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Ilya’s heart is so full, he feels like it’s going to explode. He’s actually kind of worried, climbing into the passenger seat next to Shane, that this is the end of him. He’s looking at Shane as they drive back to his cottage, and he never wants to stop looking at him. Ever.
He’s lit by the setting sun in the driver’s window, shining through his hair and across the smattering of freckles. They’ve gotten darker over the last few days in the sun, and Ilya files that into the folder of Shane Facts he’s been compiling. Just in the last few days he’s learned that Shane knows how to fold a fitted sheet and he prefers wearing actual pajama pants, instead of just boxers and a million other small things he’d never thought he’d get to know.
Shane smiles at him as they pull into the driveway, the fond one that never fails to make Ilya’s stomach flip. He’s memorizing it too, the way his eyes crinkle at the corner and his ears lift a little. “What?” he asks, laughing.
“Nothing…”
“You’ve been staring at me since we left my parents house,” Shane says, sliding out of the car.
“You’re pretty,” Ilya says, reaching out to grab his hand as they walk up the driveway. “I like looking at you.”
Shane blushes, his smile turning shy as he pulls Ilya through the door, into the entryway of the cottage. “Pretty, huh?”
“Beautiful,” Ilya murmurs, using their hands to pull Shane closer, kissing him lightly. “And so fucking brave.” Shane looks away, but Ilya uses his hand on his chin to pull him back, focus on him. “I mean it, Shane. Watching you, with your parents, being who you are? You were so scared but you were so brave, too.”
“It’s not like I had much of a choice,” he mutters, pulling away from Ilya. “But now that I can breathe, I’m kind of glad it happened. I hate lying to them, and now someone knows about us. It feels… more real? We do. You know?”
“I do,” Ilya says and follows Shane into the living room, leaning watching Shane putter, folding blankets, putting controllers away. It’s another thing Ilya has carefully cataloged about him. Shane likes to have his hands busy when they talk like this. He can’t just sit still, he has to move - poke at the fire, putter around and unload the dishwasher. “I like your parents.”
He’s serious, but Ilya can sense an edge of playfulness around him. “That’s very important. I mean, as my boyfriend you’re going to be seeing a lot of them.” He drops the blanket he’s folding onto the back of the chair, leans against the window. He’s grinning. “Especially if you move to Ottawa."
Ilya hums, grins. “Finally. My secret motive this whole time - befriend Shane, get Yuna to manage me.”
Shane laughs, shoves at Ilya’s shoulder as he comes closer. “Oh? That’s the whole reason we’ve been doing this,” he gestures between the two of them. “For the last decade?”
“Want to be in sexy Rolex commericals.” Ilya shrugs, boxes Shane in against the window. “Think your mom could book us commercial where we’re both half naked?”
“I wasn’t half naked in the Rolex commercial.”
Ilya shrugs. “Was still sexy.”
“You seriously watched those?” Shane asks, and he sounds indignant but the flush is filling his cheeks, and he’s grinning like an idiot.
“It was my, how you say it, Spank Bank?” He leans in to kiss the curve of Shane’s jaw, tasting soap and sweat and Shane.
Shane pushes at his shoulders. “Ilya, that’s gross.”
“You like when I’m gross,” Ilya says, sliding his thumb along Shane’s lower lip, sliding it from where he’s worrying it between his teeth. “You like all the gross parts of me, it’s the rule now that I’m your boyfriend.”
Shane rolls his eyes, but leans in, sliding his lips over Ilya’s thumb, sucking it into his mouth. Ilya moans at the warm heat. “God, your mouth, Shane,” Ilya groans, sliding his thumb out and replacing it with his tongue. He can feel Shane pushing for hot, fast, dirty. His hands are pulling against Ilya’s t-shirt, his mouth devouring Ilya’s. But Ilya slows the kiss, pulling back to rest their foreheads together and just breathe.
“I love you,” Ilya murmurs.
“I love you too,” Shane says, a wild look in his eyes. “Want you, so bad, god.”
“I want to explore every inch of you,” Ilya murmurs, wrapping his hands around Shane’s hips and pushing until he’s trapped against the glass wall. “Want to taste you, touch you.” He traces a lazy finger up the curve of Shane’s pec. “Want to indulge.”
Shane is breathing shakily, his hands curled in the hem of Ilya’s shirt. When he pulls away, slightly, Shane gives him a frantic nod, pupils blown and his lower lip trapped between his teeth again. Ilya leans in, his own teeth tugging on Shane’s lower lip, biting until he whines. “Baby,” Ilya murmurs. “You’re all mine.”
“All yours, Jesus, Ilya, touch me, please.”
“Slowly,” Ilya says, leaning in for a kiss, cupping Shane’s face between his hands. Ilya almost feels high, knowing that, for the first time, they have all the time in the world to slow down and memorize each other. He slides his fingers to the buttons of Shane’s shirt, kissing down the long line of his chest as he undoes the buttons, slides the shirt off behind them. Ilya is determined to take these next few hours to kiss every freckle, every stretch mark. “I want to taste every inch of you,” Ilya murmurs, kneeling and licking along Shane’s hipbone.
“Ilya please,” Shane whimpers. “Touch me.”
“In time,” Ilya says, standing up, taking Shane’s hand in his. “Bedroom first моя любовь.” He takes Shane’s hand, a reversal of the first night they were here, and tugs him into the bedroom. But instead of tackling him onto the bed, he takes his time to strip off his own clothes, enjoying the way that Shane’s eyes darken as he slides off his underwear.
“Want you,” he whispers as Ilya presses him into the mattress, sucks a nipple into his mouth. “Ilya, oh my god, I’m gonna -”
Ilya pulls off abruptly, his thumb still making lazy circles on his other nipple. “You’re close?”
“So close, please, touch me.”
“Ask nicely,”
“Please,” Shane whines. It’s a testament to how far he’s gone that he doesn’t even glare at Ilya as he begs. “Please, Ilya, please.”
“Love the way my name sounds in your mouth,” Ilya says, one hand sliding down to wrap around Shane’s cock, fingers wrapping around the base, his thumb sliding slowly. Shane’s been dripping since he pinned him against the window and Ilya doesn’t even need lube to be able to slide his fist, slow and tight along Shane’s cock. “Want you to scream it when you cum.” He leans in, sucks Shane’s nipple inot his mouth.
“Ilya!” Shane shouts, back arching as he cums, a high whine folloiwng his words as he sinks into the mattress, boneless. One of his hands comes up, wrapping in Ilya’s curls, not saying anything, just tightening his grip until Ilya lowers his mouth to his. “Want to touch you,” he whispers, his hand moving to tug at the waistband of Ilya’s pants.
“Not done with you, yet.” Ilya pulls his hand away, licks at the cum dripping down his palm. “I’ll fuck you when I’m ready.”
“Ilya,” Shane whines.
“Give you what you need,” Ilya says, sliding until he’s kneeling between Shane’s thighs, sucking and biting marks into them, for minutes, hours, he’s not sure. Time lost all meaning, until he see’s Shane’s cock twitch. Ilya grins. He kisses a line up the inside of Shane’s thigh, gives him no warning as he sucks Shane’s cock down his throat, moaning around it as he feels it twitch and begin to harden inside of him.
Shane’s lost all words, he’s moaning something that might be Ilya’s name, his fingers tangling in his hair, pulling, begging without words for him to move faster, he’s so close, again, and it’s all because Ilya is suckling, slowly, memorizing the taste and the feel of Shane’s cock in his throat.
“Lube,” he says, pulling off to watch Shane fumble in the bedside drawer until he finds what he’s looking for, tossing it at Ilya. Ilya rewards him, his mouth sucking hard, finally moving at the speed that Shane has been craving. Hot, fast, sucking him into his throat and swallowing around him until he can feel Shane’s cum erupt out of him, tasting him a second time. “
“You still ok to keep going?” Ilya asks, resting his chin on Shane’s lower stomach.
Shane fumbles to push himself up on his elbows, gaping down at Ilya incredibly, wordlessly.
“Want to fuck you,” Ilya says, shrugging.
“You’re going to kill me.”
“Ah,” Ilya smiles. “But what a way to go out.”
Shane smiles at him, dopey, fond. “Do what you must,” he sighs, flopping back onto the mattress. “I’ll just lay here and take it.”
“Just how I like it,” Ilya says, picking up the bottle of lube, sliding a finger inside of him. He’s still a little wet and open from last night, but Ilya still takes his time, finding Shane’s prostate with one, then two fingers and slowly moving his fingers across it. He doesn’t know what he did in a past life to deserve Shane, the way he’s arching his back off the mattress, sheets clenched between his fists as he moans into the air. His first two orgasams were intense and Ilya is surprised to see, as he slides a third finger into him, that Shane’s cock is beginning to twitch against his stomach.
“Ilya, please.”
Ilya scissors his fingers, watching the way that Shane’s jaw drops open and his head falls back against the pillow. “So pretty,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss against his thigh. “Condom?”
“Yeah,” Shane says, reaching for the drawer. And then he stops. “Maybe,” he says, biting his lip. “Maybe we could skip it this time? I mean, you are my boyfriend now.” He’s grinning, but even from the end of the bed, Ilya can see the nerves in his eyes, in the way that he won’t fully look at Ilya. As if Ilya would ever say no to him.
“Is messy,” Ilya says. “You don’t like messy.”
“I like it when you make me messy,” Shane says, the way he looks as he says it, blushing but still daring, just breaks something inside of Ilya. Before he can catch his breath, he’s hauling himself up the bed and pressing his lips against Shane’s. It’s not slow this time, it can’t be. He’s held off his orgasm in the name of driving Shane wild. And now it seems like his boyfriend is determined to return the favor.
“Come on Ilya, fuck me, please. I want to feel you dripping out of me.”
Ilya slides two of his fingers into Shane’s mouth, groaning. “Can’t talk like that моя любовь, I’m so close.”
Shane grins wildly at him, sucking Ilya’s fingers further into his mouth. Ilya takes them out, using them to scissor Shane’s hole apart, one more time. More lube, then he finally sinks his cock into him - unable to stop the moan that shudders through him. Shane is hot, tight wet in ways that he’s never experienced before. Ilya goes as slowly as he possibly can, every inch of him pressed against Shane. He’s lost the ability to speak English, is just murmuring Russian nonsense in Shane’s ear as he tries to hold back the orgasm that’s been building for hours.
Shane’s sighs and whimpers push him up higher and have his hips snapping faster, no longer at a leisurely slow pace. He slides a hand around Shane’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts.. Ilya cums with one long groan, the feeling of Shane around him his cum spilling into him, out of his hole to drip on the sheets as Shane cums too. Impossibly tightening around him as he arches back, moaning Ilya’s name into the air.
The feeling of spilling into Shane, nothing between them anymore, has him burying his face in Shane’s neck, embarrassed at the wave of feeling that’s swamping him. Shane’s hands find his chin, lift his heads thumb brushing at the wetness in the corner of his eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“Sorry,” Ilya says. Crying after sex, embarrasing. “Is nothing.”
“Ilya.”
“I, I’ve never done that before, is all. Overwhelming in the moment, I guess.”
“Never done what?” Ilya raises an eyebrow at him. “Oh.” There’s no humor or teasing, just genuine suprise. “I just figured, with Svet-”
Ilya stops him pressing a light kiss against his lips. “I’ve always been so careful, had to be.” But not with you goes unspoken. He doesn’t have to be careful here, put on the Russian Bravado and swagger. He can be himself around Shane. Nothing between them.
“Oh,” Shane says , leaning in to kiss him, slow and deep. He always hears what Ilya can’t manage to find the words for, using touch and the physical to explain to comfort. In the kiss Ilya tastes I love you for who you are. Their love - even before they called it that - has always been physical. Being held like this, kissing Shane slowly as their tears mix together on their face is enough. Until it’s not.
“Я тебя люблю,” he whispers. I love you.
“I love you too. Teach me how to say it?”
It sounds harsh, odd coming out of Shane’s mouth. Russian is a hard language to learn, especially for Native English speakers. But it’s enough that Shane is trying, trying to form the words that must sound so odd to him but mean everything to Ilya. And he’s not worried that Shane’s absolutely butchering it, he has plenty of time to learn it because they still have days to spend together. And years together, after that. It’s simultaneously both too much time and not enough. No amount of time he could spend with Shane would ever be enough.