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Crickets chirped loudly in the night air, the cottage cold and comforting. The perfect place to fall asleep with the love of your life in. The two men are quiet, but not awkwardly so, just baking in each other’s loving presence. As always, however, Shane’s mind is quite the opposite of the external silence; in fact, it’s practically bursting from his temporals. Behind him, he feels Ilya’s absentmindedly caressing hand on his hair, brushing through his dark strands. His husband, ever the comforting touch to soothe his worried head. What would usually bring him slumber fails to do so tonight. Perhaps his brain was just too loud for that right now.
Rozanov felt the shift in the air mere seconds after it happened, for his connection to Shane was too strong to not notice such a sudden change. He hummed, concerned, whilst placing his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Shane didn’t appear to have noticed Ilya’s movements, still as lost in his head as before. His eyes blinked but they were far away, gone. Ever so often, they’d shift just barely as a way of acknowledging its own consciousness, then go back to a blank, distant state.
Typically, nights were the worst for Shane’s overworking brain. He’d be so lost that sometimes, he wouldn’t even acknowledge Ilya until he was jolted a few times. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but it worried Ily to no end. He felt useless about this issue, and didn’t know how to solve it. Mostly, he’d just be there to comfort his boyfriend, always touching him in some way, as if to wordlessly remind Shane of his presence. And normally, Shane wouldn’t talk, wouldn’t so much as move his body. He seemed comatose. The only piece of reassurance that quieted Ilya’s nerves was that it always ended— Shane would always come back to him no matter what. For now, that was enough.
This time, to Ilya’s surprise, Shane suddenly sat up, shimmying his butt backwards so that his back could easily rest against their headboard. One that they’ve had to replace a time or two. Ilya blinked, confused and worried, then moved to do the same, proving Shane with little to no space in between them.
“What’s wrong, moya lybubov’?” he wondered softly, his eyes cruising over Shane’s body, searching for something. An answer? A solution, maybe? He struggled for English words to truly capture the concern he’s facing. He wants to ask so many things, wants to fix everything, but lacks the ability to do so. Ilya’s frustration was mounting, not with Shane of course, but his inabilities. He couldn’t let anything happen to Shane, not while he was alive and well.
Hollander could only swallow as his voice dried and cracked from the pressure in his skull. He cleared his throat, finding his voice from somewhere far within. “Nothing, baby. Just thinkin’.”
Although he already suspected the answer, Ilya asked anyway. “You want to talk about it, da?” he whispered, his hand gently gliding up and down his boyfriend’s soft but firm bicep. “Would help, I think.”
Shane waited a moment before, unbelievably, nodding his agreement. This was not like Shane, agreeing to talk about what his brain so firmly has a grasp on. He usually lets it pass, waving off any attempts Ilya makes to speak about it. Ilya didn’t like to push as he knew it only frustrated Shane— never helping but rather worsening the situation. “Yeah, sure. I’d like to try,” Shane added.
“Mhm, good,” Ilya popped a quick and soft kiss to the skin he was petting.
“I,” he slightly stutters, unsure of where to start. He sighs, rubbing his eyes with rough hands.
“Hey hey,” Ilya coddled, taking a hold of his boyfriend’s large hands, and kissing them gently. “Is okay. We talk is fine, we don’t talk, is also fine. Just breathe, da?”
Shane nodded, sighing once more before beginning again. “I just— I’ve been thinking about our pasts and stuff. Like, we know everything about each other, but I’ve just been wondering about some… other things, I guess.”
Ilya hummed, thoughtful. “You know everything about my past, yes? I don’t understand-“
Shane groans, embarrassment forming as red blotches across his cheeks and neck. “No, I know that. I just mean about your like, erm, sexual past. Ah, forget it,” he waves it away like always. This time, however, Ilya isn’t letting it go that easily.
“No, no. I get it. I will tell you anything you want to know.”
Shane smiled slightly at that, he really loved Ilya. He loved Ilya’s openness to his never ending curiosity, no matter how personal or impersonal it was. If he asked Ilya how many shits he’s taken in the past year, he’d truly sit there and ponder it until he has the best answer he could come up with. He admired that a lot about his boyfriend.
“I guess I’m just wondering, like, what guys you’ve fucked before. It’s stupid and personal, so I get it if—“
“Hollander. I will answer. I told you, any question you have, I will always answer,” he promptly reassured the overthinking man beside him. “Besides, I also want to know what guys have fucked my Shane.”
Shane threw him a playful glare. “Oh, fuck off. You know it’s only been you.”
Ilya smirked, squeezing Shane’s bicep roughly. “Good boy. It’ll stay that way too, da?” his eyebrows rose and fell with an inquisitive expression. Shane just shook his head, lightly hitting Ilya’s chest.
“You know the answer to that, asshole. Answer mine, please.”
Ilya grows silent, as is typical for him when thinking about his answer. Perhaps English needs to untangle itself from his brain to allow him a way of answering, or maybe he’s truly mulling over the question, wanting to get this right. “Hm. There was Coach’s son back in Russia I told you about. You, moya lybubov’.” He pauses, thinking a moment once more before answering, “And, ah, Marly.”
Shane quickly shifts his body to face Ilya, his face evident of shock. He honestly thinks he just heard his boyfriend wrong. For a moment, he thought Ilya said he fucked his ex-teammate once. His hearing must be off today. “Marly…? What’s his last name?” He’s confused as to why Ilya would think Shane knows who “Marly” is just by using his first name.
Ilya’s eyebrows jump, his own confusion becoming apparent. “Err… Marly?”
“Yes, Marly. What’s his last name?”
The two are staring at each other, both silent in their confusion. They’re both breathing slightly faster than normal, their heart rates increasing. “Is his last name. Marly. Marleau.”
Shane’s jaw drops, his brown doe eyes widening. “What the fuck?! You fucked your Marleau?”
Ilya shrugs nonchalantly. “Eh. Not in his ass, just his mouth. And jerked us both at same time.”
“What the actual fuck, Ilya? You- he- what?” Shane’s voice is growing louder, more concerned and confused than before. “When? Ilya, when was this?”
Ilya’s silence captured him once again, thoughtful. “Was when you were dating Rose,” he points out. “Was nothing— a simple fuck.” He’s calm, rational, while his boyfriend is seemingly going through a crisis.
Shane’s mouth opens and closes a few times, incoherent words slipping out a few times. His hands start gesturing wildly as he gets up from the bed and starts pacing. “Hollander,” Ilya calls, his voice laced with both amusement and concern. Shane hands travel to his hair, where he lightly tugs at his scalp. “Shane,” Ilya pleads gently, trying not to chuckle at his obvious shock. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” Shane hollers back. He’s not angry, more so very surprised and unable to properly express this shock. “You fucked your teammate and you didn’t tell me? He’s still one of your best friends!”
Ilya tuts, unconvinced. “Nuh uh. You are my only best friend.”
Shane gives him an incredulous look, eyeing the man before him. The man whom, he assumed, had only ever fucked on MLH player— Shane himself. Ilya starts to chuckle, so he covers his mouth with his hands, breathing in deeply to calm himself down. “Still! You-you fucked a teammate. Someone you were always around.” Shane quiets, coming to a certain realization. “Is that why he always looks at you?” he snarls, suddenly becoming possessive.
“He doesn’t always look at me, Hollander,” Ilya scoffs, rolling his eyes at Shane’s conclusions. “And it was nothing, yes? Was one time, that’s it.” Ilya punctuates his words sharply, wanting to get through to Shane, but it’s not helping. His boyfriend is too far gone.
Shane huffs, his hands clenching into fists at his side. He sits back down the mattress angrily. “Do you ever talk about it with him?”
Ilya, calm and patient, answers simply: “No.”
Shane has more questions, that much is obvious to Ilya. He can see his boyfriend’s brain coming to conclusions that aren’t at all the truth, made to only put dread and fear into his mind. “Did you like it?” Shane finally whispers, hesitantly. Ilya’s eyes soften, his heart melting at his boyfriend’s quiet voice.
“Look at me,” he demands his boyfriend, who, like a good boy, listens immediately. “Was it a good fuck? Yes.” Shane’s eyes drop quickly, his body tensing at Ilya’s hurtful declaration. “But was I thinking about my Shane the whole time? Also yes. His mouth was yours, his cock was yours. Didn’t even see him— I saw you.”
Shane knew his jealousy was irrational. After all, he had sex with Rose once. Yet, a simmering heat in his chest began, a flame of anger and possessiveness he’s never had before. Ilya was his, all his. The idea of some other man, no less one of his friend’s, getting to see and taste his boyfriend’s cock, made Shane murderous. His cock started to stir in his boxers, which confused Shane even more. The idea of Ilya being with another man was not pleasurable at all… and yet. Ilya, as attentive to Shane’s needs as always, notices this movement. He starts to smirk, his own cock waking up. “You like that, hm? Like the idea of my cock in another man’s mouth?”
Shane nearly growled out his “no,” but his dick said otherwise. Something about it was intriguing to him. Not enough to warrant wanting to see his boyfriend fuck another man, but just enough to theorize. Shane stayed silent, his groin heating as time slowly passed. Ilya, on the other hand, became talkative.
“His mouth was so hot. Knew how to take me good.” Shane’s eyes widened, nose flaring.
“Take that back,” he snapped, though his dick was hardening once again.
Ilya shook his head once, a firm no. “No. Is true. He was so willing and needy, just like you. Kept moaning when I fucked his face hard. He loved it like a whore. Like you.”
Shane’s back straightened, but he remained still. Like a predator trying to sneak up on its prey, he was quiet, unmoving. The only sign of life was the bulge forming in his pants. Ilya was only saying these words to make him feel good. Shane knew that. He really, really did. At least, he thinks so.
“When I came in his hot mouth, he swallowed all of it down like a good boy. Didn’t even have to tell him.”
Shane’s breathing became uneven. His control was slipping, Ilya could tell. Just a little bit more than the fun can really start. Ilya knew how to make Shane twitch, but he never imagined that the idea of another man getting him off would get to Shane like that.
“Then I put our cocks together and jerked them. You should’ve heard his pleas for me. He wanted me so badly. Begged for it,” his voice was dark, taunting.
“Stop it,” Shane pleaded through clenched teeth. Ilya smirk deepened as he slowly pushed himself forward on his hands and knees. As tauntingly slow as possible, he started to crawl to Shane. He stopped an inch from the man’s reddened ear, his lips grazing them softly.
“I haven’t gotten to the best part yet,” he whispered, swinging his legs over Shane’s hips, straddling him comfortably. Shane's eyes flicked to many different places until they finally landed back to Ilya, who was staring at him with a starvation he hadn’t seen before. A small flick of desire darkening his green eyes. Shane swallowed nervously, though his jealousy still pumped throughout his veins.
“The best part was…” he steadily moved his lips in a way that extended his sentence longer than it needed to be, but he loved teasing Shane. He wanted to see how far he could take it.
“Ilya,” Shane warned, his voice back to growling. He’s never sounded this angry, this jealous, before. It made Ilya’s cock strain his pants painfully.
He prodded at Shane’s chest, pushing him backward on the bed. As the two were slowly lowering on the mattress, Ilya finished his sentence. “… I moaned his name so fucking loudly when I came the second time,” he confessed, his smirk predatory and perverted. “Fuck, Marleau,” he renacts the moan.
Shane grunted, finally done with Ilya’s games. His jealousy was at an all-time high now, and he was going to get it out of his system somehow. Ilya let out a surprised huff when Shane suddenly flipped the two, with Ilya now lying on his back as Shane hovered above him.
“You think you’re funny?” Shane snarls, his eyes darker than Ilya thought possible for any human being. “You think you can fuck another man with your cock? I own your fucking cock, Rozanov. It’s mine.”
Ilya let out a small moan from Shane’s words, his cock leaking precum, making him wet. Shane doesn’t back down, not at all; he only continues. One of his hands travels down to Ilya’s neck, the other roughly groping his groin. “You’re fucking mine, Ilya Rozanov. Don’t you ever forget that.” He ends his words by harshly squeezing Ilya’s crotch, digging his palm painfully against the bulge. Ilya grunts, biting his bottom lip.
Shane digs his nails into the side of his neck, making Ilya’s hips roll up to seek friction. “Say it. Say you’re mine,” Shane demands. When Ilya doesn’t reply fast enough for his liking, he removes his hand from Ilya’s neck and slaps his face. Not too hard to hurt, but just enough to sting. Ilya smiles, his hips starting to roll again. Fuck that was hot. “Fucking tell me!”
“I’m yours,” rasps Ilya, whose cheek is marked with a red handprint. “My cock is yours.”
Shane growls, letting go of his grip so that he can rip Ilya’s shirt off. His hands are quivering too much, so Ilya assists him helpfully. When his shirt is off, Shane takes the cloth and throws it aside, moving so that his mouth is on Ilya’s collarbone. He nips the skin between his teeth, sucking sharply. Ilya groans, fisting Shane’s dark hair. After sucking for a few seconds, he bites once more and lets the bruising skin go, before licking it once. A mark of ownership. The Canadian wastes no time on admiring the bite, however, as he quickly shoves off the bed. He tries to pull down Ilya’s trousers, but his plump ass makes it difficult. He pouts, huffing when the black material won’t move.
“Let me help, moya lybubov’,” Ilya says as he wiggles his body free from the pants.
Shane barely acknowledges Ilya’s words and instead goes right back to his movements. He pulls down Ilya’s boxers, which come down easily, and licks his lips when he sees Ilya’s angry cock spring free. He sighs both with hunger and jealousy. Obviously, the remnants of Marleau’s touch are invisible, but Shane swears he can see them still. He wants to erase them completely. He wants to make Ilya forget that Marleau ever had the pleasure to touch his cock.
Ilya’s dick is red and swollen, leaking clearish precum from the pink tip. Shane wants to suck him in, needing to taste him, but he doesn’t dare give Ilya that satisfaction. Instead, he just barely grabs a hold of it, not applying enough pressure to give Ilya any sort of relief.
Ilya watches him with hooded eyes, careful. He can’t help but chase relief from the painful sting of his erection, so his hip thrusts upwards once, trying to find any sort of touch. He’s unlucky, though, as Shane quickly removes his hand before Ilya’s balls can touch his wrist.
“Do not move unless I tell you,” Shane commands, his tone dark and authoritative. Ilya wants to whine but he refuses to let it out. He only nods and goes back to watching Shane. His hand travels back to the base of Ilya’s cock, his fingertips brushing the skin lightly. Ilya bites his tongue to stop himself from whining, or God forbid, begging for a touch. Shane’s mouth is watering— he’s trying to hold back the need to suck his boyfriend down. He loves sucking Ilya’s cock, it’s one of his favorite things to do. The taste, the pressure of it pushing down his tight throat, all of it combined makes Shane quiver with need.
He hums when he, so graciously, drags his finger up the wet path on his cock, collecting the precum on his finger. He stops short of Ilya’s sensitive slit, though, and instead, brings his finger to his mouth and sucks. He moans at the taste, his brown eyes rolling backward. Ilya himself moans, from both the light touch but also the sight of Shane’s tongue swallowing his wetness.
“Mhm, you taste so good,” Shane praises, still lapping at his fingers, making sure not a single drop he collected has been left behind. “Wanna suck your cock so bad,” he confesses, dropping to his knees. Ilya rises to sit up, following Shane’s movements. Shane’s mouth moves closer, inch by inch, practically edging his boyfriend. “You want that?” he questions, his eyes peeking up at Ilya through his pretty, dark eyelashes.
Ilya nods once.
Shane tuts, his lips grazing Ilya’s tip just slightly. Barely even a touch. “Use your words, Rozanov. Want me to suck your cock?”
Ilya nods again, his lips stuttering. “Yes. Want you to suck me.”
Shane smiles, “Good.” He sticks out his tongue, firmly pushing it against Ilya’s wet slit. Ilya’s stomach clenches, his hips wanting to roll to chase the touch, but he stops them just seconds before they move on their own. Shane leans forward, his mouth wide open and ready, before he stops suddenly. This makes Ilya whine. “Except, you let another man suck it. You let another man suck the cock that I own. Why don’t you ask him to do it again?”
Ilya groans, “Hollander—“
“You know, Rozanov. I don’t think your cock deserves the reward of me sucking it. Maybe you should have thought about that when you were fucking Marleau’s face.” Shane’s being irrational, but he wants Ilya to feel on edge.
Shane pushes his boxers off, stepping out of them. “In fact, I think I should make you watch me giving my cock attention while yours waits patiently for me, yes?”
Ilya stays silent much to Shane’s obvious disapproval.
Shane leisurely strokes his cock, but his grip is weak and slow. Not nearly what he needs right now. “Hmm, no. Maybe I should let another man come suck me off,” he smirks.
Ilya’s eyes widen, his jaw clenching so tightly that Shane swears he heard a crack. “Shane,” he grits out, going to stand.
“I said don’t move unless I tell you,” Shane snaps and Ilya immediately obeys, sitting back on the mattress.
His grip tightens on his cock, moving quicker. Shane lets out a low moan. “Maybe I should let another man fuck me too.”
Ilya stays silent but it’s clear that he has to bite back the words he wants to shout.
“Let him have his way with me. Use me.” Shane's hand moves quicker, precum wetting his skin, creating a loud, lewd slick noise. “He’d fuck me so good— hard, just like he knows how I like it.”
Ilya white knuckles the sheets under him, ever-so-slightly constraining his words.
Shane moans as he goes faster, his other hand cupping his balls. “H-he’d call me his. Own me with his cock,” he says breathlessly, his hands working harder. Shane’s abs tighten, the knot in his lower stomach starting to break. He needs to come, but it’s not enough, so he removes his hand from his balls and starts to circle his rim. It feels so fucking good.
“He’d fuck my ass and call it his. S-say I belong to him,” he mews, his orgasm clawing at the surface. He needs to let go. He needs to show Ilya who really runs this bedroom.
“Oh, fuck, Pike! I’m c-“ he stutters, head falling backward, “I’m coming!” he wails, a jet of white cum spurting from his cock. He’s breathing heavily, pumping himself empty. “Oh God,” he breathes as the last drop of come frees itself.
It’s only when he can gather his breathing and open his eyes when he realizes his boyfriend is mere centimeters from his face. He startles and tries to back away, but Ilya grabs him before he can. Fear and residing want for Ilya pushes its way into Shane’s demeanor, causing him to whimper as Ilya roughly turns them around and pushes Shane onto the mattress.
“Was fun?” he taunted the bottom, his face red and angry. Shane wanted to nod but he could only stay still, entranced by Ilya. The aforementioned man just smiled, but it was dark. Hungry. “You dreaming about Pike fucking you was fun, yes?”
Shane gulped down his saliva before giving Ilya a response with a small nod.
Ilya chuckled. “I knew it was. One man isn’t enough for a cockslut like you, is it? You needed to dream of another?”
“I’m not a sl-“
“Yes you are. You’re such a fucking slut. Would let any man in your tight hole, wouldn’t you? Doesn’t matter who as long as they have a dick to fuck your ass with, hm?”
“Fuck you!” Shane spits out but there is no real malice behind his words.
“No, no, baby. I’m going to fuck you. I own your tight little hole, is mine to fuck whenever I want. I’m gonna use it all for myself.”
Shane whimpers at these words, wanting Ilya to act on them. Quickly. “I own you, don’t I? And you own me?”
Shane nods again. “Yes— all yours and all mine.”
Ilya hums. “If you ever moan another man’s name again, there will be Hell to pay, da?”
Shane whimpers, his hips searching for friction. “Y-yes.”
“Mhm. Now be a good little slut for me and get on your knees.”
Shane obeys Ilya’s words, turning over so that he’s facing the headboard, and shakily lifts himself onto his knees. The pop of a bottle opening gives Shane a thrill of excitement. He wants to be fucked so badly right now… Maybe he is a slut after all. At least, for Ilya Rozanov.
He jumps a little at the sudden cool touch of lube being applied to his hole. Ilya takes his sweet time applying it, gently rimming Shane with his middle finger. He becomes impatient when Ilya rubs his hole, refusing to push a single finger in. He tries to sneakily push his hips back but Ilya pauses his movements before he can get what he needs.
“Be patient, baby,” he coos, massaging Shane’s left cheek.
Shane whines at his words, wanting so badly to disobey but knowing he’s probably done more tonight than he should have. Ilya, as usual since their relationship became official, opts out of using a condom. He gently works his middle finger into Shane, who clenches instinctively.
“Ilya,” Shane quietly pleads, needing more.
“Shh, let me get you ready.” Shane shuts his mouth but follows when Ilya pushes him to get on his hands. Ilya spreads the cheeks, and much to Shane’s surprise, he leans forward and places one long lick up from his balls to his hole. Shane shivers, his hands fisting the dirty sheets below.
He lets out a wordless sound when Ilya’s tongue pushes into his hole, his nose digging into his ass. “Arghf,” he moans, eyes clenching shut. He likes closing his eyes when he’s being fucked, it increases the pleasure significantly. Losing one sense strengthens the others, at least that’s what he thought.
Ilya grunts his pleasure. He loves the taste of his pliable boyfriend beneath him, withering and meowing from intense pleasure. He shifts his body as Ilya licks and sucks faster, moving his tongue quickly. “Oh, God,” he shamelessly moans, eyes rolling back and mouth opening wide. Incoherent noises climb out of his throat, a mix of moans and whimpers. “Ilya,” he whines, his back arching to get Ilya deeper. To allow Ilya to reach his most sensitive area.
Ilya hums in approval, letting Shane move against his mouth. He adds a finger, curling it in rhythm with his tongue. Finally, finally, Shane is being touched exactly where he needs it, causing his movements to become sloppy and inconsistent. “Ahh, ohGodohGod,” he chants, mouth drooling and body moving uncontrollably. “Feels so good, Ilya. Love it. Love it.”
“You taste fucking delicious,” Ilya praises, his mouth working to prepare Shane for the rough fuck hes about to give his boyfriend. “Like mine.”
“Yes!” Shane whines, “yours. ‘M yours.”
“You ready for my cock, baby?” Ilya wonders, but he knows the answer. Really, if the two of them were being honest, Shane is always ready to take Ilya’s cock.
“Yes,” he draws at the s hurriedly. “So ready.”
“Good boy,” Ilya replies, lifting his quivering mess of a boyfriend up so that he’s back on his knees. He gently spreads his legs further apart, making it easier for Ilya to pump into him.
Frustratingly slowly, Ilya slides his cock in, heat and wetness greeting him. The two of them moan at the shared experience of feeling the love of their life on them. Ilya leisurely thrusts his hips maintaining a steady but firm pace.
He tilts Shane’s head to the side, taking his lips into his own. “Mmm,” Shane moans, loving when Ilya takes control of his mouth. Ilya glides his tongue over his boyfriend’s his cock and tongue both prodding Shane’s inner walls. He feels so full with Ilya in both of his holes. In mere seconds, however, Ilya’s tip brushes against Shane’s prostate, causing Shane to let go of his lips and moan loudly.
“Right there. Don’t stop,” he pleads, hips bucking in rhythm with Ilya’s. Ilya increases his speed, placing his hands on either side of Shane’s hips and thrusting roughly into him.
Shane grunts with each thrust, the feeling overwhelming. “You like being fucked like this?” Ilya teases. “You need it hard and fast, yes?”
“Fuck yes,” he whimpers in response.
“But only my cock can do? No other man can ever make you come undone like me?” he snarls, hips rolling quicker, harder. His balls are slapping Shane’s ass, the noise loud and obscene.
“N-no, only yours,” Shane whimpers, his mind going hazy. He can’t really tell what Ilya’s saying, but he goes along with it anyway. He just needs to be fucked by his boyfriends, that’s all he needs.
“Not Pike’s, hm?” Ilya growls, spanking Shane once.
Shane shakes his head, words escaping him.
It’s not enough for Ilya, so he pushes Shane face down on the mattress by his neck. He holds him still, fucking him like a boneless toy to use however he desires. Shane is lapping it up, though. He’s a whimpering, whining mess. Tears are leaking from eyes because of the sheer volume of pleasure he’s receiving right now.
“Argh!” Shane nearly shouts when Ilya wraps his other hand around Shane’s cock and pumps harshly. His noises are so slutty, so lewd. Like a little cockslut that he is.
“You’re all fucking mine. No one is ever going to see you like the slutty mess that you are for my cock,” Ilya exclaims, his own voice straining not to scream from pleasure. “God, you’re so good, Hollander. Gripping my cock so tightly, ahh,” he groans, hips moving as fast as they go, chasing relief.
“Ilya! Fuck, gonna come. Gonnacomegonnacome,” Shane can’t stop shouting, his pleasure amounting to new heights. “Please, please!”
“Come for me, baby,” Ilya allows.
Shane wails, eyesight going black as he lets go completely. Tears are streaming steadily down his face, snot joining their path. Shane’s hole clenches Ilya, refusing to let go while his release spurts out. This makes Ilya’s own orgasm start, his head snapping back. “Fuck, Hollander,” he groans out, spilling himself into Shane’s hole. Shane’s body gives out, going limp. Ilya falls onto his side, holding Shane’s body close. Ilya lets Shane come down, which usually takes a while. Ilya soothes Shane, cooing and petting his hair as Shane’s body slowly stops quivering. Ilya’s come is dripping out of Shane’s hole, the sight almost enough to make him hard again.
Alas, Shane starts to blink, coming back down to Earth. He licks his dry lips and shuffles back further into Ilya’s coddle. “You did so good, moya lybubov’,” Ilya praises, placing a sweet kiss on his hair.
A few minutes later, Shane whines when Ilya tries to get up. “Gotta get you water and a towel. Be right back, baby,” he nips Shane’s skin gently before getting up and walking out of the bedroom.
Shane hums contentedly, snuggling a pillow to his chest. Fuck, that was hot. He can’t believe he did all of that. He can’t believe Ilya listened to him! Maybe he should try that more often…
Ilya shuffles back into the bedroom with a wet cloth, 2 waters, and a Gatorade. Just like always. He hands the opened Gatorade and one water to Shane, who quickly gulps down a drink of Gatorade. He smiles up at Ilya as a silent thank you, who just winks and takes a swig of his own water. He then climbs into bed and starts patting Shane down with the wet cloth.
They’re silent for a moment before Shane breaks it: “So…was that better than with Marly?”
Ilya gives Shane a disbelieving look and pinches the skin he was wiping down. “Oh fuck off.”