Work Text:
Ilya was out for the night.
Shane had peered into every room in the apartment to make sure that his gorgeous roommate wasn’t in any of them. And when he’d checked all the rooms, he’d done the same thing again. Just to be sure.
It was Saturday night and, as usual, Ilya had gone out. Ilya loved the clubs, the bars, the parties in Ottawa. The rush, the loudness, the bright lights, the drinks and the flirtations from both women and men. Shane did not. It was one of the many reasons why Shane knew that Ilya could never reciprocate his feelings. Ilya was larger-than-life, Shane was a homebody at best and an anxious mess at his worst.
Currently, his anxiety was skyrocketing. His hands were shaking, his body was restless and it felt like his brain could only think of worst-case-scenario’s. He didn’t feel strong enough no matter how much he exercised. Not good enough in any of their ice hockey practices. Not smart enough. Not pretty enough. Not kind enough. Not a good enough son, or a good enough friend. And never, never good enough for Ilya.
Ilya, who deserved the whole world.
Shane had tried everything to calm his nerves. He’d exercised more than usual. Slept longer. Stuck to his diet. Broke his diet by eating a piece of dark chocolate. He’d written in his journal. And he’d sucked on so many lollipops that his tongue had turned red, but nothing worked. He desperately needed the big guns.
Also known as, Pink Gentleman. His 6-inch pink dildo.
Normally when he got like this, he would hole up in his bedroom, but he didn’t have a television set in his room and he had already missed yesterday’s game between the New York Admirals and the Boston Raiders and didn’t want to also miss today’s highlights.
It would be fine, he told himself. Ilya never came home before midnight anyway. And maybe he wouldn’t come home at all. Maybe he would find someone to stay the night with…
Shane’s anxiety spiked at that thought.
He took all the precautions he could think of. He checked all the rooms in the apartment for a third time, making absolutely sure that Ilya was really gone. He put an alarm on his phone for 11 o’clock, another one for 11.05 and another one at 11.10. And only then, did he go into his bedroom to retrieve the one thing that he knew could calm his mind.
Shane pressed the dildo firmly against his chest, almost like a secret, as he made his way back to the couch. Slipping beneath his weighted blanket, he wriggled around until he found a comfortable position. Warm, settled and safe. He took a few moments to flip through the different television channels, ending at the sports one, and adjusted the volume to an even number. Then, when his anxiety kept buzzing, making it hard to focus on the commentators on screen, he slipped deeper into his homemade nest and brought the dildo to his lips.
He couldn’t even remember when he had first realised that having a fucking dildo in his mouth helped soothe his anxiety. Looking back, he could see that he’d always had their weird oral fixation. When he was younger, he’d gravitated towards lollipops, coffee stirrers and pencils. Even as an adult, those usually still worked wonders for him. But sometimes, when the voices got really loud or the anxiety raged through his body, he needed something… bigger.
He pressed the dildo to the back of his throat, sighing at the thick weight on his tongue and sinking deeper into the couch pillows. He tried focusing on the hockey game, tried listening to the commentators' opinion on Scott Hunter, the New York Admirals’s captain, but his anxiety was dazed for the first time in days.
Shane felt himself dozing off.
It was fine, he told himself, struggling to keep his eyes open.
Ilya wouldn’t be back until long after midnight. His alarm clock was on. He would just close his eyes for a couple of minutes. Maybe sleep for an hour or so. It was fine.
It was fine.
It would be fine.
The clicking of keys in a lock didn’t really register in his sleep-addled brain.
Neither did the opening or closing of the front door.
What made Shane wake up in absolute terror was Ilya’s voice. “Hollander? You still up? Party was lame, so— What the fuck!”
Shane’s eyes burst open, his tiredness long forgotten, his anxiety coming back tenfold. No. No. No. No. No. He pulled the dildo out of his mouth at rapid speed, practically spat it down onto the blankets but it was too late. The damage was done. Ilya was standing at the back of the couch, his eyes as wide as saucers, looking down on him with an unreadable expression on his handsome face.
Shane swallowed hard, his throat aching with fear. Desperate to avoid Ilya’s gaze and his judgement for as long as possible, he reached for his phone. 10:03pm. He frowned. The little alarm clock notifications beaming up at him from the top right of the screen.
“What are you doing home so early?” He was practically vibrating with anxiety, but there was something else now too… anger. He was angry at himself for being so stupid. Angry at his stupid brain for not protecting him. Angry at Ilya for coming home so early. He never got home this early. Why now? Why tonight?”
“Told you. Party sucked.”
“You’re never home this early.”
“What you want me to say, Hollander? Sorry I came home? No. That’s stupid.”
Yes. It was rather stupid. All of this was fucking stupid. Shane had no right to be angry at Ilya. He was the stupid one here. He was the pervert. His anger deflated like a popped balloon. All the pent up energy gone from him in seconds. All that was left was sadness and fear.
“I–I’m sorry,” he stuttered, anxiety taking over once more, tears prickling his eyes. ‘I thought you wouldn’t be home until later. I–I set an alarm and everything.” As if that fucking mattered.
Shane wanted to tear his own skin off.
“I’m sorry,” Ilya said, and Shane noticed how he tried to be careful. “I didn’t think I’d be, how you say, interrupting plans.”
Shane smiled despite himself. “It’s ok. It’s not your fault. I’ll just…” He shook his head, bundling the weighted blanket in his arms, making sure the dildo was wrapped up somewhere inside of it. “I’ll go to my room. I–I’ll start looking for another place tomorrow. It’ll probably take me a few days, but I’ll try my best and I won’t bother you until then. I can stay with friends, maybe. I’ll figure something out, okay?” He swallowed a sob. “Just please. Please, don’t tell anyone about this. I don’t know what–”
“Hollander?” Ilya sounded stern. “What are you talking about? Why would you find other place to live? You like living here, yeah? With me?”
“Yes. Of course I do.”
“Then why you talk about move?”
“Because…” Shane wiped the first tears from his cheeks. “Because you’ve seen it. You’ve seen me. You must think I’m disgusting.”
“I don’t know, disgusting?”
“Gross.”
“Oh,” Ilya nodded and sat down on the arm of the couch. “No, Hollander. I do not think you’re gross, or disgusting.” There was a silence, and then Ilya added, “I am, how you say, curious.”
Shane forced himself to look up at Ilya then. His roommate was already looking down at him, his gorgeous eyes turned soft and gentle. Shane blinked a few times, scared as shit, but Ilya never looked away. His eyes never turned darker or meaner or distant. He just sat there, staring Shane down, as if daring him to speak. And Shane didn’t usually step away from a challenge that Ilya set.
“Fine,” he groaned, looking down at his lap, fingers fidgeting. “Ask away.”
Ilya didn’t hesitate and fired a quick shot round of questions his way. “Was that really a dildo?”
“Yes.”
“A pink one?”
“Yes.”
“How big?”
“Ugh. Ilya…”
“How. Big?”
“6 inches.”
“Did you really fall asleep with a dildo in your mouth?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
There it was. The question that Shane was most worried about answering. He contemplated lying, but couldn’t come up with anything that sounded even remotely believable. And Ilya wasn’t stupid. He knew when Shane lied. They’d known each other long enough for that.
The only thing to do was speak the truth, and hope that Ilya wouldn’t judge.
“It’s… an anxiety thing.”
“An anxiety thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Explain more,” Ilya said. “Please.”
Shane nodded, still twiddling with his fingers. He couldn’t believe this was really happening. He couldn’t believe Ilya and him were having this conversation. That Ilya would be the first person he’d ever tell this to.
“It’s… You know how I get anxious sometimes,” he mumbled, forcing the words out of his throat.
“Yes,” Ilya nodded. “I know.”
“This helps,” Shane swallowed. “Having… Having something in my mouth helps. It calms me down.” Fuck, this sounded so ridiculous. “Most of the time I just… use a coffee stirrer or a lollipop or something, but… sometimes, when the voices in my head are really loud or when my body goes all shaky and restless, I–I need…”
“Something bigger?” Ilya guessed.
“Yes. Something bigger.”
Ilya hummed, as if he understood, and Shane dared to sneak a peek at him then. His face was scrunched up in a thinking way, one hand coming up to brush lazily through his curls. His cheeks were slightly flushed, even though Ilya always insisted that Russians didn’t blush, and his hands were wrapped around his knees so tightly that his knuckles turned white.
“And you didn’t want me to see?”
Shane laughed at that. “No. Of course not.”
“Why?”
Shane rolled his eyes. “Because it’s stupid. I’m twenty-five. I’m a professional hockey player. I… I shouldn’t be doing this. Needing this. It’s stupid. It’s weak.”
Ilya ś eyes turned darker then and he slid from the arm of the couch onto the cushions. He pressed closer to Shane, the weighted blanket scrunching up between them. His hand came to rest firmly on Shane’s shoulder.
“No,” he said. Eyes burning into Shane’s like fire, voice firm as rock. “You are not weak. You are Shane Hollander. Brave and strong and smart. Not weak. Don’t say that.”
Shane’s heart melted.
How was he ever supposed to not fall in love with this beautiful man?
“Is okay,” Ilya said then, squeezing Shane’s shoulder. “Doesn’t change anything, right? Me, knowing. You still Shane. Is okay.”
Shane nodded through his tears, still furiously wiping them from his stained cheeks.
“Good,” Ilya said, squeezing his shoulder one more time before standing up. “I go take shower now. You… clean up. And we watch movie together, yes? Something with lot of explosion and car chases.”
“Yes.” Please.
Ilya chuckled, sending him a cheeky wink before disappearing down the hall, leaving Shane with a dry throat and shaky knees that - this time - had nothing to do with anxiety.
Four weeks later, Shane had another panic attack.
This time it hadn’t been building for days beforehand. This time it came out of nowhere.
Sure, the Ottawa Centaurs team had just lost a hockey game but they had lost plenty of hockey games before, and none of them had ended in Shane shivering all over, unable to stop his brain from telling him that he was absolutely worthless.
He was laying on his bed, face buried in a pile of pillows, desperately trying to get the muscles in his body to stop tensing, when a knock on his door made him groan. He didn’t want to see anyone. And he certainly didn’t want anyone to see him. Not when he was like this.
“What?”
“Hollander? You ok?”
Ilya.
‘I’m fine. Go away.”
Shane knew that those words wouldn’t be enough to make Ilya leave him alone.
The door creaked open, and before Shane could object, his side of the bed dipped. Ilya was close enough that Shane could feel his warmth. He groaned.
“Just go, Rozanov.”
“Not when you’re like this. You having panic attack.”
“Yes. Thank you. I didn’t notice.”
“Do you…” Ilya scraped his throat. “You want me to grab 6-inch dildo?”
Shane snorted. Of course, Ilya had remembered the size of his dildo. Fuck, that was so typically him. If he was feeling any better, it would’ve made him laugh. Now, it just made him eager, because that yes, yes that was exactly what he wanted. Needed, really.
He nodded, gesturing vaguely to the nightstand on his right. Ilya understood and rummaged around in it, finding the thing at the very back of the drawer, wrapped in a silk piece of fabric.
“So many choices,” Ilya chuckled, unwrapping the thing. “And you choose pink one.”
“Shut up,” Shane grumbled, moving onto his right side to reach for the dildo, but Ilya was too quick and held it above his head, out of his reach.
“Lay down,” Ilya said, voice soft. “You comfortable? Need anything? More blanket?”
Shane stared at him, frowning as he watched his roommate fuff over him. Ilya was tucking him in, dimming the bedside lamp, throwing another blanket over Shane’s feet.
Shane’s heart squeezed. “No. No. I’m good. Thanks. Just—” give me my dildo.
Ilya stopped and stared down at him, eyes turning darker as he leaned forward, pressing the tip of the dildo against Shane’s lips.
“Open up, Hollander.”
Shane’s breath hitched, his muscles temporarily buzzing with something other than anxiety. His mouth gaped open, as if he was unable to deny Ilya anything. Ilya’s eyes flicked down to Shane’s lips, then back up to his eyes, then back down to his lips. Shane did not think he imagined the tension that filled the air. It was thick and heavy, heated with arousal. Ilya swallowed hard, Shane could see the bobbing of his throat before he looked back up into Shane’s eyes and slowly, very slowly, pushed inch after inch of the dildo into his mouth.
Shane couldn’t help the soft moan falling from his lips. If asked, he would’ve blamed the feel of the dildo for it, but that would be a lie. He had never moaned before. Then again, he had never had Ilya practically feed him the dildo. As if this was normal. As if this was something they did regularly.
As if it was Ilya’s own cock.
Shane’s skin turned hot at that thought.
“You ok?” Ilya asked, his fingers still wrapped around the base of the dildo.
Shane nodded, wrapping his lips tight around the phallic object. He wanted to stay awake, he wanted to keep looking at Ilya, who was staring down at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks. But his eyes were heavy and the weight on his tongue was good and the bed was so, so warm.
“Good. That’s it,” Ilya praised, when Shane finally did close his eyes. “Rest, moy khoroshiy mal’chik.”
Shane was asleep before he could see that Ilya didn’t fully close his bedroom door. Already planning to check in on him later.
Two weeks later, an out-of-town hockey game brought them to Toronto.
Ilya and Shane always shared a hotel room during hockey games away from home. One hotel room, two beds. It was never a big deal, and it shouldn’t have been one now… But it was, because Ilya had been avoiding him. It hadn’t been very noticeable at first, just small things like leaving the apartment earlier than usual and getting back too late to grab dinner together. But when Ilya canceled their movie night in favour of a gym work-out, Shane knew something was up.
He just hadn’t had the courage to ask Ilya about it.
“Captain! You’re coming to celebrate with us, right?” Troy said, wrapping an arm around Shane’s shoulders. “Come on! How often are we in Toronto? We need to get at least one drink!”
Shane smiled and nodded. Not completely happy about it, but he knew that as the team’s captain some things were mandatory. Celebrating a 5-1 win with a drink was one of them, as far as he was concerned.
“Great! Shane’s in, guys! Let’s go!”
The rest of the team cheered, and together they huddled around a large enough table at the hotel’s bar. Ilya chose a seat at the other end of the table. Shane swallowed, feeling the sudden urge to cry.
“Great hattrick today, captain!”
“Couldn’t have done it without you.”
Troy laughed and then turned serious. “Hey, you ok? You look a bit… stressed?”
Shane forced a smile on his face. “Just the game, I think. Took a lot out of me.”
“Yeah. For sure.” Wyatt chimed in. “You were on fire.”
“Thanks.”
“To our captain!” Wyatt raised a glass and the rest of the team followed suit. Shane caught Ilya’s gaze the second the man lifted his glass of vodka. Shane was the last to lift his glass, clinking it against Troy and Wyatt’s. Eyes never leaving Ilya.
An hour later, Shane happily dropped down on his bed. He was tired and restless and surprisingly sad for someone who just scored a hattrick and won an important game. Ilya was trailing behind him, locking the door before disappearing into the bathroom. The tension between them could be cut with a knife, and Shane did not know how to fix it. Anxiety swirled low in his gut. He groaned, dropping to his knees beside his suitcase and rummaging through it in search of his dildo.
Fuck.
He hadn’t brought it.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The only thing he could find was a coffee stirrer, but it stuck to the bottom of his suitcase and made Shane want to gag. Fuck, what to do now? He heard Ilya step out of the bathroom, but stubbornly kept his eyes on the suitcase. Maybe he could call down to reception and ask for a lollipop? Or maybe he could use the end of his toothbrush? Or his fingers?
“What’s wrong?” Ilya asked, as if he hadn’t just spent all day ignoring Shane.
“Nothing. Forgot something.”
“Your dildo?”
“Fuck you,” Shane blurted out, eyes darting up at Ilya. “You ignore me for weeks, and then you choose to talk about this? Really, Rozanov?”
“Just asking.”
“Yeah. Well. Fuck off.”
Ilya mumbled something in Russian, before stepping back and seconds later Shane heard the rustling of hotel sheets. He closed his eyes, breathed through his nose and calmed his racing heart. He hadn’t wanted to shout at Ilya. He was just tired and frustrated and anxious. He just needed to sleep, and find something to stuff his mouth with.
“I could help,” Ilya said. His voice was soft, more gentle than Shane had heard in a long time.
“What do you mean?”
“You could use… me.”
Ilya tried to sound indifferent, but Shane could hear the hitch in his voice. He was nervous. Shane sat up on his heels and turned. Ilya was laying atop his sheets, body bare except for a pair of black boxers. It wasn’t the first time Shane had seen Ilya’s body, but it never ceased to amaze him. Every muscle was so tight, so well defined that it made Shane’s mouth dry up. He wanted nothing more than to kiss and lick and suck every bare bit of skin on Ilya’s pecks and abs.
“Use you?”
“Yeah.”
“W–what do you mean?”
Ilya waved his hand around his cock. “I’ve got one, you know.”
Shane rolled his eyes.
“And it's lot bigger than 6 inches.”
“Fuck, Rozanov,” Shane cursed, dragging a hand down his face. “You’ve ignored me for weeks. You didn’t want to eat dinner with me. You canceled movie night. And now you want… what, exactly?”
“I want you to take my cock into your mouth until you feel better.”
Oh.
“You… Are you making fun of me?”
“No.”
“But… why would you–”
“It’d help you, yes?”
Shane nodded. “Yes.”
“I want to help.”
“But—” It’s too much. This isn’t what friends do. It’s so close to being everything I want. “We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I–”
“Don’t get panic attack, Hollander,” Ilya teased. “It’s just friend helping friend.”
“Right…”
“So,” Ilya tilted his head, letting his left hand glide from his stomach down to his underwear, covering his bulge with his palm. “Yes or no, Shane?”
Shane. Ilya barely ever called Shane by his first name.
It was all the convincing Shane needed. “Yes. Please.”
Ilya smirked, spreading his legs, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. “Come here. Between my legs.”
Shane crawled across the bed, laying down between Ilya’s spread thighs. Ilya’s smell was strong here, citrus and smoke and something spicy, something undeniably Ilya’s. It was intoxicating, and it only fueled Shane’s want.
Ilya waited until Shane had settled. “Ready?”
“Yes.” Shane looked up at him. Ilya’s eyes were dark, almost hungry, but there was also something vulnerable in them. Something bordering on the nerves and anxiety that Shane knew so well. He reached a hand out and clasped his fingers around Ilya’s wrist. “If this is too much, you tell me. Ok? If I— If I take too long? Or if you don’t like it? Or if—”
“Ssh. Hollander.”
“Please,” Shane begged. “If I do something wrong—”
“I’ll tell you,” Ilya whispered. “I promise. Don’t worry.”
Shane nodded, letting his eyes travel down past Ilya’s chest, his toned stomach, his happy-trail, down to the bulge in his boxers. Ilya’s fingers shook as he pulled the underwear down to his thighs, his half-hard cock springing out. Shane took a second to admire him. Ilya hadn’t lied. He was considerably longer than Shane’s dildo. And a lot more beautiful too. His veins were popping, his skin looked velvety smooth and his width was just perfect for Shane’s mouth.
Shane licked his lips before leaning forward. Before he could touch, he looked up at Ilya once more, cocking an eyebrow at him, asking one last time for permission.
“Fuck. Yes, Hollander,” Ilya croaked. “Get on with it.”
Shane chuckled, so eager, but did as he was asked. He wrapped his lips around Ilya’s tip and slowly sank down on his shaft. Ilya made a whining noise, grabbing the blankets on both sides of his body. Shane sank deeper, taking him all the way into his mouth.
Ilya was so warm. So soft. So heavy on his tongue.
He couldn’t help the content sigh that slipped from his lips as he settled in. Laying on his stomach on a hotel bed, lips wrapped tight around his best friend’s hard cock.
“Hollander,” Ilya whispered, and Shane looked up to see him tip his head back into the pillows. “Chert, eto kruto!”
Shane didn’t understand the words, but Ilya’s voice was soft and gentle. Making him feel woozy inside. He closed his eyes, floated on the feeling of safety and warmth. This was wonderful. This was perfect.
How could he ever go back to his dildo after this?
Turns out, Shane had absolutely nothing to worry about. Because after that first time, Ilya keeps offering him his cock. Whenever Shane was anxious, Ilya was there, offering a part of him that was so intimate that it made Shane’s heart skip. After two months, Shane has memorised the feel, the taste and the look of Ilya’s cock. The dildo is somewhere at the back of his drawer, unused, unneeded.
Their friendship is back on track as well. They eat dinner together nearly every night, movie nights are back on and they talk as much - if not more - than ever before. Shane is deliriously happy, and absolutely unwilling to let his stupid feelings take this all away from him.
But it is tough.
It is tough when Ilya looks at him with so much gentleness. It is tough when Shane feels Ilya’s cock grow inside his mouth, as if he is wanted. It is tough when he gazes up to see Ilya looking down at him with darkened eyes and a mouth gaped open. It is tough when he feels Ilya tucking him in afterwards, whispering something in Russian before slipping out of the room.
Yes, he’s in love with Ilya Rozanov.
No, he’s not going to do anything about it.
But the tension of having a secret is rising inside of him. He can feel it in the tightness of his muscles during practice. In the way his food doesn’t taste as good anymore. In how he doesn’t want to read, or listen to music, or go to the gym. In how he keeps dreaming of Ilya’s voice in his ear, telling him words he’d never say in real life. The tension keeps dragging him under, and Shane fears the moment it will drown him.
Saturday nights used to be his alone-time. Ilya would go out and not come back until the early mornings. But Ilya had been staying in more and more often. And when he did go out, he always asked Shane to come along or he would come back home early, claiming the party had been no fun.
Shane didn’t ask questions, he was more than happy to have Ilya around.
This Saturday was the same old. Ilya had spread out on the couch, flicking mindlessly through the television channels in search of anything good, whilst Shane read a book in the armchair. Or. Tried to read a book. He kept being distracted by Ilya’s bare arms, muscles flexing with every move he made. Not to mention the soft bulge that was clear in Ilya’s dark grey sweatpants.
“You changing pages very fast,” Ilya said. “You ok?”
“Bit tense,” Shane murmured. “Nothing too bad.”
Ilya raised an eyebrow. “You need me?”
No. No, Shane definitely did not. His tenseness wasn’t coming from anxiety or stress. It was horniness. And it was a very, very bad idea to take Ilya’s cock in his mouth when he felt this close to the edge already.
“Yes please,” he said, unable to stop himself.
Ilya smiled, lifting his hips to slide his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles. Shane licked his lips, mouth watering dangerously as he watched Ilya tap the empty seat on the couch. Shane grinned, standing up to cross the small distance between the chair and the couch, but not coming to sit next to Ilya.
Ilya looked at him, raising a suspicious eyebrow, and Shane gave him - what he hoped to be - a teasing smile before he sank to his knees in front of him.
“Fuck,” Ilya whispered, the word barely audible. He spread his knees wide enough for Shane to crawl between them, hands wrapping around Ilya’s sturdy thighs. He’d touched those thighs before, but never both at the same time, never quite like this.
“Ok?” he asked.
“Yes, Hollander,” Ilya said, voice raw. “Come on. Take what you need from me.”
The words were a fuel, lit to warm Shane from the inside out. His heart was beating loudly and he could feel the beat inside his throat. Ilya’s cock was already almost all the way hard and when Shane wrapped his lips around it, it twitched, the top pressing temporarily against the roof of his mouth. He moaned, taking it deeper, letting it rest heavily on his tongue.
He closed his eyes, ready for the floating feeling to take him away, but it didn’t come. He wasn’t anxious. He wasn’t nervous or frightened or afraid. He was horny. Head over heels in love. And desperately, desperately wanting to taste Ilya for real.
Could he…
His head felt heavy with want. His tongue wanted to curl around Ilya’s heat. The muscles in his neck wanted to bob up and down on his thick cock. The muscles in his ass fluttered around nothing. His own cock lay heavy in his sweatpants, oozing precum into his boxers. Shane couldn’t take this.
He groaned in agony, pulling back a little, giving himself a little more space to flex his jaw and breath. He should stop this now. He should pull back, give Ilya a weak excuse and step into the shower for a pathetic wank. But Ilya’s scent filled his nostrils: clean, fresh and smoky, and Shane’s tongue decided otherwise. It flicked against Ilya’s slit, finding it wet and velvety smooth. Shane wanted more. But he should—
“Shane,” Ilya gasped, hips coming loose from the couch, hands coming to tug at Shane’s hair.
That had never happened before. Ilya had never touched him like this. He’d never pushed his cock further into Shane’s open and wanting mouth. He’d never gasped Shane’s name before.
“Shit. Sorry,” Ilya muttered, cheeks flushed. He was breathing heavily, and looking down at Shane with wide and wild eyes “Fuck, Hollander. I–”
Shane pulled back completely, letting Ilya’s cock slip out of his mouth. “No.”
Ilya frowned.
“Not Hollander,” Shane said. “Not here. Not right now. Not when you… Please.”
Ilya studied him, eyes flicking across his face and then he nodded. “Shane,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I just– Fuck, I—I’m desperate for you.”
Shane’s heart summer-saulted.
“What?”
“I-I can’t. I can’t do this anymore. Having you like this. Having your mouth around my cock, but not— Fuck. I want to help you. I really do. Believe me, please. But I can’t do this. I want…”
“What?” Shane pushed himself up, hands wrapped around Ilya’s thighs, faces almost pushed together. “What do you want, Ilya?”
Ilya shivered, his jaw flexing harshly. “You,” he whispered. “Fuck, Shane, I–I’ve wanted you for so long.”
“Want me to suck your cock?” Shane asked, wincing a bit with every crude word dropping from his lips. “Want to fuck me? What is it, Ilya? I need to hear exactly what you want.”
Ilya’s eyes turned dark. “You know what I want. You want same thing.”
“W–Why do you think that?”
“I know you,” Ilya said, leaning closer, one hand coming up to slide into Shane’s hair. “You would never just take someone’s dick into your mouth, Hollander. You’re too much of a goody-goody for that.”
“Am not.”
“Yes you are,” Ilya chuckled. “Is not bad thing. Is what I love about you.”
“You… You love me?”
“Course I do,” Ilya whispered. “I don’t let just anyone take my dick into his mouth. Not without condom.”
“You… You love me?”
“Yes. I just said that, moya lyubov.”
Shane searched Ilya’s face, looking for a falsehood or a joke, but he was only met with sincerity. Ilya’s eyes spoke the truth.
“I love you too.”
Ilya’s eyes twinkled. “Yeah?”
“Yes,” Shane whispered, bringing his face closer, brushing their noses together. “Fuck, Ilya. Are you sure? I mean… What about all those girls you bring home? Are you sure it’s me you want?”
“Which girls?” Ilya asked. “There hasn’t been girl or boy for months.”
Shane looked at him, eyes growing wide as he realised that Ilya spoke the truth. He hadn’t brought anyone home for months now. Not since… Not since he found Shane on the couch with his lips wrapped around a dildo.
“Holy shit,” Shane breathed.
Ilya laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Just you.”
“Just me.”
Ilya hummed, his broad hand cupping the left side of Shane’s face, thumb stroking his cheek. “I thought you’d know faster. Took you very long time, Hollander. Maybe you not as smart as I thought you were. Don’t worry. Doesn’t matter. I’ll be smart one in relationship.”
Shane rolled his eyes. He loved Ilya’s playful, cocky demeanour. It had always made him laugh, and right now, it also turned him on. He nodded. “You can be the smart one, and I’ll be the good kisser.”
“You wish,” Ilya grumbled as he leaned in, close enough for his breath to tickle Shane’s lips. “How are you feeling? Tell me what you need. Still need to feel my cock in your mouth?”
“No. Not like that. — I–I didn’t, really. Not tonight.”
“You didn’t?”
Embarrassment spiked in Shane’s gut. “I didn’t need you. I wanted you.”
Ilya stared at him, his usually small smile slowly taking over his whole face. “Really?”
Shane hummed.
“Fuck, Hollander. Can I kiss you now, moya lyobov?”
“Please.”
Ilya leaned forward, brushing their noses together, before tilting his head to the side and pressing his lips against Shane’s. The kiss was soft and sweet and chaste for about a second. Then Ilya groaned, wrapping a hand around Shane’s neck to cup the back of his head and pull him even closer. He nipped at Shane’s lower lip until he opened for him, letting Ilya’s tongue eagerly explore his mouth. There was so much heat between them now that Shane melted against Ilya’s body, letting his hands come up to his chest, feeling the tightness of his pecks below the shirt.
The kiss turned frantic, both of them clamping onto the other. Tongues swirling, lips swelling, heaving breaths shared between open mouths. Ilya mumbled a few words in Russian against Shane’s lips, when Shane playfully nipped at his bottom lip.
“What do you want?” Ilya breathed, pressing kisses down Shane’s jaw and neck. “I give you everything. What do you want?”
Shane knew exactly what he wanted.
“Want to suck you,” he moaned, eagerness outwinning his embarrassment. “For real.”
“Fuck, yes,” Ilya groaned. “On your knees, krasivyy.”
Shane sat back down, letting his hands roam from Ilya’s chest down to his stomach. He slipped his fingers beneath Ilya’s shirt, playing with the happy trail of hair and pulling at the fabric until Ilya understood his wants. He chuckled as he pulled the shirt off in one fluid movement, leaving him completely bare, except for the sweatpants and boxers twisted around his ankles.
Shane took a second to look, his mouth watering at the sight of Ilya’s hard nipples and toned stomach. His hands moved down to Ilya’s thighs, fingers digging into the soft skin as he leaned forward to press warm kisses up Ilya’s inner thigh.
“Fuck Hollander,” Ilya groaned. “Get to it!”
Shane laughed against Ilya’s skin, pressing kiss after kiss to the strong thighs he’d been dreaming about for years. He had wanted this for so long, he was not going to rush this. He was determined to take his time.
Ilya’s cock had somewhat softened in the time it took them to fess up about their feelings, but with Shane’s lips so close, it was rapidly filling again. He was so beautiful, Shane thought, pressing his tongue against a birthmark on Ilya’s inner thigh. And he was all his.
“Shane,” Ilya growled, wiggling impatiently, pushing one hand into Shane’s hair whilst the other curled around his cock. “I swear I’ll make myself come if you don’t hurry the fuck up.”
Ilya gave his cock a few frantic strokes, as if to prove his point, before switching tactics and using the hand he had buried in Shane’s hair to guide him to where he wanted him most. Shane let out a soft whine as Ilya slapped his cock against his cheek, smearing the skin with precum, before pushing the crown of his dick against Shane’s lips.
“Open up for me, moya lyubov.”
Shane let himself go pliant in Ilya’s hands, his mouth falling open on Ilya’s command, letting him take his mouth. Inch after inch of hot flesh was being fed to him, and this time Shane finally got to swirl his tongue around the shaft, hollow his cheeks to suck the cock deeper and moan at the taste of Ilya’s skin.
“Chert,” Ilya groaned, his hand tightening in Shane’s hair. “So good. Fuck. You were such good cockwarmer for me. I knew you’d be good cock sucker too.”
Shane moaned, Ilya’s dirty talk only fueled the heat in his blood. His cock had been rock hard ever since he’d pressed the first kiss to Ilya’s naked thighs, and now it was twitching painfully within its confides, leaking precum and begging to be let out.
He slipped a hand down between their bodies, rising up only just enough to pull his cock from his pants. He wrapped a hand around himself, tugging his cock in rhythm with the bobs of his head.
“Fuck, I’m close,” Ilya moaned. “You have to pull back, Hollander.”
Shane turned feral, shaking his head , tightening the hold his lips had on Ilya’s shaft. There was absolutely no way he was pulling back. He was determined to taste Ilya tonight.
“Shane,” Ilya groaned, “Are you sure?”
Shane blinked his eyes open, looking up at Ilya with a look that apparently showed his hunger, because Ilya’s pupils widened before his head tilted back onto the couch pillows.
He came with Shane’s name on his lips.
Shane felt his own cock ooze precum at the taste of Ilya on his tongue. He groaned, swallowing thickly, letting go of his cock to rut against Ilya’s leg. His skin was on fire, his heart beating loudly in his ears, Ilya’s leg strong and hard as he kept rolling his hips against it.
Two hands swooped beneath his armpits and lifted him from the ground, as if he was as light as a feather, depositing him right into Ilya’s lap. Shane gasped, his head feeling dizzy with desire as Ilya swooped forward to kiss him again. He demanded dominance and Shane was more than happy to give it to him. He melted into Ilya’s embrace, let him set the pace of the kiss and wound his arms around Ilya’s neck to play with his curls and keep him close.
One of Ilya’s hands slipped between their bodies and beneath Shane’s shirt, but he didn’t attempt to take it off. He knows that you would want to fold it, Shane thought, and he doesn’t want to let go. The idea sent butterflies tumbling through his stomach. He deepened the kiss as a thanks, and Ilya moaned as if he understood the meaning.
The hand slid up beneath his shirt, nails raking over his nipples, sending full body shivers down his spine. Hot fingertips danced across his skin, from his pecks to his abs and lower, until Ilya’s hand finally curled around his cock.
Shane gasped when Ilya started wanking him with a firm hand, building a steady rhythm that had Shane quickly panting for air. Their foreheads were pressed together, the heat between their bodies electrifying and Shane was brought to the edge in record time.
“Ilya,” he breathed. “I’m close. So close.”
“Come for me,” Ilya moaned in a low and raw voice that Shane hadn’t heard him use before. It was ridiculously hot. Shane spilled between them, throwing his head back on a loud gasp, feeling Ilya latch on to his bared neck to press heated kisses from his ear down to his shoulder.
“Ty takyy krasivyy,” Ilya breathed against his skin, wiping the palm of his hand on Shane’s ruined sweatpants before wrapping both hands around his body and pulling him into an embrace. Shane let his forehead rest on Ilya’s shoulder, reveling in the warm feeling of being in Ilya’s arms. This was what he’d always wanted.
“Come with me to my bed,” Ilya whispered into his skin. “Stay with me tonight.”
Shane smiled, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to Ilya’s lips. “Yes. Please.”
Ilya smiled back at him, and it took everything in Shane not to swoon at the sight. Ilya was gorgeous like this. Eyes sparkling, lips swollen and curls all messed up.
Shane melted into Ilya’s arms, making it easy for the other man to slip his hands beneath Shane’s thighs and lift him. Shane let out a surprised yelp when Ilya lifted them both off the couch. Ilya chuckled at that, and Shane wrapped his legs tightly around Ilya’s waist, laughing along. Ilya stepped forward and nearly tumbled, making Shane hold on even tighter.
“What the fuck, Ilya!”
“Shit! Sorry. I forgot about my pants,” Ilya groaned, making Shane look down and see him kick at the sweatpants that were still annoyingly wrapped around his ankles. When he finally succeeded in kicking them - along with his boxers - completely off, Shane was laughing into Ilya’s chest.
“Don’t laugh at me, moya lyubov,” Ilya tilted his head, teasingly biting Shane’s earlobe, before chuckling along. “You’ll be the death of me.”
“Only une petite mort.”
“You going to speak French to me now?”
“You’ve been calling me Russian names all evening. It’s only fair really.”
“Ty do nevozmozhnosti idealen”
“Tu es l’homme le plus beau que j’aie jamais vu.”
“Ya nikogda tebya ne otpushchu.”
“Je n’arrive pas à croire que tu sois à moi.”
Ilya pushed the door to his bedroom open, carefully laying Shane down on his bed before crawling on top of him. Shane kept his legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist, unwilling to let him go very far, and Ilya didn’t seem to mind at all.
“I love you,” he whispered. “This. Us. We’re going to be good. I promise.”
Shane smiled, tears of joy prickling in his eyes. Knowing Ilya’s family history, he knew what those words meant. We’ll be good together. I’ll take care of you. Your anxiety will never be a problem for me. I’m here for you. I’ve got you.
“I know,” Shane replied, because he did. “I love you too.”