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“Hello, solnyshko,” Ilya smiled, as he stepped into the front room, sweat slick on his forehead, his curls untamed and sticking up in a million different directions. Shane, as he looked at Ilya with a smile, still thought his husband looked incredibly beautiful. “How are you?”
“Better now you’re home,” Shane smiled, allowing Ilya to bend down over the back of the sofa and kiss his lips, but holding his arm out so that his hand created a buffer between his and Ilya’s bodies. “How was the gym?”
Shane and Ilya trained at the gym this morning before practice, but twice a week, after a practice session, Ilya went back to the gym to run so fast on the treadmill that his legs almost fell off. Shane wasn’t quite sure why Ilya did it, but he enjoyed it, and Shane enjoyed being able to have a long shower and let every one of his muscles relax under the hot water. Although he liked showering with Ilya, and not even because more often than not it ended up in Ilya on his knees, sucking Shane so carefully towards an orgasm, but because Ilya massaged his tight muscles so well, because he washed his hair so delicately whilst leaving kisses all up Shane’s back.
“Was hot and sweaty,” Ilya reached for the hem of his white tank top, Shane’s hands following the slow, purposeful movement of Ilya’s slender fingers, thinking about having them in his mouth, in his hole. “I need to shower. Want to join?”
“Yes you do,” Shane was staring. Staring at the way Ilya teased, about to lift his shirt but stopping when he caught Shane looking. “And no, I don’t. I just showered.”
“So?” Ilya ran his hands through his hair, scratching at his curls. “Does not normally bother you.”
“You smell and I’m comfortable,” Shane shrugged, trying to play it cool, trying to hide the fact that his shorts were growing a lot tighter. “Go. I’ll be here when you’re back.”
“No,” Ilya smiled, a cheeky grin painting his face. “You will be in our bedroom when I’m done. Waiting there, patiently, for me.”
Shane swallowed. He knew Ilya wasn’t stupid, that Ilya could read him like a fucking book. He’d probably noticed the growing bulge in Shane’s shorts before Shane did.
“Do you understand, Shane?” Ilya stepped around the sofa, threatening to inch closer to Shane and reach for him, just to see him squirm. “You are going to be good boy for me, yes? My good, perfect husband?”
Shane was just innocently reading his book, sitting in the quiet with Anya at his feet, waiting for Ilya to get home. He hadn’t even hinted at sex, hadn’t even thought about sex, but in came Ilya, making Shane feel dizzy at the thought of being on his knees for his husband or having his husband on his knees for him.
“Shane.”
Shane slammed his book shut and sat up abruptly, causing Anya to jump from the sofa and trot over to Ilya’s feet. He was hot and bothered and tingling from his dick down to his feet and back up to his head. He should’ve known that Ilya would come home from the gym, looking all hot and sweaty in the way that made Shane desperate to be fucked by him in the way that he liked when Ilya looked so good. Fast and hard and rough.
And Ilya fucking knew alright.
The way his eyebrows twitched when he said Shane’s name, the way his lips pulled into a painfully teasing grin as he told Shane to be good, the way he looked at Shane with pupils blown wide because he himself was thinking about fucking into his husband, so slow and gentle at first, only to build up to a relentless pace that left Shane with tears streaming down his face and into his pillow.
“Fuck,” Shane stood up, dropping his book and ignoring the way it bounced off of the cushion and fell onto the floor with a thud. “Fucking get in the shower now or I’ll have to finger myself before you’re done.”
Shane wanted to reach for Ilya and kiss him, even though he was still sweating and smelled of his heavy hockey gear and exercise. But Ilya, eyes wide after processing Shane’s words, stepped backwards, almost tripping over Anya, and shook his head.
“No,” his voice was stern, Russian accent so thick on his tongue that Shane felt dizzy. With want and need and the desire to be put in his fucking place. Shane needed to be submissive, to give up all control of every mental and physical feeling and pass it over to Ilya. “No, you will not touch yourself. You will wait for me to open you up. And if I think you are too loose, I will not fuck you, I will not touch you, and I will not let you cum. Do you understand?”
Shane looked at Ilya, head already feeling light, as Ilya continued to slowly back away. He knew what he was doing, and it was all on purpose to make Shane wait. Shane, who couldn’t fucking say a word because he was paralysed with a deep desire to be taken apart and completely fucking ruined by his husband.
“Shane,” Ilya’s eyes were so dark, his face a soft tinge of pink, a mixture of post-exercise colour to his cheeks and his own desperate want. “I asked you a question. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Shane was pawing at thin air like a pathetic fucking puppy, wanting to feel Ilya’s soft skin beneath his fingertips, but each time, Ilya moved further away. “Fuck. Yes, I understand. I’ll be good. I promise, I’ll be good for you.”
“Good boy,” Ilya purred with a smile, finally pulling the hem of his tank top high enough so Shane could get a look at his firm torso, moles peppered so perfectly across Ilya’s skin in a constellation Shane had committed to memory. When Ilya’s tank top was off, material balled up between his fingers, Shane wanted to drop to his knees right there, in their front room, move past the fact that Ilya was covered in sweat, and fucking lick him, navel to nipples. “If you are good, you will be rewarded. Be patient, kotik, and I will give you best orgasm of your life.”
Ilya always did exactly that. No matter whether Ilya used his hands or his mouth or his perfect nine inch fucking cock, every orgasm was better than the last. Every orgasm sent Shane to another fucking planet, vision fading to black and stars settling behind his eyelids.
Before Shane could utter another word, Ilya was heading out of the front room, tank top still in his hand, muscles rippling so perfectly in his back and Anya trotting along at his feet. Shane threw his head backwards with a groan, shorts so tight it fucking hurt, Ilya talking away to Anya as they headed upstairs.
He needed to wait until he heard the shower running before he could go upstairs, before he could rush to his and Ilya’s room, strip away his hoodie and shorts and force himself not to stretch himself with his fingers. Shane was fucking desperate. And he knew that Ilya would take a longer shower on purpose, just to make him wait.
So, Shane took himself to the kitchen and made sure it was clean ahead of dinner. He knew it was sparkling, that every piece of crockery was in its proper home, but he checked again, just to keep himself busy. Once he triple checked the kitchen was clean, Shane popped his head out of the door and listened carefully for the sound of trickling water from upstairs. When he heard the gush of the shower, his hand flew to his shorts, adjusting his painfully hard dick, and he rushed towards the stairs, not wanting to run with so much aggression that Ilya would hear his footsteps and realise just how desperate Shane was.
But God forbid Shane be desperate to be at the mercy of his fucking husband.
Anya was lazing in her bed in the hallway, like Ilya had put her there on purpose so that he and Shane would be uninterrupted. She had her face buried into the soft cushion, completely oblivious to Ilya’s reason for setting her there. Shane smiled.
The door to the en-suite bathroom was slightly ajar. Shane grumbled under his breath because everything Ilya had done since he got home, and everything Ilya continued to do right now, was on purpose. It was like Ilya wanted Shane to mess up because of his desperation, like he wanted Shane to toss his clothes away without a care in the world and get into the shower too, like he wanted Shane to get caught with his fingers up his ass. But Shane wouldn’t. He didn’t want to be punished. He warned to be fucked so good he saw stars, tears streaming down his face, breath hitched in his throat as Ilya showered him with endless, perfect praise.
Shane wasted no time in getting naked, minus his black Calvin Klein boxers, hanging his hoodie away and carefully tossing his shorts into the laundry basket. Even then, Ilya was still showering and Shane was pressing his nails into the pads of his palm to distract his brain from the need to touch himself, applying so much pressure that his skin began to sting.
“Fuck,” Shane muttered under his breath, bucking his hips against nothing but thin air, movements already so aimless and brash. “Fucking asshole.”
Shane was so impatient when he was hard for his husband. Even more so when said fucking husband was taking way too long in the shower, on purpose, so that Shane was all hard and red and leaking when Ilya finally peeled his boxers away.
He wasn’t going to beg, but if Ilya wasn’t out of the shower within five minutes, Shane didn’t think he would be able to hold on.
Ilya did return, four minutes and fifty two seconds later, and he looked at Shane with a wide smirk on his face. Like he was up to something, or he wanted something, and Shane was too far gone - without even being touched - to ask what he was doing.
“Hi,” Ilya smiled, crisp white towel hugging his perfect fucking waist, tucked slightly beside the dip of his stomach, the v-line leading towards his dick. “Are you okay, solnyshko?”
Shane groaned, “hard.”
“Hard?” Ilya repeated with a soft laugh, like he was completely fucking clueless. “Why are you hard, Shane?”
At the beginning of their relationship, when they were just hooking up purely for sex, Shane was shy about being honest with Ilya about his sexual desires. He was still shy today, sometimes, when Ilya mentioned a certain thing he wanted to try, or if Shane himself wanted to introduce something new into their sex life, but it was different. Mostly, he was very fucking confident in asking for what he wanted.
“Need you, Ilya,” Shane’s voice was so heavy, thick with a desperate need that hit Ilya directly in the stomach. “Need you so fucking bad. Going to die if I don’t have you.”
“Oh, kotik,” Ilya laughed gently, almost under his breath, as he untucked the towel from around his waist and let it drop to the floor. Shane inhaled sharply at the sight of his husband’s perfect fucking cock, bright red at the tip, as Ilya stepped closer towards Shane. “You are so good, waiting for me. I am going to take good care of you. And you are not going to die if I do not touch you. I think you can wait a little bit longer.”
Shane wasn’t above begging. He would beg for Ilya if he needed to. And right now, he did. He really fucking did.
“Please, baby,” Shane pawed at the waistband of his boxers. “Please. I need you to touch me now. I’m so hard it hurts, Ilya.”
Ilya reached for his own dick, Shane whining as he watched Ilya pump himself once, twice, precum leaking from the tip, and Ilya not once breaking eye contact with his husband. He was such a fucking tease.
“I can’t,” Shane whined, as he tugged on his boxers, awkwardly dragging them down his thighs. “I can’t wait, Ilya. Please, I need you. I’ll be a good boy for you. I’ll let you do whatever you want as long as you touch me now, instead of touching yourself.”
I’ll let you do whatever you want.
Ilya’s eyebrows lifted at that. Because there was something he wanted to do. Something he’d been thinking about for a while, something he’d brought up to Shane a few times, trying to joke about it to gauge how Shane would react. And Shane had never given him a hard no, when he mentioned it. His cheeks flushed pink all the way to the tips of his ears, but he didn’t say no.
“Let’s record a sex tape,” Ilya used his thumb to spread his precum all over his tip, pleasure shooting through him ever so slightly like little shocks of lightning.
Shane’s eyes almost popped out of their sockets, “what?”
“You heard me, moy kotik,” Ilya purred, kneeling onto the bed and inching closer to Shane’s desperate body. “Let’s record a sex tape.”
Shane felt his cheeks turn beet red, his dick twitching involuntarily at the thought of having a video to keep forever of Ilya fucking him senseless. But, as hot as it sounded, Shane also thought that maybe he wouldn’t look as good as he imagined whilst being fucked. He would probably look stupid and useless as he lay there and took every inch of Ilya, every slap to the curve of his ass. He would probably look pathetic as he blushed at Ilya’s praise, at every good boy or you’re my perfect little slut.
And then he had the worry of what if it gets leaked? What if an intimate video of me and Ilya having sex gets leaked? Sex was normal. Shane liked sex. Ilya liked sex. Their teammates liked sex with their respective partners. Having sex was a normal thing to with someone you love. Shane knew that. And he didn’t think he was as bothered about it being leaked than he was by the thought of people seeing him so shy and vulnerable and open for Ilya.
“Why are you so quiet, Shane?” Ilya was on his knees now, perched between Shane’s open thighs, eyes focused on Shane’s leaking cock. “I know you got hard when I mentioned sex tape the other day, but now, you are so quiet. Are you shy?”
Shane bit on his bottom lip, eyes hooded and heavy, but Ilya pressed his thumb against Shane’s mouth to separate his teeth from his lip. Ilya was tempted to slip his thumb inside of Shane’s mouth and let him suck, but Ilya needed Shane to speak, to have no distractions in his mouth.
“Shane,” Ilya pulled his thumb away, leaving Shane whining like a pathetic fucking baby. “You are shy.”
Shane didn’t say anything and instead, he just lifted his right hand to meet Ilya’s soft, freshly washed and still a little damp, curls, threading his fingers through each perfect ringlet, trying to pull his husband close. Needing to taste him. To kiss him.
Ilya examined the look on Shane’s face. The red cheeks, softer pink trailing to the tips of his ears. The avoidant eyes, darting from Ilya’s lips to his cock to his hands. The light bucking in his hips, uncontrollable and heady, because Shane, even though he was quiet, wanted - no, needed - this. Bad.
“Please, Ilya,” Shane felt so dizzy, like he was going to die if he didn’t give Ilya some form of consent so he could fuck him. Because yes, he wanted Ilya to fuck him and record every single second. “Record it. Whatever you want, I want. Please.”
“My beautiful, shy, boy. Don’t worry, moy kotik,” Ilya reached for Shane’s chin, grabbing it between his index finger and thumb, abruptly, eliciting a desperate, strangled moan from Shane’s throat. “I’ll fuck the shy out of you. I promise you won’t be shy when I am done with you.”
Shane felt like crying. His dick was aching, oozing salty precum which he wanted Ilya to taste, to lap up with his tongue like a kitten drinking fresh milk, whilst he rubbed deep circles with his thumb against the top of Shane’s leg.
“I will set up the camera,” Ilya brushed his nose against Shane’s before gently kissing him, soft but desperate. “I have tripod from the TikTok videos I do. My phone fits perfectly. I just need you to wait here. Five minutes and then I will eat you out. Okay?”
“Okay.”
Shane couldn’t wait that long. Five minutes would feel like five fucking lifetimes without Ilya’s touch, and Shane would probably die before then. He wouldn’t even get a second alone to touch himself, because Ilya’s stupid fucking tripod was in one of the tall cupboards in their walk-in wardrobe, which was beside the door to the en-suite. Even when Ilya’s back was turned, Shane couldn’t risk touching himself, because he would cry or moan and Ilya would know, and Shane would be punished. And he couldn’t be punished. Not now.
Ilya set up the tripod and his phone camera, landscape, then studied the view on his phone. Shane, all sprawled out, pink and needy, trying so hard not to touch himself, like the good boy he was. And Ilya felt like he was going to combust because Shane was doing so well, and tonight, he was going to show him just how much he loved him, just how good he was.
“Okay,” Ilya, satisfied with the positioning of the tripod and his phone, nodded his head before pressing record, the small bleep sending a shiver of excitement down his spine. Ilya crawled onto the bed, ass facing the camera, moving closer to Shane, his hands reaching for his husband’s perfect brown nipples. “Shane, let’s record a sex tape.”
When Ilya finally kissed him, Shane’s body responded with a gentle flinch, chest lifting to meet Ilya’s as his husband straddled him. Thighs drawn together, Ilya’s hands on Shane’s face, dicks rubbing, teasing, making Shane whimper against Ilya’s lips.
The taste of Ilya’s tongue in his mouth made Shane feel lightheaded. Pure mint, all hot and warm and wet. Ilya’s hands, one on Shane’s cheek and the other focused on Shane’s nipple, right index finger pinching and rubbing because Ilya knew how much Shane loved that.
“So responsive to my touch, kotik,” Ilya smiled as he pulled away, Shane’s lips all red and swollen. “You are so beautiful. Your nipples are so beautiful. I want them in my mouth.”
Shane hung his head backwards, back relaxing into the soft pillow, allowing Ilya to take full control of every little sensation he could possibly feel. Ilya, who left sloppy, wet kisses down Shane’s neck, over his collarbones and down his firm chest, pausing just above Shane’s left nipple.
“You are not having a nipple orgasm tonight, Shane,” Ilya cleared his throat. “I just want to feel them get hard in my mouth, make you whine a little bit. The pathetic whines you make when you are needy.”
Before Shane could respond, Ilya’s tongue was swirling at his nipple, starting off light and rapidly becoming more intense. And, like Ilya said, Shane began to whine like he was a desperate dog needing attention. Ilya, with Shane’s hardening nipple against his inner lips, flicked his eyes upwards to see just how blissed out Shane looked. Sweat developing on his forehead, eyelashes fluttering against the motion of his uneven breaths, cheeks so red that Ilya was concerned more blood was rushing to Shane’s head than his dick.
Ilya pulled his mouth away from one nipple and moved to the other, replacing his tongue with his finger and moving in synchronicity, just to make Shane feel a little dizzier, a little more like he was floating on a cloud. This wasn’t exactly the most vulgar thing they could do whilst having sex, but Ilya didn’t want to film something that was purely pornographic. He wanted to film something that reflected just how much he and Shane loved each other. And as much as he loved fucking Shane like he was Ilya’s own personal pornstar, Ilya just loved Shane.
“Ilya,” Shane, breathless, managed to find the words in his hazy brain. “Fuck.”
Ilya, taking that as a sign that it was getting too much for Shane, the stimulation frying his nerve endings and sending distress signals to his brain, pulled off. Licked his lips and continued kissing down towards Shane’s dick.
“I am going to play with your dick a little bit,” Ilya said, pressing a kiss to the tip of Shane’s almost purple dick. “Just going to kiss and suck, touch your balls. Then I will eat your ass until you have best prostate orgasm of your life. Is okay?”
“Yes,” Shane felt like crying. “Fuck, yes.”
“Good boy.”
Shane shuddered at the praise as Ilya began to take him in his mouth. A gentle moan slipped from Ilya’s mouth, vibrating against Shane’s dick, as he used a mixture of his own saliva and Shane’s precum to completely soak Shane’s hard cock. Ilya found his motion, quick and easy, and began bobbing his head whilst digging his fingertips into Shane’s thighs.
The noises Shane made were delightful. Helpless whimpers turned guttural moans which shook his entire body. His back arching with every sensation, with every time Ilya pulled so far back that his mouth almost released Shane’s dick, with every time that he took Shane so deep in his throat that hot spit began to pool at the corners of his mouth.
Shane gripped onto Ilya’s curls, fingers pulling in delight as his back arched from the bed, the feeling of the love of his life pleasuring him with his hot fucking mouth never getting old. Shane’s left hand cupped Ilya’s cheek, the cool wedding band on his ring finger contrasting with the burning skin on Ilya’s face.
“Fuck, baby,” Shane was getting closer and closer to reaching a state of pure bliss, and as badly as he wanted to float away with his orgasm - for Ilya and for the camera - he wanted Ilya to eat his ass, wanted to feel Ilya’s warm tongue in his hole. He’d washed on purpose when he knew Ilya was almost home, so that he would be ready. “Fuck. You’re so good at that.”
Ilya pulled his mouth off of Shane’s dick with a loud pop, crawling up the bed again, hands on either side of Shane’s chest.
“Yes,” Ilya kissed him, mouth soaked with a build up of spit, the taste of Shane’s dick now seeping into his own lips. “You are so good for me. So good for the camera, kotik. So good that I am going to eat you out now.”
“Taste so good,” Shane muttered, chasing Ilya’s lips for one more kiss, one more taste of his own dick. “I love you.”
“I love you more, Shane,” Ilya smiled, slipping down the bed again and watching as Shane’s eyes widened, lips slightly parted and swollen like he’d been stung. “Going to eat you so fucking good. My favourite meal is you, kotik. Open your legs for me. Let me get a look at your pretty fucking hole.”
Ilya perched himself so he was lying on his stomach between Shane’s thighs, his hands prying them apart so Shane was as wide as he could stretch, perfect asshole on show.
“Oh, if I was feeling nasty then I would slap your perfect hole until it was bright red,” Ilya teased, as he dragged his right index finger down Shane’s crotch, inching closer and closer towards his ass. “But you are so good. So patient for me. I want to make you feel good but I want to do it softly. Be gentle with you right now. And then I fuck you hard afterwards, and you can give me second orgasm, yes?”
Shane felt like he was going to die and ascend to heaven imminently. And Ilya fucking knew it.
“Yes,” Shane’s words slipped out like a pathetic fucking whimper. “Yes. Eat me, Ilya. Taste me. Want to feel your tongue in me.”
Ilya smirked, before glancing at the camera, looking directly at the lens. His own heart was racing, this entire scene he’d made up, in his and Shane’s bedroom, so fucking sensual and erotic.
“Fuck yes, Shane,” Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s hole. “Going to make you see stars.”
After kissing Shane’s desperate hole, Ilya wasted no time in letting his tongue press through. Slowly at first, just so Shane could get used to the sensation, but as soon as Ilya felt his well behaved husband relax, he knew he was fine. He knew Shane was ready. Hole clenching and desperate, so warm and open for Ilya’s tongue.
Ilya held Shane’s legs apart, fingers clawing into his thighs, desperate to leave red marks which turned into bruises so everyone knew who Shane belonged to.
“Ilya,” it came out like a heavenly moan. Shane knew who he belonged to. “Fuck, Ilya. Feels good, just like that.”
Ilya quickened the speed of his tongue a little, reached the pace that he knew Shane loved the most, and pressed a little further in, nose pressed against Shane’s taint.
“Jesus fuck,” Shane’s back arched off the bed with the extra stimulation, fingers tugging a little harder on Ilya’s curls. “Right there, sweetheart.”
A strangled yet deep, heavy moan, straight from the chest, and a spasm in Shane’s torso and legs, told Ilya that, without much difficulty - as always - he’d reached Shane’s prostate. His tongue, so long and pink and perfect, able to hit Shane’s prostate every single time, Shane lifting his pelvis on his own to prop Ilya at a better angle.
“Holy shit,” Shane gasped, as Ilya used his left hand to reach for Shane’s perfect tits, needing to pinch at his nipples again. “Fuck. Fuck, Ilya. I’m going to cum.”
Ilya knew Shane was going to come. After over a decade of learning Shane’s body, and almost one perfect year of a beautiful marriage, Ilya knew Shane’s body better than he knew anything else. He knew what made him cum and what his body did when it was about to cum. He knew what each twitch of his hips and what each breathy whimper to leave Shane’s mouth meant. And right now, as Shane’s grip loosened on Ilya’s curls whilst his hips began to spasm uncontrollably, Ilya knew that Shane was about to fall into seconds of pure fucking bliss. So he kept going. Kept lapping at Shane’s prostate with his tongue until Shane made that whimpering noise which sounded like a skipped breath turned moan being ripped from his chest.
“Ilya,” Shane, in the midst of whimpering and moaning and breathing heavily, managed to let Ilya’s name slip, his head lolling to the right hand side, in direct view of the camera, as his face contorted with pleasure. “Fuck. So good. So, so good. Love it when you make me cum. Fuck!”
Ilya didn’t stop. He kept going, kept using his tongue- up and down and side to side - milking Shane through, as Ilya promised, the best prostate orgasm of his life.
When Shane’s body stopped twitching, and when Ilya recognised Shane needed to come down now, he removed his tongue from his hole, leaving a soft, delicate kiss against the wet rim of Shane’s ass. Ilya parted his lips, licking a gentle stripe up Shane’s hole to clean him up, swallowing every last drop of perfect fucking fluid which gathered there.
“You taste beautiful, Shane,” Ilya sighed, licking his own lips, before, unsurprisingly, gravitating back towards Shane’s mouth. “Be a good boy and taste yourself on me.”
Shane nodded, as Ilya crashed down on Shane’s mouth without warning, eliciting a moan which got trapped between their lips, the vibrations rushing straight to Ilya’s own dick. Ilya, who slipped his tongue into Shane’s mouth so quickly that Shane almost forgot how to breathe, sucking on Ilya’s tongue and taking in every little bit of his own taste. Mixed with Ilya, it tasted like the sweetest fucking thing in the world.
“So good,” as Ilya pulled away, he smiled and caressed Shane’s cheek, grazing his fingers over the burning skin. “Now are you going to show the camera just how well you take me, kotik? Just how good you take my dick as I choke you and watch you lose it?”
“Oh, my fucking—”
Shane tried to speak, tried to tell Ilya yes - yes, I’ll be good for you, yes I’ll show the camera how well I take you, yes I’ll let you take all control of me and my windpipe to make us both feel good - but the pleasure was too much. Instead, it came out like a choked, unfinished moan that made him sound more pathetic than when he was begging for Ilya to touch him.
“Going to put my hand around your throat until you’re struggling to breathe, kotik,” Ilya left a light covering of soft kisses to Shane’s neck. “You tap me three times if is too much, okay? Give me your colour, Shane.”
With Ilya’s fingers teasing against Shane’s collarbone, teasing to begin circling his windpipe, Shane smiled. Ilya always took the best fucking care of him, especially when he was half gone with pleasure but still desperate for more.
“Green,” Shane replied, words all breathy and quiet, but clear enough for Ilya to know Shane wanted this so much, so bad. “Bright green. Greener than a recycling truck. Fuck, so green.”
“Shut up,” Ilya slapped Shane’s face, watching as his cheek began to turn an even darker shade of red - more crimson and blood-like - as he began to pump his own aching dick. “I only asked for colour. Not comparison to recycling. But you have to take bins out when I am done with you.”
“Fuck off,” Shane rolled his eyes, desperate to feel the pressure on his windpipe and the head of Ilya’s dick applying pressure to his prostate. “Just fuck me.”
“Be a brat and I will stop right now,” Ilya pulled away. “I will stop but leave camera rolling. Tie you to the bed so you cannot touch yourself and leave, so you cannot cum. Will just be you and camera, you showing camera just how pathetic you are when you do not have my dick. Is what you want?”
Shane, head spinning, tried to sit up and shake his head. Ilya held him down with the palm of his placed firm in the centre of Shane’s chest.
“No,” Shane whimpered, eyes all apologetic and sad. “No, Ilya. Want you to fuck me. Want to see how good I take you when we watch it back. Want you to choke me, Ilya. Please.”
“My good little kotik,” Ilya kissed Shane again. A peck first, then his tongue slipped in, carelessly, as he began to suck on Shane’s own tongue. He pulled away. “So good. Going to get you ready for me now. Open you up with my fingers until your perfect hole is clenching for something more.”
Shane nodded, eyes wide and focused entirely on Ilya’s crotch, the way his hand wrapped around his bare dick and gave it two, three, four pumps, how he lined himself up with Shane’s hole, just to tease him.
“Show the camera how much you want me, Shane,” Ilya smirked, removing his hand from his own dick and trailing his fingers towards Shane’s hole. “You want one finger? Or two?”
“Two,” Shane whimpered, waiting incredibly impatiently for Ilya to touch him. “Please. Need your fingers to get me ready for your cock, Ilya.”
“Patience, baby,” Ilya pressed the pad of his thumb to Shane’s hole first, before removing his hand, Shane gasping at the sudden loss of contact, but his entire body burning up again as he watched Ilya suck on his fingers - two at a time in his mouth - to coat them in his spit. “You’re so wet already you don’t need lube. Just your cum and my spit, kotik. The perfect mix.”
Shane whined, all pathetic and needy, fingers trembling. He needed to be closer to Ilya. He needed Ilya inside of him, and fast.
“Ready, Shane?” Ilya asked, soaked index and middle finger now circling at Shane’s fluttering pink hole. “I am going to finger you now.”
“Yes,” Shane’s words, all mangled and slipping out like perfect breathy little moans, filled the room. “Fuck, yes please. Can’t wait any longer, Ilya. Been so good for you, sweetheart.”
“Yes, you have,” Ilya pushed his fingers in, no resistance whatsoever, just warmth and a loose tightness. “Fuck, Shane. You feel so good. Still so loose from last night. Won’t take me long to get you ready.”
Shane whimpered and whined like it was his first time ever getting his ass fingered. Tears already beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes, but he blinked them away.
“You sound like the world’s biggest slut, Shane,” Ilya picked up the pace of his fingers, watching in complete awe as Shane writhed at his mercy. “Like I do not finger you then fuck you every night. You cry like you are virgin who has never been fucked before. I love it. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Shane’s lips were hanging agape, broken breaths escaping from his mouth, all ragged with each thrust of Ilya’s fingers. “Need your dick, Ilya.”
Ilya smiled, slowing his pace, drawing his fingers further and further out of Shane’s hole to thrust them back in slower, forcing Shane to take him deeper.
“Okay, kotik,” Ilya removed his fingers and was quick to wrap his hand around his own aching cock, bedsheets covered in his precum, Shane too far gone to care. Shane, who without any sort of contact from Ilya, was whining desperately for more. “Shh, baby. You sound so pathetic, so fucking needy. Like I have not already eaten you out and made you cum once.”
The air around Shane felt thick. Hot and heavy as it weighed down on his windpipe, and that was before Ilya slipped his fingers around his throat.
“You are going to look so good when we watch this back,” Ilya smiled, pausing as he perched himself backwards, resting on his thighs. “Let me just check the angle is still good. Need to be able to see how you take me, how you look as I slam my dick into you, yes? Need to see what you look like when you pass out from pleasure, moy kotik.”
Shane watched as Ilya stood up, turning his back momentarily, leaving Shane to feel empty and useless like his cock. All the beautiful soft moles on Ilya’s back were laid out in a perfect constellation made up of Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.
“Fuck me,” Shane whispered, when Ilya got himself behind the camera, eyebrows furrowed tightly as he studied his phone screen. Their eyes met, Shane looking directly into the camera. “Ilya. Fuck me.”
“Say please,” Ilya smiled, wishing so bad that the camera would pick up just how wide his grin was right now. “My sweet, patient boy. You look so good like this. Like you were made to be recorded like this. Fuck, Shane.”
“Please,” Shane swallowed, his dick so hard that he knew if Ilya didn’t even do so much as touch him within the next ten seconds, he would pass out. “Please fuck me, Ilya.”
And Ilya wasted no time then. The camera angle was more than perfect, Shane’s big, muscly, naked body on show, so Ilya had nothing else to do other than climb on top of his husband, kiss him stupid and play with his dick.
“Love you, solnyshko,” Ilya muttered, his own breath beginning to catch in his throat. “Going to make you feel so good. Lie back, Shane. Lie back and take my huge dick like the good boy you are.”
Shane nodded, eyes wide with desire swirling in his irises as he watched Ilya like his dick up with Shane’s hole, teasing him ever so gently with the tip, wanting to see Shane fall apart, but also desperate just to make him see stars. All for him. Recorded on Ilya’s phone so he could rewatch it whenever he wanted, so they could rewatch it and get off whenever they wanted. Not that they didn’t do that already.
“Fuck,” through gritted teeth, Ilya let out a satiated groan, Shane mimicking his actions. “You feel so good, baby. I am almost entirely in, Shane. Deep breath.”
When Ilya felt his entire length be enveloped by Shane’s heat, he stilled, leaning his torso backwards so the camera would pick up the spot where he and Shane were connected. He and Shane, two halves of one whole, finally together.
Ilya let his hand drift up Shane’s chest, fingers trailing against the light spattering of body hair covering his navel and his chest, stopping when they reached the dip in his throat.
Shane looked at Ilya, eyes locked together. A symbol of trust. Shane’s way of saying, you can do anything you want with me and I trust you’ll keep me safe. Ilya smiled, wrapping his long, deft fingers around Shane’s neck and squeezing each side of his windpipe gently, like they’d practised. Shane’s eyes threatened to roll backwards, eyelids threatening to flutter shut, but Ilya grunted to keep Shane present.
And then he finally started thrusting.
Slowly, to begin with, to allow Shane to get used to the sensation of Ilya’s rigid cock inside of him, to acclimatise to the tightness around his windpipe. But then, without warning, Ilya drew almost all the way out, tightened his grip on Shane’s neck, then slammed himself all the way in. Pace relentless within seconds, the sounds of Shane’s moans and Ilya’s grunts filling their bedroom, a perfect euphony of their pleasure fusing together.
“Tighter,” was all Ilya heard amongst the softness of their delicate but erotic moans, Shane’s cheeks so red and freckles even darker, as he forced out his one simple request. “Choke me tighter.”
“Are you sure?” Ilya didn’t slow down. His hips moved so rhythmically, so in time with every single breath that left his parted lips. Shane nodded, eyes open, trained on Ilya’s. I trust you, remember? “Okay, sweetheart. Good boy.”
Ilya practically growled under his breath as he tightened his grip on Shane’s neck, watching as Shane nodded ever so slightly, lips parted, all red and swollen and perfect, as he began to choke on the remaining air in his lungs. Ilya knew how intense it made Shane’s orgasm, the constant massaging of his prostate mixed with the lack of air leaving Shane on a cloud of pleasure. Ilya wouldn’t deny him of that. Shane deserved to feel good all of the time. If they didn’t have other obligations, like playing hockey in the biggest hockey league in the world, Ilya wouldn’t be fucking Shane senseless every second of every day.
Ilya loved seeing Shane like this. So blissed out and fucked out to the point he was floating away, entire body shaking with each aggressive slam of Ilya’s hips, chest faltering more as Ilya’s tight grip burned bruises into the delicate skin on his neck.
“Going to mark you up, Shane,” Ilya mumbled under his breath, glancing at his husband’s face and then to where they were connected, watching how easily his dick slipped in and out of Shane’s beautiful hole. “Going to leave bruises on your skin so everyone knows you have husband who fucks you so good. You want everyone to know, yes? That is me who gets you like this.”
Shane couldn’t speak, airway restricted and head too light to process any words and send them to his tongue. Ilya slid his thumb across from the left side of Shane’s neck to the centre, pressing down ever so lightly, directly onto the front of Shane’s windpipe. Even though he shouldn’t, because it was very fucking dangerous, Shane loved it. Made him tremble and forced him closer to the edge.
“Need you to cum for me, Shane,” Ilya placed his left hand on Shane’s side, catching the glimmer of his golden wedding band in the corner of his eye, hips almost stuttering. “Going to touch your dick. Make each touch line up with each bruise to your prostate.”
“Fuck,” Shane managed to breathe out, nodding, so dizzy and so close to falling into darkness because of just how good it felt. “So… good. Fuck.”
Ilya could see in Shane’s eyes that he was close. Could tell by the way his head was lolling to one side and he was fighting to keep his eyes open and latched onto his husband.
“You going to show them how fucking good you are, cumming when I am still fucking into you?” Ilya rasped, his own movements beginning to falter and slow as he felt the beautiful build up to a release pooling in his stomach. “Show them how sensitive you get, but how you do not let that stop you?”
“Yes,” Shane was crying now, tears streaming down his face as Ilya wrapped his hand around Shane’s leaking cock, spreading the precum across his crimson tip. “Fuck, yes. Going to cum so hard for you, Ilya. Want you to cum in me, fill me up and let it drip out of me for days.”
“Yeah?” Ilya smiled, releasing his grip entirely on Shane’s face, watching as he took in a deep breath which began all the way in his stomach, before slapping the fucking breath out of him. “My good boy. Take it. Take every inch, every touch. Take me, baby.”
Shane was so far gone, so close to cumming, so close to passing out, his limbs turning heavy but his head turning light.
“Gonna cum, Ilya,” he whimpered, heart racing so fast against his rib cage that he felt like it would burst out of his chest and he would die. “Gonna cum, sweetheart. Fuck.”
“Cum for me, Shane,” Ilya, so blissed out himself that he felt dizzy, still managed to thrust into Shane’s hole and pump Shane’s dick with a perfect fucking rhythm that left them both teetering on a familiar cliff edge. “Cum now, kotik. Want you all over my hand.”
Shane’s back lifted ever so slightly from the mattress, eyes rolling back, breath pausing in his chest as the ripples washed over him. The pleasure quickly becoming too much as Ilya rode out his orgasm, and Shane’s, deep mutters rumbling in his chest and falling from his own lips.
Shane was cumming so much, all over Ilya’s hand, all over his own stomach, entire body light and floating and free in the safety of the man he loved, the man who knew him better than anyone else.
“I love you,” Ilya whispered, his mouth dry, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. “I love you so much, my Shane.”
“I love you,” Shane, so entirely fucked out that he couldn’t move, finally felt the delicious aftershocks of his orgasm slow. “Kiss.”
“Anything for you,” Ilya smiled, brushing a piece of Shane’s dark hair away from his eyes, side of Ilya’s finger brushing against his damp forehead. “My beautiful husband.”
Shane smiled too, feeling Ilya slip his tongue into his mouth, desperate to find Shane’s and suck on it, taste him, hope that Shane could still taste the remnants of himself on ilya’s tongue.
Ilya collapsed onto Shane’s chest, feeling his husband envelope him into his arms, hand pressed to the small of Ilya’s bare back.
“You are so good for me, Shane,” Ilya kissed Shane’s cheek, his earlobe, his forehead, before burying his face into Shane’s neck. “So good for me and now not only do I have mental image, but I have it on my phone too. My perfect boy, all laid out for me to play with and use, to make feel good. Did it feel good?”
“It felt incredible,” Shane left a peck on Ilya’s lips before feeling him pull back. “Best in a long time. I could sleep forever.”
“You can sleep once I wash you and massage your sore muscles, watch as bruises come through on your pretty neck,” Ilya left a trail of kisses over Shane’s throat. “You are good pornstar when camera is on.”
Shane blushed. Pornstar. Ilya had joked before about Shane being his own personal pornstar, and every time, Shane nodded shyly, the blood in his body splitting directions, one half rushing to his head and the other half falling to his dick.
He loved the praise. Loved it when Ilya told him you’re so good for me. Even though he was scared at first, there was something so entirely thrilling about a fucking camera picking up on their every single movement, every single word.
He thought about what it would look like. What he would look like with Ilya’s hand around his neck whilst his dick was brushing his prostate so effortlessly. What he would look like when Ilya praised him. What he would look like when he came.
Oh, fuck. They needed to do this again. But with Shane sucking Ilya’s cock, with Shane riding ilya’s cock.
“Ilya,” Shane whispered, reaching for his husband’s wrist to prevent him from pulling away and standing to flick the camera off. Ilya looked at him, cheeks pink and smile wide but still in a daze somewhere. “Let’s do this again. Let’s record another sex tape.”