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“Rozanov is gonna go insane when he sees it,” Hayden said, shaking his head in disbelief. “I can’t believe you actually went through with it.”
Shane was stood in front of the full length mirror in the tattoo studio, trousers pulled down at the side to expose his hip bones, and his new tattoo along with them.
It was really red and irritated, but the linework was clean and stark.
The number 81, in an Old English font, accompanied by some delicately shaded lilies. It was only 4 inches wide, and its position would make it easy to hide.
Shane’s brain thrummed with energy as the artist carefully covered the new tattoo with cling film, and handed him a leaflet with aftercare instructions.
Shane snorted at this. Might be needing a different set of aftercare instructions after Ilya finds out about the tattoo.
On their way home, Shane and Hayden stopped at Shane’s favourite smoothie bar, before Hayden dropped him off at his and Ilya’s house.
Once he’d hung his keys on their designated hook in the front hall, carefully put his shoes in their place on the shoe rack in the closet, and dutifully greeted Anya with ear scratches and cuddles, Shane made his way upstairs.
He took a careful shower, not letting the water hit his hip directly, and resisting the urge to run his fingers over the fresh tattoo in awe. Shane had never understood the possessive thing until he and Ilya became serious, at which point every lingering touch or hovering presence from others became an insult, causing Shane’s blood pressure to rise, and for him to swiftly reach for his husband’s hand. He’s mine.
Ilya was somehow even worse. A few weeks before, Shane had shaken the hand of a fellow player for a second too long, and Ilya immediately came to his side, looming over both of them, and pulling Shane away from the conversation he’d been having quite abruptly.
It was with events like that in mind that Shane got the tattoo. However, with that in mind, it also meant he had to hide the tattoo until it had healed, or else he’d end up with an infection from Ilya doing something ridiculous like rubbing his cum into it in an attempt to mark his territory.
When Ilya came home a few hours later, he gunned straight for Shane, kissing him vigorously and directing him straight to the bed. Shane instead diverted them towards the wall, where he made quick moves to undo his husbands trousers, and take his cock into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck, Shane,” Ilya moaned. “I don’t want to come yet…want to fuck you…”
Despite his husband's pleas and shoves, Shane continued to suck Ilya’s cock, pushing his hand down past his own waistband to stroke himself, resulting in a very swift orgasm from his husband, and another from himself.
This pattern continued over the next week. Ilya initiated sex and Shane denied him, instead offering up a handjob or a blowjob to appease his husband.
It was all going according to plan until he found Ilya crying on the sofa when he came home late on evening.
“Ilya?”
“Dinner is on the side,” was the shaky response, Ilya’s head continuing to face his own lap, where Anya lay, whining.
Shane slowly approached the sofa, reaching out and gently touching his husband’s shoulder. “Ilyusha, what’s wrong?”
This prompted a throaty sob from his husband, whose breathing quickly became laboured. Shane moved to kneel in front of him, reaching for his hands and directing Ilya to breathe, to copy the pattern of his breathing.
After Ilya’s breathing returned to normal, though tears were still running down his cheeks, Shane tried again. “What’s wrong, Ilya? Why are you so upset?”
Shane knew that today wasn’t an anniversary - neither happy nor sad - and had received no messages or calls all day that might alert him to the cause of Ilya’s distress.
“You want divorce?” Ilya sobbed.
“What? No! No, I don’t want a divorce!” Shane was panicking now. “Why would you think that?”
“It’s been weeks, and every time I try to touch you, you push me away, or use hands or mouth to distract me,” Ilya muttered. “You don’t want me anymore.”
Fuck.
“Ilya, no, no, no, I want you, I do,” Shane whispers. “I have a surprise for you, and I was trying to keep it secret for a little while. I’m sorry, so sorry, sweetheart.”
“A surprise?” Ilya frowned. “What surprise means no sex? I don’t like it…”
Shane chuckled as he recognised the emotions on his husband’s face changing from heartbreak to frustration. “Come with me.” Shane led Ilya upstairs by the hand, directing him to sit down on the bed as Shane began to strip, removing his upper clothes first, folding them neatly, before removing his trousers.
Ilya looked both confused and aroused, his eyes wide and dark. “Surprise is strip tease?”
Shane stepped closer to his husband, and looked down at his hip, waiting for his husband’s gaze to follow, before he pulled the waistband of his briefs down, revealing the tattoo.
Ilya’s mouth opened in a gasp, his eyes flittering and swiftly refilling with tears.
“Is real?” He reached out to touch it, Shane shivered at the sensation of his gentle fingers, but nodded when Ilya’s eyes began searching his face.
“I love you, forever,” Shane whispered. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
“Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. Navsegda.”