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The movie on the television cuts to commercial. Ilya is so comfortable lying here, sinking into the cushions, Shane snuggled with his head on Ilya’s lap. Ilya is stroking his hair. They’re both half-asleep, barely watching whatever rerun is on the television. Mostly they’re just soaking up each other’s presence, relaxed in the knowledge that they have three more glorious weeks of summer ahead before they have to pull themselves away from each other.
It is a perfect evening. The only source of discomfort is that Ilya is starting to realize that he needs to pee.
He doesn’t want to stand up and get all cold and not have Shane in his lap anymore. That would be a tragedy. And luckily, a solution presents itself.
“I need to piss,” Ilya says.
Shane starts to sit up. Ilya uses the hand that’s already on Shane’s head to push him back down.
“Where are you going?”
Shane looks a little confused at the question. Ilya loves playing with his mind like this, making him unsure what he’s doing wrong, getting him off-balance. It’s even better than playing with his body, which is Ilya’s second-favorite pastime.
“I’m comfy, I don’t want to get up.” He yanks on Shane’s hair a little, turning his head towards Ilya’s crotch. “Luckily I have perfectly good toilet right here.”
Shane’s eyes go from pleasantly dazed to huge and a little scared and a lot turned on. It’s obvious that he doesn’t know what he wants to have happen here, whether he wants to pull away or lean in.
Shane hates drinking piss. Hates the taste (he’s very fussy about how things taste, and it’s not like piss is delicious), hates the mess. But he loves being degraded and he loves serving Ilya and he loves being useful.
Fortunately for Shane, he doesn’t have to make a decision. Ilya isn’t asking him for his opinion. He unzips his pants and gets his soft cock out. “Get on your knees, put your mouth around me.”
Shane floats down onto his knees, as easily as always. His lips drift open, apparently involuntarily. Ilya can see how wet his mouth is, like it’s watering at the chance to taste Ilya. Shane’s eyes still look a little apprehensive, but he has that stubborn set to his chin he gets whenever he makes up his mind that he’s going to do something, whether it’s some insane new play he’s come up with on the ice or something really difficult Ilya has ordered him to do that Shane intends to obey, no matter how difficult.
Shane bends his head and wraps his lips around the head of Ilya’s cock.
He does it so tenderly, even reverentially. His lips are so soft and sweet and warm against the most sensitive part of Ilya’s cock, but it’s the way Shane’s eyes flutter shut, like he’s worshiping Ilya, that makes Ilya have to fight back the urge to get hard in Shane’s mouth.
But Ilya has a plan for that, for after. A mean plan. He’s looking forward to it almost as much as he’s looking forward to making Shane choke on his piss.
So he sighs, relaxes, and lets go. Shane jerks back the tiniest bit as the stream of piss begins to flow into his mouth, but he doesn’t pull off. Nor does Ilya reach down and hold him into place, make him take it, give him any help at all. He wants to make Shane do this to himself.
“You’re going to swallow every drop,” Ilya tells him, more informing than ordering. Shane gags a little as he starts to swallow, but he does as he’s told.
Ilya had been holding it for a while, so it’s a heavy stream. It’s making Shane choke even as he tries to swallow it, filling his mouth, hitting the back of his throat. The awkward angle, with Ilya lying down, pissing upward into Shane’s mouth, doesn’t make it any easier for Shane. If he doesn’t focus on keeping his lips sealed around Ilya’s dick, the liquid will spill out. If he doesn’t swallow, he’ll drown in it. But if he swallows in this position, he’ll gag on it.
The look of concentration on Shane’s face is positively adorable. Adorable, and a thrill of absolute power. Mr. Highest Hockey IQ, trying to solve the puzzle of how to drink Ilya’s piss.
Ilya will never stop marveling at how someone so brilliant and so competent and so gorgeous willingly lets Ilya debase him like this. He’s so fucking lucky.
Shane’s tongue moving rhythmically against Ilya as he swallows, pulling more and more of Ilya into his mouth. Shane is making little involuntarily noises as his mouth fills with liquid, making it impossible for him to breathe. He’s intermittently gagging so hard that Ilya is almost concerned. But Ilya isn’t holding him down, Shane could get away if he really needed to.
Shane is always beautiful on his knees. His eyes are sparkling with involuntary tears as he chokes, his cheeks flushed dark from the lack of air. It makes every one of his freckles stand out.
It feels amazing. The relief of letting go of his bladder, Shane’s warm mouth around him, the knowledge of how much power Shane is giving him. That Shane, who in Ilya’s opinion is the single best person in the entire world, will let Ilya force him to do something disgusting and humiliating to him so that Ilya doesn’t have to be inconvenienced by walking eight steps to the actual bathroom.
He’s disappointed when he has no more to give Shane. He wishes he could watch Shane like this, equal parts suffering and desperate and blissed out on submission, forever. He pulls out and taps the last few drops on Shane’s lip, watches as Shane’s tongue darts out to lick it up.
“I like pissing in you,” Ilya says, probably unnecessarily. “Nice and warm. Much nicer than using regular toilet.”
“Thank you, Master.” Shane preens a little under what clearly feels like a real compliment to him. There’s nothing he likes more than being useful for Ilya.
Ilya is, unsurprisingly, starting to get hard, at that thought, at all the sensations Shane has given him, at the sight of Shane like this. He reaches down and gives his cock a casual little stroke, watching as Shane watches him. The desperation in his eyes is a sight Ilya will never get tired of.
“M—“ Shane bites down on his lip, hard, like a good boy who hasn’t been given permission to speak.
“You look like you have something to say. Go on,” Ilya prompts him, lazily stroking his dick like he’s disinterested in the whole thing. He’s gotten good at pretending that he’s not so fucking turned on that his vision is blurring and his whole body feels like a live wire. It’s a necessary skill when it’s this much fun to taunt Shane with the appearance of apathy.
“Please,” and Shane’s eyes are so glazed, so fucking desperate. “Please, let me suck your cock, I promise I’ll make it so good.”
Ilya lets go of his cock, noting the way Shane’s eyes follow Ilya’s erection as it slaps against his belly. He leans forward, so his face is right next to Shane’s, watches Shane drop his wide, tear-filled eyes so he doesn’t meet Ilya’s. He gently caresses Shane’s cheek with the hand he’d just been jerking off with, smearing a little pre-come on his cheek.
“Please, Master,” Shane begs, leaning into the touch, like he always does. Ilya’s sweet boy.
“Darling.” Ilya runs his thumb affectionately along Shane’s cheekbones. “Don’t be disgusting. I’m not going to stick my dick in the toilet.”
Shane lets out an absolutely miserable whimper at that, but Ilya also notices that Shane’s cock, hard since Ilya put him on his knees, twitches visibly and starts leaking at the cruel words.
Ilya leans back and starts stroking himself again. He’s slow about it, taking his time. Ilya has become somewhat of an expert in masturbation over the last three years, where he’s separated from Shane for months and months at a time during the season and also gets sent pictures of Shane’s naked body, among other reminders of Shane’s submission to him, every single day. He knows exactly what he likes, a little twist of his wrist as he moves upward, his thumb brushing the head, a stroke getting firmer as it goes back down towards the base of his cock.
Shane is staring at him, of course. He can never take his eyes off Ilya. During the season, while they’re apart, all Ilya needs to do to reward him is let Shane watch while he gets himself off. He watches just like this, mesmerized and worshipful. He’s entranced by the extent of his own longing for Ilya. And a little hurt, Ilya can see, that Shane is right there and Ilya won’t even use him.
“I’ll tell you what,” Ilya says. He loves to torment Shane, to see how far his submission will go (neither of them has found the limit yet) but he also loves to make him feel good. “Since you’re so desperate for it, I’ll come in your mouth.”
Shane sucks in a sharp breath of longing and leans towards Ilya, his mouth falling open. Ilya laughs at him, perhaps distracting from the fact that he has to pinch the base of his cock hard to stop himself from coming at the sight.
“You really are desperate, huh? No, I told you, you’re filthy, disgusting, I’m not letting you suck my cock.”
The tears that have been forming in Shane’s eyes since Ilya started letting Shane choke on him begin to fall. His eyes shine so brightly.
Ilya wonders idly which Shane feels more keenly—the humiliation or the arousal. He’s starting to have a hard time holding back his own orgasm, looking at Shane like this, thinking of all the depraved things Shane is letting him do, will let him do anytime he asks.
“But open your mouth. Wider. Stick your tongue out. I’m going to let you swallow my come, isn’t that nice of me?”
Shane can’t agree aloud, since he’s already obeying Ilya’s order, letting his mouth fall open as wide as it can, stretching his tongue all the way out. Ilya always likes making him do this, making his handsome face distort into this absurd position because Ilya told him to.
“You look really stupid,” Ilya tells him, pleasantly, and then he’s coming on Shane’s face, onto his outstretched tongue and into his open mouth.
He lets himself spend a long moment looking at Shane there on his knees. He wishes he had even more to give Shane. Not just piss and come but more, something that doesn’t even exist, new ways to make him swallow Ilya up and keep Ilya inside him.
Then he gives Shane permission to swallow. Shane thanks him, like he always does, because he’s a good boy.
“C’mon back up,” Ilya says. “I want to finish the movie.”
And he pulls Shane back up onto the couch, settling Shane's head against his chest and kissing his forehead.