Archive of Our Own

Parties are Ilya’s favorite thing about college.

He’s completely confident in himself. He knows that eyes follow him in any room he walks into. He doesn’t have to work that hard to receive attention. A lot of his friends talk about dating apps and how convenient it is for finding hook ups.

What’s more convenient than walking into the local library and departing with four numbers?

He has the luxury of being selective. With so many people at his disposal – men and women – he didn’t just pick anyone up.

But being selective doesn’t mean these affairs were ever anything more than a hook up. They were one-night acquaintances that had no reason to go further than that. They were fun of course, Ilya’s a menace in the sheets and loves to be in control, but he never felt inclined to shop at the same store twice.

Sex is a release. It’s fun. He’s good at it – great at it. Ilya can blow off the steam from his fathers constant nagging and expectations. The constant calls making sure he’s the perfect son. Check ins to make sure he will be able to take over the Rozanov business.

Ilya would’ve loved to stick with sports. He played a couple in high school – hockey, lacrosse – but his father never allowed too much of his spare time to be inhabited by things other than his fathers work.

His older brother Alexei should’ve been the one doing all this, but – for a lack of better words – he fucking sucks. And because of that, he gets the free pass while Ilya is expected to the ideal progeny.

So, any of his time not dealing with that shit was put towards getting fucked up and fucking.

As a senior, he can confidently say that frat guys are the worst breed of men.

Don’t get him wrong, Ilya can totally see why that might seem rich coming from him.

Ilya’s cocky, he goes through lovers like underwear, he can be kind of a shit, but he genuinely doesn’t have bad blood with anyone – well, anyone who doesn’t deserve it. He’s charismatic and even if he tells a girl he has no interest in seeing them again, they still leave blushing and running to their girlfriends talking about what a beast he is.

These frat guys though? God. They’re the fucking worst. He’s not one to generalize, he hates to be locked into a stereotype, but in his years at college, the only fights he’s gotten into were with frat guys. Guys who are just the scum of the earth.

But, he cant deny they throw some crazy parties.

Surprisingly, it wasn’t Ilya who supplied the idea to come out tonight, it was his friends Troy and Cliff.

Cliff plays for the football team and is actually friends with some of the idiots that live at this fraternity. While they’re still not Ilya’s favorite, he can tolerate Cliffs friends if it means a fun night out.

It’s Hallow-weekend and Troy had to basically force Ilya into a costume. Ilya was really planning on not dressing up, but the argument that they wouldn’t be let in finally had him stopping at PartyCity for an easy outfit. He’s in a basic, mass‑produced gladiator costume – one of hundreds around the world most likely in circulation tonight. Although, he’s pretty sure no one else is wearing it the way he is.

Ilya and Troy lost Cliff thirty minutes ago when he was put in a trance by some girl wearing micro shorts. One nod and Cliff dematerialized before their eyes.

They’re now in a circle of some people – Troy would say friends; Ilya’s not that willing – taking a round of shots.

Disgusted faces warp around him. Ilya enjoys the burn. The vodka isn’t great, but it gets the job done.

The group becomes consumed by conversation Ilya isn’t really interested in. His eyes sweep around the crowded house. A lot of people are here, Ilya assumes there’s not one inch of this place that isn’t occupied by a body.

Beer pong takes priority over the dining room table, the kitchen looks like a fully stocked bar, Blow The Whistle by Too Short booms through the house so loud Ilya can feel it vibrate in his chest.

His eyes fall on jet black hair and a spandex material that hugs the body of a lean but muscular man. Ilya recognizes the costume immediately. He was quite the comic book reader when he was younger so the specific eye mask and blue detail over black that tightly wraps around the man’s cut figure is clearly supposed to be Nightwing.

The man is standing by the staircase in a small group of people, casually leaning against the wall with a sort of subtle confidence that makes Ilya’s whole being zone in on the one body in a sea of many.

Something in Ilya jolts awake. He feels like a predator stalking prey, living for the hunt.

“Hey,” Ilya hits Troys arm to get his attention. He points in the direction of the stairs. “Who is that?”

“Oh, that’s Shane,” Troy says as if Ilya should already know that. “Shane Hollander? He’s on the hockey team. He’s really good. He’s a sophomore. People really think he’s going somewhere with it. Probably helps that everyone obsessed with him. Girls still give it a shot even though they know he’s gay. You’ve seriously never heard of him around campus?”

Ilya shakes his head. The name doesn’t ring a bell, but Ilya likes the way it sounds. He knows it’ll sound better rolling off his tongue.

“You’ve never seen him?”

“Um, no. I think I’d remember that,” Ilya says because yeah, how the hell would he forget seeing that. He can’t fully see his face, even without the mask there is still a bit of distance between them, but that body speaks for itself. There’s no way Ilya would forget something like that.

He wants him.

He wants to hear what sounds he can pull from him.

He wants to know what it’ll take to get him to come home with Ilya.

Troy must recognize the lustful look on his face, “Don’t even think about it Roz.” 

“Why,” he asks innocently. “I don’t see a boyfriend.”

Surely if there’s a boyfriend, he wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave this sexy, mouth-watering man all by his lonesome at such a packed party.

“It’s Chris,” Troy supplies. “Well, it was Chris. They just broke up but they always get back together.”

Yuck. Chris is the biggest asshole Ilyas ever met. He’s one of those guys who thinks he’s so much better than everyone else. Ilya and Chris got in a fight once a few months ago. Ilya won. Not shocking.

Chris is a fray guy if that explains anything about Ilya’s disgust.

Ilya’s not worried about him getting in his way. 

“Chris? God, what a douchebag,” Ilya rolls his eyes. “How the fuck did an asshole like Chris get that,” he gestures towards Shane.  

He intently watches Shane laugh with his friends. Ilya smirks to himself watching Shane wave them off, walking alone to the drink station in the kitchen.

“I'm gonna go talk to him,” Ilya quickly says as he steps to walk the same way.

Troy grabs his arm, stopping him in his tracks.  

“Ilya,” seriousness taking over his tone. “Don’t. Chris will kill you. There’s no way he’s not here tonight,” Troy says as he anxiously looks around the room.

When Ilya looks back over to the kitchen, Troys hand still around his wrist, Shane’s head turns, making the smallest bit of eye contact - small but still electric - before Shane’s retracting his gaze. 

“He can try.” 

Ilya pulls his arm free from his friend’s hold hearing a quick “Oh, fuck” fall from Troys lips as Ilya saunters over to the kitchen.

Shane’s backs to him, he’s putting down can of ginger ale while pouring some vodka into his red solo cup.

Ilya stalks behind him, allowing himself to fully appreciate the juicy ass in front of him. Ilya has the urge to slap it. As he gets closer, he is hit with the sweet smell of Shane and the heat that radiates off his body. Ilya can see small beads of sweat gathering on the back of his neck from the warmth of the overcrowded house. Ilya wants to lick it. He wants to taste it.

“You really shouldn’t be standing here all alone,” Ilya says in a deep voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Shane turns his body to face Ilya. He’s even hotter up close. “And why’s that?”

“A big, bad man might come and try to scoop you away.”

Shane smiles – fuck, that smile – and Ilya doesn’t miss the small blush that starts to spread.

He’s as tall as Ilya, maybe even an inch taller. If the costume looked exquisite from across the room, it now looks fucking stunning. Ilya assumes a lot of people who wear superhero costumes wear those fake, exaggerated muscle suits under to look the part.

Shane doesn’t need that.

He’s a fucking vision.

The spandex he’s covered in sucks against his skin, following the grooves of each and every defined muscle. He’s not as beefy as Ilya, but he’s strong. Ilya can tell. He can see it from the way his prominent biceps bulge and the way his abdominal muscles are visible through the fabric covering them.

Even with the eye mask covering most of his face, Ilya can see some freckles peeking out. Ilya’s hand twitches at his side with want, aching to reach up and rip that mask off, allowing himself to fully take the beautiful man in front of him in.

He’s the hottest man Ilya’s ever seen. He’s the hottest person Ilya’s ever seen.

Heat coils deep and low in him. Something primal taking over when Shane flutters those thick lashes at him, smirking as his sweet voice pulls Ilya from his reverie.

“Mmm,” he hums through curved lips. “You mean like a big, bad gladiator?”

Shane’s confident. Ilya can tell by the way he talks. By the way he uses those doe eyes strategically. He knows he’s gorgeous. Ilya’s sure he must hear it all the time. Troy did say people were obsessed with him.  

Ilya leans forward and purrs against his ear, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Ilya smirks as he pulls back, his words and proximity clearly having an impact on Shane. His cheeks grow redder, as he ducks his head. Ilya internally preens at making a confident man flustered enough to look away bashfully.

He’s already gloating as if anything major has happened. Nothing has happened. Not really. If it feels like this now, he cant even begin to imagine what having Shane the way he wants will do.

Will he survive that?

Those deep brown eyes find his again, “I’m Shane.”

“I know,” Ilya looks at him hungrily. “You wanna dance, Shane?”

“Wait,” a knot forming between Shane’s brows. “I don’t get to know your name?”

“Mm not yet. You have to earn it first, pretty boy.”

Shane smiles, then grabs Ilya’s arm, pulling him to the living room turned dance floor, accepting the challenge.

Shane leads them forward, looking back at him while with a sultry smile, “You think you can keep up gladiator?”

“Try me,” Ilya licks his lips in anticipation as they weave through people.

When Shane stops in the middle of the floor, he yanks Ilya’s arm forward and slings it over his shoulder, pulling him so his chest presses firmly against Shane’s back. Shane’s ass fits perfectly in the curve of Ilya’s crotch, his already hardening cock – which would otherwise be tenting in the loose fabric of his cheap gladiator skirt – rests between the crease of Shane’s cheeks. The material covering him so tightly Ilya’s erection is already keening from the friction.

Body by Don Toliver reverberates through the house.

Shane brings both of Ilya’s hands to rest on his hips. His hips that start swaying to the music, rotating in a movement that rubs side to side on Ilya’s crotch while also circling up and down, trapping Ilya’s erection which is getting increasingly harder. His fingers dig into Shane’s hip bones.

“God, look at you” Ilya whispers into Shane's ear. “You’re so fucking hot.” He gives Shane’s ear the briefest nibble. “I could make you feel so good.”

Shane's head turns to the side slightly so Ilya can hear him over the music. 

“You’re cocky, aren’t you?” he asks in a flirtatious way that makes Ilya’s insides flare.

“It’s not being cocky if I can back it up,” he moves a hand to grip Shane’s face to keep him looking at Ilya. “And I can back it up.”

Shane scoops his hips back with a small sway from side to side rubbing his plush ass against Ilya’s erection that’s at full mass now. Ilya exhales deeply out of his nose, sexual frustration building with the friction that grows tighter and rougher.

“I can feel that.” Shane says with a smirk, turning his head to face forward again.

“You like what you feel Hollander?” Ilya says against the shell of Shane’s ear. 

One hand snakes up Shane’s waist while the other sticks to the front of his pelvis, resting just inches away from where the fabric over Shane’s crotch grows tighter with each whisper and sway.

Ilya can only imagine what the stretchy material looks like from the front.

One of Shane’s hands rest on Ilya’s forearm that’s snaked around his waist. The other reaches behind him to grab onto the nape of Ilya’s neck.

They grind with a starved rhythm that has Ilya certain he’s leaking like a faucet. He can feel it. He wonders if Shane can too.

Both of Ilya’s hands find their previous place on Shane’s hips again, manipulating his movements and taking control. He drags his clothed cock hard up the crease of Shane’s ass. Ilya smiles in victory as Shane’s head falls back onto his shoulder, a small, barely audible moan escaping from his lips.

Ilya takes the opportunity presented to him and latches his lips onto the side column of Shane’s throat. Shane mindlessly rubs himself against Ilya’s crotch as Ilya sucks on the sensitive spot behind Shane’s ear before moving on to torture Shane’s earlobe.

Shane moans while Ilya’s hands rub from his hips to the front of his thighs, to the side of his pelvis. He continues that motion while Shane syncs his hips to the same circular motion.

“You feel so fucking good,” Shane breathes out.

Ilya growls and twists Shane's body around as the track turns to Ghostface Killers by 21 Savage.

Due to their equal heights, when Shane’s front is pressed against Ilya’s, their aroused cocks press together, making Ilya hiss.

Shane’s arms come to wrap around Ilya’s neck. Ilya’s hands find their way down to Shane’s ass, scooping where his thighs and cheeks meet. His ass feels even more perfect than it looks. Ilya’s not sure how that’s even possible when it looks like it should be carved into stone and put in a museum.

Facing each other, their eyes blaze, racking up and down each other’s forms. After the meticulous study, their eyes meet. Brown eyes usually don’t get a lot of love, but the pair in front of Ilya right now deserve to be in the hall of fame. Ilya could probably get off just looking into them.

Ilya’s a sexual being, that much should be clear by now. But he doesn’t yearn. He doesn’t work like this when he craves sex. He doesn’t need to. Not that he really thinks he needs to with Shane – the man is practically melting against him. But he wants to. He wants to so bad. Watching Shane get worked up and watching Shane get him worked up only makes Ilya hungrier for him.

Shane’s bottom lip looks raw from the way his teeth bury into the soft flesh. Ilya has to know what they feel like. He brings his hand up, rests it on Shane’s jaw then brushes his thumb across the wet skin. Shane’s eyes glow with arousal.

“Can I kiss you,” Ilya asks because even if he can feel how turned on Shane is, he would never assume. He already let himself slip when he was suckling on Shane’s neck.

What can he say? He’s never felt so weak.

That smile creeps up on Shane’s lips again, “If you don’t, I think I might die.”

With that, Ilya himself smiles the giddiest smile he’s probably ever felt on his face.

He licks his lips, leaning forward, savoring every second of Shane’s waiting face until both their eyes flutter shut.

The first contact is soft. Their lips slide against each other smoothly and even with all his experience – which is a lot – Ilya knows he’s fucked.

Before he knows it, the hands around his neck are now insistently grabbing onto him like if they don’t, he might fall to his doom. One of Shane’s hands grip at his nape, nails digging into the skin there. The other hand weaves into Ilya’s curls, grasping at his hair so hard it zings the root.

Shane’s mouth is hot and demanding against Ilya’s. Their lips collide in a bruising manner, Shane parting his lips almost immediately. Ilya gladly thanks him for the access when he flicks his tongue against Shane’s, licking into his mouth with purpose. Shane tastes so good. He has vodka on his tongue with a sweet hint of ginger ale. And behind that he tastes so clean and almost minty. It’s a mixture that has Ilya already getting jealous at the thought of anyone else ever tasting it.

Their mouths vibrate with the moans they rally back and forth. Their boners aggressively rub together, and honestly, Ilya doesn’t give a fuck about anyone around them right now.

That is until he feels a heavy hand gripping his shoulder, tearing his body from Shane's and launching him stumbling backwards.

“What the fuck?”

“Chris?” Shane says.

Of course.

Troy did say Chris was definitely here, but Ilya didn’t really care. He doesn’t care.

“Ilya fucking Rozanov,” Chris spits, not even looking at Shane and instead planting himself between them.

“Oh my god,” Shane says, looking around Chris. “You’re Ilya Rozanov?”

Shane must’ve heard the name from Chris all those months ago when they got into that fight. It’s really the only way Ilya can fathom how Shane would’ve heard his name before tonight.

Even through the confrontation, the sound of his own name coming from Shane’s lips makes his dick twitch.

Chris turns to Shane now, anger dripping off him. The crowd that was dancing a minute ago is now watching the scene like this is their own version of a colosseum fight.

“And you,” he spits at Shane. “You’re really so easy aren’t yo-”

He’s not even able to finish before Ilya is grabbing his arm and yanking him back around to face him.

“Why don’t you shut up asshole?”

Chris scoffs, “Why don’t you leave my boyfriend the fuck alone you prick.”

“Hm,” Ilya hums while sarcastically looking upwards then looking back to him. “From what I heard, you mean ex-boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” Chris says and turns back to Shane, personality morphing like a flip of a coin. “Shane, let’s get out of here. We can go talk. Whatever you want, baby.”

He goes to grab Shane’s arm, but Shane rips it away. Ilya laughs to himself.

“I don’t think so asshole. I was serious this time. I’m done with your fucking shit.”

“Shane,” Chris says in a twisted voice. “You really think anyone else will be able to stand you? Come on babe, you’re so fucking needy and insecure.”

Fire rages in Ilya. He can see Shane is about to respond and he can surely tell Shane doesn’t really need any back up. Still, Ilya taps Chris’s shoulder and when he turns, Ilya’s right fist makes contact with his jaw, making him fall on his back gripping onto the already bruising area.

“What the fuck Rozanov?” Chirs screeches from the floor where no one aids him.

Ilya’s arm loops around Shane’s back, hand grabbing onto his waist.

“You wanna get out of here?” Ilya asks Shane.

Shane looks to him, then down where Chris lays. He smiles and looks back to Ilya. “Yeah. Yes. Let’s get outta here.”

Ilya smiles victorious.

He orders an uber then leads Shane through the house with a hand to his lower back. When they get closer to the door, Ilya catches Troys gaze in the middle of a conversation. Troy just looks at him with a grin while shaking his head incredulously.

Ilya winks at him then quickly finds Cliff to let him know to either find someone to go home with tonight or crash at Troy’s.

The night air is cool. Ilya is burning. The anticipation of getting Shane to his apartment makes Ilya feel like a ticking time bomb.

He opens the door for Shane, then walks around to the opposite side to slide into the car. When he settles in the seat, Shane scoots to the middle seat and buckles himself in. Like it isn’t the first time he’s ever done it, Ilya’s hand finds a comfortable spot on Shane’s warm thigh, squeezing the muscle there softly.

The drive isn’t long, eleven minutes tops.

Ilya looks out the window at the passing lights trying to calm down the arousal that boils in him. He usually can hold out for a while during sex, he really is quite the freak in the sheets. A stallion if you will. But the torturous friction and preamble on the dance floor has left Ilya feeling needy. He doesn’t get needy.

His efforts are diminished when he feels wetness lick up the shell of his ear before sucking his lobe into a warm and wet cavern.

He turns his head around, finding lips waiting for him.

Theres nothing soft about this kiss.

The second their lips touch, Ilya has half a mind to just devour the man in front of him. Part of him doesn’t even care they’re in an uber right now. It takes everything in him to not let his hand move its way up Shane's thigh and grip the clearly visible bulge there. But he doesn’t want to hold back. He wants Shane in the comfort of his apartment. The apartment that shuts the world out and lets him put every ounce of focus into this godly body that’s his for the night.

They make out heavily the whole way. Shane is practically mounting Ilya, pushing onto him so hard Ilya thinks his head might crack the glass of the window.

When they finally get to his building, Ilya practically drags Shane to the elevators. He wishes he could just whoosh them into his bedroom.

When the elevator doors close, Ilya leans against the wall and just looks at Shane. Fuck. How is he this lucky? How is this beautiful man really going to let Ilya drown in him tonight. He wasn’t sure how far Shane was going to let him go, although selfishly Ilya’s dying to be inside him.

Shane catches him staring. Ilya can see the blush flourishing beyond the mask again. Ilya isn’t sure why Shane blushes so easily. He knows that Shane knows he’s hot. Shouldn’t he be used to this kind of attention?

They finally stumble their way into Ilya’s apartment, and Ilya is crowding Shane against the wall before the lock even fully turns over. When Shane extends his neck to meet Ilya’s lips, Ilya slightly pulls back, a small pout on Shane’s face.

“Ilya,” Shane whines.

And fuckkkkkk.

Shane really is going to kill him. The sound of Shane saying his name genuinely makes Ilya have to twist his legs subtly to keep himself from shooting his load into his underwear.

“I want to see you,” Ilya says as he reaches for Shane’s eye mask.

Double fuck.

Yep. Ilya’s going to die. Tonight’s actually his last night on earth. The freckles he could partially see are now fully visible without the stupid mask that Ilya finds himself angry with. Shane’s full face is… well. Ilya isn’t sure there are words for the things he’s feeling.

“Fuck Shane,” he rumbles from low in his chest. “You’re so fucking beautiful.”

Seeing the complete blush makes Ilya’s chest tighten. Shane gives a shy smile before starting to duck his head. Before he can, Ilya uses two fingers to catch his chin, bringing his eyes back to Ilya’s.

“Hey. Don’t hide from me. I want you. All of you,” Shane’s eyes shine as he looks back at Ilya. “Okay?”

Shane bites his lip and nods.

That won’t do.

“No,” Ilya says flatly. “Give me words Hollander.”

“Okay, Ilya.”

Ilya’s dick has never been so interested in anything before.

He aches to feel Shane’s lips around his cock. Those pretty eyes looking up at him through half-hooded eyes that glisten with tears from the intrusion in his throat.

Ilya truly isn’t sure he’ll be able to last though. He wants to see how far Shane will go before settling for a blow job. Not that a blow job from those lush lips would be ‘settling’ per se. But Ilya wants to feel Shane’s flesh around him. He wants to bury himself as deep as Shane's body will allow. And he wants to hear it. Not muffled. Not dulled from the way his mouth is stuffed full.

“Follow me,” Ilya instructs as he walks Shane to his room.

When they get into Ilya’s room, he grabs Shane’s throat and pulls him forward. His tongue spears into Shane’s mouth, demanding access. Shane can do nothing but comply.

When he backs Shane up to the bed, he twists his body around, grabbing at the zipper on the back of Shane’s costume and yanking it down. The material is so tight, and mixed with the inevitable sweat from the party, it’s basically turned into a second skin. Ilya’s working at it for a second before Shane’s turning around.

“Just rip it.”

Gladly, Ilya thinks to himself.

With the permission, Ilya uses his strength to rip the fabric, peeling it away from Shane’s body. Ilya pulls his compression shorts down as well, leaving Shane completely naked in front of him.

“Turn around,” Ilya demands.

He’s mouthwatering.

It’s not like the costume left too much up to the imagination, but Ilya licks his lips at the sight of Shane. His dick profusely leaks precum on the ground. Ilya reaches a finger forward, scooping the sticky liquid and sucking it off his finger.

Shane is so sweet. The way he tastes. The way his dick twitched when Ilya reached for his tip. The way he gasped and squeezed his eyes shut when Ilya tasted him.

Shane pounces.

His arms suddenly wrap around Ilya. Mouth taking control, his tongue setting the rhythm in their needy mouths. Shane uses one hand to grip Ilya’s hair, tilting his head to the side so his teeth could latch onto the spot where Ilya’s shoulder and neck meet. Ilya groans from the feeling of Shane’s tongue lapping over the spot his canines most definitely left an imprint.

Shane’s hand moves down to Ilya’s front, fingers moving under his skirt and below his underwear. His hand wraps around Ilya’s girth the best it can. His hand easily glides up and down thanks to the amount of precum that has been leaking from Ilya the minute their hips connected on the dancefloor.

Ilya is still praying that Shane will let him fuck him. He’s never felt the need to be inside someone the way he feels it right now. He just isn’t sure how to bring it up. He knows Shane just got out of a relationship and he’s not sure how ready he is for a hook up to that caliber.

Ugh.

Ilya has never had an issue with the word hook up. That is how he’d describes one hundred percent of his encounters. But for some reason, as it relates to Shane Ilya finds himself-

“Are you gonna fuck me, Ilya?” Shane whispers in Ilya’s ear between nibbles to his lobe.

Oh fuck.

Ilya has to slip from Shane’s grasp and grip tightly around the base of his cock to keep himself from cumming just from Shane’s words and hot breath.

Ilya feels like his eyes have to be bloodshot. He is working so hard to get himself under control. He wants to plummet himself into Shane as soon as humanly possible. Although he isn’t sure what Shane likes. He wants to fuck Shane hard. He wants to fuck him so hard into the mattress that Shane can’t think about anything else expect the mark Ilya’s left inside him. The mark that leaves him wailing and begging for more.

“Shane,” Ilya says as steady as he can muster. “I wanted to fuck you the second I saw you standing by the stairs. Lay on the bed.”

Shane bites his lip, doing as instructed.

Ilya grabs his costume by the neckline, just about to pull it off when Shane’s voice stops him.

“Wait,” Shane blushes. “Keep it on.”

Ilya smirks, “You wanna get fucked by a gladiator, Hollander?”

Shane bites his already swollen lip and nods. 

“Yes, please.”

“Mm,” Ilya hums pleased as he pulls down his boxers. “Because you ask so nicely.”

Ilya crawls his way up the bed, finding his place between Shane’s spread legs. He settles down so his weight rests against Shane’s erection. Ilya lowers his face, capturing Shane in yet another passionate kiss.

Ilya is really not one for kissing. He does it, but it’s not like he spends much time seeking it out.

He thinks he might never get sick of kissing Shane.

Shane kisses like he’s starving for it. He kisses like the only source of oxygen is through Ilya’s mouth and Ilya can do nothing but give it to him. He wants to make Shane feel good. He wants to make Shane beg for more. He wants to ruin Shane.

He wants to make Shane his.

He reaches to his night stand, placing a small bottle of lube and a condom on the mattress for later.

He slips down Shane's body. Kissing and licking his way from Shane’s neck, down to his collarbone where Ilya sucks hard, leaving small purple patches across the skin.

When he takes one of Shane’s hard nipples in his mouth, he laps at it, sucking lightly before catching the bud in his teeth and tugging. Shane’s back arches off the bed which only spurs Ilya on further. Ilya gives equal attention to the other nub while his hand gently kneads at the pulsating nipple he left behind.

He leaves a wet trail of spit down Shane’s torso before sucking two more bruises into the skin on each side of Shane’s groin. He’s a hairsbreadth away from Shane’s cock.

“So pretty,” he breathes over the shaft making Shane’s cock bob with need.

“Ilya,” Shane moans.

Music to Ilya’s ears.

He licks a long punishing stripe up Shane’s harder than cement cock. Shane’s hands instantly find Ilya’s sandy curls, one falls to rest on the forearm that reaches up for his chest.

Ilya suckles the tip, pulling any last remnants from the weeping head. He can feel Shane’s thighs quivering, and the sounds he’s making tell Ilya he’s too close to the edge.

Ilya pulls back. He uses his hands to grip the underside of Shane’s knees before bending them up, hitching his knees so they almost touch Shane’s face. Ilya can see Shane’s head fall back in preparation, anticipating the upcoming pleasure before it even starts.

Ilya admires the tight, puckered hole in front of him. He wants to ruin it. He wants to make it loose and pliant under him, molding it to fit perfectly around Ilya’s cock. Make it always ready to accept him. He spits filthily at it.

Ilya can’t help himself. He lurches forward, hands still holding Shane’s legs open, and spears his tongue at the ring of muscle, circling the area that pulses.

“Wha-” Shane gasps, unable to complete the word. “Wha-what are you doing?”

Ilya slightly pokes up, “Eating this perfect ass,” he spits at Shane’s hole again. “You don’t like?”

“I-I’ve never… no one’s ever…”

No one has ever done this? How is that possible? How has no one ever worshipped this perfect hole? Ilya celebrates the thought of being the first one to take from Shane in this way.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Shane looks at him seriously, “Don’t you dare.”

Ilya practically snarls as he continues lapping at Shane’s hole until it’s pliant enough for his tongue to slip past the ring of muscle.

“Oh, oh God. Oh fuck!”

“Yeah,” Ilya says between nibbles at his rim. “You like that sweetheart?”

Ilya cringes at the pet name. He’s never called someone something like that. Honestly, he’s not sure he’s in control of his body right now.  

“Yes, Ilya. Oh fuck, yes,” Shane moans. “You’re so fucking good.”

Ilya replaces his tongue with a finger that he quickly lathers in lube. It easily slips in after the work done with his tongue. He adds a second, spreading them inside Shane. Scissoring his hole and pulling obscene sounds from Shane.

“Please,” Shane begs. “Please, Ilya.”

“Hm? Tell me what you want. I want to hear it, Shane.”

Ilya slides in a third finger, crooking them to press against the spot inside Shane that has his body jolting up.

“Fuck!” Shane yelps. “I need you in me. Now. Fuck me, please Ilya. Please fuck me.”

Ilya practically jumps back to rest on his knees. Shane whines at the loss. He holds his own legs open, lightly stretched hole on full view.

Ilya rolls the condom on. It takes him a second, he’s achingly hard and the lube on his hand makes it difficult.

When he’s ready, he lathers his cock up in way too much lube, then adds an extra squirt to Shane’s crack before using his hand to rub it in, tugging lightly at Shane’s rim.

Shane watches between them, eyes widening at the size of Ilya’s cock.

“Is okay,” he assures. “It’ll fit.”

Shane playfully rolls his eyes making Ilya feel even more fond of him.

He could get used to this.

He shuffles forward until he’s leaning over Shane again, lining his head up with Shane’s fluttering hole.

“You will tell me if you need to stop?”

“Yes,” Shane says on an exhale. “Just please.”

“Such a slut for this cock, hm?” Ilya teases with a smirk.

“I am,” Shane replies deadpan.

That’s all Ilya needs.

He rests one hand on the mattress by Shane’s head while the other feeds his pulsating cock into Shane’s hole. They both moan into the room as Ilya sinks down. He doesn’t make it all the way down before slightly pulling out and moving himself back in. Shane cries out, biting his lip to muffle the sound.

“Hey,” Ilya says, making Shane open his eyes and look to Ilya’s. “Don’t hold back. Let me hear those pretty noises. Yes?”

“Yes sir,” Shane says with a smirk, knowing exactly the way his words will land.

Ilya groans. His groin hits Shane’s ass as he pushes all the way in. He stays like that for a moment. He lets Shane adjust to the fullness, but more importantly he takes a few deep breaths trying to bring himself back down to earth.

His eyes are closed until he feels a hand reaching to touch his cheek, thumb brushing away the sweat that falls down his temple.

Ilya opens his eyes to see the most perfect image that he wishes he could frame and put right above his bed. Shane looks back at him with eyes that can only be described as having hearts in them.

“Move,” Shane says. “Fucking move, Ilya.”

So he does.

He starts with shallow thrusts to get them both used to the feeling. Shane is so tight it feels like he’s milking him.

“Fuck Shane. You’re so fucking tight,” he grits out. “Gonna make me cum already.”

Shane just moans in response. Too full to think properly.

Ilya starts picking up the pace. His balls slap against Shane’s ass roughly making a rhythmic clapping sound that is joined by both of their continuous moans that fill the room.

Shane’s hands find his backside, one gripping his ass while the other claws at his back. Shane’s head is thrown back, and Ilya moves his upper body down to kiss and suck at his jaw before engulfing his lips in a kiss that really is just their mouths pressing against each other while breathing heavily into each other.

“Harder,” Shane pants out between breaths. “You can fuck me harder.”

Ilya pulls back making Shane whine. The whine turns to a gasp when Ilya grabs his hips and easily flips him around so he’s on his hands on knees.

Ilya pushes into his hole again, feeling the warm heat accept him back. He stays buried to the hilt while he leans forward and kisses between Shane’s shoulder blades. He replaces the wet kiss with his hand while he pushes Shane’s upper body down so it’s resting against the comforter while his ass is lifted even further in the air.

“Okay?”

“Fuck,” Shane moans. “Don’t stop.”

Ilya unleashes the beast. The word ‘harder’ rings in his ears as he dives into Shane. His thrusts turn relentless. He’s savagely humping into Shane’s body, relishing in the lewd moans falling from Shane’s lips.

Shane’s rocking back into Ilya, meeting him halfway, making the slam of their bodies even rougher. Sweat drips from Ilya’s face onto Shane’s already sweat slicked back. Ilya bends forward and licks up his spine tasting the salty mixture of their bodies.

Ilya slaps a handprint on Shane’s ass before wrapping an arm around his waist and hauling him upwards, so his back is against Ilya’s chest. Ilya keeps jackhammering into Shane, his other arm moving so his hand can grip onto Shane’s throat. A loud moan rips out of Shane.

“Yeah?” Ilya says. “Am I better than your ex?”

“Who?” Shane responds with a chuckle.

Ilya just laughs and pounds harder with his hands now moving to Shane’s shoulders for better leverage.

Shane’s whole body starts convulsing around Ilya. His hole clenches and flutters, making Ilya bite the inside of his lip, using every bit of strength possible to keep himself steady. Shane’s moans don’t help. They become even louder and uncontrolled in a way that makes Ilya plow into him so hard he’s sure his hips will be bruised where Shane’s body collides with his own.

“Ilya, I- oh my God,” Shane moans. “I’m gonna cum!”

“Come Shane,” Ilya insists. “I want you to. Come for me.”

With the words from Ilya, Shane’s erupting. Hot, white liquid comes spurting from his bobbing cock, splattering on Ilya’s comforter like a Jackson Pollock painting.  

Shane’s hole clenches around Ilya while he comes, making it feel almost impossible to pull out. Regardless, Ilya continues to chase his almost there orgasm.

Shane’s hand sneaks behind his own ass, grabbing and tugging on Ilya’s balls. The sensation makes him growl a sound he’s never heard come from his own mouth before, and with that, he’s shooting his load into the condom, buried deep inside Shane.

He releases Shane, laying his limp body against the bed – in the small space his release isn’t – and letting his own heavy body fall on top.

They lay there for a bit, breaths heavy and in sync.

For the first time probably ever, Ilya doesn’t want to be alone.

He usually is ushering his hook ups out. One-night stands barely counting as ‘one night’ when he cuts it off before the night is even over.

He grimaces at the thought of Shane leaving.

He wills himself to get up, finally pulling from Shane’s warm heat. Shane lets out a subtle hiss.

Ilya goes to the bathroom, ties off the condom before tossing it in the trash. He cleans himself up with a wet cloth then grabs another to clean Shane up.

When he gets back into the room, Shane is starting to stand on shaky legs.

Ilya quickens his step, walking to him and grabbing for his arm. He wordlessly takes the rag and starts cleaning Shane up. Lube is everywhere, and Shane looks like an angel.

When Ilya finally finishes, he doesn’t think much before placing a kiss on Shane’s nose, each corner of his mouth, then one last chaste kiss to his lips.

Shane looks at him far too cutely for someone who just got absolutely railed.

“I should go,” Shane says softly.

“Yes,” Ilya says while wrapping his arms around Shane’s waist. “Or you could stay.”

Shane raises an eyebrow in question, but his arms find their place around Ilya’s neck.

“Stay?”

“Yes,” Ilya says seriously. “I would like to see how the sunrise looks on these freckles.”

Shane blushes. Ilya smiles.

Ilya isn’t sure he’ll want to. He isn’t sure if that’s something Shane would even be interested in after Ilya just ruthlessly took him to bed. Ilya wants him to though. He wants to feel Shane's body curled up against his while-

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Ilya doesn’t even try to hide his excitement. He pulls Shane into another kiss. They stay like that, just making out, not leading to anything more.

When they finally part, Shane’s smile is wide and real.

After stripping the soiled comforter and replacing it with a blanket from the living room, they cuddle up in the bed.

Shane’s body curls towards the wall while Ilya’s curls around his, holding Shane’s close to his chest.

Ilya doesn’t even think about the fact that he never does this.

Not the sex part obviously.

But this.

Holding someone he just fucked into oblivion, feeling their body give way to sleep. He doesn’t want to think about it. He doesn’t want to ruin this moment that he’s positive he’ll cherish forever.

What he does think about though is how badly he wants more nights like these.

He usually doesn’t do more than one night.

But with Shane, he already wants a second.