Chapter Text
It all starts on the first day of Shane’s university career. The campus is large and imposing, and the students chattering and running around are grating on his nerves. Even Rose, knowing the layout well after a year of studying here already, has trouble guiding her best friend to the welcome event, but they make it there eventually.
Technically, she is not supposed to be there, but Shane talks her into staying anyway and grips her arm as he dutifully listens to every presenter – welcoming the new students, explaining course selection, talking about clubs and activities.
That’s when Shane sees him. Standing towards the side, hands in his pockets and halfheartedly listening to a student representative introduce all the sports clubs and teams at the university. He is tall, his light hair falls in effortlessly perfect curls around his face and his gaze is giving the impression that he would rather be anywhere else right now.
Shane lightly shoves his elbow into Rose’s side and leans in far enough to be able to whisper to her. “Who is that?”
“Who is who?” Rose asks, furrowing her brows as she tries to follow his gaze.
“Curly hair. Tall. Looks moody,” Shane lists off, trying to avoid saying something insane like looks like he was carved from marble or so hot I kind of want him to beat me up.
Rose just scoffs silently and shakes her head. “Forget it, Shane. That’s Ilya Rozanov.” At Shane’s raised eyebrows and another, slightly stronger, shove with his elbow, Rose begrudgingly elaborates. “He’s the captain of the hockey team, pretty well-known on campus. And the one thing everyone knows is that the moment you want him, you've already lost.”
Shane frowns, leaning in a bit closer to his friend. “What does that even mean? Is he taken?” he questions, annoyed but still curious.
“Nah, he’s a weirdo,” Rose giggles, stifling the sounds behind her hand when a shush sounds from behind them. “Rozanov loves the chase. He’s got a thing for people who don’t want him, but the moment they show interest back and let him hit he gets bored and moves on. I swear he has some issues he needs to go to therapy for, ‘cause that’s just not normal.”
Shane only hums in acknowledgement, his gaze drifting back to the man in question. Shane has done a lot of acting in his life. He has acted like he understood how other people express themselves, he has acted like he wasn’t uncomfortable or unsure in most of his conversations. Most importantly, he spent the first 18 years of his life acting like he was straight. If there is one thing he knows how to do, it is act like he doesn’t want to be taken apart by an attractive man. Shane is a seasoned expert in it. One year of finally getting to live his true feelings cannot possibly have reversed that skill. So, that part should be easy, really. The only part he has to figure out is how to spend enough time around Ilya Rozanov to showcase his extreme lack of interest without looking like he wants to be around him.
Luckily, Shane Hollander is a very resourceful guy when it comes to the things he wants. And, hearing the deep, heavily accented voice shortly introduce his team only a few minutes later leaves him with one certainty: he desperately wants Ilya Rozanov.
Step 1 – Catching his eye
There are many things to say about Hayden Pike. He is a good friend, a fun guy, and a decent hockey player; decent enough to be on the university team, at the very least. One thing that nobody has ever accused Hayden Pike of being is observant. So, when Shane tells him he wants to come to his first practice to support him, Hayden enthusiastically agrees and invites him into the stands, none the wiser to any ulterior motives.
Shane quickly realizes that every step of the plan is essential – even choosing the right outfit. He can’t risk looking like he is there to impress someone, but he still has to look good enough to grab Ilya’s attention. In the end, the simplest solution seems to be his tighter pair of sweatpants and a hoodie cropped just enough to not obstruct any of the view. It is only step one, after all. Patience is key.
And patient he is. Through the entire practice, Shane simply sits aside watching. His gaze drifts to Ilya as if on autopilot, but it isn’t until the team starts to cool down and make their way back to the side of the rink that they make eye contact. It is brief, but not too brief. Not brief enough to indicate that he was caught staring. Shane raises an eyebrow, holding the piercing blue gaze for three seconds before he stands up and approaches Hayden, his friend just leaving the ice.
“Great job out there,” Shane says, grinning and punching Hayden in the shoulder, eliciting a small laugh.
“It was just practice.”
“Hmmm. Still. You’re gonna crush your first match.”
Hayden grins wide in response and makes to walk in the direction of the changing rooms when a deep voice cuts in from behind. “Pike, you are in the way.”
Hayden immediately straightens up and walks a bit faster, turning to sheepishly look at Ilya, who is now following his teammate off the ice. “Sorry captain, I was just talking to my friend,” he gestures in Shane’s general direction with one hand to emphasize his point. “He wanted to watch my first practice."
“Ah,” Ilya turns to Shane now, his eyes slowly raking across his body as if he is analyzing every part. Shane feels hot all over under the scrutiny, but manages to school his face into a neutral expression by the time the other’s eyes meet his again. “Ilya Rozanov,” he says in introduction, his voice deeper than when he was speaking to Hayden earlier, a light smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And you are?”
“Shane,” he answers and, without missing a beat, turns his entire body back towards Hayden in a clear dismissal. “Can you get changed? I want to get lunch, I’m starving.”
His friend nods enthusiastically in answer and points towards the side door, telling Shane to wait outside for him. For the entire duration of the walk towards it, he swears he can feel Ilya Rozanov’s eyes burning into him from behind. His attention is like a physical feeling, like a press of warmth against the muscles of Shane’s back, a tugging sensation coaxing him to look back. He doesn’t turn around, of course. That would give the game away.
Shane does, however, thank the heavens and any deity that may or may not inhabit them for Hayden Pike.
Step 2 – Proximity
Shane would never refer to himself as a stalker, however, he also has the distinct feeling that Rose might if she knew what he is doing right now. It’s not his fault, really, that Troy Barrett is a talker. All Shane has to do is look at him from beneath his lashes, touch his arm in all the right ways, and the man barely even seems to notice that asking him what kind of electives the poor hockey team has to take when they would rather spend their time practicing is not exactly the most common way of flirting.
“I’ve always been interested in photography, so that was a no-brainer and…” Shane is barely listening for half of it, just smiling and nodding, hoping to catch the information he is actually looking for. “Cap doesn’t want to do classes on Friday, though, so he and Hazy are planning on doing some random intro to history class on Thursday morning.” Troy shudders, a look of disgust on his face. “I could never.”
Shane simply laughs and nods along, shelving the information away and making quick work of ending the conversation after. When Troy asks for his number, he just winks at him and leaves, having gotten what he wanted already.
It doesn’t take too much research after that to figure out the exact class. He knows the team’s schedule thanks to Hayden and then it just comes down to two history classes on Thursday – one of them decidedly not beginner level. When Rose questions him about his seemingly sudden interest in history, Shane just shrugs and spins a tale of how it relates to his literature major. She raises an eyebrow, clearly not too convinced, but decides to let it go for now.
For the first class, Shane arrives late. The ticking clock makes his skin itch and he taps his feet anxiously as he sits in his dorm room, waiting for the time to go by. When he finally lets himself leave, he has to hold back from running to make it on time after all, almost abandoning the plan at the last second, but he manages. More than fifteen minutes after the start of the class, he opens the lecture hall door and makes his way in, not even trying to be quiet about it. The politeness drilled into him through years of being raised by Yuna Hollander almost makes him squirm, but he keeps a straight face as several students turn their heads to look. Shane feels almost smug when he sees Ilya Rozanov stare at him over his shoulder, gaze locked onto Shane like that of a predator. Of course, he can’t make it too easy for him, so he chooses an open seat several rows behind the hockey player rather than one in his line of sight. It’s an almost heady feeling when the Russian (if Hayden is to be believed) keeps stealing glances at him, his head craning back every few minutes like he can’t help himself. He only pretends to catch him once, though, raising an unimpressed eyebrow when their gazes meet. He can see the way Ilya’s hand clenches around nothing on top of his table at the interaction, and can’t help but imagine how it would feel grabbing his waist to hold him down.
When their lecturer tells them to assign themselves into groups of three on the online platform, Shane lazily opens the website and adds himself into an empty group, ignoring the people around him trying to find people to work with. He can barely keep his satisfied grin to himself when the names Wyatt Hayes and Ilya Rozanov appear next to his less than a minute later.
Way too fucking easy.
Step 3 – Never stop acting
Shane presses his phone to his chest, his lips spread into a giddy grin in the privacy of his dorm room. He can barely believe how quickly his plan is progressing – he expected it to take at least a few more interactions for Ilya to get this involved, but this barely leaves him time to plan out where to go from here. So, for now, he will just keep up the pretense, and evaluate Ilya’s reactions. That will surely give him an idea on the best course of action.
-
Unable to keep himself from biting down on his lower lip in anticipation, Shane locks his phone after reading the messages and puts it back down, deciding to finish the chapter he has to read for one of his literature classes before answering.
Shane decides not to answer.
-
“Hey, sorry I’m late. Had to talk to a professor about one of my classes,” Shane lies, sliding into the seat next to Ilya on the small table, silently eyeing the backpack occupying the seat next to Wyatt Hayes – clearly not his own, as that one is slung over the back of his chair.
“No worries,” Wyatt smiles, pushing his notebook into the middle, “Roz and I took some notes already on where to start about the Berlin wall and how it differently affected the two sides of Germany after World War 2, if you want to look over them.”
“Thank you.” Shane gives Wyatt his most charming smile, pulling the notes a bit closer and leaning over them, tapping his pen against his lower lip in a pretense of casualness. He can feel Ilya’s eyes on his mouth like a brand, hot iron pressing into skin to leave a mark of possession. Shane gives his all not to react.
“This part would be good to use at start of our presentation,” comes a low rumble from Ilya then, his finger pointing at a certain part of the notes right under Shane’s nose.
“Yeah, maybe,” Shane agrees noncommittally, not sparing the man next to him a single glance. “Do you guys mind if I get some coffee really quick?”
The chair underneath Ilya makes a loud scraping noise at the speed that the man gets up at, fiddling for his wallet in the back pocket of his jeans. “I will get it for you. What do you like?”
At that, Shane does let his eyes meet Ilya’s, and he can feel the heat rush through his veins at the eager, almost desperate look in that piercing blue. “Oh, just an Americano. Thanks.” And without missing a beat, he turns back to the notes, tapping against the paper idly as he hears Ilya’s footsteps retreat to the counter.
“You not into guys?”
Shane’s eyes flicker up to Wyatt at his question, and he has to fight hard to keep his nonchalance about him. “No, I am. Why?”
Wyatt raises an eyebrow in disbelief, flicking his gaze from Shane to what must be Ilya at the counter behind him before speaking up again. “Ilya just isn’t your type, then?”
Tilting his head in feigned ignorance, Shane simply stares back at the man in front of him, daring him to elaborate. Wyatt only deflates a little and quickly tries to change the topic by turning his attention back to the notes. Shane smiles to himself. Easy.
Ilya returns with the coffee in hand, holding it out to Shane with an expectant look on his face. The light desperation in his eyes convinces Shane to give him at least something – there is a balance to strike, after all, between acting uninterested and acting mean – so he gives him a light smile, a whispered “Thank you, Ilya” and the lightest brush of fingers as he grabs the coffee. The featherlight touch of skin feels like lightning down Shane’s spine, but he keeps an air of carelessness about him as he turns back towards the notes. Ilya does not stop grinning for the rest of the meeting.
-
When Shane arrives for their second meeting, Ilya is out of his seat in seconds to pull out the chair next to him, gesturing for Shane to sit down. With a small smile and a nod, Shane accepts the gesture and sits, Ilya carefully pushing the chair closer to the table again.
“I’ve been doing some research on West Berlin like we discussed, do you have your notes on the east with you? We can compare and maybe write up a table to note down the contrast.” Shane takes out his notebook as he says this, flipping to everything he jotted down in the last week. He really wishes Ilya had gone for a different elective, something a bit more engaging to Shane, but he supposes it was his own choice to use class as an excuse to be in the other man’s orbit. Maybe he should have made a habit out of showing up to hockey practice instead. Shane is sure Hayden would have been none the wiser.
Through the course of the meeting, Shane does his best to ignore Ilya’s constant glances, as well as the fact that he is slowly moving his chair closer and closer to Shane’s. He has to give credit where it is due, the movements are very subtle – if Ilya’s presence wasn’t like a physical weight on Shane, burning him up from the inside, he would not have noticed until Ilya dared to softly push his thigh against Shane’s own. Shane lets it sit for a second, basks in the way Ilya seems to run hot, in the way he makes Shane have to suppress a shiver from the lightest touch. Then, he darts his eyes over to Ilya, gives him a confused frown and moves his leg away. He can’t give him too much, after all.
-
By the end of the third meeting, Ilya seems a bit desperate. Wyatt left a bit early, citing a conflict with a different meeting, and the moment he is out of earshot it becomes clear that Ilya has no intention of discussing their project any longer.
“Thanksgiving break is next week,” he states, piercing blue eyes trained on the side of Shane’s face, who simply hums in affirmation. “Are you staying? Or going home to see family?” Ilya scoots his chair a bit closer, leaning forward in an attempt to catch Shane’s eyes.
“I’ll be going home to see my parents, yeah. We don’t really do classic Thanksgiving, but I’m still using the break to see them.”
“So you will be gone all week?”
“Yes.” At that, Ilya turns back to the notes and lets out a small huff. His lower lip is jutted out in a pout, clearly not happy with the answer he got.
“You are leaving tomorrow?” Shane, again, answers in an affirmative.
“My parents are picking me up around noon.”
Ilya turns to him fully now, scraping the chair across the floor to make his entire body face Shane. “I will bring you breakfast, then. You will be busy packing, yes? No time to cook. Give me dorm number. I will bring you food. You are in Freshman dorm?”
Shane smiles, barely able to believe how easy Ilya is making this for him. “Yeah. 1410.”
-
The next morning finds Shane up early, unpacking the bag he had meticulously packed only three days ago. He piles the shirts onto his couch, adding some extra for pretend consideration, and stuffs his toiletries back into the bathroom cabinet. Shane can only thank his luck that his roommate already left for break yesterday, not having any Friday classes, so he isn’t here to witness the absolute insanity Shane is committing himself to.
A few minutes after ten, there is a knock at his door, and Shane allows himself an excited hum as he approaches the entry to let Ilya in. “Hi,” he greets, schooling his features back into neutrality as he steps back to allow the other man inside.
“Good Morning. I brought coffee and sandwich,” Ilya says, putting the to-go cup and a small paper bag down on the small kitchen counter before looking around the small dorm.
“Sorry for the mess,” Shane mutters as he picks up the bag to peer inside, inwardly cringing at not having been able to present Ilya a spotless living space, “I’m still packing.”
Ilya tells him not to worry and sits himself down on one of the desk chairs, watching Shane take out the sandwich and start eating – bacon and egg, nice.
“Is good?”
“Yeah, thank you.” Ilya preens under the compliment and silently keeps watching Shane as he finishes his breakfast. Shane does his best not to squirm under the attention, avoiding eye contact more out of self-preservation than pretense.
Ilya’s eyes keep following him through the room as Shane gets back up to put his clothes back into the suitcase he had emptied that morning, making the back of his neck heat up slowly.
“So, are you staying on campus? You’re not celebrating Thanksgiving?” Shane desperately hopes that keeping conversation will distract him enough from the urge to climb into Ilya’s lap and bite his bottom lip while grinding against his crotch.
“Hmm, no, Russians do not do this. Is North American holiday.” There should be a medal for the amount of self-restraint Shane is exhibiting in face of the low, relaxed drawl of Ilya’s voice.
“Ah, yeah, that makes sense. So how are you gonna spend the break, then?”
“Hockey, probably. Is always good to get extra training in.” Ilya spreads his legs a bit as he leans forward, eyes still not leaving Shane. He really hopes his heavy gulp is not audible.
“That’s cool. You must be really good.” Ilya only hums at that. Shane imagines how that hum would feel around his dick, and then desperately tries to scrub his brain clean before his body betrays him in a very non-subtle act. He can’t give up the game yet.
“You should come to watch me play after break,” Ilya says then, a light smirk tugging at his lips. Shane might die.
“Maybe.”
Once Shane is done repacking his suitcase and his parents are due to arrive soon, he walks Ilya down to the entrance of the dorm building. The playful smirk on the other’s lips as he keeps eyeing Shane shows that he might not have successfully hidden all of his reactions today, so he needs to course-correct fast to get back on track. So, when they are about to part, Shane lightly shoves his shoulder into Ilya’s and gives him a light smile – friendly, platonic, and completely non-suggestive. “Thank you for breakfast, man. You’re a great friend.”
“Ah. Of course,” Ilya replies stiffly, his fist clenching against his upper thigh. “See you after break, Shane.”
“See you.”
–
Thanksgiving break with his parents is always nice. Good food, family game nights, and the occasional hike. This year, however, Shane is distracted. His mind keeps wandering back to Ilya and his plan – that is, of course, going well. Kind of. Mostly. Shane knows for a fact that Ilya wants him, that he would sleep with him if Shane asked. The problem that keeps fighting its way to the front of Shane’s mind is the after. If Shane throws himself at Ilya now, he will definitely get what he’s been dreaming of – Ilya’s hands on him, his mouth on his, being slammed into the mattress while getting to look at those piercing eyes. But, if Rose and additional rumours he has heard are to be believed, Ilya will simply get over it and go look for someone new to chase. It seems like an unsolvable problem. Shane wants Ilya so badly, needs to feel his body against his, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to lose Ilya’s attention. Ideally, he wants him over and over. Indefinitely. Forever, possibly. Shane cringes at himself at that thought – he is struggling to think of a way to just get Ilya into his bed more than once, and he is pondering what? Marriage? He sighs, lets his head fall against the desk of his childhood room, and decides to get back to this later. There is no way he will come up with a proper plan right now.
The solution, as absurd as it is, comes to him that very evening at family dinner. Served on a silver platter by his own mother.
“Hey Shane, I know we talked about you coming to visit us for that long weekend you have off for Remembrance Day. Is it okay if you stay on campus after all? Your grandmother gifted me and your dad a small trip for our wedding anniversary, and I’d hate to leave you here alone.”
Shane looks up, eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Why? I’m an adult, mom, I can stay home alone for a few days.”
Yuna huffs, reaching across the table to cover Shane’s hand with her own. “Of course, darling. But break-ins are the most common during holidays, and with our car gone people will think the house is empty.”
David huffs and shoots Shane a grin. “Your mother has been googling statistics again. Lets spare her the worry, yeah? I’m sure you’ll have a nice time on campus.”
Shane can only nod and agree, his mind going a mile a minute with possibilities. He locks himself in his room shortly after dinner and stares at the surface of his desk, ideas swimming behind his eyes. This would never work, would it? It’s a crazy idea, and trying it would just be embarrassing, because it simply wouldn’t work. But no matter how many times he repeats this to himself, he can’t help but think about it. About the way Ilya almost seemed angry when Shane called him a friend. About the constant, unrelenting stares. About the desperation simmering just below Ilya’s skin, so clearly visible if you only look for it. About he’s got a thing for people who don’t want him. Ilya Rozanov loves the chase. What would he do if he managed to catch his prey off-guard?
Shane books a small cottage close to his university town for Remembrance Day weekend. He has a time-limit now. One month to get Ilya Rozanov desperate enough to go too far.
-
As seems to be routine by now, Ilya makes things much easier for Shane than he had anticipated. Almost the moment Shane gets back from Thanksgiving break, Ilya texts him to ask if Shane is free for lunch the next day – Shane, of course, immediately makes plans with Hayden and Rose and tells Ilya to come along if he wants to.
“I can’t believe you’re making me hang out with my captain,” Hayden whines when Shane breaks the news a few minutes before said captain is bound to show up. Shane simply shrugs.
“We are doing a group project for our elective and he asked to hang out. He’s not gonna make you do drills next to our lunch table.”
“You don’t know that. He fucking might,” Hayden grits out and bites down on his sandwich with a little too much force, causing the tomato to slip and fall onto the campus picnic table. Shane frowns at it with disdain, but Hayden doesn’t even bother to pick it up.
“I didn’t know you and Ilya were friends, either,” Rose chimes in, eyeing Shane with suspicion. Shane, of course, just hums and avoids eye contact by looking around for the Russian. He’s getting hungry, and, unlike Hayden, has enough manners to wait for Ilya before eating his, frankly kind of sad, cafeteria sandwich. His best friend knows a distraction when she sees one, of course.
“That history elective-”
“Oh! Ilya! Over here!” Shane raises his hand to wave at the approaching man, who had definitely already seen them and did not need to be alerted at all. At Shane’s enthusiasm, however, Ilya’s face lights up with a broad grin and he speeds up his steps a bit to make it to the table faster, plopping down right next to Shane on the bench.
“Hi,” he murmurs, still smiling at Shane, before he sets down the plastic bag he brought and pulls out three tupperware boxes, spreading them out between the two of them. He keeps talking as he opens them one after the other, revealing a red-colored soup, one filled with dumplings, and a mixed salad respectively.
“You said we are eating here, but campus food is no good,” he eyes the sandwich in front of Shane disdainfully as he says it, “so I made better food. Here,” Ilya grabs a spoon from the bag and dips it into the soup before holding it in front of Shane’s mouth, his other hand cupped underneath to prevent spilling, “is good. Borscht. Try it.”
Shane knows for a fact that he is blushing at least a bit at the moment, but he really can’t help it. His heart is trying to climb out of his chest and jump at the ridiculously sweet man in front of him, begging to curl up in his lap and never leave. Shane subtly takes a slow breath and wills his hands to stop shaking as he brings one of them up to carefully grab the spoon from Ilya’s hand and bring it to his lips himself. Ilya immediately juts his lip out in an adorable pout at being denied the opportunity of hand-feeding Shane, but his smile quickly reappears when Shane nods enthusiastically. “This is really good, Ilya!”
Only after Ilya hands Shane all the needed utensils and pushes all three boxes in front of him to eat does he turn his head towards the opposite side of the table. “Pike,” he says like he only just noticed his presence, giving him a curt nod. Hayden seems at a loss for words, staring back at Ilya like he had just grown horns, so Ilya just turns over to the last occupant of the table and holds out his hand. “You are Rose, yes?”
Rose takes the offered hand and shakes it, introducing herself properly with a serene smile. Her eyes, however, flick back and forth between Ilya, Shane, and the boxes of food on the table. Shane just shoves one of the dumplings into his mouth and looks away.
-
-
Hanging out with Ilya, Hayden, and Rose at once becomes somewhat of a routine over the next few weeks. Hayden is very unhappy about this. Rose is acting like every interaction is a clue she can add to her detective board. Ilya keeps trying to get Shane alone instead, fails miserably (Shane can’t just let him have that), and then proceeds to pretend the other two are not present anyway. The plan is going swimmingly, really.
Two weeks in, the halfway point of his deadline, Shane starts touching Ilya more. A small brush of hands when Shane reaches for something, a short press of legs when he adjusts his seating position, a light bump of shoulders when he is laughing at a joke. Inconspicuous, and always too short – never long enough to satisfy any desire for physical contact, but just enough to make Ilya want more. Shane notices the way the reactions progress from a small quirk of Ilya’s lips to a clenched jaw. From a twitch of his fingers to a tight grip on his thigh. Wyatt notices it too, Shane is sure, but he seems to think Shane isn’t doing it on purpose. Rose notices, too, but Shane simply keeps playing dumb.
-
Shane chuckles to himself, giddy from the idea that Rose has made that same observation. He isn’t being delusional, then, his plan is working.
-
Ilya insisted on walking Shane back to his dorm after the meeting, so now they are standing in front of the entry doors to the freshman dorm, Ilya barely able to hold still with a clear restlessness flowing under his skin. “You are leaving for long weekend, yes? Is stupid. I will miss you.” Shane can’t help but smile at the honesty, doing his best to make it look more condescending than enamored.
“It’s four days. You’ll survive.” Ilya whines and shuffles closer, leaning into Shane’s space with a desperation in his eyes that has been appearing more and more frequently over the last few weeks.
“I need a goodbye present,” he murmurs, flicking his eyes up and down, from Shane’s lips to his eyes, before moving in even closer. And oh, how easy it would be to give in now. Shane almost does. He desperately wants to press his lips to Ilya’s, feel his tongue exploring Shane’s mouth, taste the warmth he can hear in every word the other speaks. But giving in now would mean admitting defeat. He has not come this far just to throw it all away at the last hurdle, so Shane takes a step back, raising his eyebrows in mock confusion.
“Sorry. I don’t have anything on me to give you. I’ll see you next week, okay?”
Ilya doesn’t answer, even when Shane takes another step back. There is something different in his eyes now, intertwined with the usual tenderness he has when looking at Shane, fueled by the ever-growing desperation. Something dark. Shane turns and walks into the building, leaving Ilya behind, but that intense gaze is still sending shivers down his spine when he is laying in his dorm bed an hour later.
Holy shit. This might actually work.
Step 4 – Lay out the bait
Shane pulls out his phone and decides it’s now or never, considering he will be leaving quite early tomorrow morning.
Ilya doesn’t answer, but Shane is not too worried about it. He could not have done better setting up this plan, so if it doesn’t work, it was likely just doomed from the beginning. But, god, he hopes it works.
-
The first day at the cottage goes by very peacefully – Shane is surprised how much he is enjoying himself, lounging on the comfortable couch, reading one of the books he brought and eating some homemade wraps. He should definitely book this cottage again in the future, maybe over the summer so he can enjoy the outside facilities. It is way too cold to be lounging by the lake now, sadly.
When the sun goes down on the horizon, Shane hypes himself up to prepare the last of his plan. He checks both the back door and the front door, double checking that they are unlocked and possible to open from the outside. He feels a bit unbalanced, his mother’s voice in the back of his head insisting how unsafe this is, that anyone could come in through these doors. And, realistically, Shane knows he is being reckless. But he can’t bring himself to properly lock up after all. If his plan actually, somehow, ends up working, he doesn’t want it to be ruined by a lack of lockpicking skills on Ilya’s part. And he definitely doesn’t want to have to explain a broken window to the owners.
No, this is a necessary risk he will have to take. Shane tidies up the kitchen and makes his way to the bathroom, taking a long and very thorough shower before changing into some pajama shorts and a soft button down shirt and nestling into the comfortable sheets. He lays awake for a while, staring at the ceiling, and can’t help but think about how stupid he is being. When he finally drifts off into sleep, he has come to the conclusion that there is no way this plan is actually going to work. But at least he got a pretty relaxing trip out of it.
Step 5 – The payoff
Shane wakes up to a rustling close to his ears and the distinct sound of someone else’s breathing coming from above him. He tries to fight through the drowsiness and attempts to lift his hand to his face when he realizes that he can’t. His wrists are tied together above his head. A desperate rush of panic shoots through Shane and he blinks open his eyes, much more awake than he was only a second ago. He can only make out the shadowy outline of a person. Someone broke in. I’m going to get murdered. Oh god, why did I leave the doors open? Shane’s breaths come out quick and hard, only to stop altogether when he feels a large, warm hand cradle his cheek. The thumb is softly stroking the skin just below his eye.
“Shhh. Is okay. Everything is okay. Calm down,” murmurs a soft, lilting voice in an unmistakable accent. Relief crashes into Shane like a truck when his eyes slowly adjust to the darkness and he can make out Ilya hovering above him. He drinks in the soft look on Ilya’s face before his eyes wander down and he notices that Ilya is not wearing a shirt. What crashes into him then, is realization.
Holy shit. Holy shit. It worked. I can’t believe it actually worked. He’s here.
With some effort, Shane schools his face from relief to confusion and looks back up at Ilya’s face – he wishes the lights were on, because he wants to see Ilya better. All of him.
“Ilya? What are you doing here?” Shane looks around the room, pretending to be gathering his bearings. He lightly pulls at the cloth that is tied around his wrists. It might be Ilya’s shirt, considering the texture. Shane has to suppress a giggle at how badly it is tied – he could easily get it off. Instead, he projects fear into his voice. “Why are my hands tied?”
Ilya shushes him and presses a hand to Shane’s chest, alerting him to the fact that the buttons on his shirt are undone. The fact that Shane apparently slept through quite a few things does fill him with slight embarrassment, but he keeps it at bay, because Ilya starts talking again. “Don’t be scared. I would never hurt you, Shane.” He accentuates his promise with a soft kiss to Shane’s cheek, and the rumbling voice and soft lips make shivers run down Shane’s spine. His head feels almost floaty in anticipation.
“I don’t understand. Why are you-” Ilya dives in and claims Shane’s mouth with an intensity that makes Shane’s chest burn. Ilya’s soft lips are pressing into him, moving against his with hot desperation, his tongue diving forward to invade Shane’s mouth and mix their tastes together. Shane doesn’t kiss him back, and it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done. When Ilya moves his hand from Shane’s cheek into his hair and pulls, he can’t help the whine that escapes him. Ilya swallows the sound up like he has been starving for it.
After what feels like forever and not nearly long enough, Ilya moves down to Shane’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses onto every available inch of skin, while his hand kneads into Shane’s chest.
“Ilya,” Shane whines, fidgeting under the onslaught of sensation, “what is happening? Why are you doing this?”
Ilya shushes him again before licking up the entire length of Shane’s neck, his hot breath billowing against the sensitive skin behind his ear. “Everything is okay, моя любовь. I will make you feel so good, yes?”
Yes, yes, yes, yes, please. I need you. I’ve been waiting for this. I’ve been so good. So, so good. Playing hard to get. Holding myself back from touching you. I’ve been doing so well. I deserve this. Please, please, please.
“Please let me go,” is what Shane says, thankful for the way his voice is shaking with need, making him sound afraid. Ilya shushes him again, peppering small kisses onto Shane’s neck and chest, murmuring sweet nothings in Russian. Moving down, Ilya attaches his lips to one of Shane’s nipples, sucking it into his mouth before softly biting down. Shane’s entire body spasms with the jolt of pleasure that shoots down his spine and he lets out a high, long whine. He can feel the way his erection is straining against his shorts, begging for attention, leaking with precome already. Shane has never been this turned on in his life.
“So sweet, making such pretty sounds. My pretty, pretty Shane,” Ilya murmurs adoringly, his hands caressing Shane’s abdomen while he stares down at Shane through the darkness. “Need to see you better. My pretty baby.” Ilya leans over to the side of the bed and flicks on the lamp on the bedside table, flooding the room in a soft, low light. Shane widens his eyes, forcing terror into them now that Ilya can see better. The man simply leans down and peppers more kisses over Shane’s face, shushing and cooing at him in a soft drawl. “No need to be scared, моя любовь. I told you. I will not hurt you.” Shane presses his lips together and lets his gaze flicker over Ilya once he leans back to rummage in the backpack next to him on the bed - he must have brought that with him. Shane drinks in the rippling muscles of Ilya’s arms, his large pecs bathed in the soft light of the lamp, and the way the shadows sharpen the angles of Ilya’s face. He looks like a piece of art, carved from marble. Shane lets out a shuddering breath, schooling his face back into vague fear when Ilya turns back around, popping open the lid of a small bottle.
“See?” he says, a sweet smile on his lips, “I will go slowly. Be very careful. You are too precious to hurt.” Ilya shuffles back a little to pull down Shane’s shorts now, taking them all the way off and carefully putting them down on the side of the large bed. Cool air hits Shane’s cock as his erection springs free, now laying back and dripping precome onto his stomach. Shane sucks in a shuddering breath and watches Ilya dribble a generous amount of lube onto his fingers before wrapping them around his length.
“No,” Shane whimpers, but he can’t help but buck up his hips automatically, already shaking from the sweet relief of having Ilya’s large, warm hand where he needs it. He can feel tears pooling in his eyes, whether from pleasure or desperation he doesn’t know. Ilya just chuckles softly and moves his hand in a few lazy strokes, sending jolts of pleasure through Shane in excruciating waves. Distinctly, he knows that he is whining again. A choked sound rips out of Shane when Ilya releases him and instead pours some more lube onto his fingers, warming it up between them.
“Sorry, моя любовь. Just one moment, I will make you feel even better.” He grabs one of Shane’s legs with his clean hand and presses it up against his chest, while nudging the other with his elbow, spreading them apart. Shane can feel his heartbeat speed up in anticipation, and catches himself wanting to spread his legs further to give Ilya better access. He almost sees stars when he finally feels the calloused tip of Ilya’s finger press against him, a slow, torturously sweet intrusion.
“No,” he gasps, “don’t. Please stop, Ilya.”
Yes, he thinks, more, more, more. I need to feel you inside me. I need you, I need you, hurry. Please.
Ilya lets go of Shane’s leg to caress his chest instead as he fully slips his finger inside. “Is okay, baby. Just let go. I got you.” Shane can’t hold back a small moan when Ilya finally starts to pump his finger in and out of Shane, slowly loosening him up. He closes his eyes and tries to control his heavy breathing when Ilya adds a second, the stretch making Shane’s dick twitch. Ilya is now opening him up in earnest, pumping two fingers in and out of Shane’s hole and scissoring them apart to make space for something bigger. Shane is making punched out little sounds, squirming on Ilya’s fingers restlessly, wishing he could beg for more.
Please, I’m ready. Please fuck me. I can’t wait any longer.
His prayers must have reached Ilya because, like a benevolent god, he finally pulls his fingers out of Shane. Shane shudders at the emptiness. He can hear the rustle of Ilya taking off his pants and the click of the lube bottle, but he doesn’t dare open his eyes. If he looks down at Ilya now, he knows for certain there will be nothing but desire in his gaze, so he keeps his eyes shut. Ilya’s hands are caressing his abdomen again, softly stroking over his belly.
“Take a deep breath for me, yes? I need you to relax, моя любовь.” At that, Shane can’t help but look down after all and catches sight of Ilya’s erection. For a split second, the fear in his eyes is likely real, because he has no idea how this could ever fit. None of the few guys he fooled around with in his gap year were anywhere close to this big.
“No, it’s too big, please,” Shane whispers, half meaning it, too, but Ilya just leans down, covers him with his body, pressing their chests together. When their eyes meet, Ilya’s gaze is so full of love that Shane can feel more tears spring to his eyes. The man presses a soft kiss to one of his cheeks, then the other, then his nose and, finally, Shane’s mouth.
“I will be careful. I promise it will feel good. I will not hurt you,” he murmurs, slowly moving one of his hands back down to align himself with Shane’s hole. Shane takes in a shuddering breath and closes his eyes again, the flood of anticipation taking over any lingering hesitation inside him. He will feel so full.
“No,” Shane whispers one more time, just to keep up the pretense, when Ilya finally, finally, slowly presses into him. The stretch is more intense than anything he has ever felt, and his mouth falls open in silent awe as Ilya carefully pushes further in, inch by inch, until he is fully seated. Shane’s legs are shaking around Ilya’s hips, and tears are now freely flowing from his closed lashes. He cannot remember a single time he has ever felt this good.
After a few moments of stillness, Ilya starts caressing Shane’s cheek again. “Is okay? You are not in pain, yes?” Shane only whimpers in response at first, but does end up managing a small nod. He doesn’t want Ilya to think he is hurting him. He can hear the smile in Ilya’s voice when he talks again, a low, sweet murmur. “You are so good for me. So perfect. Look at you.”
Shane can hear Ilya grab something from somewhere beside him, but he can’t concentrate on it for long when Ilya suddenly pulls out halfway and pushes back into him in one, fluid stroke. Shane throws his head back with a drawn-out whine, more tears springing freely from his eyes at the overwhelming sensation. Taking the sound as encouragement, Ilya now starts fucking into him in earnest, one hand grabbing his waist to press him deeper into the mattress. Shane twists his hands around above his head so he can grab onto the sheets, letting out little ‘uh’s at every stroke.
“You are taking me so well. Look at you. So beautiful, taking my cock like you were made for it,” Ilya growls out, adjusting his angle a bit and hitting the spot that makes stars explode behind Shane’s eyelids. His entire body feels like it’s on fire, moans freely spilling from his lips now. Desperate to have both of Ilya’s hands on him, Shane opens his eyes in search of his second one, when he sees it holding a phone. Ilya’s phone. Pointed right at him.
“What the-” Shane gasps, interrupted by a high whine, “are you filming me?”
Ilya lifts his hand from Shane’s hip and grabs his chin instead, wiping some of the drool and tears off before shoving his thumb between his lips and pressing down on his tongue. He speeds up his thrusts a little bit, making Shane desperately moan against the intrusion. “You look so pretty like this. Of course I need to film,” he sounds strained, his breath coming short now. “Such a mess for me, hmm? What would everyone think if they saw you like this?”
Fuck, that’s hot.
Shane shakes his head, whining out desperate no’s and stop’s that, even to his own ears, sound more like yes, please, I’m yours. His moans become higher as Ilya speeds up his ministrations and tosses his phone to the side to take Shane’s aching cock into his hands. Shane rocks back against Ilya’s thrusts in abandon now, his orgasm building fast and his mind whiting out to anything but the overwhelming pleasure. Finally, he breaks, letting out a long, high moan as he comes all over his chest, dick spasming in Ilya’s rough grip. His vision blacks out for a moment and his ears are ringing as Ilya milks his orgasm for everything it’s worth. When Shane finally regains his senses, Ilya is spilling inside him with a low moan and pressing their bodies together regardless of the mess. He removes his thumb from Shane’s mouth and starts kissing and licking the tears off his face, pausing only to murmur praises against the wet skin.
“You did so well for me. You are so perfect, Shane. Look at you, look at how well you took me. My good boy.” Shane feels warm all over and sated in a way he never has before. He closes his eyes and lets Ilya keep going, almost falling asleep when Ilya leaves for a bit after untying Shane's hands to get a washcloth and some warm water from the bathroom. He carefully cleans Shane up all over, pressing soft kisses to the damp skin at any opportunity. Once he is satisfied with his work, he lies down next to Shane and pulls him against his chest, patting at his hair and caressing his back softly. “You must be very tired, yes? You should sleep.”
Shane almost drifts off in the cocoon of warmth that is Ilya’s chest, when something prods at the back of his consciousness. The video. He wants Ilya to send him that video.
“Ilya, the video-” Ilya shushes him again, pressing soothing kisses to the top of Shane’s head.
“Don’t worry. As long as you are mine, I will keep it safe. I will not send it to anyone. You are mine, yes? Only mine, моя любовь?”
Shane takes a shuddering breath.
“Yes. Only yours.”
He cannot believe just how well his plan worked.