Chapter Text
Ilya felt his pulse quicken as the Welcome to Ottawa sign flashed past him on Autoroute 417. His hands tightened around the steering wheel, slick with the faint sheen of nervous sweat. He glanced down at the GPS for what had to be the fifteenth time in the last three minutes. Nine more minutes. Just nine more minutes until he arrived at Shane’s.
Ilya was shocked when he received the call from Shane. It had been three years since they’d last spoken. Or rather, three years since Shane had spoken to him. Ilya had tried to reach out more times than he could count, all of it to no avail. Every message he left unread. Every call declined. Every attempt to talk was ignored. Shane had perfected the art of pretending Ilya no longer existed.
It was unbearable. He knew he deserved some of it; he was the one who fucked up, but he did not think he deserved complete erasure. Still, he had no one to blame but himself. He was the one who ended things. Three years had gone by, yet the breakup played in the back of his mind relentlessly.
It happened right after they played each other in Montreal. Ilya had been thinking about ending things for weeks. But when Shane invited him to his actual house, for the very first time, Ilya just couldn’t say no. He had every intention of ending it the moment he arrived. But when he saw Shane lying on his bed, waiting for him, all Ilya could think to do was take him.
He fucked the shit out of Shane that night, for hours, pulling four orgasms from him and then passing out beside him.
The next morning, when the intensity of the night had finally faded, Ilya fucked him again. It was slow this time. It was unhurried and tender, almost loving. Shane had looked devastatingly beautiful that morning, eyes filled with love and something dangerously close to devotion. It was fucking terrifying, and it sobered Ilya as soon as it was over.
He ended things right there in Shane’s bed. He told Shane that it was all just too much and that their relationship was torture. It was a cruel way to end things, especially after a night filled with so much passion. But Ilya felt like he had no other choice.
Shane didn’t take it well. He was furious. He screamed and cursed at Ilya for twenty straight minutes before finally kicking him out, swearing he’d never speak to him again.
He’d stayed true to his word. Refusing to speak to Ilya in any capacity: not even on the ice during faceoffs. Ilya tried to goad him into talking so many times, saying wild, crazy things just to get some reaction. Any reaction. Shane never took the bait. He just looked right through him, like Ilya wasn’t even there, like he didn’t exist at all.
It hurt like hell.
But Ilya could do nothing but accept it, even though it was really fucking hard to. Having Shane so completely removed from his life was torture. And yeah, breaking up had been his idea, but he’d never imagined it would be like this. Never thought Shane would stop talking to him entirely. He hadn’t been prepared for that.
So, when Shane’s name lit up his phone after three years of silence, Ilya had been completely shocked. Shane asking him for anything felt unreal, let alone something like this. The request itself was fucked up in a hundred different ways, and Ilya knew it. He knew it couldn’t possibly end well. Knew that when it was over, it would probably push them even further apart. Saying yes was a stupid idea.
But Ilya had never claimed to be smart when it came to Shane.
And he’d never been strong enough to say no to him. And even worse, he’d never been strong enough to deny himself something like this.
That was how he ended up driving seven hours from his penthouse in Boston to Shane’s cottage in Ottawa, hands white-knuckled on the wheel, nerves stretching thinner with every mile.
The GPS chimed as he turned onto a narrow gravel road. A minute later, the cottage came into view. It was a massive stone structure, surrounded by water. He remembered Shane inviting him there once, years ago. We just need more time, Shane had said, seducing him with promises of uninterrupted days together, away from everything and everyone. Completely remote, totally private.
Ilya looked up at the building and raised an eyebrow. Remote, yes. Private? Not so much. The entire cottage was lined with floor-to-ceiling windows; the structure looked like it was made entirely of glass. If the cottage wasn’t situated in the middle of nowhere, Ilya was pretty sure that anyone passing by would be able to see every little crevice of the house.
He cut the engine and stepped out, gravel crunching beneath his shoes as he walked up the path. He knocked on the front door.
A few seconds passed.
Then footsteps.
The door opened.
Shane stood there in grey sweats and a black hoodie. He looked good. Really fucking good.
“Hey,” Shane said.
“Hi.”
“Come in,” Shane said, opening the door wider so Ilya could slip inside.
Ilya brushed past him, close enough that their shoulders touched. The door clicked shut behind him. When he turned, Shane was already looking at him.
Neither of them spoke or moved. They just stood there, a few feet apart in front of the door, staring at each other like they couldn’t quite believe the other was real.
It was Ilya who broke the silence, “Is nice place”
“Thanks.” Shane’s voice came out flat.
“Lots of big windows” Ilya pointed out.
“I like natural light.”
“Hmmm,” Ilya said, nodding slowly.
Then he took a step forward. Then another one. And another one. Until they were close enough to breathe each other’s air.
“You look pretty,” Ilya said, finally close enough to really see him. It had been three years since he’d been this close, yet Shane looked exactly the same. He still had the warmest brown eyes, blemishless skin, and a scatter of gorgeous freckles.
“Fuck off,” Shane said
Ahh, Shane still had such a way with words. Ilya responded to the term of endearment by gripping his shoulders, working his thumbs into the familiar knots of muscle.
He could feel Shane visibly relax. Ilya smiled and slid his hands up slowly until his fingers locked behind Shane’s neck.
God, Shane was already flustered. His cheeks were bright red, a flush creeping up the back of his neck. His lips plump, soft, and inviting.
He leaned in.
Shane turned his head sharply and shoved him back. “What are you doing?”
“I think is obvious,” Ilya said, moving forward again.
Shane pushed harder this time, hands flat against his chest. “Stop.”
“What is wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Shane’s voice cracked with bitterness. “You keep trying to kiss me, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Well—yeah,” Ilya said
“That’s not what you’re here for.” Shane’s jaw tightened. “Adam isn’t even in the room.”
Ilya nostrils flared. He was not sure if it was hearing the name of Shane’s boyfriend or the look of anger on Shane’s face, but he couldn’t help but feel a little irritated.
“Oh, trust me, I know exactly why I am here,” Ilya said mockingly, grabbing Shane’s chin tightly. “I’m here to fuck you because your pathetic boyfriend can’t.”
Shane slapped his hand away. “Fuck you. He’s not pathetic. You don’t know him, and you don’t know me.”
“No, I think I know you pretty well, Hollander.”
“No, you don’t actually. And if you’re going to insult my man, you can leave.”
My man.
Ilya flinched. Well, that hurt. Somehow, hearing Shane call his boyfriend his man made everything hit ten times harder. It just sounded so serious. This guy wasn’t just Shane’s boyfriend; he was his man.
Ilya couldn’t help but feel jealous, which was ridiculous and totally irrational because he knew Shane had a boyfriend. It was the whole entire reason he was there. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He hadn’t even met the guy yet, and he was already feeling this frustration, this possessiveness over Shane. Feelings he had no right to have.
How the fuck was he going to do this?
“Sorry,” Ilya said. “Let me meet him then. Where is Asher?”
“His name is Adam, and he’s upstairs waiting for us.”
“Great. Let’s go.” Ilya moved past Shane toward the stairs.
Shane grabbed his arm, stopping him before he got too far. “Wait. I... um... I think we should talk first. Set some ground rules before we go up there.”
“Ground rules?” Ilya asked.
“Yes. Like things you should and shouldn’t do.” Shane clarified.
“I think I know how to fuck you, Hollander. After all these years.”
Shane cringed. “Yeah, I know. Jesus.” He huffed out a breath. “I just want to make sure no lines get crossed.”
Ilya stared at him, confused. Wasn’t this entire arrangement a giant line being crossed? Wasn’t he even being here, in this cottage, crossing a line? “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I mean, that this is just sex. So, it needs to be… just sex,” He explained.
“Huh?”
Shane rubbed his hands over his face, frustratedly, “I mean, you’re here to fuck me, and that’s it. Nothing else. I don’t want you to be seductive or romantic or anything like that. I don’t want you kissing me.”
Ok, well, that made Ilya pause. “Wait, you don’t want me to kiss you at all?
“No”
“But kissing is part of sex,” Ilya responded.
“No, not really.”
“Yes, really”
“No,” Shane shot back. “It’s more intimate than that.”
Ilya tilted his head to the side, genuinely lost, “Kissing is more intimate than me sticking my dick in you?”
“Yes,” Shane said
“No, it isn’t.”
“Yes, it is.”
“Mmm,” Ilya hummed, “I don’t think so.”
“I just don’t want you kissing me,” Shane growled in frustration. “Is that ok. Can you do that? Or do you want to keep arguing with me about it?”
Oh, Ilya definitely wanted to keep arguing with him about it. But he kept his mouth shut instead. It wasn’t a good idea to piss Shane off right now. He needed to remind himself that this wasn’t about his wants or his needs. This was about Shane. And he would do what Shane was asking of him, no matter how ridiculous it was. No matter how much he wanted to push him against the wall and devour his mouth.
He could control himself.
“Fine, I will not kiss you, I promise. Even if you are begging me for it, I still will not do it,” Ilya said.
Shane rolled his eyes, but there was no heat behind it. “I won’t be begging you for shit.”
“Ahh, we will see,” Ilya said, grinning. He made his move toward the stairs, but Shane held him back a second time with a hand on his chest.
“I have one more rule,” he said, stepping closer to Ilya, not removing his hand. He suddenly got very serious. Ilya gulped at the clear shift in mood.
“That man upstairs,” Shane said, pointing above them, “I love him, and he loves me. And the fact that he’s even willing to do this makes him the most selfless person I’ve ever known.” His eyes locked onto Ilya’s. “So, whatever negative feelings you have toward him, you’d better push them way, way, way down. Because if you say even one rude thing to him, we’re done here. Do you understand?”
Ilya’s jaw clenched, but he nodded.
With that, Shane finally led the way toward the upstairs bedroom, Ilya following close behind. He tried to think of anything else besides what Shane had just said.
I love him, and he loves me.
That was probably the worst thing Shane had ever said to him.
As he ascended the stairs, he wondered for the second time tonight how the fuck he was going to do this.
They made it to the bedroom. Adam was waiting for them, just like Shane said he would be. Ilya gave him a once-over, taking him all in. Then he decided to be polite and stuck his hand out.
“Hi. I’m Ilya.”
“Adam.” He reached out and shook it.
Ilya studied him as their hands met. He was handsome. Sort of. He had blue eyes, pale skin, and dark hair.
Ilya had seen him many times before. He went to all of Shane’s games. Sitting in the glass seats whenever they played Boston, wearing a stupid Shane Hollander jersey. Ilya would see him on TV too, whenever he watched the Metros play. The camera would always pan to Adam at some point, and the announcers would talk about how he was Shane’s longtime boyfriend and was such a great support system.
It had been horrible to watch. But it was even worse now. Seeing him up close. Shaking his hand. Confirming that he was actually a real person and not just some abstract being.
I mean, Shane loved this guy. He came out of the closet for this guy. He moved on from Ilya for this guy. He stopped talking to him for three fucking years… all for this guy.
And even with what he was about to do, Ilya couldn’t help but feel inferior to him. Shane and Adam had only been dating for what, two years? Give or take? Ilya had been with Shane for close to a decade. And yet this guy had more of Shane than Ilya ever did.
He was damn lucky.
“It’s really nice to meet you,” he said.
“You too,” Ilya lied. “And you are really ok with me fucking your boyfriend right in front of you?” Ilya asked.
“Oh—uh…” Adam spluttered, clearly thrown.
“No, it’s not like that,” Shane cut in quickly. “He just wanted to learn how to… um… how to—”
“How to satisfy you?” Ilya supplied
Shane shot him a glare. “I never said he didn’t satisfy me.”
Ilya lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Whoa, sorry. I guess I misunderstand.”
“I satisfy him just fine, thank you,” Adam said, a little stiffly.
“Great,” Ilya replied. “Then what is problem?”
“There is no problem,” Adam said defensively. “As I said, he’s more than satisfied. Our sex life is good, great even. It’s just…” He hesitated, searching for the words. “Sometimes Shane likes to bottom. And I don’t quite…” Adam swallowed. “There’s a certain way he needs it, and I just—I don’t. He hasn’t really been able to ask for it. So, we thought maybe… maybe you could show me how he likes it. I guess”
Ilya’s mouth dropped open in shock. Sometimes Shane likes to bottom. Did he really just say Sometimes Shane likes to bottom. Ilya turned his head to look at Shane, but Shane wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Ilya said because he really needed clarification, “You have been fucking him,” he asked Shane.
“No, no, not all the time,” Shane said placatingly, “Just sometimes.”
“Sometimes like sometimes or sometimes like most of times?” Ilya asked.
“Sometimes, like sometimes,” Shane sighed exasperatingly.
“So, when was the last time you got fucked?” Ilya asked, looking between the two. Nobody answered. And to Ilya, that was answer enough.
Ilya chuckled slightly, still not quite able to believe what he was hearing, “Wow! Just wow,” he said.
His poor Shane. This relationship was so much worse than Ilya originally thought. And he had already thought it was bad, just given the fact that Shane called him for help in the first place. But this? This was worse than he thought.
He thought the poor guy was just a lousy lover; he had no idea he wasn’t fucking him at all.
It was absurd, really. That Shane was the one fucking his boyfriend and not the other way around. And that Adam was clueless enough to believe that they had a good, no, great sex life. Because if he’d paid even an ounce of attention, he would have known that Shane hated topping. And at the very least, his boyfriend of two years should know that very basic thing about him.
And that’s why Ilya was here, wasn’t it? Because Shane didn’t know how to vocalize what he needed because he’d never had to before. Ilya had always just known. He knew Shane’s body better than Shane knew himself.
Shane shouldn’t have to tell his boyfriend what to do to him in the bedroom because Shane was the one who needed to be told what to do. He needed to relinquish control, to let someone else take the reins so he didn’t have to think. He could just feel. His Shane, who was so perfect all the time. Who overthought every aspect of his life, from the food he ate down to the socks he put on. The bedroom was the one place where he could actually let go. And this Adam guy didn’t understand that.
Shane grabbed his shoulder, pulling Ilya out of his head and back into the moment, “Are you ok?” he asked. “I’d like to start now.”
Ilya shook the thoughts out of his head. “Yes, yes, I am fine,” he said. He turned to look at Adam. He noticed a chair situated about a meter away from the bed. He supposed that’s where Adam was supposed to sit.
“And you are sure you are ok with letting me fuck him?” Ilya asked again.
“Well, yeah,” he said, “I love him, and this is what he needs, so I am ok with it. And it would only be a one-time thing, and then I’ll know how to do it myself.”
Ilya nodded slowly, as if he understood, even though he really didn’t. He loved Shane, too, but there was no way in hell he would ever agree to something like this. If he were in Adam’s shoes, and Shane was actually his, there was no way he’d be sitting in a corner while someone else fucked him.
“Ok then,” Ilya said as he finally turned his attention toward Shane.
He heard movement behind him and knew Adam had taken a seat in the corner. Ilya pushed the thought aside. He was done thinking about Adam. All that mattered now was Shane.
He placed his hands on Shane’s waist and guided him toward the bed until the back of his legs hit the footboard. His hands moved up to the back of Shane’s neck, drawing him close until their lips were almost touching.
He let his lips brush against Shane’s, but he didn’t kiss him. He had promised he wouldn’t. Instead, he just looked at Shane. He studied him carefully, noting the way his eyes were wide and nervous yet open. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment for a long time, even though he had only called him the day before.
Ilya rested his thumb against Shane’s bottom lip and then gently pushed it inside. Shane closed his eyes and sucked the digit right into his mouth, letting his tongue swirl around it. Ilya watched, mesmerized, as Shane sucked his thumb deep into his mouth like he was hungry for it.
Ilya pulled his thumb free and grabbed the hem of his shirt lifting it over his head and letting it fall to the floor. Shane’s eyes followed him. Without a word, Shane grabbed the bottom of his hoodie and pulled it off, mirroring Ilya.
Ilya pressed his hands to Shane’s chest and pushed him back onto the bed. Shane’s body met the mattress with a soft gasp. Ilya’s hands went to the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants. Shane lifted his hips, and Ilya slid his boxers and sweats off his legs in one fluid motion.
Ilya looked down at Shane, who was finally completely naked beneath him. He let his eyes wander down Shane’s perfect body. His muscular arms, his hard pecks, his six-pack abs, and then finally his hard cock.
Ilya wrapped his hand around it. He was so hard, painfully so. He was already leaking pre-cum all over his stomach. Ilya gathered the precum between his fingers and used it as lube as he stroked his hand down his shaft.
“Oh fuck” Shane moaned.
Ilya started jerking him off slowly, moving his hand at a leisurely pace. He watched Shane’s face carefully as his lips parted and small gasps escaped his mouth.
Ilya didn’t get to do this to Shane very often when they were together. They were always in some sort of rush. Frantic hookups before games, quickies in hotel rooms so people wouldn’t notice they were gone. But God, Ilya loved this. Holding Shane while he gave him an agonizingly slow hand job. Watching him slowly lose control as he brought him closer and closer to the edge.
It was what his mind fantasized about when he let himself. He imagined doing this to Shane all the time. He imagined them falling asleep together after an intense night of fucking. Only to wake Shane up the next morning, exactly like this. With his hand wrapped around his cock.
Ilya continued jerking him off, picking up the pace just a little as he pumped the shaft and used his thumb to tease the head. He could hear Shane’s breathing start to pick up. He could already tell he was getting close.
“Oh my god…I’m…ahh” Shane moaned
Ilya kept pumping his cock.
“Ilya, I’m…I’m…shit…I ..uhhh,” Shane whined, barely able to talk.
Ilya just kept going, his hand pumping much faster now. He could tell that Shane was getting closer, but he wasn’t there yet. So, he kept stroking him.
Shane’s hands fisted the sheets below him like he was trying to starve off his orgasm. His back arched slightly off the bed as his eyes squeezed shut.
Ilya just kept working him through it. “You’re doing so good, baby,” Ilya said as he continued his ministrations.
“Oh my god, I’m going to come,” Shane groaned. His entire body seized up as pressure built up at the pit of his stomach. He could feel his body begin to contract as his orgasm quickly approached. He was just about to let go when –
Ilya squeezed the base of his cock, hard. “Don’t come.”
The orgasm that Shane felt rushing through him was strangled to a stop, nearly choking him. “Jesus Christ… what the fuck” he groaned.
“Shh shh shh,” Ilya whispered in his ear, “You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok,” he repeated over and over again.
Shane could do nothing but lie there, panting heavily. Body completely tense from his ruined orgasm.
Ilya rose from the bed and walked over to the nightstand. Assuming the lube would be in the drawer, he opened it. He was right. He grabbed the bottle and tossed it toward the foot of the bed before crawling back on top of it.
He looked back at Shane, “You, ok?” he asked.
Shane nodded lazily.
“Use your words,” Ilya said.
“Yes, I’m ok,” Shane confirmed.
“Good,” Ilya grinned, “Now flip over.”
Shane did as he was told and turned over onto his stomach.
Ilya crawled down toward the edge of the bed until his face was level with the warm globes of Shane’s ass. He grabbed a handful of his butt cheeks, massaging them slowly. Kneading his fingertips into them. He messaged them for a while, just enjoying the feeling before finally growing impatient.
He pulled Shane’s hips up so that he was no longer lying flat on the bed but instead on his hands and knees.
Ilya pushed Shane’s knees further apart on the bed, so that he was practically in a frog stretch. Shane’s cheeks naturally spread apart, giving Ilya a fantastic view.
He grabbed the lube that he threw onto the end of the bed and squirted a generous amount onto his fingertips. He brought his fingertips down to Shane’s hole and started rubbing around the rim slowly. Shane gasped at the feeling, burying his head into the pillow to muffle the sounds of his desperate mewls.
Ilya kept teasing him, sticking his fingertip inside but not breaching him, making Shane more and more desperate with each passing second. Eventually, Ilya took pity on him when he noticed how much his cock was leaking from the sensation. He pushed his finger all the way in.
Shane screamed
Ilya slowly started working him open with his fingers. Taking his time as he stretched him with one finger, then two. Shane moaning obscenely at the feeling like a needy slut, desperate for more fingers, desperate for more Ilya.
Ilya obliged him, inserting a third finger into his hungry ass.
“Jesus Christ,” Shane moaned as Ilya started fucking him with his fingers. Shane was so into it. Pushing back onto him, encouraging Ilya to fuck him harder, faster. Ilya obliged him this time. Pumping his fingers in and out, faster and faster until he wasn’t opening him up anymore but finger fucking the shit out of him.
“Feel good, sweetheart?” Ilya asks.
“Mmmhmmm,” Shane whined.
“Good,” Ilya growled. “You take my fingers so well, baby, can’t wait to see how well you take my cock”
Ilya angles his fingers even deeper inside him, fucking him stupid. Shane was moaning so loud, his whole body trembling with pleasure. Ilya was mesmerized by the sight. Realizing how much he’s missed this. How miserable he’d been without it.
He needed more. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his lips. Licking into his sloppy hole desperately.
“Holy shit, Ilya,” Shane whined, “You’re making me feel so good.”
Ilya hummed but didn’t respond. Responding would have meant removing his tongue from Shane’s ass and there was no way Ilya was doing that. So, he kept licking into his hole, shoving his tongue inside him as far as he could reach. My god he tasted so good. Exactly how Ilya remembered. It had been over three years since he’d done this, but he hadn’t forgotten a thing. Not how good Shane tasted. Not how much Shane absolutely loved having his ass ate.
“Please, please, please, fuck Ilya,” Shane whimpered.
Ilya slipped two fingers back inside him and started fucking him with both his tongue and fingers.
“Please, what?” Ilya asked as Shane let out a particularly loud gasp when Ilya’s fingertip pressed down on his prostate.
“Please fuck me. Please, please, I need it,” Shane begged.
“Hmm, I know you do,” Ilya responded, not letting up. He could tell Shane was getting close again. “You’re desperate for it, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Shane hissed, “Please give it to me.”
Shane’s desperate pleas were fucking delicious. They were like music to Ilya’s ears. He wanted to fuck him so bad. More than anything, probably, but he just couldn’t pull away. Not yet, at least. He wanted to drive Shane close to the edge again before he gave him his cock. So, he ignored his pleas and continued to fuck him with his fingers just a little while longer. Shane was thrashing on the bed, begging him over and over again, but Ilya wouldn’t stop. He could feel his walls start to close in on his fingers, could feel Shane’s orgasm quickly approaching, and finally, he pulled out.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck” Shane screamed frustratingly as another orgasm was stolen from him.
Ilya rubbed his hand up Shane’s spine, comforting him through the loss.
Ilya was very aware that he was dragging this out. Per Shane’s instructions, he was just supposed to fuck him. He was pretty sure he wasn’t supposed to jerk him off, finger bang him, and eat his ass. He was fairly certain he was breaking the ground rules, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.
It wasn’t that he was trying to go against Shane’s wishes or anything, but a quick fuck was not what Shane needed right now. Wasn’t that the whole reason Ilya was there in the first place? Because he knew what Shane needed better than he knew himself. And Ilya knew he needed this. He needed to be taken apart and then put back together again. He needed to be edged within an inch of his life and then fucked brutally into the mattress.
Ilya’s hand settled more firmly at Shane’s back, a strong, comforting presence. He could feel the tension in his back as Shane’s body started to come down. Ilya leaned over him, his breath ghosting his ear, “I’ve got you,” he murmured.
Ilya pulled back, finally slipping his pants off his legs. Grabbing the lube, he squirted a generous amount directly onto his dick before stroking himself to spread it around.
Ilya groaned as he finally gave his throbbing cock some attention. He was painfully hard. He had been hard the whole time. As soon as Shane answered the door with his black hoodie, grey sweatpants, and perfect face.
“You want me to fuck you?” Ilya asked
Shane just nodded from his collapsed position on the bed. Not good enough
Ilya slapped his ass. “Do you want me to fuck you, Shane?” he asked again.
“Yes,” Shane cried brokenly, “Please, please, please fuck me,” he said desperately, like he was completely worn out.
“Whatever you want,” Ilya said. He gave his cock a couple more strokes before finally, finally doing what he was asked here to do. He grabbed the base of his cock and pushed into him, bottoming out in one smooth thrust. They both swore loudly at the feeling.
Ilya wasted no time, knowing he tortured Shane enough already. He grabbed Shane’s hips and plowed into him. Snapping his hips over and over at a steady, powerful pace that had Shane panting and fisting the sheets in seconds.
It felt so fucking good being inside him again. It felt exhilarating but also comfortingly familiar, like finally coming home after years away and finding everything exactly where you left it.
“God, you feel so good,” Ilya grunted. The patience he had all evening was slipping away faster than water down a drain. He grabbed Shane’s hips, pulling him in deeper, matching the timing of his thrusts with the pull of his hips.
Shane screamed at the force of it all, as Ilya pounded into him at a brutal pace.
“You have no idea how good you look right now,” Ilya admitted. “Taking my cock like you were made to do it.
“I was,” Shane moaned, completely out of his mind.
Ilya continued thrusting into him. He couldn’t stop the litany of filth pouring out of his mouth. The dirty, obscene words that he knew somewhere in the back of his mind he shouldn’t be saying at all.
“You’re such a fucking slut, you know that?” Ilya grunted
“Yes,” Shane moaned in response.
“You love when I fuck you like a desperate whore” Ilya groaned.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes, I love it so much,” Shane panted, “Fuck me harder.”
“You want it harder?” Ilya asked.
“Yeah,” Shane cried
Not one to deny him, Ilya fucked him harder. He was in pure bliss, barely aware of where he was. He knew Shane’s boyfriend was somewhere behind him, watching as he fucked Shane senseless, but Ilya didn’t feel his presence. Not even a little. It was like he wasn’t there at all.
Suddenly, Ilya couldn’t do it this way anymore. He needed to see Shane’s face. He stopped thrusting and pulled out completely.
Shane whined pathetically at the loss.
“Turn over,” Ilya ordered. “I want to see that beautiful face.”
Shane didn’t even hesitate. He flipped onto his back quickly, wrapping his hands behind his knees and pulling them up by his head. Presenting himself completely to Ilya without him having to ask.
Ilya guided his dick back to his entrance and started fucking him again. Shoving into him with a steady, ruthless rhythm. Ilya brought his hands to the back of Shane’s thighs and pushed him even further into the mattress. Angling his hips so he could fuck into him deeper, hitting his prostate on every thrust.
“Oh my god, oh my god,” Shane whined, “It feels so fucking good. Please don’t stop.”
“I’m never going to stop,” Ilya growled as he slammed his hips down faster, fucking drunk off the feeling of him. He watched Shane’s face as it contoured into something wild. He looked fucking deranged. His eyes were completely black and bloodshot. They were completely glazed over with unshed tears pooling in them. His lips parted as he panted heavily. It took everything inside Ilya not to lean down and kiss him. But he didn’t. He controlled the natural urge and instead focused on the rhythm of his hips. He could feel himself getting close, and he could feel that Shane was too.
He wasn’t ready yet. He wasn’t ready for this to be over. He needed more time. He always needed more time.
But his body was reaching its breaking point, and he couldn’t starve off his orgasm much longer.
He grabbed onto Shane’s hard cock. Jerking it in time with his thrusts. He knew Shane was right at the edge, and he wanted them to come together.
“Oh my god,” Shane gasped, back arching off the bed. “I’m so close. I’m so close… please don’t stop. Please don’t fucking stop. Don’t-”
Ilya picked up the pace, giving Shane exactly what he was begging for. “You going to come for me?” Ilya asked
Shane frantically nodded his head as his walls started to tighten up around Ilya.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck I’m going to cum” Shane warned before throwing his head back onto the pillow and squeezing his eyes shut. Then he was coming. He sobbed as his orgasm crashed into him like a tidal wave. His toes curled as his entire body seized, trembling with the force of it.
Ropes and ropes of come shoot out from his cock. Coaxing his stomach and chin with the sticky liquid. And Ilya just fucked him through it, chasing his own orgasm. It didn’t take long before Ilya was shooting his load inside him and collapsing on top of him, panting.
They held onto each other as they gasped for breath, slowly coming down from their insane high.
After several moments, Ilya’s breathing returned to normal. He lifted his head to look at Shane. They stared at each other, faces so close they shared the same breath, both wearing matching lazy grins. Shane gazing up at him like he was everything.
It was a beautiful moment. Ilya wanted it to last forever. It lasted maybe five seconds.
Ilya could see the exact moment Shane’s expression shifted. His eyes cleared, losing their glassy sheen. The look of pure bliss he’d worn just seconds ago began to crumble as the weight of what they’d just done started to sink in. Ilya watched as several emotions crossed Shane’s face in quick succession—shock, sadness, regret, and then pure, unadulterated panic.
Shane pushed frantically against Ilya’s chest, shoving him off with desperate hands. Ilya pulled out as Shane scrambled out from underneath him, nearly kicking Ilya in his haste to get free.
Ilya rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Regret creeping into his thoughts. Not regret for what they had just done, he’d never regret being with Shane. It was the regret of knowing how deeply Shane was hurting and that he was to blame. He had known it was a bad idea from the beginning. He had known Shane would spiral the moment reality rushed back in, and yet he’d still-
“He’s gone.”
The words cut through Ilya’s thoughts like a knife. He sat up immediately, his eyes swinging to the chair where Shane’s boyfriend had been sitting.
Empty.
Surprise jolted through him. When had he left? Ilya hadn’t heard him shuffling out of the room, hadn’t heard the door open, hadn’t heard anything. He’d never really felt the presence of the other man in the room with them. He thought it was because he was too wrapped up in Shane, but it could have just been because he literally was not in the room.
Ilya’s mind raced. When had he left? What part of their show had been too much for him to take? Was it the slow, languid hand job? Was it when Shane begged to be fucked as Ilya ate him out? Was it the fact that he fucked him raw? Or maybe it was when Ilya said Shane was made to take his cock, and Shane agreed that he was.
“He’s not here.”
Ilya’s head snapped up. Shane was walking back into the room, fully dressed now, back in his hoodie and sweats. Ilya hadn’t even realized he’d left the room.
“I checked the whole house. He’s not...” Shane’s voice broke on the last word, panic starting to consume him whole. “He’s not here.”
“Shhh, shhh, shh,” Ilya murmured as he sprang into action. He slipped off the bed and yanked his clothes back on before moving toward Shane.
Shane’s legs gave out just as Ilya reached him. Ilya caught him as he collapsed, and they sank to the floor together. Shane sobbed uncontrollably while Ilya held him tight, cradling his head against his neck.
“What did we just do?” Shane’s voice was muffled against Ilya’s shoulder. “Oh my God, what did we just do?”
“It’s okay,” Ilya murmured, running his hand through Shane’s hair, desperately trying to calm him down. The sound of his broken sobs tearing at Ilya’s heart.
“It’s not okay!” Shane pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes wild. “That was so fucked up, Ilya. That was... we shouldn’t have done that. We really shouldn’t have done that.”
Ilya’s chest tightened. He wanted to argue that it hadn’t been fucked up. He wanted to say that what they’d just shared was beautiful. But he knew that would be a lie. What they did was messed up. They had both deluded themselves into thinking it was a good idea when it had been wrong from the start.
“He was right there,” Shane continued, his breathing coming faster. “He was sitting right there watching us, and we just... God, that was really bad. That was really, really bad.”
“I know,” Ilya said, defeated.
Shane pressed his face back into Ilya’s shoulder, his whole body trembling. For a moment, they just sat there, tangled together on the floor, and Ilya let himself hold him.
“I have to find him,” Shane said suddenly, pulling away. “I have to find him and apologize. I have to... I have to fix this somehow.”
He scrambled to his feet, looking around frantically. “Where’s my phone? I need my phone.”
Ilya watched him from the floor, feeling helpless as Shane tore the room apart looking for his cell phone.
He spotted his phone on the dresser and lunged for it, his hands shaking as he unlocked it. His face went pale as he read the screen.
“He texted me,” Shane said, his voice barely above a whisper. “He’s at The Gilmour. The bar on Bank Street.” He looked down at Ilya, panic written across every feature. “I have to go get him. I have to go right now.”
He was already moving, running out of the bedroom. Ilya heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs.
For a second, Ilya just sat there, frozen. Then his body caught up with his mind, and he was on his feet, chasing after Shane.
He found him in the entryway, frantically searching through the bowl by the door for his keys.
“Shane, wait,” Ilya said.
“I can’t wait! I have to go!” Shane’s hands were shaking so badly that he dropped the keys twice before managing to grip them.
“You can’t drive like this,” Ilya said, trying to keep his voice calm. “You’re hysterical. It’s dangerous.”
Shane was already at the door. “I have to go. I have to fix this.”
Shane grabbed the doorknob and turned it. The door started to open, but Ilya slammed it shut before he could move.
“What are you doing?” Shane asked.
“I cannot let you drive like this; you are too upset,” he said.
“I cannot stay here; I have to go get him,” Shane cried. He looked absolutely tortured. It was killing Ilya to see him like this.
“Fine,” Ilya said, reaching for his own keys. “Then I will drive you.”
Shane’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking crazy? You think showing up together is going to make this better? He doesn’t need to see us together ever again.”
Ilya shook his head. “I just want to make sure you get there safely.”
“I’ll be fine,” Shane assured. Wrapping his hands around the doorknob to open it again. He got the door open a couple of centimeters before Ilya closed it again.
Shane growled angrily, “Stop doing that.”
“Just let me take you.”
“No.”
“Shane—”
“I said no!” Shane’s voice rose slightly. He reached for the door again.
Ilya blocked it with his hands, “You are too upset to drive. You could get hurt.”
“I don’t care.”
“Well, I do.” The words came out fierce.
Shane wasn’t having it. “Oh, since when?” He growled.
Ilya jerked back like he’d been struck, “What?”
“Since when do you give a fuck about what happens to me?” Shane’s voice broke on the last word even as he shouted it.
Ilya stared at him. His chest felt tight. “What are you talking about?”
“You don’t care about me. You don’t even like me. All you ever cared about was getting off. It’s the only reason you’ve kept me around all this time, because you need your dick sucked and your ego stroked.” Shane’s voice shook with anger and something that sounded like years of hurt finally breaking free. “How many times have I tried to get closer to you over the years? How many fucking times? And you rejected me every single time because you don’t give a shit about me at all.” His laugh was hollow and broken. “So stop pretending you care about my well-being and get out of my fucking way."
Shane tried shoving him away from the door, but Ilya didn’t move.
“Ilya, I swear to god—”
Ilya grabbed Shane by the shoulders and forced him to look at him. Their faces were inches apart. “Shane, none of that is true.” His voice shook. His eyes were burning now. “You know that’s not true.”
"It is true"
"No it’s not"
Ilya looked into Shane’s eyes, desperately trying to make him understand. But the person staring back wasn’t Shane anymore. Those warm brown eyes had gone cold and empty, completely dead inside. Ilya realized he could say everything he’d been holding back, could pour his heart out to him, and Shane wouldn’t hear a single word.
“You wanted this to happen,” Shane said, jabbing a finger at him. “You wanted him to leave me.”
Ilya sighed, feeling defeated. “Shane, no I didn’t.”
“Yes, you did,” Shane spat. “That’s why you did all of that upstairs. I told you at the beginning that it was just supposed to be sex, and you took it way too far. I mean, what the fuck was that up there?” he said, pointing toward the ceiling. “If you had just done what I asked, he wouldn’t have left.”
“Shane—” Ilya said.
“This is all your fault,” Shane repeated, “all your fault.”
Ilya just shook his head. It wasn’t all of his fault, and they both knew it. But he didn’t dare say that out loud. Shane clearly needed a punching bag right now, and Ilya loved him enough to take the beating.
But it hadn’t been all of his fault. It had been some of his fault, Ilya could accept that. But it wasn’t all his fault. Shane could have stopped them at any time, but he didn’t because he wanted it too.
No one forced Shane to moan for him so desperately, no one forced Shane to beg to be fucked harder, no one forced Shane to say he was made to take Ilya’s cock. Shane had said all of that stuff on his own. So, the blame couldn’t be placed all on him. It was both of them.
Shane was not in the right headspace to hear that, though. He was in no position to take any accountability for what they’d done. Not when he was this upset. So, he lashed out instead, throwing baseless accusations at Ilya that didn’t even make any sense.
“I am sorry, Shane; I did not want this to happen,” Ilya said sincerely.
Shane ignored him. “You should leave.”
Ilya nodded, his chest hollow. “Yes... yes. I will go.”
He turned toward the door, but stopped, looking back at Shane. He was still standing there with his keys clutched in his shaking hand, tears all over his face.
“But you cannot drive like this,” Ilya said quietly.
“Fuck you,” Shane snapped. “I told you I’m fine.”
“You are not fine. You are shaking. You can barely breathe.” Ilya pulled out his phone. “Let me call you Uber.”
“I don’t need you to—”
“Please,” Ilya interrupted, his voice cracking slightly. “Please just... let me do this one thing, and I will leave you alone.”
Shane stared at him for a long moment, jaw tight. Then his gaze dropped to his trembling hands. He let out a frustrated breath and nodded his head.
“Fine,” he spat. “Fine.”
Ilya hurried to open the app, his own hands barely steadier. He typed in “The Gilmour” and watched the map search for a driver.
“Three minutes,” he said softly. “The car will be here in three minutes.”
Shane just nodded.
Ilya wanted to wait for the Uber to arrive, but he knew he had to leave. He wanted to say something more, wanted to make it right, but there was nothing left to say. Nothing could fix this.
“I’m really sorry,” Ilya said finally.
Shane said nothing.
Ilya turned and walked out, pulling the door shut behind him. It closed with a rough click, the sound echoing in the quiet night. He stood alone on the porch for a moment, the cold air biting at his skin, the weight of everything that had just happened pressing down on his chest.
Then he walked to his car, got in, and drove away.