Work Text:
It wasn't always Rozanov's fault, but it usually was. These days all it takes is a fleeting thought of him, of their activities they engage in whenever they have a spare moment, or even (maybe especially) the ones where they don't have any to spare at all.
This time it was just thinking about his bare torso.
He doesn’t do it often, but tonight was different. His fingers weren’t enough, a dildo wasn’t enough, he needed to grind. He wanted to plant himself on Rozanov’s chest and drag his slick cunt across the hair on his abdomen, watch it swirl with his wetness and see his jaw fall open in awe. He wanted to impress him, to debase himself for him, do anything at all for him.
With the pillow folded, he descends on the rounded point and starts to hump. It feels good, forming perfectly to the folds of his pussy and giving him just the right amount of friction to fuck his clit against the cushion.
His head is tipped back in a moan when his phone buzzes next to him.
He’d ignore it if it wasn’t Lily’s name bold and upfront on the screen.
“Fuck,” he pants out, squishing his eyes shut and debating whether to check it. His ego wins out.
Lily: Nice win against Admirals. That last goal was hot. Father Time had no idea what was coming.
In spite of his current position, a smile pushes at the corners of his mouth. Then another text comes in.
Lily: Made me hard
“Fuck,” Shane sighs louder, his hips naturally flowing and dragging along the pillow between his legs at the mere mention of Ilya’s cock. That’s why he’s here, humping a pillow in the first place.
He’s found that he enjoys playing with fire when he’s horny.
Shane: Yeah?
Before he can overthink it, he lifts his hips and takes a photo of his very damp pillow, traces of his opalescent slickness painting it in streaks that he just barely manages to capture on camera.
Shane: [Photo Attached]
Shane: Tell me more
He grinds down, his clit throbbing with Rozanov’s attention on him now.
Lily: Holy fuck.
The boldness overtaking him, he texts back quickly.
Shane: do you think it’s because of you?
As a blush blooms in his cheeks, he drowns out the anxiety in his head by stimulating his cunt, balancing a hand against the mattress and riding the pillow as he stares down at the open messages, watching Rozanov type.
Lily: oh I fucking know it
Lily: you dont get that wet for any other dick
And as fucking hot as that text is, he feels emboldened to toss it back. Maybe it’s how riled up he is, or Ilya’s instant belief that he’s getting himself off to thoughts of him, but he doesn’t want to be easy bait.
Shane: how would you know?
Shane groans as he finds a good angle, rolling his hips and staring hungrily at his phone.
Lily: because ive fucked a lot of pussy Hollander. more pussy than you could imagine. I know how wet a pussy can get.
Lily: and no one has been as wet as you when ur taking my cockk up ur drippy little cunt
Lily: and tahts before I make u squirt all over it liek a whore
Shane moans, jerking his hips along the pillow, his eyes rolling as it drags against his clit just right, swiping up his phone to type out his rebuttal.
Shane: the typos mean youre down to one hand Rozanov?
Lily: one hand and a brain full of thoguhts on how I wanna fuck you til ur screaming on it
Lily: and creaming on it
Lily: christ that ficking pussy drives me crazy
It hits him hard, and he isn’t even expecting it. Suddenly warmth is exploding through his body and his clit is throbbing, twitching against the pillow. He groans, humping himself through his climax and feeling an excess of fluid soaking into the cushion, flooding from his cunt.
“Fuck,” he swears again, wiping the sweat from his forehead and allowing his breath to steady as his screen remains motionless.
Until a picture pops up. One that he is very, very fortunate to be alone while receiving.
Rozanov’s hand around his thick cock, streaks of his come splattered along his fingers.
Lily: should be on your juicy pussy lips
Lily: so I can lick it off and taste us both
His chest still heaving and his mind just hazy enough to allow it, he snaps a picture of his soaked pillow and sends it.
Lily: fuck me
Lily: need you to come on my face like that
Lily: fucking NOW
Shane: next time
Lily: two weeks
Lily: you’re gonna squirt a fucking lake on my face for me to drown in
His face is red, he can feel the burning, but he wants it. He wants to please him so desperately, do whatever he asks of him, fuck his face until he’s drenched with him. Then sit on his cock and let him fill his cunt with the most depraved form of himself, the form that has infected Shane like a disease and settled into an addiction.
Shane: You’re on.