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“Your hair’s getting long.” Shane ran his fingers through Ilya’s shaggy curls, gently raking his well-trimmed fingernails over Ilya’s scalp in the way he knew Ilya liked. “It’s always getting in your eyes lately. Let me trim it for you.”
Perhaps that was true, Ilya had found himself shaking his head to get his hair out of his face more often, and even the gel he’d normally used to properly slick it back and hold it in place hadn’t really been doing the trick. Shane had been picking at him all day, remarking about the length of his hair like it was a problem he wanted so anxiously to be the one to solve, like the fact that the hair was bothering him more than it was Ilya.
Out on the patio behind the cottage, where Ilya was spending another blissful summer with Shane, this tim as his proper boyfriend, Shane once again persistently stated that he wanted to be the one to cut Ilya’s hair. He frowned as he ran his fingers through Ilya’s messy locks, scrunching his eyebrows so adorably like he always did when something was vexing him internally. And once again, Ilya attempted to shoo away his offer, a nonchalant smile on his face. “Hollander, really, it’s fine, I promise. I’ll just book an appointment later to get it cut.”
Shane looked at Ilya like the suggestion was completely ridiculous, shaking his head while his hand that had been buried in Ilya’s hair glided down the side of Ilya’s face, cupping his cheek, the warmth of his palm a soft place that Ilya wanted to sink into as he rested his head against Shane’s caressing hand. “Come on, just sit in that chair over here and I’ll grab some scissors. It’ll feel so much lighter and you won’t be pushing your hair out of your face every five minutes. You don’t need to pay a stylist when you have me.”
Oh, so there it was, hiding in the edge of Shane’s voice and the careful yet determined gleam in his eye. Ilya had started to recognize certain tendencies in Shane lately, things that felt a lot like jealousy, a lot like possessiveness. And it seemed that Shane was even possessive about the way Ilya treated his hair, and who he allowed to cut it and style it. Just the very thought filled Ilya with a sort of giddy thrill, to know Shane was so possessive to the extent that he wanted to be the one to care for every strand of hair on his head.
“Are you just trying to tell me you prefer me with shorter hair? I’m not hot enough the way I am right now?” Ilya teased, his eyes gleaming with mischief that Shane clearly was not in the mood for reciprocating as he reached up with his hands to grip Ilya’s bare shoulders, pushing him in the direction of the aforementioned chair, a lawn chair that overlooked the glimmering lake.
“Ilya, sit.” Shane commanded, his tone strict and unwilling to be challenged, like he was telling a dog to behave. And Ilya, who wanted nothing more in life than to be treated like Shane Hollander’s obedient dog, sat himself down without any protest.
It didn’t go unnoticed the way Shane’s hands lingered on his shoulders as he stood behind him, the heat of his skin enough to make Ilya want to just melt into his touch. He felt Shane’s fingertips thread through the hairs at the nape of his neck, a sensitive and vulnerable part of Ilya’s being that only Shane had ever been allowed to caress in such an intimate way, because it always made Ilya shiver, and no one was worthy enough for the privilege to see Ilya Rozanov shiver except Shane. His neck craned for more of Shane’s touch which was frustratingly fleeting as Shane momentarily left him to get the scissors, and he was left only with the ghost of Shane’s fingertips on his neck and his shoulders.
Ilya sighed, sinking further into the chair, the frame creaking from his weight pushing against it. In all honesty, he really just wanted to fuck this afternoon, to feel Shane on him more, to have those pretty, perfect hands planted on his shoulders as he rode Ilya, or perhaps to feel the scratch of his fingernails stinging his skin as Ilya pounded into him while Shane was on his back. “Do not take too much off, I know you like to have something to pull when I suck you off.”
He heard Shane huff from behind him, and he could practically hear the endearing formation of a scowl on Shane’s lips, the kind of expression he made when he was trying to act like he didn’t think Ilya was funny at all, when in reality Ilya knew that Shane thought he was extremely funny. He must have, if he was willing to put up with Ilya for this long.
“Do you ever shut up?” Shane asked, though Ilya knew well enough that the last thing Shane would ever actually want him to do was to shut up, since he was usually the one keeping Ilya awake all hours of the night to talk about anything and everything that popped into his brain.
“No, but I don’t think you want me to.” Ilya replied with a simple shrug of his shoulders, smile growing wider as he felt Shane’s hand on the back of his neck, fingers with a featherlight touch that soon became firmer in their intentions as he gripped Ilya by the nape, holding him tight to steady him
“Just hold still at least, please? I don’t want to hurt you… Unless you piss me off.” Shane huffed, and soon Ilya felt his fingers threading through his curls, not absentmindedly playing with them like he so often loved to do when Ilya rested his head in Shane’s lap on warm, sunny days like today as they watched the loons bobbing on the lake. His hands moved with intention, purpose, measuring strands and choosing the first hairs that he would cut down to a more appropriate size. Ilya heard the crunchy cut of the blades as they clamped down on their first victims of Ilya’s hair.
“So, when did you learn to cut hair?” Ilya spoke after some time, his throat practically itching with the urge to fill the silence between them, just for the sake of hearing Shane’s sweet voice. He never liked not being able to see Shane directly in front of him for very long; it felt childish to admit, but it almost made him anxious when he went for extended periods without seeing or hearing him. He still felt him though, the gentle caress of his fingers against his shoulders as he swiped away Ilya’s hair as it fell with each delicate and calculated cut of the scissors. “Did you go to beauty school in your downtime between seasons? Is that why you are so pretty all the time?”
He heard Shane let out a breath that sounded like a laugh, which made Ilya beam with pride, since it was always such a privilege and an honor to get to hear Shane’s little laughs. “I learned how to do it myself, just some basic techniques. I hate going to the barber, having some stranger touch my head, and they would always mess it up. I got tired of paying so much money to look stupid for a few weeks until it grew out. Not to mention, I’d get recognized all the time and I’d get drawn into long conversations while I was being held hostage in the chair.”
Ilya could picture it in his mind’s eye, the image of Shane sitting in a barber’s chair with one of those capes around him to catch the falling hairs, some random man raking his fingers through Shane’s hair as he talked his ear off about hockey. Normally, that’d be a subject Shane was normally all too eager to yap about for hours if Ilya let him, but he could see how a stranger with a razor dangerously close to his ears and gushing over Shane’s hockey prowess wasn’t exactly a comfortable situation for him. Overstimulating in the worst of ways.
“Sounds like Shane Hollander’s personal hell.” Ilya nodded his head in understanding before he felt Shane give him a light little slap against the side of his temple, when he remembered he was supposed to be keeping his head still.
Shane seemed to be taking his sweet time with the trimming business though; he would make some progress here and there as Ilya would feel the pull of his fingers and hear the snip of the scissors, only for there to be a lull in the activity as Shane would run his fingers through Ilya’s locks over and over in a soothing manner, like he was just enjoying himself in petting Ilya’s scalp.
“Mm… Are you going to keep cutting it or just play with it? It feels nice, don’t get me wrong.” Ilya could actively feel himself melting under Shane’s touch like ice cream melting in the summer sun, and if Shane kept it up, he was surely going to be nothing more than a slouched, puddle of a man in the chair.
“I’m about to cut you is what I’m about to do.” Shane shot back, but there was no genuine malice in his tone, just the strict sort of snap he usually did whenever Ilya teased him to the point of annoyance.
“My kitten has his claws out today…” Ilya chuckled, especially when Shane finally walked around from the back of his head to the front and he wore the sort of scowl on his lips that he usually had whenever they had their little back and forth of snide and snarky comments. More often than not, they’d just end up making out with each other to shut the other person up, and Ilya was practically squirming in his chair with the urge to just tug Shane onto his lap and abandon the rest of the haircut for now, even if it would have made his style look lopsided and silly.
“Ilya.” Shane said his name in a way that had another shudder rushing down Ilya’s spine, as his hand came up to run his fingers underneath Ilya’s chin before he tipped his head up, their gazes meeting and holding steady, like Shane was trying to guess who’d be the first one of them to crack and avert their stare. Normally, it was Shane, but today with Shane’s tanned skin illuminated by the golden sun and his eyes turning molten brown and gorgeous from the bright light, he was something angelic to admire and it made Ilya’s heart skip far too many beats for him to do anything but stand down to Shane, the one who owned his very soul, especially with his fingers under Ilya’s chin and curling around his jaw.
“Okay, okay. I’m done. For now.” He couldn’t resist, though, the urge of his hands that compelled him to reach forward and grip Shane’s thighs to gently tug him in closer, fingertips greedily kneading the wide and plush expanses of flesh jutting out from Shane’s tight shorts that always hugged his ass so perfectly, like the designers had tailored them specifically with Shane in mind. Shane seemed to blush, cheeks reddening up the flush crept up to the tips of his ears, and he didn’t move as Ilya pulled Shane so close that he could rest his head against Shane’s torso, nuzzling into his abdomen and humming softly as he inhaled the scents of fresh linen from Shane’s shirt and the smell of something warm and distinctly Shane, like a fluffy blanket left out in the summer sun.
“I can’t cut your hair like this…” Shane mumbled, and Ilya could feel the rumble of his voice in his chest. Shane didn’t move to push Ilya away though, quite the opposite as he hugged Ilya closer, arms enveloping him in an embrace as Ilya’s hands roamed from Shane’s thighs to his lower back, to the girth of his ass that seemed eager to make an escape from the tight confines of his clothes. If it wasn’t obvious to Shane what his intentions were by now, Ilya would have worried he’d been hit on the head one too many times during games, but Shane seemed to receive the message loud and crystal clear.
He tugged Ilya back by his freshly cut hair, the sensation of that firm grip sending a wave of arousal shooting directly down to Ilya’s groin as he grunted softly and looked up at Shane with glittering blue-green eyes and casually slack open lips. “Five more minutes, and I’ll put the scissors away. I promise.” Shane cupped Ilya’s cheeks, speaking around the true meaning of his words, not that Ilya couldn’t understand him perfectly well anyway: Five more minutes, and I’ll let you have your way with me. I promise.
Ilya kept his head still as Shane began to trim the hair on the sides of Ilya’s face, careful hands and eyes ensuring the pieces were even as they could be, treating Ilya with a reverence that was still in many ways foreign to him.
Never had he had someone treat him with such gentleness, not since his mother, who like Shane’s mother also used to cut his hair for him when he was a child. Irina had never trusted anyone to know the perfect way to tame Ilya’s curls, and she seemed to delight in sitting Ilya down and cutting his hair for him, taking as much time as she needed to style her beloved son’s hair, all the while she would compliment Ilya and tickle him with puffs of her breath as she blew the hair off his shoulders once they were done.
The way Shane held his face then, like he was something delicate and precious and this was the most important thing in his life at that moment, doing right by Ilya and his hair, was enough to almost bring a sudden, unexpected wave of tearful emotion washing over him, though he swallowed back against the lump rising in his throat, trying not to remember how he’d once told Shane how much his mother would have loved him, and how this moment was reaffirming that truth for him in ways Shane could never fully understand.
By the time Shane finally seemed satisfied in his work, he could barely get out a word before Ilya finally let his desires overtake him, so overwhelmed by love and adoration and the way Shane was mere inches from his face that he pulled Shane onto his lap and kissed him as Shane fell into a straddling position that felt as natural as breathing with how many times he’d done it by now.
“Thank you,” Ilya murmured in between kisses as their mouths melded together, Shane barely even registering that Ilya had spoken to him as his eyes had so easily fluttered shut as he succumbed instantly to Ilya’s artful kisses. “I hope you made me look at least half as pretty as you.”
Shane’s cheeks were dusted rosy pink, like the color the sky usually became when the sun would set over the horizon of the lake. Ilya never knew just how sappy he could feel, how he could spend hours admiring Shane’s gorgeous face and the adorable way he hid that face whenever Ilya complimented him. He nuzzled himself into the crook of Ilya’s neck where Ilya felt the heat of his breath against his skin, and the curve of his smile as he dragged his forehead against Ilya’s shoulder. “I did my best, but you always look good no matter what, so it wasn’t really hard.”
“You think I’d still look good if I went bald? Just shaved it all off?” Ilya said with an exaggerated raise of his eyebrows, his hand moving to cradle the back of Shane’s head as Shane laughed against his neck, his fingers threading through the silky dark strands of Shane’s hair as his heart skipped several beats over the beautiful sound of Shane’s laughter.
“Let’s not go crazy.” Shane muttered, and then he pulled back to stare into Ilya’s eyes for just a moment before his gaze naturally landed on Ilya’s lips, and Ilya was kissing him to give Shane exactly what he obviously desired. Their kisses were quickly growing more passionate, more feverish and desperate as Shane rocked his hips and Ilya felt the hard press of his cock against his thigh. Shane was humping him, indulging himself in the delicious friction that came from the bulge in his shorts colliding with the obvious bulge in Ilya’s. While Shane liked to kiss with his eyes closed, Ilya still kept his open just a bit, so he could watch the way Shane’s eyebrows furrowed and his pretty lips parted while he panted and sighed and moaned when Ilya cupped his erection in his hand, palming him through his sinfully tiny shorts that Ilya wanted to pull off with his teeth.
In that moment, he honestly was grateful that Shane had trimmed his hair, so absolutely nothing would impede this gorgeous view.
“I was, uhm, going to make us something for lunch…” Shane breathed, though it was obvious food was the last thing on either of their minds. All at once, Ilya stood from the chair while holding tight to Shane, strong hands gripping his ass as he hauled him up with ease, their kisses barely skipping a beat as Shane’s mouth glistened from saliva and grew swollen from the greedy bite of Ilya’s teeth.
“Later. I will work up an appetite by fucking you senseless first.” He murmured into Shane’s ear, and he could feel the way Shane’s cock pressing into him twitched along with every syllable, his voice letting out a sweet little whine as his only response as Ilya clumsily carried Shane inside, careful not to trip and drop him or bump Shane against any walls, not wanting to accidentally bruise his lovely peach of a boyfriend, and soon to be husband.