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Shane’s hands were rougher than they looked.
It was something Ilya loved about them. How wide they were; how sturdy; how callused. From afar, so many parts of Shane looked primped and polished. But pressed against his chest, they were a firm weight that lightly scraped his skin as Shane slid him inside. It was always a treat when Shane topped. A treat to watch; a treat to feel; a treat to drown.
And he was drowning.
Closing his eyes, Ilya exhaled heavily, feeling as if he needed to vent some of the excess lust or he’d just slam up into Shane without a moment’s notice. And Shane would love it. Shane always loved it. Shane wanted him rough and hard and fast. But Ilya wanted to watch him take it the way he wanted. Giving Shane complete control was a rare treat.
So Ilya opened his eyes and enjoyed it.
Cock bobbing above Ilya’s stomach, Shane moved like a man possessed, pressing firmly against Ilya’s chest to better drag his hips back and forth, driving the length of his boyfriend deep within him. His lips parted in a breath, eyes fluttering shut as a moan left him like it was torn from his chest. “Ilya.” It came out like he was begging. Maybe he was. The pace increased, his dick leaking precum like a faucet over Ilya’s stomach.
It was all Ilya could do not to come. Digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands to stave off pleasure as best he could, he stared up wide eyed as the tight clench of Shane’s hole dragged up and down his cock. His lips puckered as he attempted to keep his breath steady, jaw shaking with the strength it took to hold in place. “Shane,” he answered as the heat began to spread higher, then began to burn in earnest. “I’m almost-”
“Just a bit longer,” Shane begged, dark eyes flying open, gaze pinning Ilya to the bed.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
Biting down on his lip, Ilya closed his eyes and breathed.
Shane was snapping his hips back and forth in a crazed pace. The tip of his cock dragged quickly over Ilya’s stomach as he went, sliding through the slick puddle of his own making as the man beneath him began to shake.
Ilya’s eyes flew open as he came, hazel eyes meeting black as the whole of his insides down to his toes curled and uncurled. “Fuck,” he hissed, long and low.
“Fuck,” Shane hissed back, cheeks twitching as his jaw clenched tight.
As soon as Ilya’s eyes opened again, Shane was climbing up the bed, dick up close and personal with a square jaw before it was sucked inside. For all of a moment, Ilya wondered how badly Shane wanted to come.
Then Shane’s fingers slipped into his hair.
Grabbed.
Tugged.
Shane wasn’t the tugging type. Was barely the guiding type. Yet his hands held firm on blond curls, pulling him all the way to the root before shoving him back and a brutal pace. Ilya happily relaxed his throat, tongue working, then slipped two fingers around back.
One hand slipped out of his hair, slamming against the wall as Shane came with a shout, the whole of him trembling as he half fell to the mattress.
Ilya watched it happen, eyes crinkling with amusement as he swallowed. “Did you like pulling my hair?”
“Maybe,” Shane answered shyly, honestly. “Jury’s still out on that one.”
“Well I liked it.”
This earned a smile. “You always do.”
Ilya grinned big, all teeth, and wondered what Shane might get up to next.