It's been a while since I've been able to grieve over my grandfather. In an attempt to block it out and move forward, my memories extend as far as the December after his death and then they fade into dull fog. The memories are still there, almost as if hidden behind a dusty curtain, and it's been so long since I've examined the pain holding that damned curtain closed that sometimes I have to remind myself why I'm always sad and moody.
I have to sell his house, left to me in his will. I can't live in it, I can't visit it, I can't think about it without him in it. So I've asked the Katsuki-Nikiforov clan to help the Altins and I prepare it and the stuff inside for auction. This is my first time coming back since my grandfather's death.
The work goes quickly over the course of several work days. Valkyrie and Tamilya keep the place anything but silent when they "help," but occasionally, we will all fall into a hefty silence as I stare at something they've presented to me and I can do nothing but bite on my tears. But while I am allowed to slowly check off boxes as they go, like filing away my own grief, I can join their lightsome conversations from time to time. This experience paired with people I genuinely care about is therapeutic in a way.
"Well," Katsudon says once it's all said and done. "That went by rather quickly with all the help, didn't it? Any idea what you'll do with the money after you sell it?"
I blush, having to admit our plan in front of Otabek's family again.
"I'll just use it to help invest in a new place for Otabek and me," I shrug. "I don't suppose I owe you any for helping me--?"
"Nonono," Katsudon lifts his hands in something like self-defense. "You don't owe us anything, Yuri-- of course not! We were glad to help," he adds sincerely. "I was only making curious conversation."
"Snoop," I chuckle, punching his arm. I'm a little rougher than what Katsudon is used to apparently, because he rubs his arm sorely while I continue. "But yeah, I don't know what else I'd do with the money."
Victor begins to teasingly suggest something about going to Disney World before Katsudon silences him with a look as if to say, "Really? Stop that." Victor only laughs though, and I'd be lying if I said I didn't snicker at the idea myself.
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"Home sweet home," Otabek deadpans, helping me out of my coat.
I'm exhausted, if I'm honest, after all that damned practicing. I'm grateful for his doting on me.
"It's our first night in this apartment," Otabek adds, lifting a single eyebrow. Oh no, I can hear buds of desire blooming in his tone. "We should christen it, don't you think?"
"Mm, dammit Beka," I object, almost coyly. "I'm tired-- you'll end up topping. And that'll make-- let's see-- the alwaysth time ever," he can't resist a soft snicker at that, "and I'm taller than you now, dammit! Why am I the sub in this relationship?" and although I am a little exasperated, I am not entirely complaining authentically. Begrudgingly, I will admit that I like the sensation of Otabek pumping inside me.
Otabek gives me a slow once-over, as if sizing me up. He smoothes his hair back before giving me an amused smirk, placing one hand on the wall behind my head. I stand between he and the wall, inwardly cursing in every language I can understand. I'm still taller than him, dammit-- he's not that dominating.
"You wanna fuck me tonight, Yura?" he says, his voice low and sultry.
With a sudden rush of confidence, I take his lead. His eyebrows raise ever so slightly as I push myself into his position and pin him against the wall, not an inch of air between us now. I breathe in his ear, "Yeah, I think I do want to fuck you tonight."
He shudders whether from fear or desire, I don't care. He shrugs out of his own jacket and nods toward the bedroom. Fighting to maintain my position of dominance, I feel the urge to assert myself again somehow. I settle for a lovebite just visible enough to mark my authority. He squirms, riding waves of intermingling pleasure and discomfort as I suck at the tender skin of his neck-- occasionally nipping at the flesh and bruising the skin.
When I pull away, it is I who nods toward the bedroom this time-- as if to establish that tonight, we don't do anything until I say it's so.
