Otabek unzipped his hoodie and tossed it to the floor beside his bed. He collapsed onto the mattress and rolled over to stare at the ceiling. Everything ached. He may have pushed himself a little too hard during training today, but while he was skating at Yuri's rink in St. Petersburg he felt the need to downplay the fact that he was about as flexible as a brick. He flexed the muscles in his lower leg, stopping abruptly when it hurt. He cautiously tried again. A sharp pain in his calf and Achilles' tendon caused him to cry out, bolting upright. The pain didn't stop. He held his leg, hunched over, jaw set. The guest room door flew open and hit the wall with a bang, "Otabek are you okay?" He heard the squeak of his mattress as Yuri sat on the edge of his bed, placing a hand on his back. He repeated the question, "Otabek?" He couldn't answer, he couldn't even move. They sat in silence, Yuri rubbing circles slowly on his back, until the pain subsided. Otabek leaned back on his arms, folding himself into a half cross legged position, with the offending leg sticking out a bit. He was breathing hard. What the hell happened? Yuri reached over his lap and gingerly rubbed his thumb over his calf. Otabek gave him a questioning glance. He didn't look up, "does this hurt?"

"No"

"How about this?" He pressed down a little.

"Not like before, it's just that-"

"That wasn't the damn question"

"A bit" he mumbled, looking away. Yuri let out a sound of disapproval, "Tsk, stop trying to impress Yakov and Lilia, they've seen you perform. They know you're not flexible,"

His voice softened a bit, "You're going to hurt yourself." Otabek tensed and glared down at Yuri, "don't fucking patronize me!" he snarled. Yuri stopped and stared at his hands, eyes wide. Shit.

Yuri's breath hitched as he felt Otabek's smouldering glare burn a hole in his head. His hands were shaking. Damn, he was fucking terrifying. He'd never seen him this mad, or mad at all for that matter. There was a moment of deafening silence. Yuri swung his gaze up and looked a mortified Otabek dead in the eyes, "I'm a concerned friend, asshole, you know I didn't mean it like that!" His voice was strong, but he could feel that the colour had drained from his face. Otabek's stoic expression was long gone. He looked like he was about to cry. It was one of the few times that Yuri could barely believe Otabek was a whole two and a half years older than himself. His voice cracked, "I'm so sorry, Yura" he looked down at his lap, "If you want me to leav-" Yuri cut him off by pressing a finger to his lips, "Let me help" Otabek blinked stupidly as Yuri chuckled, "and calm down, we both know I'm a complete dick like 90 percent of the time. I'm sure I can give you a free pass when this is the first time you've dealt with Mila and Georgie for an entire day." Yuri saw the corners of Otabek's mouth turn up in a barely visible smile, "alright." He just caught the whispered response. Yuri straightened up, "take off your shirt." Otabek's expression jumped back to mortified in a split second, "what?"

"You want my help or not?" He folded his arms across his chest, "my grandpa has a bad back and he's really tense all the time. If I didn't massage his shoulders every once in a while I think he'd keel over and die." Otabek shot him an incredulous look before turning away. Yuri found himself staring at Otabek's well muscled back as he pulled his t-shirt over his head. Damn, maybe this wasn't such a good idea.

Otabek watched Yuri head over to the bathroom. He lay down on his stomach, resting the side of his face on his folded arms. A twinge of worry nipped his stomach as he heard Yuri rifling through a cupboard. He reappeared with a bottle of moisturizer. Otabek felt Yuri stare at him. Wait, shit, he was supposed to be sitting up for this wasn't he? Too late. Yuri shrugged and climbed onto the bed, straddling his lower back. Otabek shifted his arms so that his forehead could rest on them to hide whatever blush he couldn't fight back. This was a little too intimate. He didn't want Yuri to see how uncomfortable this was making him, lest he thought he was a creep. They were friends. Friends don't get butterflies when other friends give them a massage. He gasped when Yuri spread the lotion over his shoulders and neck. It was really damn cold. He sighed as Yuri ran his hands over the tops of his shoulders. The tension was melting away already.

Yuri pressed circles into Otabek's skin with his thumbs, the lotion allowing his hands to glide easily. Otabek let out a low hum as he switched movements, kneading his shoulders. He was really tense. He used a bit less pressure to slide up the back of his neck. He got off of Otabek, slathering his back in the lotion. He started by simply running his fingers from his neck down to the waistband of his jeans. He may have done a bit of his own research on larger scale massages. He hadn't tried something like this before. He placed one hand over the other, using a circular motion with his palms. He sat up on his knees as he went up and down Otabek's back to allow himself to move from his waist rather than his shoulders.

He couldn't help but appreciate the solid muscles under his hands as he continued. Did Otabek work out as a hobby? He never talked about it, but Yuri suspected he did. The man had a rather developed upper body for a figure skater, not that he didn't have a nice ass or legs as well. Unlike himself, Victor or even Katsuki, his body wasn't really naturally build for the sport, but he made the most of what he had. And what he had was pretty damn spectacular. The extra muscle mass didn't seem like much of on issue for him since he was shorter and had a slighter frame than most male figure skaters. In fact he was a bit shocked at the height difference when he saw JJ and Otabek talking the day they became friends. He hadn't expected Otabek to have to look up at anyone, but JJ had leaned down like the asshole he was to be at eye level with the object of his harassment just like he did with Yuri. When you get to know him, Otabek's height does suit him. It just takes some getting used to. You would think that a short, young, ethnically ambiguous looking man such as him really should be able to blend into any crowd, but then again he happens to be ridiculously hot. Not pretty like Victor or Chris, not cute like some of the younger skaters, not disgusting like JJ, but actually hot as hell. He was a bit ashamed that he had caught himself staring more than a few times in locker rooms. But they were friends, and friends were allowed to admire one another's impressive physiques.

His train of thought was interrupted when a particular motion elicited a quiet moan from Otabek. He forced himself not to stop as his face burned red. This was way more intimate than he bargained for. Every little sound he made added to the warmth hanging over Yuri's face. His arms were getting a little sore. Yuri finished up what he was working on and sat back, resting a hand on the other's waist, "Otabek?" He had fallen asleep at some point during the massage. Yuri yawned. He could use a nap himself. After a moment's thought he gently rolled Otabek over and lay down beside him. Sleep was already overtaking him as he watched Otabek's calm, sleeping face. Damn, he really was handsome.