Ch 7

The last night in South Beach and trip home were awkward and strained. Yuri tried his best to pretend nothing was wrong when they said goodbye to his grandpa, but dropped the charade the second they left the room. He figured Otabek was lucky the silent treatment was all he was giving him. Before he drove home, he did thank Otabek again, because he'd been raised better than to be an ungrateful asshole. Foolishly, Yuri had hoped that Otabek would somehow change his mind or at least say he was sorry, but that never happened.

He returned to work the next day and found solace in the mind-numbing routine. The snow was still there, the streets full of dirty slush, and the sky a persistent overcast gray. Home sweet home. As depressing as it may have seemed to other people, it was comforting to Yuri. Mila worked the shift with him and was oddly considerate during it, not asking many questions and keeping mostly to herself. She was texting a lot, though, so Yuri figured she must be dating again.

The afternoon lulled into evening and the customers waned off to nothing, allowing shutdown procedures to get started early. After they locked up, Mila told him to drive safe and he wandered to his car lost in thought. He really wanted to swing by Meijer, get tons of junk food, and eat all of it while marathoning some shitty Netflix show. It was his tried and true method of wallowing in misery post breakup. But…they hadn't really broken up, had they? Should he dump Otabek or see how their weird arrangement played out?

Yuri sat in his car, staring off into space for a while before it dawned on him. There was only one person who he could ask for advice in this situation without having to fess up that he had a sugar daddy. He started his car and revved it a couple times before peeling out of the parking lot and into the city. A short while later he found himself pulling up to a building in the warehouse district. Despite the stigma present about those districts, this building and the surrounding area was quite nice. The city was slowly reclaiming and rebuilding such spaces in attempts to bring in more money.

Stepping out of his car, he walked up to one of the entrances. He punched a number into the keypad and pressed send. About thirty seconds passed before a voice came through asking in a singsong tone who was there.

"Hey, Chris, it's Yuri." He paused briefly wondering if he was doing the right thing. "Can…I talk to you about something?"

Without receiving a response, Yuri heard a loud buzzing that indicated the door was being opened remotely. He stepped into the building and shivered as warmth started to seep into his body, finally aware of how cold he'd been outside. He took the elevator up to the second floor, found Christophe's loft number, and knocked as softly as he could manage.

"Welcome, kitten!" said Christophe after swinging open the door.

"Don't call me that," mumbled Yuri shoving past him. He shrugged off his jacket and hung it on the coat rack.

"Ooooh, you really are upset." Christophe frowned slightly. "Take off your boots, please."

Yuri nodded and sat down to remove his boots, tossing them one after the other by the door.

Christophe's industrial loft was like the ones you saw featured in magazines or interior design websites. There was a modern kitchen with brushed metal appliances, wrought iron railings surrounded a recessed living room, bedroom with curtains hanging around it for privacy, a small art studio near the tall, multi-paned windows, and plants everywhere. The plants in particular were a brilliant addition because they not only helped it feel less like a studio but also offered a much needed glimpse of life during their long, brutal winters.

Yuri stepped down into the living room and plopped gracelessly onto the sectional. Christophe returned a minute later with two glasses and a bottle of wine, which he promptly set to opening.

"I assume this isn't your drink of choice, but it's too early for hard liquor," he said as he poured a decent amount into each glass and slid one across the coffee table. "Now, tell me, Yuri, what's on your mind?"

Yuri picked up the glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a sip and grimacing. He never really had liked the taste of wine, but drank it down anyways. "Did you ever…have a problem with an arrangement before?"

"Before we go any further in this conversation, I have to ask, and please be honest with me." Christophe leveled Yuri with a serious expression. "Are you being abused?"

"No, no," said Yuri waving dismissively. "Nothing like that."

"Oh good, just had to make sure because I will not stand for that." Christophe relaxed back into his seat. "Please, continue."

Wiggling his toes against the fluffy area rug beneath his socked feet, Yuri sighed. "I'm starting to have feelings for my sugar daddy."

"So I take it yours is an intimate relationship then?"

Yuri nodded. "It's become pretty involved pretty fast." He paused and took another sip of wine. "I just…really like him. More than most of the people I've ever been with. We have this amazing chemistry."

"While I would absolutely love to hear more about this chemistry you have, I'm going to confess something to you. I had the same issue during my second arrangement."

"How many of them have you had?" asked Yuri eyeing Christophe suspiciously.

"A gentleman never tells," answered Christophe with a smirk. He refilled their glasses and continued to smile. "But that man, he was simply amazing. Handsome, considerate, funny, interesting. I wanted him more than anything in the world, but of course I couldn't have him. Their purpose in my life at that point was to be patrons and help further my artistic career, nothing more, nothing less."

"But it ended up being more complicated than that, didn't it?"

"Emotionally, yes, it did. But I never let it become an issue between us, and when it was time the arrangement ended." Christophe turned towards Yuri, making eye contact to emphasize his point. "You have to accept your role with grace, Yuri, that's what a proper sugar baby does. Remain collected in public, do what you're told within reason, and be pleasant. They aren't paying for a loose cannon…well, some of them might be, but trust me, they'll let you know."

"Wouldn't this have been more relevant information before I got involved in an arrangement?" asked Yuri forcing himself to drink yet more bitter wine.

"Yes, you're right," said Christophe with a chuckle. "Sorry about that."

"Do you have a sugar daddy now?"

"Not anymore," Christophe leaned back and smiled softly. "My career is doing well, so I no longer found it necessary. That and I found myself a nice boyfriend. He works at a gallery I showcased a collection at a few years back. Love at first sight in my case."

"Gooooddammit, I want a boyfriend too!" shouted Yuri, scrubbing his hands over his face and mussing his hair slightly. "I thought I could do this weird ass arrangement shit, but…but…"

Christophe must've noticed him fighting back frustrated tears because he sighed and put his glass down. "Look…I'm not going to tell you what you have will work out or develop into a relationship. These 'daddy' types usually aren't looking for anything long term. Not to say some don't enjoy extended arrangements, just don't expect it. They tend to have short attention spans and if they were looking for real relationships, they would just go onto regular dating sites."

Even though Christophe wasn't saying anything Yuri hadn't already suspected, hearing it out loud sent him into a fit of tears. Christophe made a distressed noise and scooted towards him, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"Oh, poor child," he said gently. "It could develop into something more, anything is possible…I just don't want you to get your hopes up. You're an amazing person, Yuri, and if he can't see that he doesn't deserve you."

Nearly ten minutes of sobbing and soothing passed before Yuri calmed down. He was embarrassed and frustrated that he had cried in front of Christophe, and quite frankly felt worse after he left the loft. It wasn't Christophe's fault, though, so he made sure to thank him several times before leaving. Christophe told him to call or text whenever he needed to talk.

Days passed, Yuri wasn't sure how many. He just went to work and fulfilled his duties methodically, comforted by the common routine. His grandpa had called to tell him he was released from the hospital and well on the mend. He was going to look at new cars soon. The nights were lonely and cold while he marathoned Netflix shows he could barely focus on.

This was his fate with Otabek. This is what he signed up for and he needed to accept it. He could wallow in the what-if's and the could-have-been's but that was only going to hurt him more. The Plisetsky's were made of tougher stuff than that.

Yuri reached over and groped on the coffee table until he found his phone. He snuggled down into his old afghan and shot off a text to Otabek.

[Yuri P] I want to see you

Barely ten seconds passed before he received a response.

[Daddy O] When?

[Yuri P] Whenever idc

[Daddy O] I'm in the middle of editing right now. How about tomorrow night? I'll make dinner. Anything you want?

Yuri thought for a moment. He was definitely in the mood for comfort food.

[Yuri P] Piroshki and borsch

[Daddy O] Done. Do you have to work?

[Yuri P] Yeah, I'll be over after closing. I'll text when I get there

[Daddy O] Excellent. See you then.

The next day went by rather quickly considering how anxious he was to see Otabek again. He was grateful for all the customers and hustle because it took his mind off the impending encounter. Also Georgi was working the shift with him and he got shit done, no questions. They managed to close down quickly and with no fuss. It was a night of smooth sailing, until he pulled up to those wrought iron gates surrounding the Altin's property. He smirked at the thought that Otabek had basically been forced to give up his surname. He had definitely lost that playing card.

Otabek was standing just outside the backdoor and motioned for Yuri to park in the garage again. He hadn't checked the weather that morning but it very well may snow again. He tried not to consider it a kind gesture. It was simply practical.

After Yuri jogged out of the garage, Otabek closed it with a remote and ushered him into the house. The warmth immediately started to seep into his bones as he removed his boots and jacket. He stubbornly avoided eye contact as Otabek waited from him, then led him to the table.

The set up was modest that time, but still nice. There were a few pillar candles and covered dishes arranged artfully on the table. The plate sets were still fancy, sporting too many utensils, and there were soup bowls as well as tea cups with saucers. Yuri sat and watched as Otabek uncovered each dish revealing piroshki, borscht, and black bread. He poured the tea and served the soup, putting sour cream and parsley atop it, before taking his own seat.

It was easy for Yuri to focus on eating because the familiar food brought back so many memories. Most of them were good, a few not so much. Otabek respected his desire for silence and did not attempt to make small talk. When they were done with the main course, he cleared the table and brought out custard with berries for dessert. Everything was predictably delicious and he thanked Otabek. He was ordered into the living room to warm up by the fire while Otabek cleaned up.

Yuri sat on the fuzzy rug by the fire and thought about the first time they had had sex in that very spot. The night that had ignited an addiction in him that burned and ached, never really sated, driving him to seek more. It dawned on him as he stared blankly into the flames that whatever relationship they had contained so much potential for disaster. He didn't want to think it was dangerous. That was just being needlessly dramatic, but it could easily turn emotionally volatile. The more he cared, the more unhinged he got.

Otabek walked into the room quietly, but Yuri still knew he was there. He always seemed to radiate a specific energy that announced his presence, strong, steady, poised, and tense. It was like an oxymoron. Otabek appeared so serene and relaxed but Yuri could tell he was ready to launch like a coiled spring at any given moment. So much hidden beneath the surface and he may never get the chance to discover it.

"Punish me," said Yuri without preamble.

"What?" Otabek came to sit beside him on the rug, casting him a concerned glance.

"For what I did, fighting with you in South Beach." Yuri made sure his hair was covering his face because he wasn't sure what kind of expression he was making. "Isn't that how this stuff works? I need to be punished."

"Punishment works better and is recommended for when the sessions are active," explained Otabek. "We had a fight. It happens."

"Yeah, with me they happen a lot," said Yuri with an irritated huff. "I…have a temper."

"I noticed." Otabek finally looked at him with a fond smile. "I don't mind. It's part of what makes you interesting."

"So are we gonna do this or not?"

"I have an idea, come with me." Otabek stood and offered a hand to Yuri, tugging him to his feet. "I'd actually love to use some of the equipment I have in the basement, but I find it too cold this time of the year."

"Wait a minute." Yuri paused as he followed Otabek up to the same room he'd been in last time. "Are you trying to tell me you have a sex dungeon in your basement?"

"More like a room," said Otabek peering over his shoulder with a smirk. "Easier to lock away when family or company is over."

Yuri laughed and shook his head. "Never a dull moment with you."

They went to the room he was already familiar with, which was only marginally disappointing.

"I was thinking of trying out some rope bondage on you," said Otabek moving towards the wardrobe. He opened it and pulled out a length of red rope. "I'm assuming this is your first time, so we'll just do the arms. I'd also like to blindfold you and try some hot wax, maybe some more impact play. Does that sound okay to you?"

Yuri muttered a yes and thought about how he would probably try just about anything with Otabek. His meticulous concern for consent was definitely comforting. Otabek told him to disrobe and he did, tossing each item of clothing onto the floor and toeing them into a pile. In between trips to the wardrobe for more items, Otabek paused to run a hand over Yuri's bared hip and thigh.

"Turn around." He guided Yuri to sit on the bed and maneuvered his arms behind his back. "This may take a little while, I'm not very practiced with it yet. Same safeword as before?"

"Mercy," said Yuri with a nod.

He did his best to space out as Otabek diligently worked at tying the series of knots around his arms. The longer it took, the more worked up he got. Patience had never really been a virtue of his, but he forced himself to remain silent. Eventually, the tying was complete after many inquiries whether it was too tight and if it felt okay. Next he placed the blindfold over Yuri's eyes and helped him lay down on his back, which wasn't exactly comfortable but he didn't complain.

"I would love to gag you too," whispered Otabek near Yuri's ear and making him jump. "But I'm afraid I won't hear you if you say the safeword. We'll try the hot wax first."

His kneejerk reaction was to tell Otabek he didn't care, but that seemed too reckless even for him. Yuri listened as Otabek moved about the room, heard a lighter flick, then nothing. The silence stretched on and he shifted on the bed, feeling the soft covers beneath his exposed skin.

Sharp heat suddenly seared his flesh, moving in a thin trail across the sensitive skin of his stomach. Just as intensely as it came it faded, leaving behind a dull burn. The next trail happened across his thigh, then over a pectoral. He gasped every time the wax hit his skin, sending chills through his body. He instinctively jerked his arms, trying to free them and felt the soft texture of the rope rub against them as he struggled.

Otabek leaned down to kiss delicately at his collar bone and up towards his neck as he left another hot trail of wax dangerously close to Yuri's nipple. He let out a hiss and arched his back slightly. The knowledge he was so effectively restrained was thrilling. Desperation bubbled up in his chest at the thought he was completely at Otabek's mercy. He pretended that no safeword existed and that Otabek would use him like the slut he was often accused of being.

"You're doing so well, Yuri," he said, voice low and smooth. Another small trail ran across Yuri's ribs, which were more sensitive than he expected. "I think that's enough for now. Please hold still while I clean you."

Yuri tried not to, but he squirmed a bit as Otabek scraped the wax from his skin. Every touch was startling since he couldn't see what was happening. Without warning, Otabek suddenly flipped him over onto his stomach and he cried out in surprise. It was only then that he became aware of how aroused he was, and idly rubbed his cock against the covers.

The manhandling continued as Otabek lifted Yuri by the hips and propped him up on his knees. With no arms to hold himself up on, Yuri's face smashed against the bed jostling his blindfold a bit. The bed dipped under Otabek's weight as Yuri felt him move towards him. It was interesting how his other senses were tuning in now that his sight was gone.

Being aware of Otabek's proximity did little to prepare him for when his ass cheeks were spread and hot breath ghosted over his hole. A warm tongue started to circle his rim before dipping into it experimentally. He tried to stifle his moan of pleasure but was unsuccessful, and several more slipped out as Otabek set to spearing him with the talented muscle. He laved over it a few more times before withdrawing.

"I'd love to take more time doing that later," breathed Otabek as Yuri felt something cool press against his entrance, "but for now let's move on."

The shape felt familiar as Otabek worked what he assumed was a toy inside him slowly, and it eased in well enough that it was definitely lubed. A firm tug later proved it was a butt plug. Yuri hadn't even seen him get one out.

A strike abruptly landed on Yuri's left ass cheek and he cried out more startled than in pain. Another landed and he couldn't tell whether it was a hand or paddle, or even something else. Otabek paused to gauge the reaction, then continued to hit him on alternating cheeks. It was definitely a paddle, because he stopped to run its smooth surface across the back of Yuri's thighs.

The hits were steady and controlled, not too hard, not too soft. As the session wore on, Otabek varied the strikes, but most were softer. Yuri felt his mind unraveling in increments. Invasive thoughts crept around the edges of his consciousness, reminding him he was essentially worthless beyond sex and completely replaceable. A sob suddenly burst forth and he tugged harshly at the bindings in a useless attempt to free his hands and cover his mouth. More followed and Otabek promptly stopped spanking him.

"Yuri, are you okay? Do you want to stop?"

He loathed the concern he heard in Otabek's voice. It almost sounded like he really cared. "No! Just keep going. Please…I need this."

After hesitating a moment, Otabek continued. Yuri cried more, desperately willing himself to be quiet. It worked, for the most part. At some point, he sunk down against the mattress and Otabek tossed the paddle aside. He rolled Yuri onto his back and tugged the askew blindfold off his face, watching with furrowed brows as tears sluggishly streamed from Yuri's eyes.

"Are you sure you want to continue?" he asked softly.

Yuri nodded, wishing he could pull Otabek towards him but not wanting to show any more weakness. "Do it. Fuck me…please. I want it."

Otabek looked skeptical, but a quick glance to Yuri's straining erection seemed like proof enough that he was telling the truth. He shed his shirt quickly, practically popping the buttons off in his haste, then removed his belt and undid his pants. After easing the plug out, Otabek lined himself up with Yuri's entrance and pushed in with one swift motion.

Yuri sighed as Otabek slid in, thinking about some stupid puzzle pieces analogy again since they fit together so well. Thankfully, Otabek wasted no time setting a harsh pace, hammering into him like he intended to fuck him through the mattress. It was almost like he could sense exactly what Yuri needed and it set off a fresh wave of tears.

He squeezed his eyes shut and somehow subdued any further sobs. Yuri was no stranger to crying during sex, but this felt different. There was a raw, scraping sensation in his chest, and the tears seemed to aggravate it more than soothe it. He was still ridiculously turned on, his body responding to Otabek like a well tuned instrument. The feeling of helplessness as he struggled against the bindings was only dumping fuel on the fire.

Yuri's orgasm came on slowly, a burning inside him that numbed out before climbing and climbing towards release. It lulled only briefly and then washed over him in waves, stealing the breath from his lungs. He gasped through it, only vaguely aware of Otabek finding his release during. As he spiraled down from the high, the sobbing returned worse than before.

Otabek pulled out too suddenly and rolled him onto his side, picking frantically at the rope around his arms. He cursed under his breath as he struggled to remove it quickly, clearly fumbling a few times. Some distant part of Yuri's brain registered he should feel bad, but he could not stop crying. It was just like his cruel life to present him with something so perfect yet not allow him to truly have it.

When he had Yuri free of the rope, Otabek gathered him up in his arms and lifted him off the bed. He tried to apologize through his sobs but Otabek hushed him as he carried him out of the room. Yuri closed his eyes and took a few shuddering breaths, hands going to Otabek's warm chest. He felt the steady heartbeat beneath and it calmed him slightly.

After Yuri was laid down in a dark room, he opened his eyes and looked around confused. He winced when Otabek turned on a bedside lamp.

"I'll be right back," said Otabek tugging the covers out from underneath Yuri and arranging them over his lap. "Try to relax."

A few tears escaped his eyes and he hiccupped, gazing around the room in a daze. The realization hit him like a hammer to the chest.

Otabek had brought Yuri to his room. The room he kept off limits even after fucking him.

As Yuri sat stock still trying to process the turn of events and what they could imply, Otabek returned with a cup on a saucer. He sat on the edge of the bed and offered the cup to Yuri, who took it out of habit.

"Herbal tea," explained Otabek. "My…my mom always made it for me when I got upset."

Yuri frowned but sipped the tea anyways. It was good, tasted floral but he couldn't place what kind. The longer he drank it, the drowsier he got and thought maybe Otabek had drugged it, which really was silly. Noticing how droopy Yuri was getting, Otabek took the cup and placed it on the saucer on the nightstand. He smoothed some of Yuri's sweat dampened hair from his face and then inspected his arms, massaging one gently.

"Why are you doing that?" Yuri didn't want to admit it felt great and sank back against the pillows.

"Just making sure your arms are okay after the binding," said Otabek scooting forward minimally to continue the massage on the other arm. "It also helps with circulation in case it was cut off a bit. Do they feel okay?"

Yuri nodded and let his eyes slip shut. He was exhausted. After Otabek finished, he rubbed one of Yuri's biceps briefly.

"Try to get some sleep."

"I think I'm leaking on your sheets," mumbled Yuri sinking further under the covers.

"Don't worry about that. Just get some rest."

He didn't need to be told twice, but somehow hearing it felt like a command which Yuri dutifully obeyed. Within minutes, he was sound asleep nestled in soft covers.

Yuri dreamed of his mom. It was some fictitious scenario where he was waiting for her to pick him up and she never showed. It had happened enough during his childhood that he was used to it, but the sense of abandonment it had left him with was profound. Did anyone truly want him around?

Unsurprisingly, he woke to an empty bed and wondered if Otabek had even slept next to him. His side looked messy so he probably had. Yuri crawled out of bed and trudged into the shower, noting his sore ass. There was a robe thoughtfully laid out for him since his clothes were likely still on the floor of the sex room. He put it on and made his way to the kitchen.

Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly wasn't what greeted him shortly after he stepped foot into the room.

"Yuri?! Is that you?"

"JJ?!" blurted out Yuri freezing. "What the fuck are you doing here?!"

"Wait…you two know each other?" asked Otabek from his spot at the stove, cooking something in a skillet.

"Yeah, I know Yuri," said the tall, dark haired man known as Jean-Jacque Leroy, or JJ for short. "He dated my little brother, Liam."

Yuri's eye twitched at the mention of that name and Otabek frowned slightly. "How is the asshole doing?" He couldn't help but be petty considering their tragic breakup.

"He's fine. Dating this girl that I'm not so sure about." JJ shrugged and laughed as he shook his head.

"Anyways," said Yuri trying to change the subject. He felt nauseous. "You never did say why you're here."

"Oh yeah, sorry!" JJ waved his hands apologetically. "I'm a manager for Otabek's company. I swung by to let him know how sales are going and touch base on a few other things."

"Is that so?" Yuri finally meandered over to the island, making sure to keep it between him and the other two men.

"So are you two dating?" asked JJ waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "I figured you had better taste, Yuri."

Otabek chuckled returning his attention to the food.

"Nah, we're not dating," said Yuri, noticing how Otabek's back stiffened slightly at his answer. "We're just fuck buddies. You know…friends with benefits. Nothing serious."

"Oooh, interesting!" JJ put a hand to his chin in thought. "I guess that would be easier than getting involved, especially after what happened with Er-"

"JJ, would you grab some plates, please?" interrupted Otabek shooting him a glare.

JJ seemed to catch the hint and moved to a cupboard. "Well, I suppose we're all caught up," he said after setting two plates next to the stove. "I'll call you tomorrow with information on the book signing. It was good to see you again, Yuri."

"The feeling is not mutual," grumbled Yuri.

And just as suddenly as he appeared, JJ disappeared. Otabek plated the food, which turned out to be beef sausage patties and scrambled eggs. He placed them on the island and walked around to the side Yuri stood at, gesturing to the bar stools tucked neatly beneath. After Yuri sat down he went to the coffee maker and retrieved two mugs of already brewed coffee, as well as sugar and creamer.

They ate in silence and Yuri could feel the tension in the air around them, like strings pulling tighter the longer it stretched on. Surprisingly, it was Otabek that spoke up first.

"Fuck buddies, huh?" He cast Yuri a sideways glance that looked more irritated than amused.

"Would you have rather me told him about the arrangement?" Yuri paused and lifted an eyebrow. "Does JJ even know? Do any of your friends know?"

Otabek stared at him like he wanted to bore holes through his skull. "Some of them know. The ones I trust won't judge me."

"Fair enough." Yuri continued to eat considering how far he could push Otabek before he snapped again. He always had been antagonistic and at that moment he was feeling especially petty. "So…who's the person JJ was talking about? The name he didn't finish."

Once again, Otabek's back stiffened. In fact, his entire posture went rigid as he avoided eye contact. "That is none of your business."

"Oh really?" Yuri kept eating casually. "How do you figure that's fair? You know about me and Liam thanks to bigmouth. I could tell you more about our relationship too since I consider it to be a significant one. I knew the first time I saw him that I wanted to ride him into the sunset."

"Yuri-"

"He was a possessive piece of shit," he said cutting off Otabek. "Funny though! Has a great sense of humor, was great in bed. God, the marathon sessions we would have. He could go for hours and hours and-"

Otabek suddenly slammed his fork down and the sound was deafeningly sharp in the relative quiet. He glared at Yuri who did his best to keep the most neutral expression he could muster. "That's enough," he said before averting his gaze.

"Funny." Yuri stood up and took one last sip of coffee. "I'd almost think you were jealous. But that's impossible since this isn't a real relationship."

"Do I need to amend the agreement to exclude discussions of our past relationships?" Otabek stared pointedly out the window above the sink, jaw set tight.

Feeling cheeky, Yuri moved around the island so that he was directly in Otabek's line of vision. He placed his hands on the counter and leaned forward for emphasis. "As long as you keep paying me I'll do whatever you want, but maybe take into consideration that relationships are an integral and important part of people's pasts. They help us discover who we are, where we fit in the world, and give our lives meaning. That shouldn't be flippantly ignored or dismissed just because you can't handle it."

Otabek's jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed for an infinitesimal moment. He had certainly received the challenge but didn't seem to be in the mood for a fight. "I will take that into consideration, but I would also like you to consider something."

"Sure thing," said Yuri standing up straight and relaxing his posture.

"Your opinions are subjective, not universal. What you hold as an infallible truth may in fact be a lie to someone else. Some people's relationships may have been traumatic. Maybe they don't want to put too much focus on the past or believe that that abuse helped form them into who they are today. Just because they give our lives meaning, doesn't mean we have to automatically value them or divulge their details to anyone. Sometimes they are just obstacles on our journey to becoming a better person on our own."

Jackpot. Yuri finally struck the right chord and got some vague but valuable information out of Mr. Mysterious. In retrospect it probably should've been obvious Otabek had been severely hurt by someone in the past. Maybe more than one person. He wondered how deep those tragedies went that it made Otabek feel like he couldn't have normal relationships anymore. He thought about asking JJ but that seemed low even for him and he may not even tell.

Yuri put up his hands in mock surrender. "Okay, point taken. I'll drop it…for now."

Otabek seemed to deflate, shoulders slumping slightly. "Thank you."

"I need to go home and get ready for work soon. Want a quickie before I head out?"

"Sure," said Otabek standing up and gathering the plates. "You can top if you want. We could use protection for easier cleanup."

Sidling up beside Otabek at the sink, Yuri cupped one of his ass cheeks through his pajama bottoms. "Nah, I'd rather fill you up. Something to remember me by after I'm gone. Shit, if I had lube I'd bend you over this island and take you here."

Otabek shivered and abandoned the dishes to kiss Yuri. It was a little sloppy and desperate compared to his usual style. "Let's go back to my room," he said after breaking for air.

"What? Seriously?" Yuri's eyebrows attempted to climb into his hairline. "I thought last night was a onetime deal."

"I want to remember you there…in a better state," he said thoughtfully.

A blush spread across Yuri's cheeks as he recalled the blubbering mess he had been the previous night. He felt a little dumb that he'd temporarily forgotten it, but then again JJ was a hell of a distraction. "Good point. Lead the way, stud."

For the time being, Yuri shelved his insecurities, fucking Otabek hard and fast on his ridiculously comfortable bed. It was refreshing to just go at it without spanking or gear. Yuri still loved the thrill of those things and couldn't wait to discover more of Otabek's kinks, but it felt nice to just mindlessly hammer away. He held out just long enough for Otabek to come before emptying into him with a low groan.

Yuri imagined he had some kind of control as he kissed Otabek in his bed, that he wasn't just some over-glorified accessory and fuck toy. He had pushed the boundaries earlier, but he honestly would do just about anything to stay around Otabek. Conflicting thoughts haunted him as he cleaned up and retrieved his clothes from the other room. Once he was dressed, he returned to Otabek's room, kissed him a few more times, and said goodbye.

When he got home he happened to glimpse the key Otabek had given him laying on his dresser. It was such an oddly personal gift to give to someone that you never intended to form a proper relationship with. Maybe that was the way things worked with sugar babies but he didn't think so. Picking it up, he eyed it against the backdrop of the overcast sky outside the window. He decided to wear it like a talisman of power, praying it dispelled any bad customers for the day.

Surprisingly, the shift went by without incident. It was likely just a coincidence, but Yuri wanted to believe it was a sign. If it got him through the day in a better mood, what was the harm? He wore it the next few days out of habit.

Otabek invited him over for another dinner later in the week and was happy to see he was wearing the key. That night, Yuri learned about spacer bars and bit gags, which Otabek was too nervous to use on him so he offered himself up instead. It was quite the learning experience and he was very vocal about Otabek using them on him soon. Blissed out and satisfied, Otabek let Yuri sleep in his bedroom again, which had a nice fire going in it. He claimed it was simply practical to keep warm but Yuri wanted to believe otherwise.

Like a massive summoning tool, the Altin residence offered up another dream of his mother. She was in one of her rare sober stretches, acting deceptively normal. They sat on the porch of his childhood home and talked about life. It was the kind of moment that had only sporadically happened in reality, like a hammer smack with limited resonance, and even in a dream state Yuri noted it was out of the ordinary. Still, it made him happy. A large part of him had always wanted to know his mom better, to figure out her personality under the addiction.

"I hope you come visit more often, Yura," she said offering him a genuine smile.

"I don't know where you are anymore." Yuri shrugged, staring out at the street. "Nobody does."

"I'm around. All you have to do is look for me."

Yuri laughed. "About that, most of the places you frequent are not…hmm, how do I put it…safe?"

"Okay, okay, good point." She looked at him again and smiled. "You know that I love you, right?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good. Just making sure."

Yuri woke from the dream with a sense of peace. If his mom wouldn't give him the stable interactions he hoped for his subconscious was apparently willing to fill in the gaps. The morning got even better when he rolled over and saw Otabek was still sleeping beside him. Yuri gathered him into his arms and sighed when Otabek melded into the embrace naturally. It may not be a "real" relationship but it was close enough.

Sorry for the wait and thank you for reading!