bringbackgold | Catchall (for tigerprint)

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.

Catchall (for tigerprint)

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