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All day Shane has been shifting in his seat, his uniform sticking too close to his skin, his pants too tight, despite none of his measurements having changed. He's warm and slick with an odd sweat. He's been trying to shake it away through practice, welcoming the friendly checks to the boards, in hopes it'll shake him up enough to return to normal. But despite the adrenaline rush of practice and the subsequent evening game, Shane goes home with the same level of uncomfortable need swimming under his skin. He showers, scrubbing deep under the icy stream. Shane stares at himself in the bathroom mirror, he doesn't look any different, doesn't look sick, doesn't necessarily feel sick but there's something clawing at him inside and it's driving him mad. He waits a beat, letting his eyes skate over his naked form, before stopping solid at his crotch. He swallows hard, feeling the epicenter of all this heat build once more, swelling inside of him. As if sensing his anxiety, his phone rings, interrupting his thoughts. He takes a beat before retrieving his phone from the pocket of his folded jeans, it's Ilya. He swallows hard.
"Hello?"
"Hmm, hello."
"H-how are you?"
"что? Why are you stuttering Shane?"
"What? I'm— I just got out of the shower."
"Hmm, what is wrong?"
"Nothing!" Shane says, a little too quick and a little too aggressive
"Right, I believe you, sure."
Shane doesn't reply, drawn back to the image of himself in the mirror, feeling hotter than ever with Ilya's voice drifting into his skull. Experimentally he lets a shaking hand drift down his stomach and curve up to his pussy. It's sopping and aggressively hot. He's been wet before, of course, and Ilya has worked him up and over the edge more times than he can count, but this…
"Shane?"
He snaps back to the phone, "Hmm?"
Ilya sighs, "You are home?"
He bites his lip. "Yes."
"Okay, I will come over then, yes?"
"Ilya, no I—" He's not really sure what he was going to say, how to explain this situation.
"Tell me what is bothering you Shane."
His brain spins like a globe, searching for something…and then it hits him like a brick.
"Fuck." He mutters, half forgetting he's still on the phone.
"I'm going to fucking break into your house Shane."
He breathes. "I'm fine, just…fuck…I'm…I'm ovulating."
It makes sense why it took him so long to figure it out, he hasn't really dealt with this but once in his teens, it's wasn't so intrusive then and it had quickly faded into the background. Testosterone had all but taken care of all those pesky cyclical phases, no periods and lucky for him, no ovulating, just a body he'd built from scratch and a secret he'd kept from his entire team.
Ilya speaks finally "This means you are…like…плодородный…English is so stupid.." He's searching for better words, but finds none.
"It's like for getting pregnant and you body is all…hot and…wet."
"Wet?" Ilya perks up noticeably
"Ilya…"
Shane startles at the sounds of the front door unlatching.
"Shane?" Ilya calls, audible from the phone but also his apartment.
"Ilya did you…" he clicks the phone and steps out of the bathroom
Ilya is stood in Shane's bedroom, leather jacket and all.
"Блядь, look at you."
The hot slick grew deeper and hotter, his dick swelling, peeking through the curls of his pubes.
"Ilya." He whispers. Walking over to embrace him.
He nuzzles into his neck, breathing in deep. Ilya smells like smoke and city air, he's cool to the touch, refreshing in his current state. Ilya strokes his hair, humming. Tears bloom in Shane's waterline. This is all too new and too overwhelming.
"Ilya." He mumbles again.
Ilya pulls Shane's face from his shoulder.
"Hmmm, do not cry, is okay, I will fix."
They kiss soft and open, Ilya pushing gently back until Shane falls onto the bed. The heat is still building, the slick is all but spilling out of him. It's kind of horrible, but Ilya's gentle face calms some of the ick he's feeling. Ilya undresses quick and quiet, before joining Shane's near shaking body.
"It is uncomfortable?" Ilya asks, running his fingers lightly over his sweaty skin.
"Yes it's… this hasn't happened since I was young and…" Shane sighs in frustration, tears still stinging his eyes.
"Tell me what it feels like."
Shane grunts and rolls onto his stomach "wet…it's hot and wet and uncomfortable…hmm annoyingly horny…throbbing like." He stuffs his face into the covers and groans.
"mmm, my poor Shane." Ilya kisses at his shoulder "Do you want me to touch you?"
Shane shudders and turns his face towards him. He feels flush through his cheeks, his neck, through to his chest. His mouth feels heavy.
"You don't have to."
Ilya furrows his brow, "Shane." He rubs his thumb over Shane's cheek, dipping it past his welcoming lips. "There is no 'have to'," Shane moans around his finger. "I am here for you Shane, you understand?" Shane nods
Ilya's finger pulls out and rubs the remaining saliva around Shane's lips.
"I will make you feel better, okay?"
Shane hums and relaxes into the mattress. Ilya is firm with turning Shane over onto his back, fingers trailing down his sternum before resting at the top of his pelvis.
"Can I touch you here?"
Shane gives a quiet grunt, too overwhelmed with it all to give a proper response.
"Shane, I need permission."
Shane frowns silently, and gives a half annoyed thumbs up. Ilya laughs.
"Ok, thank you." He kisses Shane's stomach and is moving his hand again.
His fingers sink into his pussy with zero resistance, wrapping his digits in scalding wet heat. Shane squirms under his touch, whining but oddly relieved. Ilya's fingers crook upward, hitting solid against his g-spot.
"uh—mm, Ily—" Shane struggles out
Ilya doesn't change pace, doesn't ram his fingers in, just continues at his medium pace, thrusting in and up to stimulate his throbbing form. He does however slip his lips around Shane's untouched clit. Shane gasps and buck up hard into Ilya's mouth, leg shaking under his weight. Ilya sucks hard, working his tongue over the length. The dual sensation is electric and Shane can feel his orgasm building. His muscles stiffen and shake, skin slick with a thin layer of sweat.
"Yes—ah—Ilya."
He's pressing into Ilya's face, chasing the stimulation, trying to move it along, he wants so badly to cum. It's not unusual for it to take a while for him to get off, but he'd love for that clock to fast forward a bit in this time of need. He grunts gripping tight at the sheets. Ilya chuckles, humming against his sensitive nerves. Gratefully, Shane feels the wave closing in.
A few more minutes of Ilya's impressively steady hands and tongue pass and the long awaited orgasm is prickling at the edge of Shane's vision.
"I-Ilya." He bites into his bottom lip
Ilya doesn't waver in the slightest. The red hot fire of arousal is pooling in Shane's belly, slicking around Ilya's moving fingers and then the dam breaks. A steady stream of fluid drains out of him and he's cumming.
"Fuck—Ilya, uh—I—"
Shane gasps and shakes. Ilya hold a stead, still hand against his lower belly
Any sense of apprehension or shame has left his body, he's fully surrendered himself to Ilya.
He's takes a while to come back to earth, for his breathing to settle and the sparks of orgasm to fizzle out from the edges of his vision. When he comes to, Ilya is resting his head on this inside of his thigh, smiling. Their eyes meet and Ilya smiles wide, moving upward to place open mouthed kisses to his stomach. He crawls up the bed and pulls Shane into a tight embrace.
"How do you feel my Shane?"
Shane assesses his body, cataloging all the sensations, the wet heat that still sits inside, and something else…something hungry.
"I feel…better, but."
Ilya pulls back to look him in the eyes.
"Yes?"
Shane takes a moment, feeling for the right words in his mouth. He pulls Ilya down for a kiss, he tastes of sweet and salt and sex. His hole throbs, legs finding their way around Ilya's lower back. His heels dig deep in time with Ilya's exploratory tongue inside his mouth. They pull apart with a huff.
"Ilya." Shane breathes.
"Shane." Ilya replies, kissing over his freckles.
"I want you…Inside me."
Ilya blushes a deep red.
"mmm." He nuzzles into Shane's chest. "You are sure, we do not have to."
Shane kisses his scalp, "There is no 'have to'" he says with a mocking Russian accent.
Ilya glares up at him, but then softens and kisses him again. "I want you to be sure, that's all."
"I'm sure—" They kiss deep. "Please."
Ilya hums and sits up, "Do you have protection?" He asks, gesturing towards the night table.
Shane nods and pulls Ilya back down to him. "I—can we—You're clean right?"
Ilya stares, puzzled.
"Like, you are not sleeping with anyone else?"
Ilya shakes his head, still confused. Shane nods.
"Okay." He kisses him again. "I just want to feel you…completely."
Ilya understands now. "What about this?" He gestures to Shane's body. "Pregnancy?" He huffs.
"I can take a pill in the morning, I just want to feel you." Shane is begging at this point.
Ilya has no real qualms about no wearing a condom, he's mostly afraid about Shane's first time ending in a very unwanted pregnancy.
"You are sure?"
"So sure, I promise."
Ilya smiles at that, kissing his nose before reaching for a pillow to slip under Shane's hips.
"It will be more comfortable for you." He soothes.
Despite the deep want, the white hot heat in his pussy and the way his heart flutters at the sight of Ilya, he's still filled to the brim with nerves. Ilya rubs a gentle thumb over his freckled cheek, scratching lightly at his scalp. He's already hard, achingly so. He swallows hard gripping at the base of his cock, he rubs it through the wet slick from Shane's orgasm, bumping his cock head with Shane's smaller, but no less swollen, dick. Shane shudders at this but is oddly relaxed. He angles himself, his tip whispering against his weeping hole.
"You are sure?"
"Yes, please."
Ilya steadies and presses himself inside. Shane can't help but grab for something, sucking in a breath. Ilya's maybe an inch inside, but the feeling is beyond anything they've experienced together before. Fingers are one thing, but this…it's so much. Tears sting at his eyes again. Shane doesn't urge him forward, just stares up at him, breath caught in his throat.
"моя любовь, are you alright?"
Shane bites the inside of his cheek, his arms pulling at Ilya's torso, pulling their chests together.
"Shane? Are—does it hurt?"
"Just please, Don't—stay still—just hold me, okay?"
Ilya stiffens slightly, still unsure of exactly what's happening, but he's quick to obey and squeezes Shane tight, keeping his hips flexed and still all the while.
It was a little embarrassing, his body is open wide for Ilya and something has ben fundamentally changed within him now, in a split second…different. He doesn't exactly subscribe to the purity culture of it all, but regardless of society's constructs around virginity, this was deeply important to him, and special. It's also kind of scary too, the idea that even if structurally it's all the same, something inside of him will be different now, changed, for the better maybe, yes, but changed all the same. Everyone knows Shane is bad about change so it's not surprising he'd need a moment to let it all wash over him, to process the the idea of this big angry Russian pressing inside him. It wasn't painful, or not that painful, it hurts a little, Ilya isn't exactly the smallest of men. But it's not horrible, no excruciating tear, nothing out of a horror film, nothing like the movies. Just a strange stretch, one that he's already getting used to now, and the overwhelming feeling of intimacy. He could stay like this forever, just barely connected at the groin and squeezed tight.
"Ilya?"
"Yes, my Shane?" He replies, tucked into Shane's neck.
"Please move, just…постепенно, ладно?"
Ilya pulls back, his face is blush pink and slick with a sheen of sweat. He smiles at the sound of his mother tongue in Shane's mouth.
"Конечно." He cradles Shane's cheek "tell me if it hurts, yes?"
Shane nuzzles into Ilya's palm "I promise."
Ilya hums and kisses him, licking into his mouth. He moves Shane's legs slightly, so they bend at the knee. He braces himself on either side of Shane, and presses gently forward. Shane's body is so inviting, his skin, soft underneath him, his mouth, always open for him, and now his pussy, wet and hot and pulling him in. He huffs, a choked sound escaping his throat.
"Is okay?"
"Yes—mmm—you—ahh."
Shane whines with the rock of Ilya's hips, slow but deliberate, not yet fully sheathed in him. He's careful with his movement, despite the openness Shane's current state and the orgasm provided, he doesn't want to force himself in. The way his body relaxes around his cock with each shallow move sends shivers thought his spine. He's had many lovers, too many to count really, but he's never known the inner-workings of any of them. He's the top scholar at the school of Shane, he's studied every brow furrow, every little whimper, the way his whines change in pitch, how he shivers in his hands. He knows how he sounds when he's sad or when he's hiding his fear, he loves the way his face scrunches when he laughs. Shane is everything.
"Ilya." He whispers, rolling his head to the side, eyes screwing shut.
Ilya presses a wet kiss to the now exposed column of his neck, sucking lightly. With a final slow rock, Ilya's entire length is pressed flush against Shane's cervix. Shane jolts, the feeling is near electric.
"Fuck, Ilya." He pulls at his curls, hard.
"Is good?" Ilya mutters, grinning into Shane's neck.
Shane breathes out, pulling Ilya to his face. They kiss, open mouthed and heavy. One of Ilya's hands tucks itself under Shane's right knee, pushing it further up, opening up Shane's body some more. He moves quicker now, still connected at the mouth with Shane. They kiss and gasp, tongues and teeth fighting each other. Shane knew he was big, knew this very well actually, but there's something about eyes being bigger than your stomach, or in this case, his throat being bigger than his cunt. He's crying fully now, salty tears mixing with their kisses. Ilya pulls away instinctively, holding steady and still in an instant. He stares down at Shane, studying the twisted expression on his face. His cheeks are wet with tears but the way the rest of his face is twisted paints the picture clearly. He grins and kisses Shane again.
"Don't stop—Please." Shane pleads.
"Hmm." Ilya smiles, "ладно, ладно."
He's thrusting again, cock bumping against Shane's cervix like it's nothing at all.
"Fuck, yes— ah, Ilya—uhh."
Ilya is sucking at Shane's collarbone, groaning into his skin. Experimentally, Ilya sits up and pushes Shane's legs far up and fully apart. The hot wet heat is pulling him in even more now.
"Fuck!" Shane shouts
Ilya's hands are pressed on each of Shane's legs, keeping his spread wide. He's thrusting quicker and a little harder now.
"Ты в порядке?" Ilya asks, out of breath.
"Yes, yes—please can you—mmfhm." He can't quite get the words out, so rather than try again he's wrenching his legs from Ilya's grip and pulling them to his chest.
"Блядь—, look at you." Ilya grunts.
Ilya presses his chest to the back of Shane's knees so they can kiss again. The sounds are obscene, all wet and slapping skin.
"H-harder, пожалуйста."
Shane begging for a harder fuck in Russian does something insane to Ilya. He feels like something is erupting inside of him. He channels all of that wild energy into his dick. Without a second thought he's rolling Shane over, pressing back in deep. His fingers dig into the plush fat of Shane's hips, pulling him back as he pummels in, letting their bodies meet in the middle. Shane is whining and choking on his own air underneath him.
"Holy fu—." Shane buries his face into the pillow, crying out in ecstasy.
"Нет." Ilya pulls Shane by the hair to turn his head, "I want to hear you."
"mmhmf, Ilya—fuck—you feel." He moans, deep and guttural.
"Will you cum for me, my Shane?"
"mmm—I, maybe." Shane huffs, not really capable of full sentences, what with Ilya actively bruising his cervix.
"Is okay." Ilya kisses between his shoulder blades, pulling at his hair again. "You will squirt for me, yes?"
"Fuck—."
Ilya shifts his movements, cock changing direction slightly. He's hitting Shane's g-spot now, with expert accuracy.
"oh—"
"Yes." Ilya hums.
Ilya is painfully aware of his impending orgasm, but he's holding on as long as he can. Shane is shaking, he's close. Ilya heaves in a strangled breath, grunting with every thrust.
"Oh fuck Ilya I'm—."
Shane is dripping wet again, squirting for Ilya as if it's an act of obedience.
"Молодец"
Ilya lets go of the tension in his stomach, sliding in and out with even more ease, now that Shane's impossibly wetter. Shane can feel the way Ilya shakes behind him, thrusts becoming more irregulat, less measured.
"Ilya—." He reaches a hand back for him. "Stop."
He does, no questions asked.
"Shane?" He asks, trying to catch his breath.
"Turn me over again? I need to look at you." His voice is small, exhausted.
Ilya pulls out and bends to kiss at the tender flesh where he gripped with bruising pressure. He's gentle with putting him on his back again.
"You are okay?"
Shane nods, reaching down for Ilya's cock impatiently with a whine.
"Shh,okay, okay."
He slides in again, forehead pressed against Shane. He's shaking, near orgasm.
"Cum in me." Shane whispers.
Those words punch Ilya in the gut, it's insane. He kisses Shane soft, body pulsing, and then he cums. It's odd, warm, new, filling. Shane's felt him cum down his throat plenty, but this was a new sensation. It might be his new favourite feeling.
"Fuck Shane."
Ilya's muscles shiver and he pulls out. Shane feels the trickle of cum slipping out, it's kind of gross, but he pushes it out of his mind for the time being. Ilya is heavy breathing into the crook of Shane's neck, still recovering from his release. Shane massages through his sweaty curls, half asleep at this point.
Maybe five minutes pass and Ilya is more conscious, peppering kisses across Shane's throat and jaw.
"Красивый."
Shane laughs quietly, "No, you."
Their mouths connect again, whisper soft.
"You are okay? You feel good?"
"So good, so fucking good."
Shane pulls him tight to his chest.
"Thank you."
"No need to thank me, my Shane."
"Fuck off."
"We need to shower."
"mmm yes, in a bit okay?"
"Okay."
Ilya maneuvers so they can spoon, strong arms wrapping about Shane's stomach.
"Rest, and then shower." he says.
Shane nods, sighing into the pillow.