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Ilya clearly remembered the time he told Shane that he 'maybe' believed in God. How could he not? It was in Tampa, after the first time he'd cried in Shanes's arms. When they'd given each other half confessions and told secrets he'd previously had no intention on divulging.
It was also the first time he'd been comforted and soothed by Shane. The first time in a long time he'd felt such deep affection and care from someone other than Svetlana. He loved her dearly but with Shane it had felt different, deeper. The feeling was both more beautiful and devastating than he'd ever thought possible.
There he went again, he'd gotten his thoughts jumbled thinking about Shane and their painful past. He'd been thinking about religion, god and the like — like so many in his motherland of Russia, Ilya had never been a devoutly religious person. His early belief system had been entirely wrapped up in the first person who loved him, who was coincidentally the first person to have left him.
Maybe there was a correlation between the two and she'd taken any hope of orthodoxy with her. Maybe it left him to wonder why a deity of 'so-called' love and mercy would let a woman, and in turn her child suffer so much.
Despite the lacking nature of his beliefs, Ilya never took off her cross. There hadn't been a time since she left that gave him trust in any faith. He mostly wore it as a form of connection, a memory. The daily reminder that she had been real, and she had loved him. Someone in his life had truly loved him.
Ilya thought perhaps the ancestors had the right idea. Instead of one god, many. More famously the Romans and Greeks, but even his ancestors in the Slavic regions had their own. Roles divided among the gods so that one might not become overwhelmed and perhaps ignore the suffering of a woman so much that she took drastic measures to ease her pain.
One, or many it no longer mattered to him, because Ilya had finally found his own religion. One he would willingly fall down to his knees and worship daily for the rest of his life if it would be allowed.
As he watched the beautiful figure move above him eagerly riding his hips with force and grace, Ilya began to think of his cock like it was some sort of throne; impressive on its own — but only made more so by the man who sat on it. A throne might be admired and coveted by many, but only the right person could make it mean so much more.
His person, his Shane.
His god.
A creature of pure divinity, beauty and lust somehow chosing to sit atop him of all people. The outlines of Shane's figure were etched in the light of the setting sun making him seemingly glow from the inside out. Truly from the heavens come down just to bask in Ilya's unchallenged devotion.
He watched as Shane lost himself to the pleasure of having Ilya inside him, taking exactly what he wanted, and how he wanted it.
In the past when Shane took his throne, he usually liked to lean close over Ilya's prone form, bodies brushing against each other while his hips ground down hard. His hands finding purchase on Ilya's chest, shoulders, or digging into the mattress just beside his head. Shane clearly wanted as many points of contact as possible, because touch always grounded them, and they both knew it.
Currently however, all that touch seemed to be too much for Shane to take. It was like he desperately needed to revel in their connection instead, letting himself bask only in the feeling of Ilya inside him.
Shane held on to nothing, instead his arms were up, bent at the elbow, hands around the back of his head. His strong biceps were on display for Ilya; who was fighting the temptation to sink his teeth into them. Shane's fingers were gripped tightly into his own lush black hair tugging, and Ilya knew it was sending him headlong into a wall of sensation. The knives edge of pain and pleasure they both loved to delicately walk like a tight-rope.
Dark brown eyes their lids half slit with lust had a look in them that spoke of possession, a ferocity only Ilya was given the privilege to see. Unmerciful in the way his gaze ate Ilya’s very soul reminding him exactly who he belonged to.
It was a look very similar to the determined demon Shane exclusively showed on the ice. Ilya was unsure he had the words to describe even in his mother tongue.
“Dazhbog” he offered aloud — whispered into the quiet space between them with reverence.
It was all his mind would supply. A prayer to the sun god he'd heard of in childhood legends. The god of abundance, or giving. Shane was Dazhbog, always giving his everything to everyone around him. Especially to Ilya.
Shane's heart was open to love Ilya and keep him safe. His soul given to nourish Ilya's own, and push his fears away. His body pushed to the outermost edges of its limits to bring them both the promise of ecstasy. The very embodiment of abundance in Ilya's life.
Ilya felt like a mere mortal held in the thrall of the god riding his cock. One who graciously favored him with his precious time. The diety who'd begun to show signs he was close to losing his entire self in his effort to find what he sought from Ilya's body.
Feeling him seconds from collapsing, Ilya took Shane's hips in his hands. Thumbs digging harshly into the very top of the valley of his V line, there would definitely be small bruises there tomorrow. Ilya's fingers spanned around to Shane's ass, and the pads of his longest fingers, the middle ones, slid their way into the well known dips at the base of Shane's back just above his ass.
Ilya groaned loud when they settled into the spot his brain deemed 'home'. His fingers always belonged there. Fuck, Ilya loved those fucking dimples. They drove him absolutely insane, almost as much as Shane's freckles.
'Dimples of Apollo', he knew they were called. He'd looked it up the first time his touch had slid over them back in the days of dark hotel rooms, and hurried kisses, Ilya had become quickly obsessed.
Funnily enough, if he remembered correctly Dazhbog was the Slavic version of Apollo. It was more than a coincidence for him, the proof that his personal god was all he would ever need to worship again.
"Ilya," desperate, seeking — something, anything. "Please."
"I have you, my love. What ever you need," and then " — take it, just take, I will give."
The encouragement mixed between Russian and his accented English made Shane move faster. Shane had told him how much he loved the way Ilya's mouth seemed to make love to his native tongue, and also loved the way his lips formed the sounds in his foreign one. It made Ilya's heart pound faster, and his cock throb. No longer did he worry if he couldn't find the words or his English broke, not when Shane got off on it.
Shane's hips slammed down harder forcing Ilya further into the mattress. Ilya helped, guiding them in their hypnotic, cyclical motion. With each pass he felt Shane's thighs begin to tremble in overexertion.
His grip tightened in order to keep Shane aloft, each biting into his skin hard and insistent. The exception was his middle finger, he couldn't let them dig into Shane's flesh just yet, he'd only let the pads circle gently. Ilya had too much appreciation for the soft skin of those dimples. .
Like one deeply devoted to their god, Ilya was very in tune with his own. He could read Shane's every movement, every sound, every flutter of his lashes. Everything that indicated it was nearly time to let Ilya take over. Time to let him prove his piety with everything his body could offer Shane.
From this position and the increasingly lazy gait of Shane's hips, Ilya was positive he was no longer hitting the spot consistently or strong enough.
Ilya had read his mind because —
"Please," Shane whined in Russian, making the fire burn hotter inside of Ilya. They both knew what he was asking.
Fuck, he was incredible, learning Russian for him. Devoting time to be 'more' for Ilya.
"Just a little longer, let me watch a little longer. I need to see you , watch you. Please my love, you are beautiful, like my personal god greedily taking what is always yours," Ilya begged.
He was so enamoured it took him a moment to remember that Shane would not be able to completely understand that much yet. To be fair Shane felt so good around him, so hot and tight that even Ilya'a brain was having trouble translating everything he just said. The abridged version would have to suffice.
"Please, moya lyubov, a little more. Let me watch."
Shane only huffed in answer, but it wasn't his usual annoyed grumble. This was the noise he made when he was so desperate and gone for Ilya, yet determined to be his good boy.
"For you," it came out in a choked sob, and Ilya felt his heart clench from the sound of it.
It was both heartbreaking and glorious at the same time. Of course Shane would do this for him. His perfect, amazing, god of a man, who loved his devoted follower as much as Ilya loved him.
There — watching Shane in the evening sun, sacrificing his own needs and desires to give in to the man he loved, Ilya couldn't help but think about the stupidity of people especially in his home country and in professional hockey who believed their kind of love was wrong.
As if somehow the god-like man above him was a lesser person for liking dick up his ass. How could the powerful man, who was outlined in rays of pure sun, looking like Dazhbog himself with the dimples of Apollo on his back be considered 'dirty'?
No chance, Shane was ethereal.
There was definitely nothing wrong with the way Ilya's fingers slipped into those dips that proved to him that Shane had been touched by the heavens. Ilya could only feel blessed he was the one allowed to be inside Shane.
Ilya had to check, had to make sure he was still the chosen one.
"Mine, yes? You are mine."
"Yes," Shane gasped, tone still desperate and watery. "Yours, only yours," Shane's hips faltered losing their rhythm. He sounded on the verge of tears, "And you're mine."
More of a statement and less of a question, that fact made Ilya smile. Damn right he was Shane's and he was happy he knew that.
"Yes, I am yours. Devoted to only you, my Shane." A simple reassurance.
Ilya's fingers reluctantly left their home in those back dimples , he slid his hands up Shane's back feeling him shiver in the wake of his touch. He hooked them around Shane's shoulders to pull him down so their bodies could finally — finally press together, chest to cock.
With deft grace Ilya flipped them around without slipping from inside Shane's warmth. It earned him a tiny cry of painful pleasure from how deep he slid when Shane's back hit the mattress. Ilya moved his hips in long, slow strokes taking his time while he got his fill of the euphoric expressions that flitted across Shane's face.
He needed to study every eyebrow scrunch, every time Shane's lips fell open into a guttural moan, or a sharp keening noise escaped them. To see when Shane's tongue peeked out to lick those pretty pink lips of his. To witness the growing red tint take over Shane's cheeks highlighting those perfect, maddening freckles as his blush grew across them.
Ilya needed to memorize it all because he had other plans for them. Plans that would unfortunately keep him from witnessing his boyfriend's expressions so easily. Shane had already started to teeter on that edge where pleasure, overstimulation, and tears often met. Three variables they sometimes played with.
They'd both heard his needy sob, his plea for more. The watery tone had been present in every word he'd said since that moment.
"Ty takaya krasivaya" whispered between kisses as he took his last looks.
Shane's smile reminded Ilya that he knew that phrase quite well. Of course he did, Ilya would remind him he was beautiful many times in any language. He'd even learn it in French if he had to.
It didn't take much effort to manhandle Shane over onto his hands and knees; although Shane was a man of no mean size, he'd already fucked himself into intense pliancy before Ilya had done anything.
His state of mind didn't help when Ilya had to pull out in order to change positions.
The sound was almost too sad for Ilya's heart to handle, sorrowful and pathetic, and absolutely perfect.
"Going to give to you what you want." Ilya rubbed the tip of his leaking cock all over Shane's red puffy entrance. "Is what you need, yes?"
"Yes." the word breaking on another sob, his body shaking with the desire for Ilya to fuck him again.
"Don't cry, moya lyubov. Not yet."
Although Shane couldn't see him, Ilya couldn't help the devious smirk he felt grow across his lips. In one hard thrust he was fully seated, cock nestled deep in his boyfriend's warmth.
A choked sound ripped from Shane's throat, and his legs began to shake. Ilya had purposefully done it to catch him off guard.
Ilya made soft little hushing sounds, he slipped his hands up Shane's back and pushed down between his shoulder blades pressing him into the mattress. It was a position they both knew well, Shane assumed it so easily. He moved his face to the side, arms splayed so wide his elbows barely braced him, and his ass up high waiting for Ilya to fuck it well.
"So perfect." Ilya hummed as he ran his hand over the back of Shane's head to ground him.
The feeling of the silky locks of hair through Ilya's fingers made his cock twitch where it sat pressing against Shane's prostate causing a needy whine to escape.
"Is okay?" Ilya double checked, leaning over Shane's body and whispering into his ear
"Yes," Shane started — "pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta, Ilya." he begged.
Oh his love knew exactly how to get what he wanted.
Ilya braced Shane by the hips, fingers splayed over heated skin, grip tight. His thumbs slid home, into the familiar dips as if they were waiting for him to return.
Those fucking dimples.
It was maddening how well his thumbpads fit inside them. Ilya felt the growl low at the back of his throat from the sight of it.
Mine — he thought.
The need to claim every single centimeter of skin flared in his gut. Now he would press hard, and the skin would bruise, because Ilya had been tasked with the mission of pleasing a god. And he was not about to fail.
Under the persistent pressure of Ilya's grasp Shane's back arched in that sinful way that always made Ilya's head fuzzy. He didn't waste his time, full and brutal thrusts without warning. Shane's body violently jolted forward over and over. So relentless he was forced to grip the sheets to keep from moving up the bed.
The undeniable sound of sweat soaked skin slapping together was indecent. It only served to urge Ilya on. Shane let out whiny moans and half formed curses. And then Ilya shifted his hips up just a bit higher.
The sharp cry, was music to his ears.
Ilya smirked even if Shane couldn't see. He was proud of what he'd done. Shane loved it when Ilya made him cry, when it hurt in the very best way. His pride was in the fact that he was the one Shane wanted this with, that he could give it to him the best.
He never let up on the spot once he'd found the exact right angle. Hard, fast, ruthless. Shane was gone to the world, arms finally giving out underneath him laying useless at his sides. The dead weight of his muscle was the only thing that kept him in place. Ilya watched from above, Shane looked like a rag doll, jerked around the bed any way he chose.
Shane's mouth was open, the loud sobs wetting the sheets in a puddle of saliva, and tears that fell unchecked.
Fuck, he looked heavenly.
Ilya's fingers itched. Although he really didn't want to abandon either one of those pretty dimples, he couldn't resist. Ilya slid his left hand up Shane's spine, each notch bumping under his fingertips feeling the gooseflesh break out over Shane's sweat-slicked skin. Ilya's large hand once again palmed the back of Shane's head — patting, soothing. It was one of their things. He'd first took real notice of the action during one of their many pre-cottage hook-ups; which they'd swore were 'casual'. Thinking back now, Ilya recognized it for what it truly was. Sure he was always a considerate lover to his partners, but some things were too intimate to be doing to a mere fuck-buddy. His level of care had always been more attentive when it came to Shane.
Tears, and sweat, and spit, and precum, the sheets were definitely done for. Ilya proudly thought, they were moments from making them a lot worse. Shane was making those sounds again, the very telling pitch to his moans and whines that Ilya knew very well after all these years. The tell-tale sign that his Shane was going to cum without either of them having to lay a finger on his dripping cock.
Shane's whines and cries grew louder, still begging in between his gasps for 'more' in both English and Russian. Ilya returned his hand to its place around Shane's hip and without warning tugged his boyfriend towards the end of the bed until Shane's knees were at the edge. Ilya stood up on the floor then planted his right foot just beside Shane's knee on the bed. He pressed down on those dimples so that Shane's back arched into the perfect curve, and shifted his own hips just right. He used the angle and the leverage to good and truly pound into that luscious ass he so often dreamed about.
Higher and higher Shane's tone rose, ass cheeks jiggling and clapping, Ilya almost nutted just from the visual overload. Bolshe — more, always more until Ilya knew he'd driven Shane to exactly where he 'd begged to be taken.
"I'mmm — uh, fuck! I'm cu— cummi —."
Shanes's muscles locked, Ilya felt it under his hands, felt the way Shane's swollen rim went tight around his cock, as if it never wanted him to leave. He heard the longest moan break at the end with his name on Shane's lips. Shane was cumming, hard and if Ilya had anything to do with it he wasn't going to stop.
Ilya snapped his hips keeping his pace steady. "Is okay?"
"Yes," no hesitation. Shane knew what they both wanted.
"I will make you feel even better, solnyshko."
Another soft brush of his hand along the skin of Shane's slick back, both an apology and a promise before he returned it to its rightful place. Harder and faster and never letting up on that divine spot inside his beautiful personal god of a boyfriend making sure he milked his prostate dry. Shane was shaking beneath him, gasping crying from overstimulation.
"St—still cu — cumming," he whined — breathless.
Shane's body was truly a wonder. The awe in his tone urged Ilya on. Four more long and powerful strokes and Ilya was finally there with his sweetheart, ready to tumble over the edge.
"Fuuuck, Shane",
Ilya exploded taking several more hard thrusts to be wholly consumed. He came, seemingly unending, heavy and hot, fucking his release deep inside his beautiful Shane, his head spinning with the sound of Shane's sobs. It felt so good, but he'd never want to hurt his Shane past what he could take.
As if he understood Shane broke the silence, his voice hoarse and wet.
"Don't stop, please Il–ya'
Ilya moaned louder than he had all night, his heart sped in his chest when it had just began to calm down. He loved when Shane made a point to pronounce his name properly. Especially when they were being intimate.
"Yes, moya lyubov. So good for me, sweetheart. Always perfect."
They'd discovered it was a kink they both really enjoyed, wanting overstimulation when they'd sometimes get this needy for one another. They liked pushing each other into that sensitive feeling right at the edge of too painful. The limit of what they could take from each other, because how could they not always want more.
He took his time, his hips slowing gradually, Shane full body shook hard beneath him, whimpering. Ilya grit his teeth and endured the aching sting, loving it, really. Their ragged breaths began to slow at the same rate.
Ilya gently prodded Shane further up the bed, never pulling out, or ceasing his small thrusts. He draped himself atop Shane's body, leaning on his elbows. They were both prone on the bed, as they came down from their high his hips making slow circles until neither of them could stand it anymore and he stilled.
"Don't leave," Shane's voice was always softest following their more intense sexual adventures.
"I will go only when you tell me to go. "
They lay quiet for a few moments, coming back to themselves. Pressed so close to Shane's back Ilya felt their heartbeats begin to sync up. He leaned to kiss his shoulder, the shell of his ear, the nape of his neck. Listening to his boyfriend hum and almost purr in delight from the attention.
Putting his weight onto one elbow, Ilya reached up and ran his hand over Shane's head again, fingers gliding through his sweat damp hair.
"You are so good, so good for me." He reiterated watching the half of Shane's face he could see brighten with a smile.
Shane loved being praised, and Ilya loved giving it to him.
As he laid more kisses on Shane's beautiful freckles there was something Ilya had to ask, he thought he noticed, but wanted to be sure.
"Did you—?"
"Yes," Shane huffed wiggling his body a little . Ilya could tell the filthy sheets beneath him were starting to become an irritation.
Shane sounded slightly embarrassed and annoyed. He was too cute for his own good.
"Right there at the end, yes?"
"Yes, alright Rozanov, don't be so cocky. It was a trickle but, yeah — I came twice."
"Mmm," He kissed Shane's shoulder again yearning to kiss more places but waiting for the 'okay' from Shane to pull out. " your sexy boyfriend aims to please, Hollander." Ilya had to tease, he wouldn't be him if he didn't.
Shane rolled his eyes.
There was a moment when Shane got a little too quiet, it was also something Ilya was familiar with. He needed a moment to gather the courage to ask the questions racing in his mind.
"Do you think this is too much?"
"What? What 'this' are you talking about?" Ilya heard the confusion in his own tone.
"This," Shane shifted his hips back causing them both to suck their teeth from the sting.
"Do you mean the way we fuck?"
"Ilya!" It was hard for Ilya to believe Shane's admonishing tone when he sounded like he was about to laugh
"What is wrong with the way we fuck?"
"Nothing," Shane paused and Ilya saw half a naughty grin on the half of the lips he could see.
"If it was nothing you would not be asking, you sexy, perverted man." He kissed Shane's cheek, his shoulder, between his shoulder blades anywhere he could reach.
"We're just," another pause "kinda kinky aren't we?"
"Now you realize this?"
The incredulous tone in Ilya's answer made them both begin to laugh. The movement jostled where they were joined causing them both to again wince and hiss through their teeth.
"Should I?"
"I guess so," Shane sounded slightly forlorn with the thought of Ilya pulling out.
"You like when I stay."
It wasn't a question, they both knew he did. In fact Ilya also loved staying inside Shane for as long as he could. Perhaps 'staying' meant something more to them both than just Ilya's spent dick flagging inside Shane. Maybe it had something to do with the way they used to have to leave when they were done, a way for both of them to ensure no one was going anywhere.
Shane nodded. "I just like being close to you, when you stay it makes me feel the closest I can be."
Ilya hummed, he couldn't fault that logic. "I will stay, as long as you need, sweetheart. But I know you will be annoyed soon, with your skin so sticky, so dirty."
"I know."
Ilya nuzzled his nose and his lips into Shane's hair and let his full weight fall onto him in an effort to be closer, and hopefully appease his boyfriend's anxieties. He laid still and covered him.
"I am like your own very large, very Russian, very sexy weighted blanket, yes?," he teased as he kissed Shane's head.
Shane snorted and nodded "Only mine."
"Yes, yours."Ilya stayed quiet for merely a second before the urge to tease his beloved took over. "So you agree I'm sexy."
"Enough," Shane grumbled as he finally began to squirm in earnest. "Get off me, you oaf."
"That wasn't a no."
"Ilya!" Shane made the face Ilya called 'the grumpy kitty' and used his warning voice.
"Is what you want?"
He had to double check, because sometimes when they played like this, Shane said things he didn't really mean or want. And other times he really did mean it. After all these years Ilya was pretty sure he knew when Shane meant the former or the latter, but still he'd always make sure.
"No," Shane's body deflated, all the tension leaving it. "But you knew that didn't you."
"Yes, moya lyubov."
Finally, quiet and still, the two just breathed together. Heartbeats together, existing peacefully as one. Ilya lost track of time, he became enthralled with the section of Shane's freckles that were visible to him mentally connecting them to make star patterns between them.
It didn't take much longer for Shane to become fully grossed out with the way he felt, and ask for a shower. He sighed sadly when Ilya finally pulled out, but made a face of disgust when he felt the mass volume of cum dripping from his hole. Ilya wanted to chuckle at his cute expression, but couldn't help the whine he let out at the filthy yet sinful sight. Which earned him a smug eyebrow raise from Shane.
Fuck, he looked incredible all fucked out, asshole red and dripping in Ilya's cum, and Shane knew he looked good. Even with how empty his balls were, Ilya felt his cock jump just a little.
"Stay, I will get the bathroom ready and come back for you."
He ran the water letting the bathroom steam. He took towels and washcloths from the linen closet and laid them out on the teak towel rack.
Returning to the bedroom he was greeted with the cutest smile.
"You look like sin," Ilya practically growled.
"With all your time spent in the sin bin, you would be the expert on that."
Ilya just wiggled his brows and raked his eyes down Shane's body. His eyes caught those damned fucking back dimples again. He hadn't been able to escape them all night. Ilya leaned to press warm kisses into them, making Shane groan in delight.
"These will have bruises. I am sorry."
"No you're not, but I'm not either."
"No?"
Shane shook his head.
"Ah, because we are in the off-season. No one but me will see anyway.
Shane half shrugged.
"So you would want to show this during the season? Show off in the dressing room when you change in front of your team, eh? Show them how well your person fucks you? Where is my Shane Hollander? What have you done with him?"
Ilya put the back of his hand to Shane's forehead to check for a fake temperature and played up the joke to make Shane smile. Because that smile was his entire world.
"Maybe ," Shane sighed wistfully. "I'm just tired of hiding it."
That Ilya could understand. In fact he probably understood it more than Shane could fathom. It was a tough subject to navigate, and tonight was definitely not the night to get into it. Instead Ilya just hummed and nodded to make sure Shane knew that he was right there with him. A few more kisses to the dimples and a few sharp nips to the tops of his firm ass cheeks for good measure.
"You do know I am crazy about these too?"
"The back dimples?"
"Yes, almost as much as the freckles."
"Really?" Shane's tone went up in that adorable way that made Ilya's heart feel like it stuttered in his chest.
"Really," he replied simply.
"Well I am quite aware of how much you like them. Your fingertips circle there a lot, and your thumbs press into them when —"
"When I fuck you from behind." Ilya finished for him pulling Shane's hips towards him roughly as if he were going to fuck him again. Instead he bowed his head to kiss the dimples in question once more. "Mmm, my thumbs fit so nicely. Like they were made for them."
"Fuck off." Shane grumbled but the delivery was slightly breathless.
"You like it. Okay moya tryapichnaya kukla let's get you in the shower before you remember just how filthy you are and get angry for letting me distract you."
Ilya helped Shane up and kissed the tiny frown that appeared when his release had begun to make its way down Shane's inner thigh.
"I don't think I know that one."
"Means ragdoll," Ilya paused and smiled his devilish grin. "Because your body went —," Ilya showed Shane what he meant by acting like his entire body went weak and limp. Then braced himself for when the understanding finally clicked.
"You fucking asshole!" Shane shouted and slapped at his arm.
"What? Is not true? My little ragdoll, let me fuck you, let me move you where I want you," he teased in his sing-songy tone.
"I fucking hate you."
"You do not."
Shane tried to hide his smile. He failed.
"If it makes you feel any better I also called you a god." Ilya confessed.
"Really? Was that the weird name you used?"
"Da, Dazhbog. Funny because he is Slavic version of Apollo."
Ilya again ran his fingers over the dimples of Apollo low on Shane's back to make his point. Shane's face lit up with understanding.
"God of Sun and giving. Moy solnyshko — you were glowing like the sun on top of me, and giving me everything."
A cute red hue spread across Shane's cheeks up to his ears and down his chest. He looked absolutely delectable.
"Okay, that does help," he surrendered his false discontent.
Ilya kissed everywhere that was still tinged pink before taking Shane's mouth with his own and loving it thoroughly.
They took their time in the shower. Ilya kneeled to help clean whatever was left of his cum out or Shane's swollen hole using gentle fingers and kissing Shane's hip as an apology the entire time. They took turns washing each other's bodies, admiring the dips and swells of muscle as they did so. Kissing bruises left behind from their activities, they were far enough into the summer that the bruises from the ice had faded, and everything left was all them.
Soapy fingers running through soft locks and curls respectively. Massaging scalps earning groans of pleasure from how good it felt. After they conditioned each other's hair they took a moment just holding one another under the warm spray. Drowning in the warmth together.
As they toweled off Ilya broke the silence.
"Shane," he whispered against his ear. "There is nothing wrong with the way we fuck."
Sure they had moved on and got distracted but Ilya knew it had bothered his boyfriend enough for him to ask. He would always do what he could to alleviate Shane's worries.
"I love the way we fuck, the way we are."
Shane smiled. The red flush grew across his freckles again.
"I do too." Shane admitted, a half smile pulling at the corner of his lips.
"Okay?" Ilya pouted in that way that he knew Shane absolutely adored.
"Okay."
They brushed their teeth. Ilya detangled his wet curls and added his leave in conditioner. Shane did his skincare as well as Ilya's. Ilya always pretended to forget the order to apply products only because he wanted Shane to fuss over him. Shane's attention was like breathing air to him — necessary.
"Ilya," it was spoken softly, as he applied hydrating serum to Ilya's cheeks.
"Yes, Shane."
"You're always very good to me, good with what I need, what I'm feeling. I guess I just want you to know, that I'm here for you too. Whatever you need, Ilya. I mean it."
"You think I do not know this? Shane, you are the only one besides Sveta who has consi— sist—"
"Consistently?"
"Yes, that word. You see how you help me? You do not judge when I can't pronounce the words, you just say them kindly."
Shane pecked his lips, and smiled.
"Anyway, you have consistently been there for me. Do not worry your pretty face. I know, okay. Whatever our love looks like, even if you think it is different, it is still love, and it is ours."
After a few more kisses, they changed the sheets and climbed into bed. Both of them choosing to sleep nude, it made them feel closer, and it made it easier if they woke up hungry for one another. Truthfully if it were up to Ilya they'd probably stay naked all summer, but he knew that would not work with them seeing Yuna and David so often during these vacations. Maybe he could convince Shane to do at least a whole naked day.
Shane curled himself on his side and tugged Ilya by his hand until he was as closely pressed to his back as possible. He littered tiny kisses to Shane's shoulders and the nape of his neck and reveled in the sweet hums of satisfaction he received. Although he seemed happy with the attention Shane continued to wiggle and fuss. They were clearly very tired and sore, but it was obvious Shane couldn't seem to get his mind to shut up with whatever was plaguing it.
Ilya had an idea what it was, in fact he'd pretty much zeroed in on it before they'd even left the bed to shower. And their conversations in the bathroom only supported it. He also had an idea on how to remedy the issue, the solution was something he was curious to try himself. It wasn't something they'd ever done before, and he wondered if Shane would even be open to the idea.
But hadn't they just established they would do anything the other needed? It seemed both of them needed this.
"Shane," Ilya hummed softly into his hair.
"I'm sorry, I just can't get —"
"Close enough?" Ilya finished for him.
He saw and felt Shane deflate, all the air and tension leaving him. He knew it.
"Yes, you always understand."
"I have an idea, if you are willing?"
Shane half turned in his arms until he was able to lock eyes with Ilya and kiss his lips. There was a look on his face that told Ilya he could just say it. He was safe to say it, everything between them was always safe.
Ilya nodded, and kissed the tip of his nose. "Earlier you told me you feel closest when I stay."
Shane's eyes went wide.
"Inside," he clarified as if either of them needed him to. They both knew what he was talking about. "What if I just stayed. Not sex, not right now at least, we are tired, but —"
"Cock-warming?" Shane's tone had gone into that high- pitched cute territory again, but his eyes were on fire.
Oh, he liked the idea.
"Yes," Ilya stated calmly, another kiss to Shane's lips.
Of course Shane would know what it was called. His Shane was a freaky man with beautiful freckles, sexy back dimples and the sweetest heart. He was absolutely perfect for Ilya.
"Would you want that?" Ilya watched Shane carefully.
Shane's expression was the one he made whenever he was contemplating something seriously. The full list of pro's and cons running through his mind as he worked it out. Ilya noticed the exact moment when it all lined up in his head, Shane's face lighting up with acceptance and excitement.
"I want it," he leaned up to get another kiss from Ilya.
"I do too." Ilya gave him his kiss deepening and slipping his customary tongue in to make sure Shane knew he meant it.
It wasn't difficult to figure it out, Shane was still fairly loose from their earlier activities, and Ilya pretty much lived half hard whenever they spooned like this. Gentle lazy strokes with the lube he'd retrieved from the nightstand, nowhere near enough pressure to pleasure himself seriously. Still it was enough.
Slow, quiet, calm, they returned to their previous positions, only this time Ilya slid his cock inside Shane's warmth without any heat behind it The resounding matching sighs of relief made them both laugh. It was clear this was something they both hadn't realized they needed.
"I love you, Ilya," Shane whispered.
"Ya tebya lyublyu, my Shane," Ilya replied
Like some kind of magic Shane finally settled, and Ilya felt a deep feeling of both pride and completion. Proud he could give Shane peace. Complete because he often felt like half a man when he wasn't inside Shane.
Shane brought Ilya's fingers to his lips to press tiny kisses on them, and Ilya laid kisses on the nape of Shane's neck as they sunk deeper into that perfect syrupy feeling of deep sleep.
As he drifted, Ilya thought of his beautiful Dazhbog and how now that he was cockwarming him it was like Shane wanted to reign on his throne even in the land of dreams. Tomorrow morning he would wake and remember his luck to be loved by a god. He'll feel his cock full and inside said god and remember his job as a devotee. He'll definitely wake his diety to beg for permission to worship him once more. But for now he slept and relished in the all consuming feeling of loving Shane Hollander the way he deserved.