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“Is this okay?”
Ilya presses his face into the pillow so Shane won’t see him grimacing. “Yes,” he grunts. He thinks it might get better at some point, but to be honest he isn’t a fan of the dildo so far.
“You sure?” Shane puts a hand on the small of Ilya’s back, rubbing small circles with his thumb. Ilya can feel himself relax a little at the gentle pressure.
It’s still too much. There isn’t any pain, but it’s not right. Ilya just… doesn’t like it. He thinks of the look on Shane’s face when Ilya fills him up. How he gets blissed-out and demanding and desperate for it, how he’ll buck his hips and curse and paw at Ilya and ask for more and make sounds Ilya could drown in.
“Stop,” Ilya says. “Shane, stop.”
Shane stops immediately, tossing the dildo towards the end of the bed – no caution or order, Shane is panicking – and scooting away from Ilya. “Fuck, Ilya, I’m sorry, I – did I hurt you? How bad -”
Ilya is already missing Shane’s touch. He’s relieved they stopped, but he doesn’t want Shane away from him. He rolls over onto his back. “Shane.”
Shane’s hands are fluttering over Ilya but not touching his skin, like he wants to pet and soothe but doesn’t dare. His eyes are wide and anguished with concern. Ilya reaches out to take Shane’s hand and holds it against his chest.
“I – I’m so – Ilya, are you -”
“Shane.”
“I hurt you -”
“Shane. Sweetheart.”
Shane stops, goes still like he sometimes does when things are a lot. Ilya pulls him close by the hand he’s already holding. Shane curls against his side as he always does. As it’s supposed to be. “You did not hurt me,” Ilya says. “Just… not something I liked. Okay?”
Shane is looking at the nightstand instead of at Ilya. “I didn’t notice – you always pay so much attention to me, and I didn’t -”
Ilya cups Shane’s face and turns his head, gently, to meet his eyes. “You stopped when I said stop. Immediately.”
“But you didn’t like it before then,” Shane whispers.
“You asked me, and I said yes. I should not have said yes.”
“But – but I should have noticed anyway. You always notice.”
“Is different. Is more my job.”
“No,” Shane says, his face as determined as when they’re on the ice. “No, that’s not – I should have – I need to -” He’s lowering his head again, so Ilya slowly runs a hand down his side to calm him.
“Shane,” he says. He rubs a hand across his face because explaining what he’s about to say in English is going to be difficult. “We have…” He hunts around for the word dynamic and doesn’t find it. “I take care of you. I am more -” He falters again. He doesn’t want to say in control, because that’s not really right.
He settles on, “When we fuck, I tell you what to do.”
“Not always,” Shane says.
“Yes, okay,” Ilya says. “Not always. But -” He groans in frustration, he’s missing the words. “If I don’t tell you, I show you. Or make you ask or – things like that.”
“Yeah, but. You know I like that,” Shane says. He’s frowning a little, like he does when a million thoughts are running through his head at the same time.
“I know. But this means I have -” Ilya hesitates. “Responsibility.”
“Okay,” Shane says. “Okay. I see what you’re saying. But just because we’re used to doing things a certain way doesn’t mean I don’t have the same responsibilities towards you. Even if it maybe comes up less.”
“Okay,” Ilya agrees and kisses him quick.
“Okay,” Shane says again.
Ilya can tell when Shane is trying to reassure himself and it isn’t working.
“You know what I liked a lot?” he asks, before pressing another kiss to Shane’s lips.
“What?” Shane whispers.
“Your fingers, before.”
He can see the doubt in Shane’s eyes and it’s fucking agony.
“Are you sure?” Shane asks. “I can handle it if you – if I didn’t – if it wasn’t – you’ll tell me the truth, right?”
Ilya leans his forehead against Shane’s. “I promise,” he says. “Maybe not something to do all the time. But definitely something good when we want it. Is that okay?”
Shane nods, quick and with his shoulders pulled up.
“You are thinking too much about it,” Ilya whispers. “I love you. Love you touching me. Love you making me come.” He kisses Shane’s lips and cheeks and jaw and cupid’s bow, light and feathery kisses like bubbles in Shane’s ginger ale. But Shane's eyes are still watery, and he is taking shaky breaths.
“Shane,” Ilya says. “I have easy way to make you believe that I liked it.”
“Yeah? How?”
Ilya kisses him, gently coaxing open Shane’s mouth and sliding their tongues together, then sucking and nipping at Shane’s bottom lip. Only once Shane is sighing and trembling in his arms does he pull back. “Do it again and see how quick you will make me come.”
Shane gasps out a laugh. “Ilya.”
“Shane.”
The corners of Shane’s mouth are twitching upwards. “You really want to?”
Ilya remembers earlier, before they’d decided to give the dildo a try, remembers Shane gently curling two fingers inside him, Shane taking time and care to find those spots that made Ilya moan and arch his back. “I really want to.”
“What do you want me to – do you want to turn over?”
Ilya shakes his head. “Pillow,” he says.
“Someone threw all the pillows off the bed,” Shane grumbles, getting up and grabbing one off the floor.
“Is because someone has so many pillows there is no space on the bed to have sex.”
“They make the room more homey. That’s actually why in hotels they -”
“Hollander.”
Shane kneels back on the bed, smiling. “Come on,” he says. Ilya pushes himself off the mattress so that Shane can slide a pillow under his lower back while Shane hunts for the bottle of lube in the sheets.
“We have more lube,” Ilya says, impatiently. “Just take new one.”
“No,” Shane huffs. “I am not having that get lost somewhere in the bed-frame, we’ll forget about it and I do think these expire at some -” He crows victoriously when he finds the bottle. “See?”
That warm feeling that he associates only with Shane blossoms out from somewhere in Ilya’s chest. “Come here,” he says, reaching out and pulling Shane in. “And hurry up.”
Shane’s hands are shaking slightly as he pushes Ilya’s thighs apart, slicks his fingers with the lube he so triumphantly located, and starts carefully tracing a fingertip around Ilya’s rim. “Okay?”
“Not enough,” Ilya says.
“I’m just getting started!”
“Is just that normally you are fast one of the two of us. Not on ice, of course. Only in bed.”
“I hate you.”
“Okay, then fuck me with your fingers like you hate me.”
“Ilya.” Shane is trying to look strict and failing miserably. He increases the pressure a little, and Ilya makes himself take deep breaths. He wants this – it felt amazing earlier, and it’s not like he never does this to himself, it’s just not something he’s used to.
Shane is patient and focussed working Ilya open, and it’s so different from how Shane is when he lets Ilya take control, and still so much like Shane, that Ilya thinks he might lose his mind among the want and amazement and loveliness of it all.
He watches Shane get more and more confident, watches him bite his bottom lip in concentration. At some point, breathy little moans start escaping Shane’s lips. Ilya’s so distracted by it all that he feels he’s a few moments behind on everything – he’s almost surprised when he feels Shane stroking his dick, because his brain didn’t quite connect the movement of Shane reaching out.
“Shane,” he groans at the first slick twist of Shane’s wrist in tandem with his fingers stretching inside. “Fuck.”
“Good?”
“So fucking good.”
Shane brushes his fingers across a spot he found earlier, making Ilya shout and buck up his hips. “Shane, fuck. Right there. Do that again.”
“Like this?” Shane asks, doing the same thing only more slowly, stroking Ilya’s cock at the same time, and Ilya thinks he might break apart right here in Shane’s bed with the navy comforter in Montreal. “You like it,” Shane says reverently. It’s not a question.
Ilya laughs, wrecked. “Is fine, I guess,” he tries to tease. He doesn’t succeed because Shane’s found a rhythm now, and all Ilya can do is moan and curse and once or twice actually yell.
It doesn’t take long for Ilya to clench around Shane’s fingers and spill over Shane’s fist, not with Shane studying exactly what works and what doesn’t and applying that knowledge in a way that only Shane could, precise and deliberate. Ilya gasps and groans and pants while he sinks back down into his body. Shane pulls the pillow out from underneath Ilya’s back and slots it behind their heads. Then he tucks himself into Ilya’s side and presses kisses against Ilya’s pecs.
“Ilya?” Shane asks after a few minutes of silence.
“Mhm?”
“I’m really glad we talked about all this, and that you liked, um, you know. That part now.”
“Me, too,” Ilya says, brushing his knuckles along Shane’s jaw.
“Maybe, uh,” Shane says. “Maybe next time I could use my mouth?”
Ilya traces his thumb over Shane’s bottom lip. “To talk to me? Yes, good plan.”
“Fuck you, Rozanov. You know for what.”
“No, I do not know. I have no idea. I think you need to explain. Tell me a lot of details so I understand.”
Shane huffs out a pointedly annoyed breath, but he tilts his head and nips at Ilya’s thumb until Ilya pushes it into his mouth. Shane’s eyes flutter shut and he starts sucking gently.
Ilya groans. “Hollander.”
Shane hums and circles his tongue around the pad of Ilya’s thumb.
“Fuck, Shane. Don’t do this to me right now.”
Shane blinks his eyes back open and Ilya feels him swallow. He parts his lips and lets Ilya’s thumb slip out of his mouth.
“Eating you out,” Shane says quietly, his lips pink and wet, his eyes not leaving Ilya’s. Ilya chases the blush spreading over Shane’s cheeks with his fingertips. “I’ve been thinking about it. A lot. I want to do that for you. I love it when you do it for me.”
“I know you love it,” Ilya says. “Makes you come even faster than that time when you shot your load before we had done anything.”
“Shut up. That was one time like ten years ago.”
“Ah, no, I think it was maybe only five years since then. Could happen again any day. You are very eager, always.”
Shane scrambles on top of him, straddles Ilya’s waist and pins his wrists to the mattress. Shane’s eyes are dark, his skin flushed, and his briefs stained where he’s dripping precome. Ilya wants to fuck him senseless, kiss him stupid, have him painted on canvas.
“Like now,” Ilya breathes. “Desperate.”
“Fuck you. Like you don’t love it,” Shane says. He’s panting a little.
“Is okay,” Ilya says soothingly. “I will take care of you. That’s what you need, yes?”
Shane bites his lips, clearly trying but only half-succeeding to swallow a moan. “Want you to fuck me.”
Ilya smiles up at him, tugs his wrists out of Shane’s grasp so he can dig his fingers into Shane’s waist. He gathers all the strength he can after how hard he just came and rolls them over, pinning Shane to the bed. “You always do.”
“Fuck you,” Shane says again. “Ilya. Fucking love you.”
“I love you, too,” Ilya says, grinning. “Now I will make you come. Don’t want you to explode.”
Shane laughs and writhes underneath him, pushing up against Ilya’s hips where Ilya is still soft.
“We can wait a bit. We’re not nineteen any more.” Shane says with a sly little smile that Ilya wants to kiss off his face immediately, so that’s what he does.
Once they’ve broken apart to breathe, he sits back so he’s kneeling between Shane’s thighs and cups him through his underwear. “I do not think you can wait,” he murmurs, rubbing his fingers along the length of Shane’s cock and then over the head, drawing a moan. By now his briefs are soaking wet where he’s leaking.
Ilya can’t resist and he doesn’t want to, so he leans down, wraps his arms around Shane’s thighs and presses his face against the fabric, licking and nuzzling, savouring Shane’s taste, his scent, his warmth.
“But – but, fuck, Ilya,” Shane gasps, squirming up into the heat of Ilya’s mouth. “Can you – shit – you can’t get hard again already, you only just -”
Ilya pulls away slightly, looking up at Shane through his lashes. Shane reaches out and runs his hands through Ilya’s hair, tugging at the curls, winding them around his fingers and letting go again. Ilya nuzzles against Shane’s dick through the clinging fabric one more time, then presses a soft kiss to the inside of his thigh.
“Ah,” he says. “You know, is no problem. I have very, very smart boyfriend who makes great decisions.”
Shane smiles down at him, breathless and beautiful. His fingertips trace the shell of Ilya’s ear. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Many years ago, he could not get laid and he was so horny, and he had a good idea to buy this dildo. So now I can fuck him with that.”
Shane bursts out laughing. He cups Ilya’s cheek and pulls Ilya up towards him. “That is very smart,” Shane says. “But kiss me first.”