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Shane grinned as he pulled up to his Montreal home to see a familiar orange Porsche 718 Cayman sitting in the driveway. Ilya was already here. It had been an exhausting day filled with an endorsement shoot, a live local news spot, and the last team practice before the bye week. He slammed his Jeep into park and practically landed flat on his face in his haste to get out of the car. The moment he shoved the front door open, he found himself pressed into the entranceway wall with a mouth devouring his own.
When they finally parted, Shane was completely breathless and grinning deviously, “Hello to you, too.”
“You’re a fucking brat,” Ilya practically snarled, gripping Shane’s chin tightly in one hand while the other kept Shane’s hips pinned to the wall.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Shane whispered back, burying his fingers in Ilya’s curls.
“Liar,” Ilya hissed.
And Shane was absolutely lying. He knew exactly what he had done, but that wasn’t the game they were playing.
“I’m not lying,” Shane insisted, biting back a giddy giggle of excitement.
Ilya raised an eyebrow and met Shane’s eyes. His expression switched from playful to serious, and his hands softened for a moment.
“What is your safeword?”
Shane could already feel the adrenaline flooding his body as his dick swelled in his jeans. “Loon,” he whispered lowly.
“Go shower.”
And with that, Ilya stepped back, pointing a single finger at the staircase. For some reason, a part of Shane wanted to push and see just how far Ilya would let him go. He wanted to toe the line and force Ilya to pull him up short. Maybe it was because they hadn’t seen each other in two weeks, but the bye week meant they had four uninterrupted days together ahead. Plenty of time to get lost in each other’s bodies and, more importantly, plenty of time for the bruises to fade.
“Yes, Sir,” Shane announced with a mocking salute before he made a break for the stairs.
He let out a gasp as one strong arm shot out, snatching him around the waist and stopping him completely. The arm tightened and dragged him back into the plane of Ilya’s shirtless, muscled chest.
Ilya pressed his lips to the shell of Shane’s ear, voice barely above a whisper, “You are already going over my knee, brat. Do not push.”
Shane’s stomach swooped. The promise held in those words was already pushing his brain closer and closer to that warm, fuzzy space, not to mention Ilya’s perfectly growly, accented voice. He could feel a wet spot forming where the head of his cock pressed into the zipper of his jeans through his boxers.
“Ilya,” Shane managed to get out through his panting breaths.
And Ilya responded by nipping at Shane’s earlobe teasingly. “Shane, shower first. Go.” Ilya smiled, giving Shane a gentle push towards the stairs.
“I was going!”
One solid, cracking smack landed on Shane’s ass, ripping a strangled moan from deep in his throat. Even through his jeans, he could feel the heat of the handprint seared into his skin. His knees wobbled for a second. He needed more. Now. He opened his mouth but was cut off before he could even get a single word out.
“Be a brat again, and I will break out the paddle. Go. Now.”
Shane paled. Last year, for Shane's birthday, Ilya had gone on another shopping spree and completely stocked both their houses with a wide assortment of implements and toys that rivaled even the room in the cottage. One of those items had been a rectangular wooden paddle with holes drilled into it that had equally struck fear into Shane and left him with a deep aching arousal. Ilya had given him one swat with each new toy, and Shane was not looking to push that far. At least not tonight. He turned to plant a kiss on Ilya’s lips and bounded up the stairs two at a time. He made his way down the hallway past his trophy room and the guestrooms before stepping into the master suite. He peeled his jeans, button-down, and underwear off, tossing them all in the hamper. There was no way he was going to be wearing clothes any time soon. As he stepped into the bathroom, he caught a view of his own ass in the mirror and paused. Centered on his right cheek was a pink blotch faintly in the shape of Ilya’s hand. He bit down on his bottom lip.
It had taken a few sessions, but Shane had come to the realization that he didn’t actually like pain. Well, he didn’t like it any more than every other professional hockey player. The sport they played was violent and demanding, and in some weird way, they all had a little masochistic streak. But in this context, it wasn’t the pain that did it for Shane. More than anything else, it was being dominated. For a little bit of time, he didn’t have to be in control. In this safe space, he could give it up and let Ilya take the reins. There was a sense of safety in knowing that all he had to do was be good for Ilya. The only thing that mattered was being Ilya’s good boy, and he could leave the rest of the world outside his bedroom door.
Shane took his time in the shower, carefully avoiding his achingly hard cock. Ilya didn’t need to say it anymore. Shane knew that when they played like this, he wasn’t allowed to touch without permission. He roughly dried himself off, pulled open the bathroom door, and froze. Sitting at the end of the bed was Ilya, still in only a pair of sweatpants, with his hands planted on the bed behind him, holding himself up. Shane gulped. He took a second to admire Ilya’s hulking muscles, feeling his cock twitch with interest.
“Towel off. Crawl to me.”
With a swipe of his hand, he ripped off the towel and dropped to his knees before Ilya had even finished the sentence. Shane would never understand how Ilya managed to bring out the feral hunger that burned through his body like a wildfire. Across the room, he could hear the sharp intake of breath as he bent forward, placing his hands on the plush carpeting. Shane bit down on his bottom lip as he dipped his back and slowly crawled across the floor. With every slow movement, he kept his eyes glued to the crotch of Ilya’s sweatpants, feeling his mouth water the closer he got. Once he was between Ilya’s feet, he sat up, gazing up at Ilya’s lust-filled eyes with an excited smile.
“Color?”
“Green. So fucking green.” Shane replied instantly, leaning forward to brush his cheek against Ilya’s soft sweatpants.
“So beautiful”, Ilya murmured softly, burying a hand in Shane’s still-damp hair the moment it was within reach.
“Sir,” was all Shane could get out, his voice already reedy with desperation.
“Over, vozlyublennyy.”
And his blush was back in full force. Shane practically jumped up and draped his body over Ilya’s left thigh. The thrum of excitement buzzed through his body as he settled into the position. His chest rested on the bed, and his toes dug into the plush carpeting, squirming around until he was comfortable. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, so close to what he had been craving for so fucking long now. A little gasp slipped past his parted lips as the head of his hard cock brushed against Ilya’s thigh.
Ilya chuckled softly, wrapping his left hand around to grip Shane’s hip tightly, “always so eager.”
“I am not,” Shane shot back, his face burning with embarrassment. But deep down, he was eager. He had pushed on a very particular button that he knew would end with him in this position. Something deep inside him needed this.
The first slap echoed, making Shane jump more from the sound than the pain. His breath hitched, and he dug his hands into the comforter, gripping it in tight fists. Ilya’s palm stroked gently over where he had just hit, rubbing away the sting until Shane was left with only the heat in the shape of a handprint. Shane’s brain was already swimming in the sensation. The heady mix of being pinned and the promise of more was setting every nerve in his body off.
“Please, Sir.”
Ilya's palm stopped rubbing for a moment, and a second firm spank landed right over the first. “Why are you getting a spanking, vozlyublennyy?”
Shane gulped, but managed to stutter out, “because I—oooh!”
Three more hard spanks had rained down while he tried to string together a coherent sentence.
“Answer me.”
Ilya’s voice was so deep and commanding that Shane couldn’t have bit back his needy whine even if he had tried.
“I-I-I—“
Every time Shane tried to speak, Ilya’s hand crashed into his ass again, drowning his words in a hiss or gasp.
“Why, Shane?”
“Because I—ow—I was—fuck—I wore—ugh—ILYA!”
A particularly hard smack had landed just under the crease of Shane’s ass, making his hips jerk.
“Wore what?” Ilya growled, fingernails dragging over one pink cheek, then the other.
“GLASSES! I wore my glasses!” Shane practically squealed, his hips wiggling as much as Ilya’s tight grip allowed.
Ilya hummed and really started spanking, his hand rising and falling in a steady rhythm, covering Shane’s ass and the backs of his thighs in a uniform shade of pink. Below him, Shane was gasping and panting, his hips shifting from side to side restlessly. It was like his brain was melting between the pain growing in his backside and the sheer dominance Ilya was exuding. Shane whined, his hips twitching to grind his leaking cock into Ilya’s muscular thigh. Ilya’s hand slid up to Shane’s lower back and pushed down, forcing his body into a deep arch.
“Stay. And where did you wear your glasses?”
“On-on TV. I wore my glasses to my interview today,” Shane answered immediately.
And there it was. He had been planning this for a solid month. He had known exactly what it would do to Ilya when he showed up for his local news appearance wearing his glasses. He had known this was exactly where he was going to end up, and it had taken every ounce of his self-control to tamp down his erection from the second he walked into the studio. His resolve to maintain his bratty facade was slipping away by the second. The need to be good was overwhelming his senses.
“Yes, you did, brat,” Ilya spat out, clearly clenching his teeth at the memory.
Shane gasped for a solid breath as ten more spanks rained down in quick succession. Ilya lifted his knee up a bit, elevating Shane’s ass into the air even higher and exposing his delicate sit spots.
“‘M sorry, Sir,” Shane whimpered into the comforter, knowing exactly what was coming.
“Being so good for me. Count for me, vozlyublennyy. Ten more.”
Shane could feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes as the knot in his chest loosened every time Ilya’s firm hand landed. He had been so pent up for the two weeks they had been apart, and his entire body had ached with longing. Sure, they had phone sex last week, but he needed this. Ilya pinning him down and controlling him and pulling him out of his own head. A well-placed sharp spank landed directly over Shane’s left sit spot, dragging his attention back to the moment.
“One, Sir!” Shane wheezed, his hands clutching at the bedding. Ilya was definitely not holding back.
“There is my good boy.”
Shane gasped as another landed on the right sit spot. “Oh! Two, Sir.”
Ilya paused, running his palm in a slow circut from the back of one thigh up over his cheeks and down the other. Shane’s eyes slipped closed as a breathy moan escaped.
“So beautiful. So good.”
Shane positively preened under the praise, dipping his back down as far as physically possible, pressing his ass up, silently begging for more. The hand on his ass disappeared for a moment, only to return with two more crisp slaps, one to each cheek.
“Fuuuck”, Shane groaned, his hips dropping to roll forward just once, “Three, Sir. Four, Sir.”
He could feel the wet patch he was leaving on Ilya’s sweatpants, but every ounce of shame had bled out of his body. Everything had been reduced to throbbing in his cock and the sting of Ilya’s hand.
“Ah. No. Hips up.” Ilya admonished, patting the back of Shane’s thigh firmly.
“Sorry,” Shane mumbled, obediently lifting his hips.
“My good little slut. You cannot help it. My pants are soaked from how much you are leaking. So hard. So wet for this. Yes?”
Shane nodded once, burrowing his face even deeper.
“Words, Shane, or I will not let you cum.” Ilya commanded sharply.
A flare of panic flared up in Shane’s chest at the threat.
“What? No! No, no, no! I’m sorry, Sir! I’m desperate for it. Need this. Need you.”
Ilya’s strong, unyielding hand landed on the back of Shane’s thigh, ripping a strangled moan from his throat.
“Oh my god! Five, Sir!”
Shane’s whole body shuddered. His cock was throbbing and twitching and blurting out precum, and every spank was making it grind against Ilya. The line between pain and pleasure was completely gone. It had bled into pure sensations, and he was quickly losing his mind.
“Halfway. Five more, then I will fuck you, okay? Be good for me.”
“Yes, Sir,” Shane whispered, letting his eyes slip closed.
The next spank landed hard on the back of his other thigh, quickly followed by two that landed so hard he could feel his cheeks jiggle with it.
“E-e-eight, Sir! Fuck. Fuck that was eight!”
Shane’s voice sounded absolutely wrecked like he had just run a marathon. He tried desperately to blink back the tears that teetered precariously on his lashline. It wasn’t even the pain that threatened to rip a sob from him; it was the rush of endorphins and adrenaline. I’m so close! Oh fuck! Don’t cum!
“Being so good. Two more.” Ilya said, rubbing his hand in soothing circles over the base of Shane’s back.
“Yes, Sir,” Shane replied, biting down hard on his bottom lip.
The last two landed directly over Shane’s sensitive sit spots, and it took everything in him not to buck all the way off of Ilya’s lap. The sting sank into his muscles, permeating through to his bones and into his cock. Shane took a shuddering breath in through his teeth. Don’t cum! Don’t fucking cum! He could feel his balls draw up and immediately clapped a hand over his mouth, trying to hide a squeak.
“Ah,” Ilya said knowingly and reached down between Shane’s thighs to grip the base of his cock tightly, choking Shane’s orgasm off.
Shane whined, loud and desperate, panting into the comforter as he tried to get his body under control.
“Ten, Sir,” Shane finally managed to get out after a few gasps of air.
“Good boy,” Ilya whispered back.
Shane sniffled softly and wiped at the tears that had escaped. He had to take several deep breaths before he felt like he could even form the words to ask for what he needed. “Please fuck me, Sir.”
He didn’t even get a chance to breathe before he was flipped over onto the bed with Ilya’s powerful body hovering over him. He hissed as his sore ass pressed into the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed to be filled and claimed. Ilya kissed him like he was a man possessed, and all Shane could do was take it. Faintly, he heard the snick of a lube bottle being opened and gasped as a slick finger pressed into his hole without warning. Ilya didn’t even break the kiss for a single moment as he made quick work of working a second finger beside the first and scissoring them. They both knew how dangerously close Shane was.
The moment Ilya’s fingers pulled out his cock was pressing in. Shane clawed at the sheets, his back bending into a dramatic arch off the bed. His moan of relief bordered on a scream. The burn of the stretch made his entire body sing in a way that made his vision blur. Ilya gripped his legs and folded him in half before drawing out and thrusting back in agonizingly slowly.
“Ilya, please,” Shane groaned.
Ilya paused mid-thrust and released one of Shane’s legs to reach down and grip his chin firmly. Shane’s eye snapped open before the command even came.
“Please, what?”
“Harder!” Shane shouted, his eyebrows knitting together in frustration.
“Nyet.”
Shane froze for a moment in shock, “W-w-what?”
“Ask nicely. Be my good boy and beg.” Ilya practically purred, staring down with a dark, intense gaze.
Shane’s chest clenched at the order. He gaped up at Ilya for a long moment before the words finally came to him. “Please fuck me harder, Sir. Make me yours. Please, Sir.”
“More.”
“FUCK! PLEASE! Please fuck me! Please, Ilya! Please, Sir! I need you so bad it fucking hurts. Love you so much. Need you to make me remember who I belong to. PLEASE!”
Shane was vibrating with desperation, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes again.
“Good boy. Hands behind your knees. Hold yourself open for me.”
Shane’s hands, which had been tangled in the bedding, immediately shot down to pull his legs up even higher and spread wider. Ilya’s hips stayed perfectly still, but his thumb reached down to trace Shane’s rim. He brushed over where Shane’s hole stretched obscenely around his cock. And Shane was pretty sure he was going to die. His muscles ached from the stretch of being spread so wide, and a blush flooded his face as Ilya just stared where their bodies met. In a way, though, it only made Shane’s need burn even brighter. Ilya was looking at him as if he were the most beautiful piece of artwork in the world.
“P-p-please—fuuuuuuck!”
Ilya dug his fingers into the freshly spanked flesh on the backs of Shane’s thighs and snapped his hips forward. Shane’s head fell into the pillows, his eyes rolling backwards as Ilya finally began to fuck him. Breathy, throaty moans punched out of Shane’s mouth every time Ilya drew back and slammed forward. Oh god! So close! Right there! Yes!Yes! Yes! His body shook just on the edge of exploding. Shane’s fingernails bit into the back of his knees. If he wasn’t being held down, he felt like he was going to float away from the pure pleasure engulfing him.
Above him, Ilya kept repeating the same word in Russian over and over again with every powerful thrust. And Shane knew exactly what that one meant. Mine. Panted over and over again like it was a promise and a threat wrapped in one. Shane was shaking with the effort to stave off his own orgasm. He didn’t want to cum yet. He wanted to stay here, pinned down with his ass throbbing and Ilya’s cock pounding into him forever. But two more strokes and he could hold back any more.
“Gonna! Can? Please!”
“Cum for me,” Ilya growled out.
And Shane screamed. Stars burst behind his eyes as he came, thick ribbons of cum erupted from his cock and landed wetly on his stomach, chest, and all the way up to his chin. He could feel Ilya pause, buried all the way inside, as Shane fell apart completely. Before Shane could even catch his breath, Ilya began to move again. Slow, almost tender thrusts that made Shane whine. He was so sensitive, and every muscle in his body was screaming in protest. His hole fluttered around the thick length as his moans of pleasure turned into ones of discomfort.
“So much,” Shane choked out.
“I know, vozlyublennyy. Shh. I know. Let it happen. Let go for me. So good for me.”
A sob bubbled up from deep in Shane’s chest as Ilya built the pace up.
“Please,” Shane gasped out around another sob.
Ilya leaned down to capture Shane’s mouth in a gentle kiss as his hips rolled forward insistently. Carefully, Ilya pried Shane’s hands from his legs and pressed them down into the bed. He peppered light, teasing kisses and licks over Shane’s throat, continuing to slowly fuck into Shane’s limp body. His brain was flooded with the overstimulation from the head of Ilya’s cock dragging over his prostate. It was torturous, but so fucking sweet.
“Oh my god,” Shane breathed out shakily.
His chest was heaving with every breath as sweat dripped from his brow.
“Stroke yourself for me,” Ilya whispered, releasing Shane’s right hand.
A low, pained groan escaped as Shane wrapped his hand around his cock. He didn’t know how he had even managed to get hard after such an explosive orgasm. Ilya kept up a constant string of praise as he started thrusting harder and faster. A hand reached out, brushing a thumb over the smattering of freckles on Shane’s cheekbone. Shane gripped his cock a bit tighter. He wanted to be good. No, he needed to be good. The remnants of his last orgasm and precum were just barely enough lubrication as his hand stroked rapidly over his shaft. He gazed up at Ilya, just watching as every ounce of control ebbed away. Every thrust was becoming more frantic and wild as Ilya chased his own orgasm. Shane could feel the familiar rush of warmth building.
“C-can I? Please, Sir. Fuck.”
“Cum,” Ilya hissed out between clenched teeth.
Their moans rang through the room in perfect harmony as they both shook with the sheer force of their orgasms. Shane let his body go completely limp as two small spurts of cum landed on his stomach. He huffed out a pleased sigh as Ilya slowly lowered his body down with shaky arms until he was covering Shane completely. The sheer weight of Ilya felt heavenly, keeping him pinned to the earth and this moment in time. For a while, they just lay there, the cadence of their hard breaths syncing up. Once they both stopped shaking, Ilya propped himself up on one elbow and captured Shane’s mouth in a sweet, soft kiss.
“You were so good for me. So perfect, Shane. I love you so much.”
“Love you too. Fuck that was so hot.”
“Mmm. You should be brat more often.”
Shane couldn’t help but laugh, throwing his arms over his eyes. He would never admit it, but he had a note going on his phone of all the things he could do to push Ilya’s buttons.
Ilya kissed him again and slowly pulled out of Shane’s hole, “Come here, sweetheart.”
Shane huffed out another laugh as he was dragged by the ankle to the edge of the bed and swept up into Ilya’s arms.
“Put me down”, Shane whined half-heartedly.
“No”, Ilya growled, nipping Shane’s shoulder.