Title: As I Watch the World Go By
Rating: NC-17
Pairings: Yuri/Flynn
Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Vesperia. I am writing for fun and not profit.
Summary: PWP. Sex in a hot spring.
The water is hot enough that it stings cold. It makes him hiss and flinch and suck in his breath as it whirls around his calves and over his thighs, up against his stomach and prickling at his sides where the skin is tender.
"Ow, shit. Ow ow ow," he says and Yuri laughs behind him. Flynn flips him a rude gesture, but the water is marvellous, and he can feel tension leeching away, soluble in the heat.
This was a terrible idea, he thinks as he leans back against smooth rocks of the pool basin, colder than the water and a little shocking against his skin; he's never going to want to leave.
"You're an awful person," he says drowsily, closing his eyes. "You know that? Awful."
"Yeah?"
"Corrupting government officials. It's reprehensible, is what it is."
"Gonna arrest me?" Yuri sits down behind him, slipping his legs into the water as he transfers Flynn's head to his thigh. He hisses and his toes curl up on reflex, and Flynn rubs his cheek against his skin.
"Thinking about it."
"Gonna tie me up? Teach me about due process? Here lean forward." Flynn does, resting his elbows on his knees, and Yuri's hands are magic on Flynn's skin, fingers stiff and clever as they ferret out knots and dig into them mercilessly. Flynn groans feelingly.
"Crap, you're tense," Yuri says, jabbing his knuckles into the long muscles parallel Flynn's spine. "Aren't there people who do this for a living? Make sure you don't seize up and die? I kind of thought you'd have your own harem by now. You're damaging all my preconceived notions, Flynn. Stop it."
Flynn just laughs because yeah, there are masseuses and he's tried to sit still for a couple, but the power dynamic of a room where he's naked and at the hands of a stranger just makes him cranky and tense, so why bother. Besides, Yuri knows Flynn's body practically better than Flynn so a substitute would be cheap.
He grunts when Yuri starts work on the lump at the small of his back. Flynn affectionately calls it Justified Homicide, and he's almost boneless when it finally cedes to the blitzkrieg of Yuri's thumbs.
"That's feels good," he murmurs after about ten minutes have passed and he feels like well punched dough. Yuri sweeps his hands up Flynn's back, his sides, pressing wet fingers deep into the meat of his shoulder.
"Yeah? That's good. You deserve nice things, Flynn. I've always thought so. Also? Makes you less of an asshole."
Flynn snorts and snags Yuri's hand threads their fingers. He leans back against the rock and grins. "You're a nice thing," he says.
"What? No. That is such a lie. Why would you even - - don't say things like that," he hisses, scandalized. "People might hear."
"I'm sorry. I forgot you were a ruthless Guilder now. I know how delicate their sensibilities are."
Yuri makes a scathing noise as his other hand eases out of a massage and into a caress, fingers running along the hard wings of Flynn's slick collar bone and thumbs trailing up and down the sides of Flynn's neck. Flynn sighs, let's his head roll to the side to rest on Yuri's thigh, and he thinks he's more relaxed than he's been in years.
"You know all the times I told you we should have gone to the hot spring? Yeah, this is what we were missing. Just so you know," Yuri says. Flynn smacks Yuri's shin with the back of his hand half heartedly.
"Some of us have work to do."
"Mhmm," Yuri says. "There's a saying for that, you know."
"All work and no play makes Flynn a dull boy?"
"No, 'all work and no play means Flynn doesn't get any in a hot spring.' You should listen to me, I know these things." Yuri's voice drops low and loose, rolling syllables like the water around them and his lips brush Flynn's ear. The wet tips of his hair drag across Flynn's shoulder and stick to his skin.
Flynn licks his lips and cups the back of Yuri's ankle, thumbing the knob of bone.
"Hmm," he tries for indifferent, but it's not much use. He's never been able to ignore Yuri.
Yuri taps out a fluttering little rhythm against Flynn's collarbone and then drags his fingers through Flynn's hair, pulling lightly until Flynn is looking at him. His hair is a dark curtain around his face, bangs in his eyes and Flynn reaches up, curls his hand around Yuri's neck and tugs him close, kisses him soft and aimless, upside down and a little awkward, nose bumping against Yuri's chin and all the better for the inelegance. Yuri bites at Flynn's lips, cups his face between his hands and his kisses are messy and hot and languid with experience, easy with comfort.
They spend long minutes just relearning the feel of each other's mouths, lingering in the familiar and desperate in a way that only time apart can produce. Then Yuri slips into the water, onto Flynn's lap, warm, slippery skin sliding against Flynn's own. Blown black eyes and Yuri breathes heavy against Flynn's mouth, Flynn finding the sharp curves of Yuri's hips, clutching hard on the blades of bone and thumbing the fragile skin in the hollow of his pelvis. He's desperate for more and feeling loose and comfortable in his skin for the first time is months, like he finally has room inside his body.
He pushes hard against his lips and Yuri winds a strong arm around the back of Flynn's neck, forearm braced at the curve of Flynn's skull and grip inescapable as he licks into his mouth, devours the thready gasps Flynn makes before they're realized in air. It's a simple thing to tuck the tips of his fingers into the crack of Yuri's ass, brushing against the skin of Yuri's hole to feel Yuri falter and groan.
"Oh, yeah. There you go. C'mon, Flynn, c'mon," and hisses, grinning, as Flynn pushed two fingers into him. "Oh yeah. Fuck yes, just like that," and shoves back onto them, reaching down and tugging at Flynn's cock, circling the head with his thumb and biting at Flynn's jaw when he throws his head back, groaning. "Gonna get this inside me," he pants into Flynn's ear, nibbling the lobe, squeezing his hand. "Gonna feel so good. Oh man, oh man. Fuck, you're gonna split me wide open. I know it. S'gonna be awesome. C'mon, Flynn, another one. Give it to me."
"Fuck," Flynn whispers and works in a third finger. Yuri is tight, clutching at his knuckles as he thrusts his fingers. "Yuri."
"Yeah, yeah," Yuri says and shifts up. It's probably not enough prep but they haven't seen each other in almost eight weeks and Flynn's a little surprised they're taking as long as they are. Flynn pulls his fingers out of Yuri, digging his fingers into his ass cheeks and spreading them apart and they both groan as Yuri works his way down Flynn's dick.
Yuri's eyes are squeezed shut and his mouth is open in a breathless gasp, a soft o, and Flynn just stares at him for a moment, drinking in the perfect bridge of his back, the long line of his neck, the lean taper of his hips. It strikes him that Yuri is one of the most beautiful people he's ever met. Beautiful and wild and vicious; spirit fierce and untameable and free, save for what he gives to Flynn, to his friends, to anyone who asks without thought or complaint. And Flynn is helpless against a rush of affection that punches him in the gut when Yuri tosses his head to the side and just keens as Flynn shoves up into him, hard and graceless and gritty.
It's a little brutal and Yuri is going to be sore in the morning, tender and lax and weak as only hard sex makes him; limbs sprawled out and hogging up the bed, stealing the pillows and blankets both, and Flynn will kiss him as the sun rises, staining everything orange and gold. He'll turn Yuri onto his stomach, spread his legs wide. His hole will be puffy and red, and he'll hiss under Flynn's mouth, squirm against his fingers, and rock into the mattress. He'll catch Flynn's name in the stuffing of the pillow, hands fisting the sheets, and the look in his eyes will be fond, happy. Uncomplicated and easy because Yuri's found that place in his life where it is easy, where he's content and free and unburdened with the past, and Flynn is just so incredibly glad that he's found that.
"Yuri," he gasps, "God, Yuri," and Yuri mashes their mouths together, digging his fingers into Flynn's hair as his other hand jerks roughly at his cock coming with muted howl, and Flynn thinks yeah, yeah, digging bruises into Yuri's hips, marks he'll see for days, one that's won't heal for a week. He thinks Yuri and God and Please and when he comes, it's with a whine he hides in the space between Yuri's lips.
