A/N: I wanted to write on the idea of Yuri & Flynn's first time, though I feel like it might be a little awkward, I guess, since neither of them seem to have much experience in that area. At least in my opinion.
It's also post-game, so there may be a few spoilers.
The last week had been nothing but meetings and paperwork, confining Flynn to the walls of the castle almost every hour of the day. At least his sleep schedule remained undisturbed, but once the end of the week drew near he found himself growing restless and fidgety, wishing for nothing more than a change of scenery and more fresh air than what his office allowed in. Some knights informed him Friday afternoon that Yuri had returned to Zaphias, bumming around in the Lower Quarter—their words, not his—and wondered if they should just drag him back to the dungeons. They seemed to have forgotten that Ioder had pardoned his crimes and lifted the bounty on the head. Or perhaps they just chose to ignore the fact.
As a whole the knights had come to realize Yuri was a man with a good heart, even if his way of going about things was far from heroic. But given enough time Flynn was certain they'd accept him wholeheartedly.
Flynn shed his armor and stored it in the closet, a great weight lifted off his shoulders, and headed out for the Lower Quarter. All that was left on his schedule for the day was a pile of paperwork, but he wasn't in the mood to sit cramped up at his desk writing until the sun went down. Tomorrow would allow him plenty of time to work on it; he needed to put his own needs first for once. True to the rumors he found Yuri down in the Lower Quarter chatting and laughing with Hanks, just like his old self, a smile spreading on Flynn's face to see him so relaxed and at home. He barely spared Flynn a glance when he approached, too wrapped up in his conversation, but after a moment Hanks took notice of him and greeted him heartily. They talked about life in the Lower Quarter nowadays and how it was thriving better than ever thanks to both his and Yuri's efforts—praise they both waved off.
"You're the ones doing all the work down here," Yuri commented. "We just help where we can."
"Yes, well, never mind the fact that we wouldn't even be here if it weren't for you boys." Hanks had folded his arms, but there was a note of pride in his voice. "You're right, though. Everyone's been working their butts off."
And it showed. Though the buildings still weren't nearly as pristine and up-kept as those in the Royal Quarter—he doubted they ever could be—they were worlds apart from how they'd been in the past. Everything in general seemed much cleaner, but the Lower Quarter managed to retain the charm and warmth that Flynn had grown to appreciate. It was still home.
Hanks bid them farewell and asked that they pay visits more often, a promise the two aimed to strive for but couldn't guarantee. As they strolled away Yuri laced fingers behind his head.
"So, the mighty Commandant is slacking off today?" Yuri teased, starting to make his way to the Comet.
"I've been cooped up all week in the castle. Had to get out sometime."
"And so you're honoring me with your presence."
"You make it sound like it's a chore." He was at Yuri's side as they climbed the stairs to his room, trading jabs all the while.
"Aren't chores usually worth doing?" Yuri tossed him one final grin before stepping into his room.
He'd almost forgotten how small the place was. It was equipped with the necessities, yet Yuri managed to make it distinctly his, with books scattered at his dresser and food at the table, and at the foot of his bed lay Repede, regarding Flynn with his good eye before going back to sleep. Yuri was already reclining at the window ledge as Flynn shut the door. Sunlight silhouetted his frame, and Flynn joined him in looking out over Zaphias—not much was visible from this point, but he at least caught sight of the fountain square, watching as children ran through. Flynn had always thought it was lazy of him to just sit here at the window, but the longer he stayed, the more he realized how relaxing it could be. The warmth of the sunbeams coupled with the light breeze did wonders for Flynn's mood, and he already felt the stress of the past week float away.
Flynn slid fingers through the locks of hair tumbling over Yuri's shoulder, smooth aside from a few knots, and Yuri continued his survey of the Lower Quarter. With his last run through Flynn gathered the strands and brought them to his lips. Yuri regarded him with a raised brow as he did, more teasing than irritated. As Flynn released his hair Yuri reached up to draw him in for a chaste kiss to the lips. But he knew Yuri's intentions ran far deeper than that. Sure enough, the swordsman swung his legs off the windowsill and back inside to direct Flynn to his bed, the springs groaning more than he would've liked. He doubted it was built to hold the weight of two grown men—it was barely large enough for Yuri—but it didn't bother Yuri in the slightest, grinning up at Flynn before pulling him back down to himself.
They'd shared a bed before countless times as children, but never like this, never in ways that stirred such a strangely pleasant heat within. And Flynn chased it like a shooting star, searching for all the different ways to ignite that spark as they met bedsheets and blankets together. Fingertips slid along his side and back to study what features they could, laughter spilling over lips, and eventually Yuri began slipping buttons and clasps from their place. Clothing piled the floor piece by piece, his tunic and shirt first, and a shiver made its way down his spine from the patterns Yuri traced over his skin. Hair tumbled over Yuri's shoulder as he rolled onto Flynn and straddled his waist, fabric replacing fingertips as Yuri lowered himself onto Flynn to press lips to his neck, working at it with the occasional nip to his skin.
Flynn had never been more grateful to have a high-collared uniform.
And Yuri didn't let a dull moment come to pass. Once he parted from Flynn's neck he rolled his hips forward, grinding Flynn against the mattress and disregarding protests from the bedsprings. Heat set his nerves aflame and he used the opportunity to grab Yuri's hair, tugging and tousling and garnering moans he'd been so keen on hearing, indistinguishable from his own. To his disappointment the rocking ceased, but Yuri was at his lips the next moment, the fire still blazing between them. Flynn nearly forgot to breathe, gasping when Yuri finally pulled away and rolled back onto the mattress.
Yuri laughed. "Sorry. Making you work on your time off."
"I could get used to this kind of work."
Flynn toyed with his hair again. Sliding it through fingers, twirling strands around them, and relaxing the moment of stillness. He could've easily called it a day then and let himself drift off. But there was still so much more to do, much more of Yuri he wanted to explore and learn. Flynn knew him better than anyone in his life, had seen him at his worst, had shared nearly everything with him since childhood—yet still he couldn't stop his hands from fumbling as he slid Yuri's belt off and began to pull his tunic open. Fingertips slid over skin and Yuri drew in a breath, smirking when he caught Flynn's worried glance, and leaned in to press lips to his. Once clothes lay piled on the floor it felt like he was on pins and needles, sitting there completely bared to him. Faint scars crisscrossed Yuri's skin, more than he'd anticipated, though there was a bit of charm about them—they were like badges of honor, proof of his mettle no matter how bad the situation. Without thinking he reached forward to trace the most prominent ones. Yuri never once protested; if anything he encouraged Flynn's roaming and leaned in to his touch, shifting his body to allow Flynn to explore as he saw fit. He could tell Yuri wanted to move things along faster, but he kept things in check for Flynn's sake, easing closer when the hand had shifted away until skin ran along skin and they became a tangle of limbs, all worries and hesitations lost as they learned about each other on levels of intimacy Flynn had only ever dreamed of knowing.
The next thing he knew Yuri had opened a vial of lube and was sliding inside him, moans mixing with the squeak of springs as he rocked against Flynn's body. Still slow, still not quite sure how and where to move, quiet laughs escaping them between gasps to try and hide their embarrassment. Once Yuri found a rhythm that worked things came much more smoothly and made way for the pleasure Flynn had been seeking, and willed the newfound fire to consume him until he couldn't bear those flames licking his skin any longer.
Flynn hadn't expected to come down this road when he came to visit, but he was glad to now that he lay at Yuri's side enveloped in heat, even in spite of his shot muscles. Yuri shifted and stood from the bed, going about some sort of business in his room, and Flynn curled up on the sheets that smelled of sweat and sex, vaguely of Yuri—a hint of wilderness, a tinge of sweetness.
Flynn heard something land on the mattress beside him. A towel. Smart thinking on Yuri's part. Once they'd dried off Yuri lay back alongside him, neither caring to get dressed, Yuri carding his hair as they entangled themselves.
"Buy me dinner first next time," Flynn quipped, smirking against his lips.
"Why don't I just make it instead? I've got time tonight." Yuri leaned in for a kiss, slow and soft, more earnest than the ones before. "Y'know, dessert first and all that, right?"
He gave a roll of the eyes in response and let Yuri pull him back in, glad to spend the rest of the afternoon lazing in his arms.