Chapter Text
"Hollzy? Hey buddy?"
Hayes waves his hand in front of Shane's face, pulling him out of his zoned out state and making him whip his head to the side to look at his teammate. Heat creeps its way up Shane's face as he realizes he hasn't been listening to whatever Hayes has been talking about for the past few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye Shane spots Ilya—right across the table—giving him a quick sideways glance with a knowing smirk dancing across his lips. Ilya seems to be in deep conversation with Harris. Or well, not deep enough to not notice Shane's awkwardness, apparently.
"Sorry, Hazy," Shane chuckles apologetically, shaking his head as if trying to physically shake off the thoughts occupying his mind. "My mind was just... elsewhere."
"Elsewhere, huh?" Hayes gives him an amused look, cocking one eyebrow. His eyes dart to Ilya across the table for a brief second, and then back to Shane.
Shane rolls his eyes and smiles. "Yeah, I was trying to remember if I checked the stove was off," He says. On any other day it would probably be a truthful answer. Shane always double checks that the stove is off and that the front and back doors are locked before leaving the house, and yet he always worries that he somehow forgot.
However, this time, the thing occupying Shane's mind is not the stove or the locks.
Shane has been frustrated all day. Sexually frustrated.
He and Ilya have not had sex in approximately three days. While they do have a very active sex life this is not a rare occurrence exactly—sometimes they go way longer than that without having sex. It's perfectly natural when you're married and have busy lives. But for the past few days Shane has been horny. Hornier than usual. It's like he's ovulating, but Shane obviously doesn't have a menstruation cycle so he can't blame it on that.
On Wednesday he and Ilya were busy the whole day and then had dinner at Shane's parents' house in the evening. By the time they got home both Shane and Ilya were absolutely exhausted and had had a little too much wine, and so promptly passed out in bed after letting Anya out in the yard, brushing their teeth and Shane doing his nighttime skin routine (and forcing Ilya to at least wash his face and moisturize). So, no sex.
Yesterday—Thursday—the Pikes had visited and spent the whole day with them. In the evening once the Pikes had left and calmness had once again settled in their house, Ilya was passed out on the couch after having entertained the Pike children for several hours. Seeing Ilya being good with kids always did it for Shane and he had been ready to pounce on Ilya as soon as the Pikes left. But finding him there asleep on the couch, looking so peaceful and cute, Shane simply didn't have the heart to wake him. So again, no sex.
And finally this morning Shane had gotten up early for a morning run with Anya and by the time he got back, excited to climb back into bed for some fun, Ilya was already out of bed getting ready for a meeting. From that point on both their schedules were filled with more meetings, answering emails, working out and doing household chores right up until the point where they had to get ready and leave for the team dinner they're currently at.
And so for whatever reason, Shane is hornier than usual and his husband hasn't touched him in three days—not in that way at least—resulting in Shane now being incredibly sexually frustrated while Ilya is right there looking so fucking good in that tight fitting black turtleneck and his blond curls pushed back off of his forehead. They've only been at this team dinner for like twenty minutes, for fuck's sake, but Shane thinks he might go insane if he doesn't get to put his hands on Ilya soon.
Hayes just laughs at Shane's response and takes a swig of his beer, shaking his head. He luckily doesn't comment any further on Shane's distractedness, just continuing to tell whatever story he was in the process of telling. Shane tries his best to pay attention this time and engage in the conversation.
Minutes pass, the food arrives at the table, and Shane continues to make small talk with Hayes sitting to his left and Boodram to his right. The whole time he keeps glancing over at Ilya, who's still talking excitedly to Harris. An unsettling feeling pools in Shane's stomach when he watches them. He knows the feeling is unwarranted and ridiculous, he has no reason whatsoever to be jealous. But he's horny and frustrated and wants Ilya's attention. He wants Ilya to notice him, look at him, give him something.
Why does Ilya have to look like that?
The hottest man in the world is sitting right across from Shane and the man in question happens to be Shane's husband, but Shane can't do anything.
...Or can he?
An idea pops into Shane's mind.
He could just... tease a little bit. No one would know, right? Except Ilya, of course—that's the whole point.
And so Shane, very slowly and discreetly, starts moving his right foot beneath the table.
---
Ilya is talking to Harris and about to take a bite out of his food when he feels something nudge the inside of his left ankle. The fork in his hand stops moving momentarily and he raises his gaze toward his husband sitting across from him. Their eyes meet and Shane shoots him a small playful smirk before averting his eyes and taking a casual sip of his beer.
Oh, so he's in that mood.
Ilya tries not to react. He resumes raising his fork towards his mouth and averts his attention back to Harris, who's telling him a story about Chiron at the dog park. At the same time, Ilya feels Shane's shoe rub against his underneath the table.
Then the foot starts slowly inching up along the inseam of Ilya's pant leg.
Ilya looks over at Shane again but Shane doesn't meet his eyes this time. He's pretending as though nothing is happening, laughing at something Hayes just said.
"It was the biggest dog I've ever seen in my life!" Harris says. "And he started running toward Chiron, full speed."
Ilya raises his eyebrows, nodding along to the story. He's actually quite invested—he's always up for talking about dogs.
Shane's foot moves further up and starts slowly, teasingly rubbing against Ilya's thigh. Ilya's cock twitches in his pants in response.
"I really thought he was gonna attack Chiron, but then he just stopped right in front of him and rolled over on the ground," Harris chuckles. Ilya responds with an amused hum, finding it difficult to focus on the conversation now. He moves his hand to his pocket and discreetly fishes out his phone, quickly unlocking it and opening his text conversation with Shane.
Ilya:
What are you doing?
Ilya looks over at Shane as he sends the text. He keeps the phone in his hand underneath the table. Shane's foot keeps rubbing against his inner thigh and Ilya is slowly but surely getting hard.
Ilya sees Shane take out his phone and smile when he sees the message.
Shane:
I'm not doing anything.
His foot inches closer to Ilya's crotch. Ilya gives Shane a stern look, a muscle in his jaw twitching.
He could stop Shane. He could simply grab hold of his foot and push it away, but he doesn't do that. Because secretly, he doesn't want to do that. And Shane knows that.
Ilya is now fully hard, the thrill of Shane doing this to him in public—at dinner with their colleagues and friends—is almost too much.
Shane keeps his eyes locked on Ilya, his eyes almost black with lust, as his foot grazes Ilya's crotch and then gently but firmly presses against him. Ilya has to suppress a groan and quickly looks away from Shane.
Little fucker.
---
Shane's heart is pounding, he can feel his heartbeat in his throat. If anyone looked underneath the table they'd see Shane basically giving Ilya a foot job right now. The thought is absolutely thrilling and has Shane also hardening in his underwear.
Shane keeps massaging Ilya's cock through his clothes with his shoe. Seeing the effect he has on him—the way Ilya's knuckles go white with how hard he's gripping his glass and the way he's shifting in his seat—makes Shane feel powerful. He opens his phone again to type out another text.
Shane:
I can feel how hard you are.
Ilya looks angry, which is turning Shane on even more. Usually the roles are reversed, Ilya being the one to tease and taunt Shane. But now and again Shane will slip into a particular bratty mood with his intent set on riling Ilya up until he snaps. The alcohol is probably helping him loosen up, making him more bold and daring than usual.
Ilya:
You are being bad.
Yes, Shane is being bad. He bites down on his bottom lip in an attempt to hide his smile as he types out his reply.
Shane:
What are you gonna do about it?
Shane presses his foot against Ilya's hard cock even harder, wanting to push the limits. His own dick gives an interested twitch as their eyes meet again and Shane notices how dark Ilya's eyes have become.
Fuck.
Before Ilya can respond, they're interrupted by Boodram. "Okay, what the hell is going on here?" He's looking back and forth between the two of them. He seems to have been watching them for a little while. "Are you texting each other?"
Both Shane and Ilya immediately put their phones away, and Shane slowly removes his foot from Ilya's crotch, letting it drop down to the floor while making sure his upper body stays perfectly still as to not reveal anything about what he's doing. Hayes also seems to have picked up on Shane and Ilya's odd behaviour now, and is looking at them with an amused expression.
"Just domestic stuff, about Anya, you know?" Ilya says with a nonchalant shrug. "Is boring, we didn't want to bother the whole team with it."
"You're so full of shit, Cap," Hayes laughs. "You look like you want to eat Hollzy up right now. Or punch him."
Luckily, the guys don't press them any further and they all go back to focusing on dinner.
Or Shane at least tries to.
He thinks he's doing alright. He eats his food, drinks his beer and engages in conversation with his teammates, Harris and coach Wiebe. But the whole time he stays painfully hard and keeps sneaking glances at Ilya.
An hour passes and at this point the guys have finished their main courses and moved on to dessert or more drinks. Shane is on his third beer, meaning he isn't drunk, but definitely a bit tipsy. He isn't a big drinker at all, but the season hasn't started yet and it's a Friday night—he can treat himself to a few beers.
And so, even more emboldened by the alcohol and the pent up sexual frustration, he gets his phone out of his pocket once again. He tries to be more discreet, really not wanting anyone to see his screen this time. Because this time he sends Ilya a photo. It's a picture he took this morning in the shower right after Ilya had left for his meeting. In the photo, which is taken from a slightly up-tilted angle, Shane is naked on his knees on the shower floor with his legs spread apart. His backside is facing the phone camera, showing two slicked up fingers pushing into himself. His back is slightly arched as he looks back over his shoulder at the camera with a mischievous expression.
Shane's heart skips a beat as he hits 'send'.
---
Ilya feels his phone buzz in his pocket. He glances over at Shane briefly but Shane is not looking at him, engaged in conversation with Bood this time. Keeping his phone hidden under the table Ilya opens the message. As soon as he sees the picture he flips his phone over, almost fucking dropping it. His cock throbs in his pants. He quickly tries to regain composure and looks around at his neighbours, hoping no one noticed his startled reaction or, for the love of God, saw the picture.
Ilya's eyes meet Shane's and yeah, he definitely noticed. The fucker looks so fucking smug. Ilya decides then that he's had enough.
Ilya:
Fuck.
Fucking slut.
Come to the bathroom in 5 minutes.
With that, Ilya shoves his phone back into his pocket and discreetly tries to adjust his boner before excusing himself and getting up to head to the bathroom.
---
Shane sees Ilya's response and watches him leave the table while he feels his cock pulsating with his heartbeat. He's so turned on he feels dizzy.
Shane doesn't know how long he waits. It simultaneously feels like five seconds and five hours. Not being able to contain himself anymore, he mumbles "Gotta go to the bathroom too..." to no one in particular and stands up on unsteady feet. He doesn't notice the knowing glances being exchanged between the guys sitting closest to him and Ilya as he leaves the table.
Luckily there's no line to the bathrooms so Shane doesn't even think before knocking on the door to the men's room. Before he knows it he's being dragged inside by Ilya, who shuts the door again, locks it and shoves Shane against it aggressively.
Shane immediately leans forward in an attempt to catch Ilya's lips but is shoved back against the door as a frustrated whine escapes him.
"Ah, no," Ilya tuts and shakes his head. His left forearm is positioned across Shane's chest, holding him firmly against the door, while his right hand is splayed on the door right beside Shane's head, caging him in. "It seems like you're forgetting who's in charge here."
Shane's knees threaten to buckle beneath him at the sound of his husband's tone and the way he's manhandling him. But he feels the need to bite back, he can't just give in. Not yet.
"Yeah? And what, that's you?" Shane taunts, grinning cockily at the other man. "What, are you gonna punish me?"
Ilya's left hand grabs hold of Shane's jaw, forcing him to tilt his head up slightly. He leans in close until there's only a few inches of space between their faces and bores his eyes into Shane's. Shane feels his hot breath fanning over his lips.
"I know that's exactly what you want, malysh," Ilya's voice has gone low and husky. "You are bad slut on purpose so I will punish you, yes?"
Shane doesn't really know what to respond, because yeah, that's exactly it. Instead he bucks his hips forward and gasps softly as he feels the pressure from Ilya's clothed hard cock against his own. It's the first bit of relief he's gotten since being hard for the better part of an hour now.
Ilya pushes Shane's hips back against the door with a firm grip. "You are stupid? So fucking gone you can't answer me?" He growls, tightening his grip on Shane's jaw.
Shane is almost a bit taken aback. Ilya's never called him stupid before, but Jesus Christ he likes it so fucking much.
He looks at Ilya with wide brown eyes. "N-no," is all he manages to get out.
"Get on your knees."
God, the way Ilya says that—in that commanding tone and stupidly sexy accent. Shane drops to the floor immediately, his knees aching from the impact. His brain doesn't really register the pain however, his body being numb to it with how turned on he is.
He looks up at Ilya again with those big doe eyes and reaches up to grab hold of his thighs—to steady himself, yes, but also because he simply feels the need to touch him. Those thick, muscly thighs that make Shane's hands look fucking small.
Ilya undoes the button and the zipper of his pants and pulls them down his thighs slightly. His cock is tenting in his boxer briefs and Shane leans forward to nuzzle it and breathe in the scent of him. He places open-mouthed kisses to the side of Ilya's cock through his underwear, darkening the fabric with saliva. Ilya's cock twitches in response and he finally pulls his underwear down to let his cock spring free.
A thrill shoots through Shane's body at the sight of Ilya's hard cock in front of him. Shane's been waiting for this all night. No, several days, actually.
Locking eyes with Ilya, he leans forward and gives the tip of his cock a small, teasing lick.
---
"Fucking tease," Ilya mutters, grabbing a fistful of Shane's silky black hair and forcing his head to tilt back slightly.
Shane whimpers in response.
With his other hand Ilya grabs his cock and lets the tip glide across Shane's bottom lip, smearing precum across it. Shane's tongue darts out to taste it as Ilya slaps his face with his cock. It's not a hard slap, but it still makes a lewd sound that reverberates off the bathroom tile and Shane moans in surprise.
God, Shane looks so fucking beautiful like this. His face is flushed, making the freckles that Ilya loves stand out even more. And his eyes—his big, deep, chocolate brown eyes—looking up at Ilya with faux innocence. Ilya will never get over the fact that this is his. Despite being filled with wonder and adoration as he looks down at Shane, Ilya doesn't slip out of his dominant role, still wanting to put Shane in his place.
"You will be a good slut and suck my cock properly now, yes?" Ilya yanks Shane's hair lightly again for emphasis.
"Yes," Shane whispers and nods.
Shane's lips part further and Ilya feeds the head of his cock past those plump pink lips while the hand in Shane's hair keeps him firmly in place.
Ilya lets out a breath and lets his head fall back as the tight wet heat of Shane's mouth finally envelopes him. "Bozhe moy," He breathes out as he looks down at Shane again.
He loosens the grip in Shane's hair slightly to let him move at his own pace. Shane begins bobbing his head slowly, taking a little more of Ilya's cock in his mouth each time he moves down. After years of practice, Shane can deepthroat Ilya despite his big size, he just needs to work up to it.
Shane continues bobbing his head, swirling his tongue around the head and shaft and gradually moving a bit faster. He's whimpering and moaning around Ilya's cock like he's getting off on this just as much as Ilya is. His hand trails down to his own crotch and he starts palming himself through his pants, so hard it's painful.
It takes a few seconds before Ilya notices what Shane's doing, but when he does he abruptly pulls him off of his cock by his hair, glaring down at the man on his knees. Ilya's hard cock glistens with spit as it bobs in front of Shane's face.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Ilya spits out. "You don't get to touch yourself, shlyukha."
Shane looks up at Ilya with challenge in his eyes, a slight smirk playing on his lips, but he slowly removes his hand from his crotch and places it back on Ilya's thigh. Ah, the brattiness isn't completely gone, then.
"I tell you when to touch yourself and when to come," Ilya says sternly. "Da?"
"Da," Shane replies, voice slightly hoarse.
Ilya tightens the grip in Shane's hair and puts his cock back into his mouth. His hips move forward, chasing the wet heat, causing Shane to gag briefly. Ilya lets him pull off to catch his breath for a moment before pushing back inside. "I know you can take it," He murmurs. Shane hums around his cock in response, which is all the confirmation Ilya needs before he starts thrusting into Shane's mouth. Shane knows to tap Ilya's thigh twice if he needs him to stop.
Shane doesn't want him to stop. He lets Ilya thrust into his eager mouth, unable to stop the moans and whimpers from spilling out of him.
"Shhh, malysh. People could hear," Ilya grunts, but he's also finding it difficult to stay quiet. Looking at Shane is making it even more difficult. He should close his eyes, but he just can't bring himself to do it. Shane is fucking mesmerizing. Ilya simply can't stop watching his cock move in and out of Shane's mouth, stretching his lips and causing spit to dribble down his chin. And Shane's eyes—his irises almost black with how dilated his pupils are—glazed over and starting to glisten with tears pooling at his lower lash line. Ilya is not going to last very long.
Shane's eyes are begging Ilya for permission to touch himself, but Ilya ignores him. He keeps fucking Shane's mouth, using him as a toy for his own pleasure. The bathroom fills with the wet sound of Ilya's cock sliding in and out of Shane's mouth, Shane's desperate muffled whimpers and Ilya's breaths and quiet grunts.
Shane's mouth feels incredible. "Ahh-, so fucking good, Shane," Ilya breathes out and lets his eyes fall shut. He's starting to feel that familiar heat coiling in the pit of his stomach—building up at a quick pace now. His hips start to stutter, thrusts becoming quicker.
After a few more rough thrusts Ilya pulls out and Shane whines quietly in disappointment before he catches on to what Ilya's about to do.
Ilya opens his eyes, keeps one hand in Shane's soft hair and starts stroking himself at a quick pace with the other. "Oh fuck," He huffs as his eyes find Shane's.
Shane is clearly very turned on by the idea of Ilya coming on his face. "Please," He begs quietly before parting his lips and closing his eyes, breathing heavily.
That does it for Ilya. It spills over and a wave of pleasure overtakes his body. His eyes threaten to fall shut, the sensation overwhelming, but he forces himself to keep his eyes open and focused on Shane as thick ropes of cum shoot from the tip of his cock onto Shane's perfect complexion. Ilya's hand keeps moving over his cock, pumping himself through his orgasm, panting and groaning softly. "F-...Shit, f-fuck." The milky white streaks land on Shane's flushed, freckled cheek and swollen lips, a droplet getting caught on his eyelashes.
Ilya's hand stills once his orgasm dissipates. He stands there, panting, and admires Shane on his knees, face now covered in Ilya's cum. He will never get tired of seeing Shane like this. "So fucking pretty," He murmurs.
---
Shane swallows the drops of cum that landed on his tongue, relishing in the salty taste. He feels the grip in his hair loosen and then a gentle stroke through his hair, grounding him. He's still breathing heavily, heart pounding in his chest.
Shane blinks his eyes open and looks up at Ilya. "Thank you," He breathes. He's thanking Ilya for the compliment, yes, but mostly for coming on his face.
Ilya chuckles, petting Shane's head again. "You're welcome, kotik."
"Can I come now?" Shane asks. He's so fucking hard—he's sure he could start grinding against his hand and he'd bust in his pants right away. He's just about to reach down when—
"No."
Ilya lets go of Shane's hair, tucking his now soft cock back into his underwear.
Shane blinks a few times. "W-what?" He looks up at Ilya with furrowed eyebrows.
Ilya shakes his head. "No," He repeats. "You wanted punishment, yes? This is your punishment," He says casually as he pulls up his pants, zipping them up and doing the button.
No no no. Fuck. Shane thinks he might cry. He is so hard, so turned on.
"You think sucking my cock was punishment?" Ilya chuckles. He grabs a few tissues and hands them to Shane, for wiping his face.
"No," Shane mumbles, taking the tissues and standing up on wobbly legs. "But what, you're not gonna let me come at all?" He walks over to the mirror to clean himself up, blushing a deeper shade of pink when he sees his reflection. Jesus, he looks absolutely fucked out—cheeks flushed, lips red and swollen, eyes glassy, hair an absolute mess and to top it all off, sticky white cum splattered across his face.
Ilya walks over to him, standing behind him with his hands placed on Shane's hips. His chin comes to rest on Shane's shoulder as Shane starts wiping his face. Their eyes meet in the mirror. "No. We will go back to the table and finish boring team dinner," Ilya murmurs in a low voice, pressing a soft kiss right under Shane's ear. "And then, when we get home and you have been waiting all night, I will maybe, maybe, do more than just let you come."
Shane's breath hitches and he turns around to face Ilya. "You promise?" He asks softly, eyes big and glossy.
Ilya smiles at him. "Yes, if you're good," He says and and gives Shane's swollen lips a soft kiss.
They both get cleaned up and straighten out their disheveled clothes and hair, not wanting to look like they just fucked in the bathroom even though that's what everyone is going to suspect anyway.
Ilya sneaks out of the bathroom before Shane, who has to will his erection to go down before returning to the table.
Okay, he can do this. He can go back out there and be normal. He will not think about what he and Ilya just did in the bathroom or what they're going to do once they get home.
Shane checks his hair in the mirror again, takes a deep breath and steps out of the bathroom.