Chapter Text
We can’t keep doing this. Shane thought as his orgasm overtook his regular thought processes. Everything became Ilya, Ilya, Ilya… as it always did.
He heard the pop of Ilya releasing Shane’s cock from his mouth. The man had the audacity to make eye contact as he licked the last of Shane’s cum from his oversensitive head. Shane moaned and leaned back, enjoying the twinge of pain at the edge of pleasure.
“Mmm, котенок, you say that every week and yet every week we both walk to my SUV and fuck,” Ilya over pronounced the k in fuck as he leaned forward and pressed his thumb to Shane’s lips.
Shane sucked the thumb into his mouth, trying to play cool but his face must have given him away.
“Yes, you said it out loud. Even when you don’t it’s obvious from the face you make immediately after you cum. Kind of ruins the mood, you know,” Ilya kissed Shane on the cheek and nipped his ear. “That’s why I’ve been making you cum last.”
That did it. An hour of progress with Vera down the drain.
“Are you fucking kidding me?!” Shane yelled, pushing Ilya’s large body off of him.
Ilya looked shocked, “Shane, I am only teasing you why-”
“Because we JUST talked about this with Vera twenty-five minutes ago. The whole being seductive thing while trying to have a serious conversation HAS to stop. No more fucking until you can talk about shit in a normal way.”
“Hollander, I am not-”
Shane unentangled himself from his estranged husband and grabbed his hoodie from the front seat. He swung the door open and hopped out, grabbing the door’s edge.
“I’m serious Ilya. We’re done for good if this keeps up.”
The door slammed, leaving Ilya alone, hurt, and confused. How had they gotten here? They had been seeing Vera for four sessions and were still trying to figure that out. Ten years messing around, five years married, eight months separated. Why had Shane asked him to reconcile after six and a half months if he was going to act like this?
Tears rolled down Ilya’s cheeks as he sat, contemplating his future. Was it better to, what was it English speakers said? Rip the band-aid? Finalize the divorce. Maybe go back to Boston and live with Svetlana or somewhere in the western conference so he didn’t have to see Shane at practice almost every day.
He reached for his phone, and dialed the number before he could think twice. Trying and failing to hold in a sob as she picked up, Ilya said, “Yuna, I’m not okay. I think I need mom advice and well, you’re the closest thing I have.”