It's too early in the morning for being ridiculous.

Sasha never learned this.

A grumbling Yuri removes a full, stinking trash bag, tying it off and replacing with a new lining. His cat races over and hops inside the empty trash bin, making herself cozy by turning around a few times.

He holds up his mobile one-handed, flipping for the camera option with another finger. Yuri shifts in place while concentrating, rubbing an ankle over the back of a bare, hairy calf. Somebody else has gotta see this.

Yuri scrolls back to his homescreen, just as the gentle, tickly sensation of fingers combs mindfully through his hair. Pale yellow falling over his naked shoulder, like gossamer silk strands.

"Dobraye ootro," comes a sleep-thickened whisper behind Yuri's ear.

Yuuri's arms wind around him securely. The older man cuddles against his back, his glasses bumping against Yuri's nape. Instead of shoving him away and complaining about how itchy Yuuri's flannel pajamas are, the twenty-year-old absently touches his fingers over one of Yuuri's elbows, clasping on.

"Have you seen this yet?" Yuri asks, gesturing with his mobile and then nodding towards the now softly meowing trash bin. Sasha's little blue eyes peer out. "She's so stupid. This is why I don't let her out."

"You shouldn't be mean."

It sounds a little bit like a scolding, despite Yuuri yawning periodically.

"She got herself in there. It's her own fault," Yuri insists. He watches him with furrowed eyebrows as Yuuri ignores the comment and pads around him, the meowing getting louder and more insistent.

With some maneuvering and stretching, Yuuri eases the fluffy and struggling cat out of the trash bin, cradling Sasha to his front. "That must have been frightening," he coos, massaging her ears until she purrs.

Yuri huffs, wrinkling his nose.

"Don't baby her, dumbass."

It never fails that Yuuri's broad and affectionate smile jolts a familiar warmth through him. Yuri almost hates it.


"As if you don't," Yuuri says knowingly, leaning over and quickly kissing a begrudging Yuri. His mouth tastes like Viktor's mint toothpaste. His dark brown eyes aim for the floor. "Uh… Yura, your bag is leaking…"

Still caught in the faint, swimmy bliss of a morning kiss, Yuri's brain takes a second longer than necessary moment to process what his boyfriend told him.

He curses noisily, grabbing onto the old trash bag, avoiding stepping into the murky, greenish liquid dripping out.

"I'll take care of that, please stop yelling," Yuuri says frowning, as the cat jumps down and dashes into the foyer. "Take out the garbage, okay? Carefully."

Holding back a retort, Yuri tilts the lumpy, broken bag in another direction, hauling it into his arms. It takes too damn long to get rid of the thing, but eventually, he manages to toss it into the apartment's outdoor dumpster. Ugh, his hands are sopping and covered in rancid, disgusting trash…

Juices—that's the only word Yuri's brain supplies about the liquid. That doesn't make him feel any better.

He feels only a tiny amount of guilt for Yuuri needing to clean up his mess. It's been weird moving in, living with him and Viktor—in a good way, he thinks. As annoying and lovey-dovey as they can be.

But it's not only them or their relationship. For a while, Yuri absolutely loathed his feelings for both of them. His crush on Viktor existed longer than the crush on Yuuri. After their publicized romance and the engagement, Yuri tried to convince himself to get over those annoying romantic feelings.

It never happened.

Viktor, of all people, had been the one sensing something amiss and coaxed the truth out during an extended stay in Moscow, just the two of them, Yuuri babbling out drunkenly and clinging to him.

He prayed to god that Viktor would… amount it to liquor, and not bother him about it. What was the point? He and Yuuri were already together and the most sickeningly adorable couple in the skating world? But, he should have known Viktor not keeping his mouth shut, and Yuuri called him up shortly, worried.

Somehow, despite all of the humiliating beginnings, it all worked out.

Yuri found himself needing a whole year before not feeling like a stranger in their romantic and everyday lives, let alone awkward and fumbling during any sex. There's no ring on his finger, but it may as well be invisible.

(He's spied on Viktor's mobile search history after a particularly suspicious discussion. Yuri's heart sped up unconsciously from the rows and rows of designer engagement rings—one with a platinum tiger's head.)

Back upstairs, Yuri glances around the kitchen. No sign of his boyfriend, but the mess is cleared up.

He checks the single spacious bathroom. Unlocked door. All the lights off.

Yuri's ears pick up a series of hushed and hurried sounds, down the foyer and coming from their bedroom. It's already wide open. He discovers Yuuri sitting on the edge of their bed, on his own lit-up mobile, his back entirely to the bedroom door. What gets Yuri's attention is Yuuri's right arm moving between his legs.

"I am, yes," Yuuri's voice goes breathless. His spine arches a little when he groans and spreads his legs further apart. Whoever is on the phone with him is no more than a tinny, sounding garbled. "Vitya—"

Oh, hell.

Yuri's groan tightens in his boxers.

He scolds him mentally, but doesn't interrupt when Yuuri falls backwards onto the quilted coverlet, eyelids fluttering shut. His right hand empty and his left cupping his mobile to his jaw, as if losing his grip on it.

Yuuri's cock has already been tugged free of his pajamas, flushing a deep, dark red and hardening up. A surge of heat and thrill whirlwinds inside Yuri. Before he allows himself to overthink it, Yuri approaches and kneels down, leaning over to grip onto Yuuri's thighs and giving Yuuri's cock a moist, sensual lick.

He nearly laughs at Yuuri's reddened, shocked expression, when he bucks to Yuri's fingers gripping harder.

"Relax, I've got this," Yuri whispers with a good-natured smirk, lifting up Yuuri's cock and working his mouth around the bulbous tip. His lips run over the slit, opening to suck the trickle of pre-cum off it.

Yuuri's pleasure-choked moan vanishes out of existence when the other man slams his empty hand to his own mouth, Yuuri's body squirming. A twist of pride worms into Yuri's gut.

He doesn't know what Viktor is saying, not until the next time Yuri looks up, his throat burning from the feeling of the thick, massive dick stretching him out. His view of Yuuri obscured by the mobile-screen thrust towards Yuri's direction. A full-sized, colorful image of Viktor—wrapped loosely in a cotton, white hotel robe, and his silvery hair damp and tousled—and how eagerly he witnesses his boyfriend deep-throating his fiance.

"Now this is a sight I've missed…"

Yuri's lips twitch into a smile. He pulls off Yuuri's cock a little, tasting salty fluid oozing on the back of his tongue. When a still smiling Yuri presents out a middle finger, Viktor laughs so brightly and honestly.

"I've missed you too, moy miliy. You and my sweet Yuuri." According to the image, Viktor also seems to be sitting on the edge of a mattress, but more casually resting. "How does your katsudon taste?"

Yuuri whines high-pitched through his fingers, his hand grasping his mobile trembling.

"Vitya, aah, don't…"

"Want more," Yuri mutters out, impatiently stroking Yuuri's reddened, swollen cock and licking a path down the bulge of under-vein, shuddering the other man.

Viktor tuts on the mobile's screen, feigning disapproval.

"Now, now, you shouldn't be wasteful, Yura. I know where you can let him finish."

Instead of blushing fiercely, Yuri narrows his eyes, smiling wider.

"You're such an asshole."

"Not as pretty as yours," Viktor quips, grinning softly. "I want to see it. Will you let me?"

"Gross," Yuri complains deadpan, but stands on his feet.

While Yuri busies himself stripping off his underwear and climbing on the bed, Yuuri straightens up and peels off his pajama top and bottoms, grabbing his mobile once finished. He's a vision with a pink, flushed coloring on tan cheeks and all of those metres of naked, muscular skin. Yuri gazes over him, chewing on his lower lip.

Breaking out of his trance, he loots around the bedstead drawer. "Where the fuck did you geezers hide the lube?" Yuri shouts out, furiously tossing a handful of hair-pins aside. "Oh—shit, here it is."

Once the miniature bottle is located, Yuri inhales a deep, steadying breath and arranges onto his stomach, hips hoisting upwards. His elbows and tops of his knees digging down, rumpling the coverlet.

I want to see it. Will you let me?

Viktor's words echo, as filthy and heady as they are. Yuri drops his forehead to a pillow, reaching back towards his buttocks, slowly spreading them open. He can practically feel the heat and intensity in Yuuri's stare pinned on him. Anyone who still believed Yuuri Katsuki couldn't do Eros was a great and utter fool.

"Isn't he beautiful like this, Yuuri? Like he's offering himself to you?"

Yuri's teeth grit together. He finally blushes, momentarily ashamed by his position.

"He is," Yuuri says calmly, his lubricated fingers soothing over the warm, silky crease of Yuri's ass.

The other man startles in place, relaxing when Yuuri murmurs something aloud and presses a comforting kiss to Yuri's lower back, slipping in the first, slickened finger. Yuri doesn't tighten up for it, only sighing quietly.

"Yuuri's fingers go in so nicely," Viktor says delighted. He must be having an eyeful where he is, because Yuri can't see where Yuuri placed down the mobile phone. One of the fingers curl, teasing over Yuri's prostate repeatedly until he can feel his legs weakening under him.

Fucking hell.

"Hmm? Did you two have fun recently?"

If by fun, Viktor means Yuri getting fucked until nearly passing out, then absolutely.

His preference isn't slow and emotional sex, but Yuuri has this way of building the intensity, touching him admiringly and bashfully, getting his nerves vibrating, Yuri's fluttering heart noticeably.

One way or another, Yuuri's mobile ends up propped near his head. Yuri grunts loudly, fisting the bedding when Yuuri's bare cock spears into him, filling him up and thrusting slightly. The rhythm feels jarring and clumsy, but becomes rougher, deeper. The other man doesn't hold back this time.

It's… hell, Yuri forgets to English. He slurs out nonsensical words, between whimpers and moans as Yuuri's pace lessens and steadies from its previously harsh force, burying his face into the pillow.

"Let me see you, Yurochka," Viktor whispers through the connection, breathing heavily.

Sweating and panting, he turns his face, mouth hanging open. Viktor's own cock, full and leaking, peeks out of his hotel robe. He strokes himself off lazily, his eyes darkening with lust. "See how hard you get me," Viktor explains, sweeping his them over his cockhead. "I love when Yuuri takes you. Does it feel good…?"

Yuri moans out "da, da" and whimpers again, thrusting back against Yuuri's jerkier movements. Fuck, he's gonna come soon. They've never not used a condom before, especially at the start of their relationship. Yuuri's gonna come inside him, and he's not gonna stop him.

Yuri wants it.

Viktor is getting off on it.

Yuuri halts and bends over, covering Yuri's back. He mouths over a pale shoulder, angling another upward thrust. The burst of pleasure hits him suddenly. Yuri cries out with it, eyes shutting, grabbing his own cock.

He makes a few slippery pulls before his orgasm takes hold, spilling and pulsing his come onto the bedding. Yuuri's hips stutter behind him, grinding up completely, as the other man bites down on Yuuri's shoulder.

Yuri opens his eyes, feeling warmth and exhausted. His flushed, perspiring cheek weighing on the mattress.

"Are you alright, Yura?" Yuuri murmurs to his ear, brushing a hand over Yuri's heaving side, and using his other hand to card gently through Yuri's hair, smoothing it from his face.

After a small nod, they glance back at a satisfied-looking Viktor, as he tugs his hotel robe closer to himself.

"I can't wait to see you both…"

Yuuri's embarrassed, heated chuckle lands against Yuri's jaw.

It better be a promise.



Yuri on Ice isn't mine. SO! Yuri Plisetsky Week 2017 is going on! It's a character appreciation week, but also all Yuri Plisetsky ships get some freedom/appreciation as well. I don't even ship this, but my motivation to do this wasn't shipping feels... it was pure unadulterated spite. Because no little shit tells me what I can or cannot write. And if I wanna randomly write Yuri/Yuuri/Viktor on a whim then I'm gonna G-O-D-D-A-M-N do it. And I did. So I hope any of shippers or any curious minds leave any comments/thoughts are appreciated as well! Prompt came out of YOI Kink Meme: "Yuri/Yurio/Victor + threesome, Yurio can be any age"

Translations (Russian):

Dobraye ootro = Good morning

moy miliy = my darling

da, da = yes, yes