Work Text:
"You sure about this? I know I won the bet, but... if you're not comfortable..." Ilya said as Shane walked into the bathroom. "A deal is a deal. I know you've been wanting this for a while now." Ilya walked up to Shane and ran his fingers down his bicep.
"Yes, but bet is just a bet. If you do not want-" "Ilya. It's fine. It might be interesting, y'know, trying something new."
Shane's lips curled to a meek smile- not the one that Ilya knew as his discomfort, but one that edged the idea that he maybe, just maybe, was more interested than he cared to admit.
Ilya's hands trailed up and down his shoulders as he thought back to their conversation. He didn't remember what got them to the deal. The only thing that stuck like glue to the back of Ilya's mind was the deal itself.
"If you win the cup, you get to piss on me, Ilya." God, those words were so hypnotic coming from his lips. "If I win the cup, then I get to throw away those stupid basketball shorts you always wear around the house."
Right. That's where the deal began. Shane was so confident in himself and his team that they would win the cup that he succeeded to something Ilya never thought he would in his right mind. Ilya had been talking about the day he pissed on Shane Hollander for years at this point. He just never thought Shane would take him up on it.
And now that they were here, standing in Shane's bathroom, a mere few days after Ilya won the Stanley Cup, Ilya's dick couldn't help but twitch with anticipation.
Shane, of course, had stipulations. He wouldn't expect his sweet Shane to act any other way. "You must drink a gallon of water before. We must be in the shower (to account for mess). You are not allowed to get it in my eyes or mouth." Boring. Understandable.
By the time they made it into the shower, Shane's nerves had only managed to swell. He stood there under the stream of water, boyfriend massaging his shoulders and kissing his neck from behind. Oh, it felt so good. And yet, he couldn't shake the list of questions that cycled through his mind when Ilya's fingers trailed further down.
"Lyubov moya, relax," Ilya whispered, his hand sneaking around the front of him and taking hold of his soft shaft. He pressed closer into Shane, his half-hard erection nuzzling against his ass.
"If you don't like, we will stop, yes?" Ilya planted a firm kiss behind his ear, tongue trailing down and encouraging a swell of blood to Shane's cock. "Yes."
"Good. Now turn for me." Ilya's voice was firm, but not demanding; Steady, but unrelenting. It was the tone that always reminded Shane who was truly in control between them.
Shane slowly turned to face him, lightly chewing at his cheek as his eyes fluttered across Ilya's chest. With a firm, yet patient grasp, Ilya held Shane's cheeks and fixed their gaze.
"You are going to like this, yes?" He was met with silence, not tense, but not definitive in either direction. "Get on your knees for me, Shanya."
Shane, as if he were being brought to the executioner, slowly sank to his knees. His heart was racing, eyes locked onto the knees in front of him. His eyes slowly drew up, met with the plumping erection Ilya was stroking inches away from his face.
He felt a blush work over his cheeks, still ever enthralled by how stunning this was up close. With his other hand, Ilya took hold of his hair, pulling it back so Shane's jaw was sharp, and his lips slightly parted.
"Stick out that tongue for me, princess." That pet name was lethal for Shane, sending a buzzy flare through his dick. It was embarrassing just how much he enjoyed Ilya calling him that. He would hate it if it were anyone else, but the idea of being Ilya's princess was something he relished.
Shane slowly let his tongue out of his mouth, water still pattering on his back. His eyes were half-lidded and dopey, feeling the familiar rush of pleasure from submission coating his brain like Pepto-Bismol.
"Khoroshiy. Good." Ilya placed the tip of his cock, almost fully hard, onto Shane's tongue. He hummed, the simple weight of Ilya's head sitting heavily on his tongue making him stifle a moan.
"Turn your brain off, moya lyubov. Tonight, you are just my filth."
Shane hummed an agreement as he felt Ilya begin to press into his mouth. The angle was almost suffocating, his neck crooked back as far as it could handle, cutting off his airway just the right amount.
Ilya slid shallowly into his warm mouth, dampening the tip with his spit and letting the skin slide against his lips.
"You are so pretty like this, so obedient." Shane nodded, opening his mouth further as if Ilya would push further in.
Ilya looked at Shane, sitting back on his heels with his palms pressed onto his knees- perfect form. Fuck, just like everything else, Shane had managed to find the way to be the perfect pet.
His cock was stiffening between his legs, giving Ilya a boost of confidence in his enjoyment. He knew that he needed to go soon. He had been holding it all evening to prepare for this exact moment.
He pulled his cock free from Shane's mouth, a small whine escaping his pet's lips. "Tell me you want it."
Like the fuck-drunk slut Shane so easily melted into, the words passed his lips without a second consideration.
"I want it."
"You want me to piss all over you?" Ilya husked, looking intently at Shane's glazed, doped- out eyes. "Yes."
"Say it."
"I want you to piss all over me, Ilya," Shane quietly said, lip moving so subtly that Ilya could barely catch it over the running water. Ilya quickly turned off the water. He wanted to hear every disgusting moan Shane could muster.
Ilya started slowly, pinching the tip to control the flow better as he slowly released his bladder. It took him a moment to begin, not wanting to start too strong.
Shane flinched, the warm stream hitting his chest a stark contrast to the dew drops that had gone cold against his skin.
This wasn't what Shane had expected. Ilya was careful and measured in his stream placement. He would tread over his nipples, the stimulation enough to draw a quaint whine from Shane's lips.
"How do you feel, Hollander?"
"I feel filthy," Shane's voice came out in a shudder as the warm liquid began to puddle in his lap, going cold against his twitching erection. God, he was hard. Harder than he ever thought he would be from this.
"Look at me," Ilya commanded, only then making Shane realize that at some point, his eyes had fluttered shut. Ilya's hand was back on his cheek, thumb pushing against his lips to breach. Shane gladly accepted, running his teeth along the ridges of Ilya's fingerprints like he was trying to memorize each groove.
"Fuck," Ilya muttered, dick growing harder as he watched his love suck desperately against his thumb, cock drooling precum as if this were his idea.
"You are filthy. Filthy little pet, hungry for my cock, thirsty for my piss," Ilya grunted, his stream running thin.
"So thirsty for you," Shane moaned around his thumb, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head.
"Fuck, get up here," Ilya cursed as he pulled Shane to his feet. In seconds, their lips were pressed together, hard cocks rubbing against one another in a desperate plea for release.
Ilya grabbed hold of their dicks, massaging them together as he pinned Shane's weight against the cold tile. Shane was limp in his arms, reduced to nothing more than moans and curses. Ilya had a plan to use this as his punishment, as his way to tout his victory once again over him. But as Shane was shuddering in his grasp, he no longer cared about anything but bringing them to climax.
He hadn't anticipated how worked up Shane would get over defilement, how easily he would surrender to Ilya's whims. As he stood there, supporting all of Shane's weight, tugging on their leaking cocks, he thought back to his love's words.
"I feel filthy. So thirsty for you." Ilya felt his core tightening, the sticky sweat of skin pressed firmly together as they chased each other up the mountain. "Fuck, Shane. You gonna cum covered in my piss?" Ilya grunted, foreheads pressed together in a drunken haze.
"Covered in all of you, Ilya. Fucking make me obscene," Shane strained, legs shaking and balls tensing. "God, you are obscene. So sloppy and soiled for me." Ilya's stomach flipped as he heard the beauty of Shane's moans rippling through the bathroom.
There was nothing but the sound of their wet dicks working together and their breathy moans filling the room. "Oh, fuck!" Shane gasped, his voice getting caught in his throat as he sent ribbons of cum across Ilya's chest and dick.
The additional lube made Ilya shiver, his hips stalling in a messy thrust to his hand. "Fuck, Hollander," Ilya cursed, his stomach clenching in waves as he joined Shane's mess on their cocks.
The orgasm rippled through him, leaving him bare and broken down. He took a deep breath in, his cock occasionally twitching from its release as it shrank back down. "Oh my God," Shane huffed as he leaned his head back against the tile.
"You're telling me," Ilya said as he swallowed hard. He shifted lightly to reach the water controls, turning them on to cast a tepid, cleansing stream over them.
As Ilya lowered them both to the shower floor, Shane blinked lazily, endorphins running so wild that he didn't even mind his bare ass on the cold tiles.
"That was..." Ilya blew out a puff of air, a rare occasion that he was at a loss for words. "So fucking hot," Shane sighed, a content smile working its way across his lips.
"I knew you'd like it. You're secretly grosser than me," Ilya teased, kissing Shane's neck delicately. "That is so not true. I watched you drop your mouthguard in the penalty box, then put it back in your mouth. That's fucking gross."
"You came to the scent of my sweat in my undershirt after a game because I was too busy to fuck you properly. I think you are the gross one."
"Shut up," Shane whispered, connecting their lips in a tender embrace. Maybe that wasn't so bad after all.