It gave him a few moments to gather himself before heading up to Yuri's apartment and knocking on the door.

Yuri's life is a fucking mess. He's sleeping with one of his closest friends (and may Viktor never hear himself referred to as such), his apartment looks like a five car wreck, his cat has taken to shredding his lingerie when she wants attention, and his kettle broke yesterday morning so he's having to boil water for tea on the hob. The icing on the fucking cake? Otabek has finally asked him out on a date - Otabek, who he really likes - but after a thorough demolition of his wardrobe he's realizing that he's got nothing to fucking wear.

... Alright, so perhaps that's not strictly true. Yuri owns more clothes, shoes, bags and accessories than anyone he knows, and sometimes the sheer size of his wardrobe can get a little overwhelming. His hair is fine - loose, with a single braid pulling his bands away from his left temple - and he's only wearing a little make-up, having settled on mascara with upper-lid wing-tips and a bit of clear clear gloss. Wet-look black leggings, check. High-heeled black ankle-boots, check. It's really just the top that is giving him so much grief.

So far he's narrowed it down to three choices: tiger-print tank, a black off-the-shoulder top that clings in all the right places, or a little mesh crop-top that he could wear with his studded leather jacket. Yuri is holding the black top up to himself when he hears the knock on the door; he pulls it on with a muttered cuss, rolls his eyes at Anya, and begins picking his way across his flat to yell at his caller. If this is Viktor showing up uninvited again -

"... Otabek?"

Fuck. How much fucking time did he waste trying to pick a top?

"Come in, I - um. I just have a few more things to do, okay?"

Otabek nods and steps inside. "I'm a little early," he said. His expression was as even as it always seemed to be. Although the tone he had seemed apologetic. He hadn't meant to disrupt Yuri's time getting ready. He was sure, whatever the other opted to wear for the day, would look good on him. Yuri seemed to always look good when Otabek saw him. He thought maybe he was biased, though. He genuinely liked Yuri. It wasn't something he could say about many people he knew. He was polite enough, and liked them well enough to be around them. But he'd make he conscious decision to spend time with him if he was able.

He looked around Yuri's apartment, taking in the feel of Yuri's space. He knew that the way someone decorated could say a lot about someone. Yuri's place was very different from his own. His own place was quietly decorated. He didn't keep much on the walls, and things were neatly organized. He had a small space, so he had to make sure there was room for his equipment and records. And he was always accumulating equipment.

He stayed close to the door, not wanting to disrupt him while he was getting ready. "And there's no rush," he added after a few moments. He wanted to make sure the other took his time, if he so wanted. And he wanted to be sure that Yuri was comfortable. if someone wasn't happy with what they were wearing, then it'd certainly be felt while they were on the date together.

Yuri just runs a hand through his hair and closes the door behind Otabek.

"It's okay, it'll just take a minute," he replies, ushering his guest over to the couch. His open-plan kitchen and living room is probably the tidiest part of his flat and it's still a tip: tattoo and motorbike magazines litter the coffee table, cups of half-finished tea dot the available surfaces, and there's a pile of clean laundry sliding off the far end of the sofa.

Anya slips past Yuri as he hurries back into his room to finish dressing. She's clearly intrigued by (yet deeply suspicious of) the new smell in the apartment; the television is used as a spring-board to the top of Yuri's bookshelf, and she makes herself comfortable as she stares down at Otabek. If he isn't good enough for her human, Anya will know.

Meanwhile, Yuri is throwing on his cropped biker jacket and selecting a purse. He opts to stick with the theme and selects his black bag with the faux-rhinestone tiger head; he throws in his wallet, phone, makeup, I.D., and a couple of pre-lubed condoms for good measure. There's already a tiny bottle of lube in his make-up bag, because ... Well, yeah. Yuri has enjoyed being sexually active since he was fifteen or so, and since then he's learned to make sure that he's always prepared. Just in case.

When he returns to the living room he's already rummaging for his keys, which he extracts from his bag around the crook of his finger before flashing a little smirk at Otabek.

"Ready." He gives his date a twirl. "Do I look okay? If it's supposed to be a fancy dinner I can put on something nicer."

As Yuri gets dressed, he settles himself on the edge of the couch, opting to not get too comfortable. He knows he won't be here too long. He liked the way Yuri's place looked. It actually felt like a person lived here, and maybe spent some time here from time to time. His own place sometimes felt a little stark, especially now compared to where he was. He never really had a liking for decorating his place, and he never really had guests, so he didn't think much of it. But if he were going to have Yuri over... he wondered what the other would think.

His eyes drifted to Yuri's cat, as she made her way to a perch, clearly trying to check him out from a safe distance. He lets out a quiet coo, not really caring if Yuri can hear him. "Hey there, Princess," he says to her, as she stares him down. He's always been a fan of cats, but was always worried he'd never have the time to devote to taking care of one.

He perks up when Yuri reappears. He stands, appraising his date quietly. Of course the other looks fantastic. He did every time Otabek had seen him in all the time he had known him. He looks pleased, considering how he even got lucky enough to get Yuri to go on a date with him, and hoping that he wouldn't screw this up.

"You look great," Otabek says. He offers a thumbs-up and a crooked, but genuine, smile. Yuri looked perfect for what they were doing. Nothing too fancy, just a smaller place where he knew they could enjoy each other's company without too much background noise, considering they were going to a club afterwards.

His ears burn pink at Otabek's praise. For some time now, Yuri's been hoping that Otabek always thinks he looks great, to the point where he's even switched up some of his outfits that he wears at work in the hops of catching his eye. Now that he isn't nearly naked and hanging off a pole, however, he has more opportunity to show off his personality, and can't help but hope that Otabek likes that part of him too. He knows he can be ... Well. An acquired taste, Chris might say.

Yuri ushers Otabek towards the door after blowing a kiss to Anya, and links his arm through the other man's elbow as they head down to the street. It's fucking cold out and for a moment he regrets not dressing for the weather; it might take a couple of shots of vodka to get him feeling warmed through again.

No - idiot! Don't be a drunk slutty mess for once, okay? Beka is fucking quality.

He chides himself, then accepts the helmet when Otabek passes the spare to him. He's a little miffed that he's going to end up with helmet hair, to be sure, but he supposes that even if he didn't wear it the wind would blow it all over the fucking place anyway. Anyway, he can shake it out when they reach the restaurant.

"No booze for you tonight, then?" Yuri settles behind him, and allows himself the pink-cheeked indulgence of wrapping his arms tight around his waist. "If you crash and ruin my face I'll fucking kill you, okay?"

Yuri had often caught Otabek's eye at the club. As he worked, he would find himself occasionally paying more attention to the other as he danced than what he was meant to be doing. He'd have to catch himself so not to mess up his carefully planned set. Otabek really liked the way Yuri looked, so he was looking forward to the opportunity to get to know him a bit better, beyond work and the little bits of time they'd get after work. He just hoped that he didn't mess it up himself.

He was also hoping that any hint of nerves wasn't present. Otabek had a habit of keeping in his own head a lot, and it gave him too many chances to get to himself.

He walks with Yuri to the bike and settles on it, a blush settling in his cheeks when Yuri wrapped his arms around his waist. "None for me, at least." It didn't mean that he'd be bothered if Yuri wanted to have anything. Otabek liked riding his motorcycle. He liked the chance to get close to Yuri. He was one of the few people Otabek liked to have on his bike. "I won't crash." It was the last thing he said before starting the bike and heading off in the direction where they were going to be eating.

The place they were going was a small, private-looking bistro. There was an option to seat outside, as well, if they should want. Otabek prefers a quiet corner where they could spend time talking. He'd been here only a couple times on his own, but knew it'd be much better with company.

Catchall (for tigerprint)

( getting close in a DJ booth )

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( first dates - stripper AU )

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