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The flight back from Thailand had been long, but the lingering heat of the tropics still seemed to cling to their skin. However, for Ilya, the post-vacation glow was quickly replaced by a very specific, very loud sense of frustration.
It happened three days after they returned to Ottawa. Ilya was scrolling through a travel forum, researching the charity event they had just supported, when he stumbled upon a luxury wellness guide for the region they had visited. His eyes widened, and he let out a groan that sounded like a wounded animal.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Ilya bellowed from the living room.
Shane, who was calmly folding laundry, looked up with a raised eyebrow. "What now?"
Ilya marched into the room, thrusting his phone right under Shane's nose. "Look! Look at this, Shane! 'Couples’ Sensual Oil Rituals.' It says here that the resort we stayed at offers private, naked, aromatic massages for spouses. In a candle-lit grotto! With oils! We were there, Shane! We were literally in the building!"
Shane stifled a laugh. "Ilya, it was a last-minute trip. We were there for the foundation's charity gala. We didn't have time to pore over the spa menu."
"But imagine it!" Ilya pouted, his lower lip actually protruding in a way that would have been ridiculous if he weren't so handsome. "You, glistening in oil, naked on a table, while I get to touch every single inch of you in that humid air... we missed a golden opportunity, malysh. A tragedy. A genuine tragedy."
Shane rolled his eyes, stepping closer to wrap his arms around Ilya’s neck. "We did naked yoga, Ilya. We had sex in the shower, on the beach, in the hotel bed, and that one time in the garden. I think we covered the 'naked' part pretty thoroughly."
"It's not the same," Ilya whined, leaning his forehead against Shane's. "The oil... the ritual... the feeling of watching you on it. I can still feel the lack of that massage in my soul."
Shane just chuckled and kissed him, though in the back of his mind, a plan was already forming. Ilya’s birthday was coming up the following week, and if he wanted a sensual oil ritual, Shane was going to give him one that would make the Thailand resort look like a pediatrician's office.
The birthday celebrations had been exhaustive. Shane had gone all out, a loud, loving dinner with Yuna and David, followed by a night of arcade games, then a movie, and a session of tender, long celebratory sex that had left them both exhausted.
The morning after the birthday, Ilya woke up late to a cold spot in the bed. He blinked, rubbing his eyes, and realized Shane was already gone. He showered and dressed in a loose robe, wandering downstairs. As he approached the lower level of their cottage, a faint, rhythmic sound reached his ears, the low, soothing wash of ocean waves.
He followed the sound toward the yoga room. As he pushed the heavy wooden doors open, the air hit him first: a thick, intoxicating scent of aromatic lilies and warm wax.
The room had been transformed. The built-in golden warm lights were dimmed, replaced by dozens of flickering candles and soft, twinkly fairy lights that draped from the ceiling like fallen stars. The floor-length mirrors that lined the walls reflected the golden glow, creating an infinite loop of warmth and intimacy.
And then there was Shane.
Shane was standing by the massage table, waiting. He was wearing a pair of tiny, white silk shorts which looked more like a cheeky speedo, trimmed with delicate white lace. The fabric was so thin and tight that it left absolutely nothing to the imagination; the bulge of his cock was prominently displayed, straining against the silk, and the lace hugged the curve of his ass perfectly.
Ilya stopped dead in his tracks. His cock slammed hard against his thigh, instantly erect.
Shane looked up, a playful, shy smile on his lips. He didn't move, just stood there, glistening slightly under the lights. "Sir," Shane said, his voice a low, sultry purr. "I was waiting for you. Your massage is ready."
Ilya’s throat went dry. "You... you did this?"
"I heard you were mourning a missed opportunity," Shane whispered, gesturing to the table. "Please. Strip for me."
Ilya didn't need to be told twice. He shed his robe in seconds, stepping out of it and standing completely naked before Shane. He felt vulnerable and exposed, but the way Shane was looking at him with a mixture of hunger and devotion made him feel like he was doing something right.
"Lay down, Ilya," Shane commanded softly.
Ilya obeyed, his massive, tanned frame descending onto the padded table. As his chest pressed into the surface, the muscles of his back rippled and flexed, filling the space. The moment he settled, a heavy drop of warm, aromatic lily oil splashed onto the small of his back, the heat of the liquid searing against his skin. He let out a long, shaky breath, his nostrils flaring as the floral scent mingled with the musk of his own arousal.
Shane didn't make him wait. He started gently, his palms sliding over Ilya's broad, boulder-like shoulders. He began kneading the tension out of the traps, his fingers digging deep into the dense muscle. The oil turned the friction into a seamless, slippery glide, and the room filled with the wet, rhythmic squelch of skin sliding against skin. Slowly, the pressure shifted from soothing to demanding. Shane used his thumbs to grind into the knots of Ilya's lower back, his touch firm and professional, yet laced with something so intimate that it made Ilya’s toes curl.
"God, Shane..." Ilya groaned, the sound muffled as his face remained buried in the face cradle, his voice vibrating through the table.
Shane moved lower.He poured more oil onto his palms, the scent of lilies becoming an intoxicating haze in the mirrored room. He reached the glutes, gripping the heavy, hard cheeks of Ilya's ass with both hands. He kneaded the muscle with deep, rhythmic pressure, squeezing the flesh firmly before sliding his palms from the base of Ilya's spine all the way down to the crease of his thighs. Every few strokes, Shane’s fingers deliberately grazed the underside of Ilya's heavy balls, a teasing touch that sent jolts of electricity straight to Ilya's cock.
Ilya was moaning loudly now, the guttural sounds echoing off the mirrored walls. He shifted his gaze, seeing the reflection of his own glistening, oiled body and Shane hovering over him. Shane looked devastating in those tight white silk shorts, the fabric clinging to his hips, making him look like a gorgeous, devoted husband preparing him for pleasure.
The friction was driving Ilya insane. He felt his cock throbbing violently, the head leaking thick pre-cum that smeared across the table. Driven by a desperate need for release, Ilya reached back, his hand instinctively closing around his own thick cock to start stroking.
Slap.
Shane lightly but firmly batted his hand away. "No touching," Shane whispered, leaning down until his hot breath ghosted against Ilya's ear, sending a shiver down the larger man's spine. "I'm the one in control right now. Just feel it, Ilya. Just feel me."
Shane moved to the front of the table, his movements fluid and teasing. He leaned over Ilya's body, his chest brushing against Ilya's bicep. As he bent, the white silk shorts rode up even higher, exposing the creamy, pale skin of his ass. Shane began to massage Ilya's chest and stomach, his oiled fingers swirling around Ilya's nipples, pinching and twisting them into hard, sensitive peaks.
As Shane leaned further, his face just inches from Ilya's, the scent of lily oil, sweat, and raw lust became overwhelming. The tension snapped.
In one swift, explosive movement, Ilya bolted up from the table. He lunged forward, grabbing Shane by the waist with hands that could crush bone and slamming him backward onto the massage table. The impact was violent, causing oil to splatter across their skin and the surrounding floor.
"Enough!" Ilya moaned, his voice a guttural command. He crashed his lips against Shane's in a bruising, hungry kiss. Their tongues clashed with desperate intensity, tasting of salt and oil, a battle for dominance that Ilya was winning.
Ilya’s hands flew to Shane's thighs, sliding under the white silk. He didn't waste a second; he shoved three two fingers deep into Shane's hole. Shane was already slick, having prepped earlier and his body betraying how badly he wanted this. Shane let out a high-pitched moan, his back arching off the table in a sharp curve, his fingers digging deep into Ilya's oiled shoulders, leaving red marks.
"Please... Ilya, please fuck me!" Shane begged, his voice breaking into a sob of need. "Now! I want it now!"
Ilya reached for the bottle of lube sitting next to the oil. He squeezed a generous, dripping amount onto his thick, pulsing cock and then slathered the rest onto Shane's tight entrance. In one fluid motion, he flipped Shane over, shoving him onto his hands and knees. He positioned him perfectly, facing the mirrors so Shane had no choice but to watch.
"Look at it," Ilya commanded, his voice a dark, possessive growl. "Look at how much I want to ruin you. Look at how much you ruin me"
Ilya teased Shane a little more as he leaned forward, his teeth grazing the waistband of those white silk shorts. With a sudden, violent tug, he ripped the fabric. The silk tore with a satisfying, loud snap, the fabric shredding as he tore the shorts away from Shane's body, leaving him completely bare and exposed.
Ilya then entered him, burying his entire length into Shane's tight hole. Shane moaned loudly, his eyes wide in the mirror as he watched Ilya's powerful hips slam into his ass. The sound was filthy, a wet, slapping noise that echoed through the cottage, amplified by the mirrors.
Because they were both drenched in oil, every slide was incredibly slick and fast. Ilya was relentless, hammering into Shane with a feral, animalistic intensity. He gripped Shane's hips so hard his fingers sank into the flesh, ensuring that every thrust hit the deepest part of Shane's core.
"You're mine," Ilya groaned, his pace becoming frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "Always fucking mine."
“Yes, Ilyaa. Always.”
Shane was sobbing with pleasure, his own cock rubbing frantically against the table, spraying cum in rhythmic, uncontrolled spurts as Ilya hammered into his prostate over and over again. The visual in the mirror was so erotic, two glistening, oiled bodies locked in a desperate, sweaty embrace, the tanned skin of Ilya contrasting sharply against Shane's pale, flushed body that Shane felt himself completely lose himself just by looking at the mirrors.
With a final, guttural roar that shook his entire frame, Ilya buried himself as deep as humanly possible, pinning Shane to the table. He emptied his load inside Shane in powerful, pulsing waves, his body shaking with the sheer force of the orgasm as he claimed him completely.
They collapsed together on the table, a tangled mess of limbs, oil, and spent passion. The ocean waves were still playing softly in the background, a stark contrast to the carnage they had just created.
Ilya leaned up, kissing Shane's sweaty temple. "Best. Birthday. Gift. Ever," he whispered.
Shane smiled, leaning back and catching his breath. He felt a sudden wave of shyness as he noticed Ilya staring at the small table behind them, where the supplies were kept.
Shane turned around and saw the bottle of oil he had used. He looked closer at the label.
"What?" Shane asked.
Ilya pointed to the label, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Rose oil, Shane? You bought Rose oil? Was the Lily Oil really not enough?"
Shane froze, then burst into a fit of laughter. "It smelled the most romantic! I thought it would be a nice touch! But then I started with the Lily oil and someone, not naming that person rudely interrupted my process."
Ilya tried to keep a straight face, but the sight of Shane's genuine, bubbly laughter broke him. He smiled, pulling Shane into his chest and kissing him deeply.
"I love you, I love you so fucking much." Shane whispered against his skin.
"I love you too," Ilya replied, kissing his nose. "Even if you buy stupid rose oil. Ya tebya lyublyu Shane, always and forever. ”