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It starts off small. A sharp little nip to Shane's inner thigh as Ilya takes a breather from swallowing down his dick. It shouldn't be anything. Shane should just say Ow and tug Ilya's mouth back to where it's useful.
Unfortunately for Shane, that's not what his body decides to do. A soft, keening whimper drags out of his throat, and Ilya's ears immediately perk up. He looks up the length of Shane's supine body, meeting his eyes with a wicked smirk before descending back on the area. His wide, wet tongue laves over the soft, faintly hairy skin for a moment before he presses his lips in tight and starts to suck experimentally.
The effect is immediate, shooting dangerous tendrils of pleasure right to the base of Shane's spine. "Ohh, ffffuck," he gasps, already breathless and tangling his fingers in Ilya's golden curls. He's not sure whether he's trying to drag his boyfriend in closer or push him away, his skin tingling everywhere Ilya's lips touch.
It's not the first time Ilya has given Shane a hickey, but it's the first time Shane has reacted like this, his body writhing under Ilya's sucking kisses—each one pressed to the same patch of skin, no doubt darkening the blossoming bruise.
"Mm, you like this," Ilya teases, moving up to slobber over Shane's tight balls, sucking one of them into the warm cavern of his mouth as his thumb presses hard against his damp inner thigh.
Shane lets his eyes flutter shut, feeling his cock drool precome onto his belly as Ilya's thumb works at the bruise. "Shh—shut up," is all he manages to stammer in response, rocking up into Ilya's mouth and shuddering when his boyfriend pulls away.
Ilya's tone is mischievous when he whispers, "Slut."
The hand in Ilya's hair does push this time—pushes Ilya's head back down between Shane's legs as he spreads them wider, offering up the canvas of his pale olive skin to be marked as Ilya pleases. "Do it again," Shane begs, pausing for a few too many seconds before remembering his manners, "please."
"Needy," Ilya laughs fondly, trailing ticklish, feather-light kisses up the inside of Shane's leg, all the way from his knee to the crease of his hip. He latches on there, his cheek smooshed against Shane's balls as he chomps into the thick meat of his upper thigh, right before it transitions into his groin.
The dull pain of Ilya's teeth is good, but it's not until he sucks Shane's flesh into his mouth, stimulating every delicious nerve ending, that Shane all but melts underneath him. He's moaning—he realises belatedly—loud, breathy, hitched moans as he tilts his hips up against Ilya's mouth, his head rocking backwards on the bed, almost subconsciously offering up his neck as the next victim.
When Ilya pulls back, breathing hot and heavy over the wet skin, Shane's whole body trembles with need, his cock pulsing where it lies forgotten against his abs. He can feel where Ilya has been, both patches of skin smarting slightly, twinkling with residual pleasure.
The rational part of Shane's brain briefly comes back online in the absence of Ilya's mouth. "We have practice tomorrow," he whispers regretfully, meeting Ilya's lustful eyes and wiping a bead of sweat from his boyfriend's forehead.
Ilya raises an eyebrow. "You will be spreading your legs in locker room?"
The thought makes Shane flush a deep red, his whole face burning as Ilya stares him down. He loves his team. Platonically. He certainly isn't keen on the idea of advertising his freak to them. "No," he replies, almost grumpily, and Ilya laughs, finding a fresh spot on the same leg and pressing his mouth there.
"Then there is no problem, da?" he murmurs against Shane's skin, latching on like a limpet and instantly distracting Shane from any further protests he might want to make.
Shane feels his cock jerk, dribbling precome down onto his belly in a steady stream—his body definitely knows which side of the argument it's on. "God," Shane sighs, scratching his nails through Ilya's hair as his boyfriend suckles eagerly. "If this, haaah, impacts my performance, I'll be—I'll be so mad at you."
"Mmhm," Ilya hums against him, the vibrations shivering through Shane's thick thigh. He bites harshly down, drawing a whimpering moan from Shane's throat, and Shane can't help but drop his legs wider apart. "You love it, freak," Ilya murmurs affectionately, pulling back to admire his work, petting over the fresh bruises with soft fingertips.
"Let me see," Shane moans, crunching his core to look down the length of his shivering body. The bruises are already blossoming spectacularly—a gorgeous deep reddish-purple, contrasting perfectly against Shane's skin—and Shane can't help but groan at the sight of them. "Come here?" he begs, the hand in Ilya's hair sliding down to curl around the back of his boyfriend's neck, tugging him upwards.
Ilya has always loved kissing Shane. Not just his mouth, but every part of his body—tender and sweet, even from their very first hookup. Years later, nothing has changed, and he takes his time to acquiesce to Shane's request, pressing a kiss to his tight balls, peppering tiny kisses up the length of his hard cock, chasing it with a smile as it tries to bounce out of reach. "Gorgeous," Ilya murmurs, his hands sliding up Shane's flanks as he dips his lips into the embarrassingly large puddle of precome on Shane's abs and trails sticky kisses the rest of the way up his torso.
"You're making a mess," Shane protests weakly, tugging on Ilya's neck until his boyfriend finally meets his lips, letting Shane clean up any remaining precome with his softly exploring tongue. He kisses Ilya with a deep thirst, lifting his hips from the bed to try to grind up against his boyfriend's teasingly hovering body, just a little bit too far away.
"C'mon," Shane whines between kisses, leaving one hand tangled in the hair at the base of Ilya's neck and sliding the other down to curl around his skinny hip, trying desperately to drag his boyfriend in closer.
Instead of coming closer, Ilya pulls back completely, sitting up on his knees and raking his eyes over Shane's quivering form, his gaze lingering on his inner thigh. He's just as hard as Shane is, his cock standing proud and heavy in his lap, but he completely ignores it. "You will let me mark you up so pretty," he murmurs, half question, half demand, his fingers trailing sparks of pleasure down the inside of Shane's leg.
"But the team," Shane bites his lip, "the showers." He knows his protests are weak, and even though he could make better arguments, such as having bruises all over my inner thighs might well fuck up my ability to skate properly, he doesn't voice those as loudly. He doesn't want Ilya to stop, and Ilya knows it.
"We get bruises all of the time," Ilya rumbles, leaning back over Shane to push his arm up above his head, rocking down to press his mouth to the skin just below his armpit, making Shane squirm ticklishly as Ilya's nose presses into the sweaty thatch of hair there.
"Oh, fuck," Shane whimpers, tangling his fingers in his own damp hair as Ilya's teeth bite sharply down on the taut skin. He lifts his other arm above his head to match, knowing that if he doesn't, he'll end up wrapping a hand around his aching cock, which his boyfriend is blatantly neglecting to properly touch. "Please, Ilya," he begs, wriggling and arching into the contact, all pretense of argument leaving his body as Ilya's tongue laves over his sensitive skin.
Ilya's lips slide inwards, and he latches onto the edge of Shane's pec. The swell of muscle is an easier target than the flat skin under Shane's arm, and he starts to suck immediately, looking up at Shane with a devious twinkle in his eye.
The other bruises, Shane maybe had a hope in hell of hiding, but this one? It might be visible from space. "Fuck," he laughs softly, tugging on his own hair and feeling sparks of pleasure twinkle down his spine, his untouched cock jerking in his lap. "You're an asshole. They'd better make fun of you for this, and not me."
"You like it when they tease you," Ilya murmurs, his lips still pressed wet to Shane's skin, "I watch you trying to not get hard in the showers."
"That's not true," Shane shoots back, though there definitely have been occasions when it is. He drops an arm to shove firmly against Ilya's shoulder, "Shut up."
Ilya bites down on the flesh around Shane's nipple, hard enough to leave teeth marks marring the usually flawless skin, and Shane can't help the breathy gasp that chokes out of his throat, his nails digging harshly into Ilya's shoulder in retaliation. Ilya tongues over the bud, his lips curving into a smirk when it instantly pebbles under his attention. "Such a slut," he hums against Shane's skin, trailing a hand up Shane's naked torso and rubbing a thumb over the opposite nipple as he starts sucking firmly.
The dual sensations make Shane's cock throb in his lap, and he whimpers under his breath, arching off the bed into the air. "Touch me, please," he begs softly, angling his hips towards Ilya hopefully, curling his hand back in his boyfriend's hair.
"I will make you a deal," Ilya offers, licking a wide, wet stripe up Shane's pec, leaving his hard brown nipple shiny and slick in its wake. Shane's already nodding pathetically as Ilya continues, "I will let you come… if you will let me leave marks wherever I want."
It's a bit late for that, and besides, Shane's cock has made the decision before his brain can catch up. He's already whimpering a desperate, "Please, yes, whatever you want," as Ilya wraps a hand around his cock and sucks a biting kiss against the side of his neck—in a place so obvious that even Shane's highest collared shirt won't hide it.
"Oh, god," Shane moans, not even able to bring himself to care as Ilya's teeth clamp down around the column of his throat, rocking into the loose friction around his dick. The simple touch after being teased and denied for so long is so mind-bendingly good that he suddenly feels self-conscious about it. "Is this even—" he gasps softly, throwing his head back and pressing his neck harder against Ilya's teeth, "fuck, is this even good for you?"
The noise Ilya makes in response is practically a growl, and he tightens his fist around Shane's drooling cock when he pulls back to answer, his face flushed and panting. "Shane," he says, deadpan, licking his lips as his eyes track down the length of Shane's body, pausing briefly on each blossoming hickey. He's quiet for a moment, catching his breath. "Is so fucking hot; you bruise so pretty for me."
"Kiss me," Shane begs softly, tugging Ilya back to his lips, delighting in how they tingle as they're pressed together. Ilya's tongue is warm and wet as it easily invades Shane's mouth, sliding along his own, and Shane can't help but moan into the kiss as Ilya's huge hand wraps around the side of his throat, his palm pressing firmly against the fresh hickey blooming there.
From this angle, Ilya lets his body relax a little, grinding his hard cock down against Shane's hip in a delicious slide of damp friction. He pulls back just long enough to scan over Shane's neck, murmuring, "So pretty," before leaning in to suck on the opposite side, drawing a stuttered moan out of Shane's throat.
Shane can feel his face flushing at the targeted attention, and he rocks his hips up until Ilya gets the memo and slides his thick cock alongside Shane's, holding them both together in his long fingers. "Yessss," Shane hisses, letting his hands flutter to Ilya's hair, his shoulder—holding his insatiable boyfriend tight against him as Ilya bites down on his neck like a vampire possessed.
The sensations are overwhelming, and Shane's leg starts to twitch uncontrollably as Ilya's eager mouth bursts sensitive blood vessels in his neck, the skin tingling and sending desperate pleasure signals down to the base of his cock. "Ohhh, that's good," he moans, feeling his voice vibrate against Ilya's lips.
"I'm going to—" Ilya gasps, pulling back slightly, his breath hot against Shane's wet neck. He starts to kiss down Shane's chest, his cock dragging wetly along Shane's thigh as he crawls backwards. "Gonna suck a hickey—" he continues, his lips trailing across Shane's sticky abs, his thumb circling his frenulum. "Into your dick."
Shane doesn't know if that's even possible, but he desperately wants to find out. "Please," he begs, watching through eyes half-lidded with lust as Ilya's mouth descends against his shaft, his lips fitting sideways along Shane's length.
He doesn't waste any time in suctioning his mouth to the side of Shane's sensitive, dripping cock, holding it steady in his hand as his lips and teeth and tongue start to work at the velvety skin.
Shane's hand shoots out to tangle in Ilya's curls as his back arches off the bed, a melodic moan falling from his lips. "Oh fffffuck, Ilya," he whimpers, feeling overwhelmed tears spring to his eyes as his body simultaneously tries to press into the touch and writhe away.
Teeth definitely aren't usually part of the dick-sucking equation, but Ilya isn't shy about chomping down on the thin, delicate skin of Shane's cock as he draws it into his mouth, and Shane just about loses his mind, a desperate, whimpering stream of nonsensical words falling from his lips as his tears fall, slipping down the sides of his face to pool in his ears.
The telltale signs of looming orgasm start to bubble in the base of Shane's spine, and he tightens his grip in Ilya's hair, keeping his boyfriend right where he needs him. "Please, keep going," he whispers, biting his lip harshly between his words, "m'gonna come."
He can literally feel Ilya's lips curve into a smile against the side of his dick.
Ilya hums softly, sucking on Shane's cock with renewed vigor, his free hand sliding up to pinch at a nipple with long, nimble fingers.
The dual attack is exactly what Shane needs to get him there, and he crunches up to watch as his body crashes over the edge. His cock pulses between Ilya's lips and hand, and he shoots a long white rope of come across his torso with a ragged cry. "Thank you, thank you," he sobs, feeling each individual bruise start to smart as his body tenses and relaxes with every new wave of his orgasm.
It's not until Shane is fully spent that Ilya removes his lips from the side of Shane's cock, leaning back to observe his handiwork. He rubs a gentle thumb over the sensitive area, and Shane resists every urge in his body begging him to push Ilya away.
"Did it work?" Shane asks breathily, collapsing back onto the bed and blinking dazedly in Ilya's direction. He doesn't want to look, yet.
"Perfect," Ilya hums in response, his eyes still locked on Shane's softening cock. "You will look so beautiful in the showers."
Shane's been trying not to think about that. "I hope none of the guys are checking out my cock," he murmurs, and Ilya's eyes flicker immediately to his neck, snapping from one side to the other with a mixture of pride and guilt.
"It's bad, huh?" Shane asks with a soft chuckle, and Ilya nods. He didn't need the confirmation—he can feel the blossoming bruises smarting deliciously against each side of his neck. "I think we still have foundation from one of my ad shoots in the drawer."
"Don't cover them up," Ilya begs, and Shane rolls his eyes.
"Shut up," he murmurs, pushing gently on Ilya's shoulder until he rolls over onto his back. Shane rocks up over him, running one hand down the length of his torso as he presses a searching kiss into Ilya's slack mouth. His hand finds its target, curling around his boyfriend's straining dick. "How do you want to come?"
"Mm," Ilya hums against Shane's lips, "down your throat."
Shane's spent dick twitches between his legs and he nods eagerly. He's just starting to crawl backwards when his progress is halted by Ilya's massive hand curling firmly around the base of his skull.
"Wait. Spin around," Ilya demands, his other hand running down Shane's flank to cup the tight globe of his ass, tugging lightly and spreading his hole open to the cool air. "Over my face."
Shane knows he isn't getting hard again so soon, but that doesn't mean his body isn't still valiantly trying—his tired, aching dick pulsing where it hangs between them.
Ilya shuffles down the bed as Shane gets into position, straddling his boyfriend's face, his knees pressing into the mattress above Ilya's shoulders, his flaccid dick and balls resting on llya's smooth chin.
The thick, drooling cock resting heavy against Ilya's tight abs is intoxicating, and Shane doesn't hesitate to suck the head between his lips, sliding all the way down in one slick motion and letting it dip into the tight clutch of his throat.
"Mmm, good boy," Ilya hums, turning his head between Shane's legs and sucking another kiss against the soft, sensitive skin of his inner thigh, drawing a muffled moan from Shane's chest.
Shane knows he is going to be a mess of bruises by the end of this—realistically, he already is—and he finds himself surprisingly unconcerned with the consequences. Post-nut and cock-drunk and deliciously satiated, there's only one thing left on his mind. His hands roam over Ilya's body as he bobs his head, one cupped palm gathering up his boyfriend's balls, squeezing them lightly, and the other creeping under Ilya's bent leg. Slowly exploring fingertips dip into the tight space between Ilya's cheeks, petting through the hair there until he's stroking dryly over the hot little furl of his boyfriend's hole.
"Fuck," Ilya breaks away to laugh, his hands squeezing tight around Shane's muscular thighs, "yes, good." He leans up to kiss Shane's dangling balls briefly before refocusing on a new spot on Shane's thigh, biting down around his quivering flesh.
It's all Shane can do to moan like a whore, sending vibrations down the length of Ilya's cock as he redoubles his efforts, relishing in the taste of precome being painted across his tongue. Without a drop of lube, he knows he won't be able to finger Ilya properly, but he manages to wedge just the tip inside of his tight hole at the same moment he lets Ilya's thick cock slide into his throat again.
Ilya stills, everything freezing in time for a brief moment before he's coming with a whimper, biting harshly down on Shane's skin, his cock pulsing thick spend down his esophagus. "Stay there, stay there, stay, stay," Ilya begs desperately, his nails cutting into Shane's thighs as Shane starts to gag around him.
He needs to pull off, to swallow properly, to clear his airway, but Shane pushes all that to the side as he watches Ilya's thighs tremble, his toes curling into the sheets. Breathing is secondary to Ilya's pleasure, and Shane's whole body starts to twitch, his face growing hot the longer he holds Ilya's spent dick in the clutch of his throat.
"Okay, good boy," Ilya murmurs eventually, patting Shane on the rump, which Shane takes as a sign that it's okay to pull back. He rolls off of Ilya until he's sitting on the edge of the bed, trying to swallow and cough and breathe in the same motion, the ache of it trembling down his spine.
Ilya is right behind him in an instant, rubbing a soothing hand over Shane's back and reaching for the glass of water sitting on the nightstand, pressing it into his loose grip. "Is okay," Ilya murmurs against his ear, pressing a kiss to the shell of it, "drink, baby."
Water does help, and Shane downs the glass in one swift motion, washing any residual come down his throat with a relieved sigh. He leans back into Ilya's body, letting himself fall slack, and turns his head to press a grateful kiss to his boyfriend's strong jaw.
"That was so hot," Shane murmurs, closing his eyes and letting himself feel the sparks of pleasure-pain emanating from each bruise. He lifts a hand up to tangle in Ilya's hair, scratching softly against his scalp. "I didn't know I liked hickeys so much."
Ilya takes the glass from Shane, depositing it back on the nightstand as his other hand slides between Shane's legs, gently forcing them apart. His chin is tucked over Shane's shoulder, and he presses a tingling kiss to his neck as he murmurs, "Look down."
Shane's inner thighs are littered with bruises, and he can't help the guttural moan that the sight pulls from his throat—there's almost more mottled reddish-purple than there is skin-colour. "Fuck," Shane gasps softly, trailing his fingers over each of them in turn and laughing under his breath. "You are a menace."
"Yes," Ilya replies simply, pressing his lips to the mark on the side of Shane's neck. "You are so pretty, I cannot help myself."
Shane picks up his soft cock, cradling it in his hands and feeling it twitch in his loose grip as he takes in the dark bruise marring half of the skin. "When I play like shit tomorrow, I'm blaming you."
"Mmhm," Ilya hums contentedly, "I am sure all the guys would love to hear about your sad, bruised cock."
"Fuck you," Shane laughs, pushing backwards until Ilya gives, letting them collapse into a sweaty pile on the bed.
He doesn't know how he's going to hide it from the team, really. Sure, he can go to practice covered in foundation, but that won't last through sweating on the ice and the rubbing of his clothes, and definitely won't stay in place through a post-practice shower. The thought is embarrassing, but not world-ending, and he knows Ilya will gladly take the brunt of the ribbing from the team.
"I love you," Shane murmurs, rolling over until his sticky torso is pressed to Ilya's, curling his face into the damp crook of his boyfriend's neck.
Ilya's soft lips press firmly to the top of Shane's head, his arms curling around his shoulders. "I love you, too, sweetheart. Thank you for letting me make a mess of you."
"Any time," Shane replies, and he's never meant anything more.