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“I was wondering if you might be open to me…topping, sometime.”
Ilya’s eyes widen.
“What happened to the round hole to my square peg?” he asks lightly, buying himself some time to gather his feelings, schooling his face into something neutral.
“Nothing, obviously,” Shane says, blushing. “You know I don’t ever want to stop that. Ever.”
“Mm.” Ilya smiles. He only means to steal a quick peck, but Shane meets him in a sweet, meaningful kiss.
“But that’s the thing,” Shane continues presently. “It’s funny because after Rose”—Ilya flinches on instinct, Shane swats at him reflexively—“after Rose, I honestly never thought I’d do that again.”
Ilya doesn’t hold back a snort, smitten with love for his perfect, beautiful bottom boyfriend.
“I don’t know that I’d be any good at it,” Shane says. Ilya stops smiling, or at least gentles his smile to something less casual. He does know what it costs either of them to be vulnerable, he takes that honor seriously. He wants very badly to always be a safe place for Shane. “God knows I’m out of practice if I ever was. I just—the idea doesn’t sound so crazy now that it’s you. Now that we’re here.” Shane clears his throat. “I just want to make you feel…what you make me feel. Or at least as close to it as I can.”
Ilya blinks at him, heart clenching rather violently.
Shane kisses him softly on the mouth.
“I know it’s a lot,” he says. “We definitely don’t need to, okay? I just wanted to bring it up.” He smiles, looking at Ilya through his lashes. “Think about it?”
”I will,” Ilya says. “Thank you. You are very sweet.”
Shane kisses him harder this time, wriggling with relief and excitement.
“Now can you fuck me again? This conversation got me all riled up.”
Ilya rolls onto him with a Russian word that sounds like a curse, but privately means beloved.
After, Ilya huffs out a heavy breath, letting Shane settle into sleep in his arms.
The truth is, Ilya’s thought a lot about Shane topping him this past year.
He’s kind of obsessed with the idea.
Ilya’s enjoyed all sorts of pleasure in his lifetime, but he’s settled very happily into being Shane’s top and wouldn’t trade their relationship for all the sex in the world. The last time Ilya took dick was when Shane was still with Rose, and at this point he’d assumed it had been the last time he ever would. After a great game in some random city, Ilya had made his way to a gay bar on the town outskirts, where no one knew who he was. He’d been looking to get railed by someone as unlike Shane as possible and he’d succeeded, letting a handsome leather daddy plow him nearly through the club bathroom stall. It was hot and quick and wild, a little painful and extremely necessary at the time, and something he had no desire to repeat.
But it would be different with Shane.
Everything is different, with Shane. They’ve been together long enough that Ilya’s natural defenses have worn into something softer and more vulnerable, and asking to get fucked feels neither pathetic nor overly scary. Wanting Shane like this, wanting Shane in all the ways he wants him…it no longer feels like it might destabilize their established dynamic. Only add to it. Shane’s almost never said no to the thousand ways Ilya’s offered him sex, and they’ve gotten pretty good at communication and boundaries.
More than anything, Ilya does think Shane would be good at it. Really, really good at it. When it’s not a girl, when it’s Ilya, now that Shane knows he’s gay and has nothing to prove. The way he moves when he rides Ilya, the solid pressure of his muscle—and the simple fact that Ilya wants him every single way he can have him.
And…now that Shane’s asked for it?
Fuck.
Ilya wakes up with his heart pounding. He stares at Shane for what feels like half a moment before those lovely eyes flutter open.
“Morning, Ilya.” Shane leans up to kiss him, thumbing sleepily at his cheek. “What’s up? You sleep okay?”
“I want you to fuck me,” Ilya says, voice quiet as a prayer.
Shane’s eyes go wide, breath catching in his pretty throat.
“Oh,” Shane murmurs, and surges into a kiss.
“I did not mean now,” Ilya chuckles, sinking into Shane’s arms.
“Whenever. Whatever. Jesus, you just tell me when.”
“Tonight?” Ilya asks, before he can stop himself, and then he physically feels the lingering anxieties leaving his body at Shane’s warm, unhidden eagerness.
“Yes,” Shane says, breathless. He moves one hand to Ilya’s ass and squeezes. He grins crookedly like it’s supposed to be flirty and unserious, but his hands are so fucking big and strong, his dick half-hard from the morning against Ilya’s leg, and the promise of it all flusters them both.
“Yes,” Ilya agrees. Shane moves in for a kiss, but Ilya stops him with a gentle touch, fingers light on his chest. Ilya smiles, shaking his head. “Tonight. I go make breakfast now.”
“Okay,” Shane says, looking like he’s not hungry for food at all.
Ilya’s smile deepens, dizzy with love.
“Come eat with me,” he says, wrenching himself from the bed. “You will need your strength,” he adds with a wink, and that’s all it takes to have Shane scrambling out of bed, cursing happily.
It’s not long before Ilya’s regretting…maybe everything. He wants Shane desperately, and every touch between them feels more charged than usual. After breakfast Shane takes a few Zoom meetings, calls with his mom for various brand deals, blah blah blah. Ilya flips their laundry and does the dishes, throws together a basic salad for later, and gets a regular workout in in Shane’s cottage gym.
By the time he gets out of the shower, it’s still early afternoon, but Shane’s waiting for him on the edge of their bed.
“Uh,” Shane says.
“Oh thank God,” Ilya says, and climbs into his lap.
Shane groans into the kiss, his hands hot and hungry up Ilya’s back. He rips the towel from Ilya’s waist and drops it to the floor with uncharacteristic carelessness, groping at Ilya’s ass and sucking tortuous kisses into his throat, his chest.
Ilya hisses in pleasure, eyes stinging from the sudden heat of it all. He rips off Shane’s shirt and straddles Shane properly, gripping those strong shoulders, grinding his ass into Shane’s lap.
The fact of it hits him in full force—Shane wants to top him. Shane’s going to fuck him, Ilya’s going to get to have that gorgeous fucking dick inside him. Somehow, all these years in, it feels sudden. There’s still something new to offer each other, and even though it’s scary it’s also the best thing in the world. Ilya’s going to bottom again, this time with no shame, no drugs, and so, so much love.
How had Ilya ever thought he was going to get through this without losing his fucking mind? He’d assumed the years of being with Shane a thousand mindblowing ways would have made this a nice new regular-sexy thing. But instead he feels like he’s confessing his love all over again.
Thankfully, the guy on the other side of Ilya’s vulnerable heart is the best guy in the whole fucking world.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” Shane whispers, one hand on Ilya’s ass, the other tangled in his curls. “Tell me if you want to stop. Tell me anything, okay?”
Ilya kisses him, besotted.
“Okay,” he says, cupping Shane’s cheek. “You too.”
Shane smiles. The kiss stretches like honey, sweet and warm and filthy. Ilya’s completely naked, his erection between them, dripping. He can feel Shane hard through his sweats.
Slowly, slowly, Ilya moves his kisses to Shane’s throat, then down his chest and belly. He sinks between Shane’s thighs to kneel on the floor between them, breathing him in.
Their eyes meet as Shane helps Ilya strip him off his shorts. Ilya feels himself blushing, which is ridiculous, because he’s not new to almost any of this, and also unsurprising, because if there’s anything he’s learned in this life, it’s that nothing heats his blood like Shane Hollander.
“Oh fuck,” Shane says, voice broken and so pretty. Ilya takes him into his mouth, rocking gently. It calms Ilya a bit, the familiar rhythm of sucking Shane’s dick, but it’s still thrillingly different than blowing Shane to finish him off. Ilya sucks him slow and worshipful, licking him to the base with fresh focus. Psyching himself up for Shane’s length, his girth. Shane moans so beautifully, his hands in Ilya’s hair, and Ilya finds himself remembering he could have actually prepared for this. They could have actually waited a full day or more, they could have talked about it—it’s been a while but Ilya is not new to this, he could have worn a plug, actually done some bottom prep, fingered himself a bit.
Ilya smiles privately around Shane’s dick, sucking him with renewed vigor.
Yes, he could have done those things.
He didn’t want to. He doesn’t care. He has nothing to prove. He trusts Shane, and Shane asked to fuck him, and Ilya does not want to wait. He genuinely wants to say yes to Shane, and so he did. He does. He gets to, and he doesn’t have to stop. There is nothing he has to hold back.
“Come here,” Shane murmurs, and when Ilya rises to meet him in a kiss, they’re both breathless and smiling.
Ilya ends up in his arms, one leg hooked around Shane’s waist. Shane’s got two spit-slick fingers rubbing Ilya’s hole, his lips parted in something like awe, and Ilya, once again, feels like he might die.
“You feel so good,” Shane says roughly, toying with Ilya’s rim. Ilya bites his lip, bearing down on Shane’s fingers. Shane kisses his jaw, his cheek, wherever he can reach, a competitive sort of hunger in his touch. He rubs Ilya slow and hard and Ilya’s eyes flutter, old pleasure centers waking with electric vengeance. “God, that’s so hot. Fuck, Ilya. Can I eat you out?”
Ilya makes a choked sort of noise between two Russian swears, his dick clenching helplessly. Shane’s looking at him steady and hot and earnest.
Fuck.
He loves eating Shane’s ass. It’s one of his favorite things to do, he does it roughly every chance he gets and he knows it’s one of Shane’s favorite things to receive—second favorite overall, probably. But while he’d been dreaming about Shane’s dick inside him, he had honestly not considered asking Shane, with all his particularities about mess and his taste preferences, for something like this.
Ilya privately berates himself in Russian. What a fool to not expect it. I just want to make you feel…what you make me feel, Shane had said. Even after all this time, Ilya still finds himself surprised by just how much Shane truly, genuinely believes Ilya deserves him. Deserves anything—everything—good.
“Yes,” Ilya says, not trusting himself to say any more, and Shane’s face spreads into a fucking daybreak of a smile.
“Oh my God,” Ilya says in a voice he almost doesn’t recognize. Shane’s got him on his stomach, clutching a pillow with his ass in the air while Shane licks him, slow and hard.
“You taste so fucking good,” Shane says. “Ilya. Fuck. Fuck, I love you.”
If Ilya didn’t know what a quick learner Shane was, he would have been genuinely bewildered at how good Shane turns out to be at eating ass. As it stands, Ilya can barely hold his hips up.
Shane swirls his tongue. He kneads Ilya’s ass, spreading him, then—
“Fuck, Shane!” Ilya cries out, failing to muffle his wail in the pillow.
Shane’s tongue is inside him. Spreading him, working him, thrusting. Shane’s big hands hold Ilya steady, rocking him onto Shane’s tongue.
Time goes blurry. Clearly, just as with sucking dick, Shane has been paying attention to how Ilya tends to him. Ilya can recognize his own alternating pace in Shane’s movements, the way he kisses at him, teases him, and it’s almost too much, too good. Ilya’s knees turn to water, it’s just Shane holding him up, Shane licking him open, Shane making wet, obscene noises of pleasure and praise as he kisses Ilya’s hole open-mouthed, lapping at him filthy and unashamed.
Shane pulls back, panting, and then Ilya feels Shane’s hands spreading him, and then—
“Fucking God.” Ilya muffles a groan in the pillow. Shane had spit on his hole, a thick hot glob that trickles down Ilya’s balls. Shane buries his face between Ilya’s cheeks again, lapping at him light enough to tease, then tonguing his spit rough inside. “Motherfucker,” Ilya swears, extremely aware of his tortuous erection, how easily Shane could finish him like this if he wanted.
“I’m going to finger you now,” comes Shane’s voice through a hot, sweaty haze.
“Yes,” Ilya manages, grinding back at him. “Fucking fuck me already.”
Shane gives a little laugh, one hand on the small of Ilya’s back while he fumbles for the lube.
“Not until I’m sure I won’t hurt you. Hold on.”
Ilya holds on. Squeezes his hot eyes shut and clenches his fists in the bedsheets, feeling his wet hole clenching on nothing, the ghost of Shane’s mouth still tantalizing on his flesh. He knows it’ll haunt him forever, or at least until Shane gives it to him again, until he can’t take it anymore. He’s so hard he can’t think. He’s smiling so big it hurts his cheeks. He forces himself to breathe, makes a mental note to hydrate them both better the next time they do this.
He hears Shane exhale heavily, and then there’s a soft mouth at his shoulder, two strong fingers at the cleft of his ass.
Ilya makes a low, broken sound as Shane sinks his fingers slowly, slowly inside, or rather he feels the sound dragged from his throat. He can’t stop his hips from thrusting back greedily.
“More,” he rasps, terribly aware of how close he is to begging. Shane doesn’t make him, though, fucking him in earnest on two fingers at once, stretching him, opening him just as Ilya does for him. “So good, Hollander. Wow.”
“I love feeling you like this.” Shane says it so soft Ilya flings a glance over his shoulder—it’s worth it, Shane looks as dreamy and fucked-out as Ilya feels, eyes heavy, flushed all over.
“I’m ready.”
Shane looks like he wants to double-check, but he meets Ilya’s gaze and blushes a deeper pink.
“Me too,” he says. He slips his fingers free, and Ilya seizes him in a kiss.
Ilya pushes Shane to lean against the headboard, straddling him. He strokes more lube onto Shane, watching those pretty eyes flutter, the muscles in his jaw work.
They both cry out when Ilya sinks down onto him. Shane’s mouth falls open, face crumpling, and meanwhile Ilya’s trying his very best not to cum on the spot as Shane’s cock spears him open, dragging almost punishingly along Ilya’s walls to grind deep, deep inside him.
“Oh fuck, Hollander.”
Shane’s eyes are bright and wet. He grits his teeth, rocking up gently into Ilya, and Ilya sees stars, digging his fingers into Shane’s shoulders. Ilya swallows, hard, steeling himself, and then starts to ride Shane with a firm pace. He arches his back to pull almost all the way off him, then sinks back onto Shane’s lap, taking him to the hilt. He’s out of practice but the wrecked look on Shane’s face gets hotter and more distraught with each thrust, and muscle memory kicks in quick. It’s not long before Ilya’s a total mess, dripping precum every time Shane thrusts against his prostate.
“Ilya,” Shane breathes. “Fuck.” He presses up into a kiss, his big hands strong as they guide Ilya’s hips. “Do you like it?”
Ilya makes a somewhat hysterical sound. “Yes,” he says, voice cracking. “I like it.”
Shane’s face shatters in relief, and Ilya nearly sobs. Shane smiles at him, thrusting up just that much harder. His thighs are so soft and strong, his cock so big and sweet and perfect, and Ilya bites his lip, shifting their angle to ride Shane as best he can without coming all over him.
“You’re so beautiful, fuck,” Shane says, voice hoarse. “You feel,” he says, hands hot on Ilya’s chest, “so good. On my dick.”
Ilya feels alight in the best way. He beams at Shane, incandescent. God, he fucking loves this. He loves how Shane feels inside him, he loves the hard press of Shane’s cock against the place that makes hot pleasure spiral through his veins, and he loves that this is a new way of taking Shane apart.
“Oh, fuck yeah. Shane.” Ilya grits his teeth, breathing hard, and takes Shane’s dick like he’s receiving a fucking sacrament.
“God,” Shane moans, head falling back in pleasure. He takes in the sight of Ilya riding him, touching him everywhere. He bites his own lip in appreciation, and Ilya’s so turned on he feels like he can’t possibly be a solid person anymore. He has become vapor, smoke, jelly, remade by the obscene perfect pressure of Shane Hollander’s dick inside him. “You have,” Shane says, between thrusts, “the nicest ass I’ve ever seen in my whole fucking life.” Shane kisses the words into his mouth. Ilya squeezes his eyes shut, clinging to Shane’s shoulders for dear life as pleasure spears through every inch of his body. “It deserves to be fucked properly.”
Ilya cries out. He grits his teeth, shoves them away from the headboard, and pushes Shane flat against the pillows, riding him so hard Shane’s eyes go wide, his hands going over his head in surrender. Ilya pins them to the mattress.
“Cum for me.” Ilya means to say it as a command, but this time it does come across almost like begging. He can’t keep it out of his voice, how bad he wants Shane’s cum inside him.
It doesn’t matter, though, because Shane makes a helpless, familiar sound, and obeys.
“Oh my God,” Shane gasps. Ilya kisses Shane as he cums, keeping their pace as Shane’s hips stutter and he fills Ilya with his cum for the first time.
“Yes,” Ilya hisses. “So good, Shane. Fuck, yes. I love it. I love you. Give it to me.”
“Fuck,” Shane whines, jaw dropping open. He cums so hot and deep. Ilya lets his eyes roll back, a helpless grin spreading across his face. It feels better than he remembered and just good as he hoped, feeling Shane’s cock twitch and throb wet inside him.
If Ilya could freeze time and live in a single moment, he would choose this one. Though this is not the first time he’s had that thought in bed with Shane, so it is very good he doesn’t have to choose.
“You’re incredible,” Shane pants, when he can breathe again. He kisses Ilya all over, both of them smiling foolishly, a fucking mess. “Dammit,” Shane says, as Ilya eases off him. “I wanted to feel you cum on my dick. Really thought I might get to.” Shane backs himself up against the headboard again, clutching Ilya in his lap, not letting him go far. He kisses Ilya breathless, and then he brings those two fingers to Ilya’s fucked-out hole again.
Ilya sinks onto his fingers in response, gasping as Shane finds that spot inside him easily. He’s so loose, so open—Shane slips a third finger in and Ilya rocks on him, nodding, and they both know it won’t be long now.
“Maybe I could try again sometime?” Shane asks, and at that Ilya’s coming, rather spectacularly and untouched. “Oh,” Shane says, as Ilya moans and shakes apart for him. “Oh fuck.”
“Yes,” Ilya gasps, from within the throes of impossible pleasure. “Yes. I would like that.”
They sink into each other’s arms, bright and teary and ridiculously in love. Anything is possible, everything is possible, nothing is off-limits so long as they both want it.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Shane says to him after, kissing him gently on the forehead.
“Thank you for fucking me,” Ilya chuckles, swatting at his formality. “I love you very much.”
“I love you so fucking much,” Shane says. “God, that was hot. That was fun. And,” he adds, “I can’t wait to ride you so good later.”
Ilya smiles, shaking his head in awe and adoration.
“I love you so fucking much,” he says, sinking into Shane’s arms with the feeling that something he hadn’t known had been caged has been, at last, set free.