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Ilya makes the purchase without telling Shane about it first.

He’s not sure why — as soon as he hits the confirm button on the website on his phone, he feels a trill of nerves and excitement dance up his spine, spinning his head with all the possibilities that would await them both once his little indulgent gift for himself and his husband would arrive on their doorstep.

He doesn’t mean to think non-stop about it for the four and a half days it takes for it to dispatch and ship out to their Ottawa home one late Spring morning, but he’s at practice, taking a quick break when he checks his phone and sees he’s got two notifications there on his screen: one from their doorbell app that shows that someone had briefly stopped by about a half hour ago, and another one that says his package was safely delivered and awaiting them when they got home.

He’s able to keep his excitement at bay long enough to endure a successful enough training session in which he playfully whips the rookies into shape and his competitive streak with Shane flares its head when they’re vying to outdo each other in practice shots. Ilya would say that he let Shane won, out of pure sportsmanship but Shane might not have agreed had he argued with him about it.

But he’s got bigger fish to fry, so he lets it go for now.

They get home and Ilya can tell that Shane is already suspicious of him, eyeing him carefully as he sweeps the package up off the doorstep and into his arms as they bustle inside, cradling it to his chest almost protectively as Shane calms Anya down where she’s bouncing around their feet before he disappears to let her outside for a pee before she goes all over the kitchen floor from excitement.

When he returns, Ilya has placed the parcel onto the kitchen island, but has made zero attempts to open it. 

“What did you order?” He asks, trying his best to sound as nonchalant as possible as he flits through the small amount of junk mail that’s been amassing on the side for a few days now. 

Ilya smiles and then tries to hide it by pressing his lips together rather tightly. 

“Oh. Just a little something,” he answers him, totally giving himself away when Shane’s gaze lifts, and he’s glaring at the box like it’d personally offended him for whatever reason. 

“Something?” He echoes, and his face narrows, eyes sharpening their gaze. “Oh, god. It’s some weird sex thing, isn’t it?”

It’s incredible how fast he’s able to get to that conclusion with so little help. It causes a laugh to bubble up out of Ilya before he’s patting the box almost lovingly, just as Shane scoffs and turns away, pretending to be busy with the cups left by the sink now from last night.

“I think we have enough… toys,” Shane says, the volume of his voice dropping slightly on the last word as if anyone else but them could hear them. 

God forbid the world ever knew that Shane Hollander had a sex toy collection.

And an impressive one at that.

“No,” Ilya says softly as he shakes his head, “this one is different. Is better.”

Shane puts the cup away and then turns to face him again, brows still drawn together tightly. 

“Different? And better how?” He asks, curiosity bleeding through the facade of his annoyance. 

Ilya smirks. “You will see,” he says. 

Shane scoffs and then sits his hands on his hips. “Well, it won’t be tonight,” he insists. “I’m pooped from practice and I’ll need to prep. I don’t want—”

Ilya cuts in, swift and smooth, brow furrowed. “Who says it’s for you?”

Shane balks. His cheeks even turn a little rosy.

“Oh.” He says shortly with a hard blink. “Oh, I thought… it’s not…” his eyes flicker back to the box, staring hard like he’s maybe considering if he had x-ray vision all of a sudden to see what was inside, before concluding it was a useless effort, and glances back up at Ilya again.

“Is for both of us,” Ilya spares him quickly with a tilt of his head and a warm smile. “We can use another time, hm? When we are both ready?”

It’s about as big of a hint that Shane is getting on the matter, until about three days later when they’ve got an entirely free day at home where Ilya can indeed get himself ready at his own leisurely pace as per his own suggestion for their new venture in the bedroom. 

They’d woken slowly; they’d traded blowjobs in bed, before then having migrated to the shower for a bit for a session of lazy making out underneath the waterfall spray where they’d helped each other prep carefully and gently. Shane had been thorough and methodical as usual, and hadn’t commented once when Ilya had turned around, waiting for Shane to lend him a hand also. If he’d put money on it, he’d bet that Shane likely had some sort of idea as to where the day was heading for them both, judging from the fixed steely look on his face that had his brows scrunching and his bottom lip chewed on. 

He’d unpacked the parcel earlier and been insistent on disinfecting it first, though Ilya is likely more convinced that Shane just wants to handle it a little bit before he does anything more with it, since he did have just a bit of a size kink. Admitting any more than that would go to Ilya’s head, so he stayed humble for the both of them.

Most of the time, anyway.

It’s big enough, about fifteen inches in length, almost entirely translucent aside from the slight purplish hue it took on under any harsh lighting. It was realistic enough, even if Ilya understood that for Shane nothing would ever beat having his dick inside of him, but seemingly well manufactured. 

He then realised that he'd perhaps been spending a little too much time with Shane if his neurotic tendencies to get technical about a double ended dildo were starting to rub off on him. He didn’t care though, he quickly decided as fast as the thought came to him. He didn’t care at all.

Because that was what this is: tonight, they’d be fucking each other at the same time with his brand new toy. And the thrill of it outweighed every other thought and emotion that tried to eke into his spinning head.

Shane takes his time cleaning it and drying it off before they return back to bed, crawling back over rumpled sheets where they spend a good few minutes just making out again until they’re both hard and breathless. 

“You’re sure about this?” Shane checks in once again, brows posed like he’s just waiting for Ilya to back out of this at the last second. 

And Ilya knows that if he were to duck out and say no, there’d be no shame, no fuss, no nothing — Shane would never hold it to him for changing his mind at any given point.

The thing was, Shane looked like he really fucking wanted this; his lashes were wet already somehow, his bottom lip sucked on and plump and his cheeks were so rosy, it made every single freckle stand out individually to the point where if Ilya wasn’t feeling so unbelievably out of his mind horny, he might have leant over and taken to trace each and every one with his thumb.

“Da, yes,” Ilya answers him, voice rising from the back of his throat with a lustful rumble. “Want to fuck you so good with it, malysh.”

Shane blinks and curls his lips with a smile. He laughs, or at least he tries to: it’s mostly this squeaky, pitiful little noise that ebbs out of him as he walks himself back up the bed on his elbows, his legs falling open as he does so, situated comfortably on the mound of pillows propped up against the headboard.

“Want me to open myself up?” He’s asking Ilya as he palms the front of his underwear, his eyes flicker to where Ilya’s own bulge was still concealed. Ilya slowly chases after him on his knees until he’s there between his legs, about five inches between their concealed cocks.

“Mmm, so good for me,” Ilya purrs as he reaches into the waistband of his own underwear and tugs his dick free, just so the tip was now poking out above the snappy elastic.

He strokes just the tip, palming it in his large hand as he watches Shane shuffle his boxers off and get to work with his usual itinerary of prepping his ass for sex beyond the cleaning they’d done in the shower. 

“Got enough lube for the two of us,” he comments, rather matter of factly, as he squeezes a generous amount of two fingers. He lets the bottle rest by his hip as he brings his hand up under his balls, fondling kindly before the pads of his fingers trace the puckered tightness of his hole, once and then twice before disappearing into the ring of muscle.

“Fuck,” he grits, and Ilya watches, his hand stills momentarily as if to shut off all other sense and allow himself to truly indulge in the sensation of watching Shane finger himself open like it was the first time all over again. 

Shane’s eyes flutter open, the flush on his face having darkened in the past thirty seconds he’d taken to working himself open. 

“Your turn,” he huffs, and with the hand that wasn’t currently occupied, he blindly feels for the lube, finds it and nudges it towards Ilya with a knuckle, letting it roll over the blankets towards him.

Ilya hums and tears his gaze away to focus it on the small tubing now in his grasp.

He releases the slippery head of his dick to thumb open the cap, taking a breath before he squeezes some of it onto his finger. He doesn’t register that at some stage Shane had stopped what he was doing and crawled onto his knees to kneel in front of him, but he’s there, the weight of them both dipping the mattress, and Shane’s warm, pruned fingers come to brush against the back of Ilya’s hand which was now starting to tremble slightly.

“Want me to?” It’s all he says before Ilya nods, gulps and lays down flat, head almost tipping off the bottom of the bed as Shane hovers above him, eyes heavy with a type of lust that might have Ilya leaving this bedroom tonight in mere pieces.

Shane transfers the sticky lube from Ilya’s fingers onto his own once he’s shuffled him out of his boxer shorts, having lazily discarded them on the carpet somewhere with his own. 

His hands are efficient, slow and tender as the grace across his knee and then up over his hips before magnetising towards his hardened cock, wrapping around it like it was made to fit in his hands alone, giving it a few slow pumps before he’s instructing Ilya to bring his knees up.

“That’s it baby, there you go.” 

Shane’s voice was husky with want, as well as sharp with dedication as he draws more lube from the bottle to spread across Ilya’s taint and hole. 

It’s cold, and so he flinches. Shane huffs and shoots him a quick apology before he’s then finally bringing his fingers to smooth over his ass.

“Okay?” Shane says, eyes flickering to meet Ilya’s half lidded gaze. He’s stopped what he’s doing, unlikely to move until he’s given verbal confirmation, so Ilya quickly gives it.

“Fuck, yes, Shane. Put your fingers in me, please.”

Shane hums and then ever so slowly, breaches Ilya with his pointer finger. It’s slow and methodical, and angled so that his thumb is smoothing over his taint, tugging at his balls every now and then which just adds to the wheel of sensations Ilya was steadfastly currently spinning out of control on right now. 

“More.” Ilya instructs once Shane had brought his finger in and out a couple of times. “Please.”

Another finger is added, and then at Ilya’s request another. 

Shane doesn’t seem to mind that his own cock and ass forgoes any attention for the time being, all whilst he opens Ilya up sweetly slow. He’s scissoring his digits, perhaps adding more lube than actually necessary, but it all feels fucking amazing for Ilya, even before he gets his hand on his dick to give it a few encouraging tugs.

Eventually Shane draws his hand away entirely, huffing, not out of frustration of not being touched for a while, but likely because fingering Ilya had greatly turned him on even more so. 

He’s already grabbing the dildo where it rested on the bedside, a soft little moan crawling from the back of his throat as he fumbled one side of it, petting his wet fingers over the head and the thick silicone veins that trailed from one side to the other.

“Want me to go first?” He asks him, already crawling back to his spot on the bed, legs akimbo, one ankle near enough hanging off the edge of the mattress.

Ilya sits up on his elbows and swallows hard. 

He’d fucked Shane plenty of ways in the lifetime they’d know each other: with his cock of course, his fingers, with his tongue, with a myriad of toys and more. 

He’d fucked him with dildos bigger, more spectacular than this one. Ones that buzzed and whirred. Ones that Ilya could control from the pocket of his jacket if he wanted to. 

Shane huffs, having started smearing the head with more lube, glistening in the dulled lamp light before he’s bringing it to the wide open space between his legs to circle at his already puffy hole.

Ilya must have been the greediest man in the world, because all those ways he’d had him and he still was here, wanting more. 

“Fuck yourself for me,” he says it, words tangling in the ashiness of his throat, coming out more like a growl other than anything else.

Shane’s face screws up as he braces himself, toes curling as he pushes the rubbery head inside of himself. 

He takes it well, breathing hard and then relaxing once it’s breached the tight ring of darkened muscles. 

“Fuck, Ilya,” he moans, head tipping back before he snaps it forward again to thread it further up inside of him. 

Ilya watches, mouth dry, cock impossibly hard, as Shane fucks himself on the dildo with short, slow, shallow thrusts. 

He’s breathing hard, enough that beads of sweat have started to collect at his hairline, making the darkened strands of uncut hair fall into his eyes, looking impossibly sexy with how wet they were hanging off his forehead.

Ilya watches carefully, his own heartbeat thumping hard against the confines of his chest, sure that he too was likely glistening at this stage before he’d even gotten properly started. 

Shane’s eyes crack open and he slows himself. 

“Still okay?” He asks, voice low. 

Ilya responds by shuffling forward, the inside of his calf bumps against Shane’s. He knows he’s going to need more confirmation than that, so, he takes up the other end of the dildo that wasn’t currently buried inside of his husband, and gives it a few short, dry strokes.

“Is so hot,” he slurs the words, feeling drunk on the feeling already somehow. He gives the dildo an experimental tug, brows raised as he watches the rim of Shane’s ass swell and cinch, trying desperately to keep it inside of himself.

“Fucker,” Shane says with a huff and an a half hearted laugh. Ilya snorts, bemused clearly, and then pushes it in a further inch forwards.

He could in theory just stay like this; legs spread, playing with his leaking cock, letting Shane just take it as he pushed and pulled the rubbery dick from his ass. But that’s not why Ilya had dropped a pretty dime on this thing and put a bulb up his ass already today. 

He’s patting the blankets down for the lube again until his fingers clasp around it, shaking this time with anticipation as he drizzles a hefty amount on the second head that was to be his. 

He thumbs at the silicon slit, nothing more than just a tiny divot in the mould, yet he treats it for a moment like it were a real cock, stroking it tenderly as Shane’s hips continued to shift so subtly, drawing the most delicious noises from him as he pressed himself hard against the headboard. 

“Need my help?” He hears Shane ask, just as Ilya scoots forwards a final time to bring the fake cockhead up under his balls.

“Hm. Be still maybe for a second, I don’t want to tug you.”

Shane stops immediately, using the opportunity in which Ilya starts to rub the end of the dildo over his hole to catch his breath for a moment, and when Ilya lifts his gaze, he can see the darkened, lustful look he’s pinning him with, lips parted, eyes bulging as Ilya then slowly starts to sink the other end of their shared dildo into his ass. 

“Go slow, baby,” Shane instructs him carefully. “Don’t rush it.”

Ilya doesn’t really need to be told that — he’s taken cock once before in his life and he’d tried Shane’s infamous dildo once too to know how to take something bigger than just three fingers.

But it was nice that Shane was coaching him through it, at least. Hot, even, considering his cock gives a weak jump, dribbling some precome that oozes down the side and pools into his belly button. 

“Fuck. Fuck, Shane.” He’s feeding the dildo further inside of himself, letting it stretch and fill him with a heat unimaginable. His rim clenches down instinctively but he peeks a look at Shane’s own opened hole, lax around the other end of the dildo, and it spurs him on to try and mirror it, breathing through it to allow more to push up inside of him. 

Eventually they lose some length between them, and they end up shuffling even closer until their legs, wide and opened, are tangled together, and for a moment, as they sit there, catching their breath together, whispering and stuttering on air, Ilya thinks back to that fateful day in the gym, all those many years ago when Shane had sat across from him on the cool floor in a similar position, with his legs drawn up and sprawled open, looking just as fucked out back then as he did now with the blush prominent at his cheeks.

Ilya feels a rush of nostalgia tinged with the overwhelming sense of adoration and love. It wets his eyes and closes his throat momentarily, to the point he almost forgets there’s a shared dildo stuffed up in between them. He looks at Shane and draws his attention right to him when he says, in a wobbly voice,

“I love you. So fucking much.”

Shane’s face softens. He slides a hand towards him, meeting there on Ilya’s tensed up knee to tangle their fingers together, locking together with a tight squeeze.

“I love you too. So much.”

Ilya hums and then makes the wonderful decision to glance down. Over the swell of his thick, curving cock, he can just about see where his end of the dildo disappears up inside of himself. Following it with his eyes, he watches it disappear inside of Shane too, also half obscured by the weight of his hanging cock, already wet and messy from the snout of precome he’d leaked all over himself. 

The way Shane’s fat cock was almost self lubricating was always a point of fascination for Ilya. Maybe one day, after this, maybe he’d ask Shane how he’d feel about fucking him for real. He thinks he’d like to try it, to feel how warm and slippery he’d feel up against his tight, somewhat uncharted walls. 

“Fuck, Ilya, baby I need to move,” Shane’s voice pulls him from his horny thoughts, bringing him no less to an even hornier reality as Shane’s hips twitch to shift.

Once he does, Ilya knows he’ll be fucking the dildo into Ilya too, so he’s hesitant, of course he is, to ensure that he was ready for it before he began.

Ilya is more than fucking ready. He’d been ready since he’d hit the confirm button on the website those agonising four days ago. He’d been maybe ready his whole entire life, to feel Shane Hollander fuck himself on the other side of a double ended dildo, right into Ilya’s own pulsating asshole. 

“Move,” Ilya tells him, tightening his fingers around Shane’s where they rested on his knee still. “Move, malysh, I can take it.”

Shane’s head tips back against the headboard, already so far gone as he emits a breathy sounding whimper, clenched Ilya’s hand hard and grounds his heels into the bed to roll his hips to chase the shape of the dildo as it pushes in and then out of him, in turn, fucking into Ilya on the other end.

“Oh.” Ilya says, snapping his head back where it’d started to lull backwards slightly. He feels a quiver under the skin of his thighs, like he’d ran suicides for a whole morning, except this was the very opposite of this. This was—

“Holy shit.” Shane seems to be on a similar level of pleasure, eyes screwed shut, fisting the sheet with one hand, grasping onto Ilya with the other. He’s chasing the feeling with another slow rock of his hips, pulling out a keening moan with it as his body jerks with the overwhelming pleasure that was him likely fucking his own prostate right now.

“That’s it,” Ilya unwinds their fingers for a moment to pet at the back of his hand. Shane just grips his knee like he’ll never let go. “There you go, my Shanya. So good, hm? Does it feel good?”

Shane, too lost in the bliss of his own pleasure takes a moment to give Ilya a response, not that he was really expecting one that wasn’t just a string of moans and noises, when he nods his head and then brings his chin to his chest like he were about to bare down for labour. 

“Feels… amazing, Ilya,” he manages, voice shaking immensely, eyes blearily open, glossy and round. “Does it feel.. fuck. Does it feel good for you, too?”

Ilya had selflessly been neglecting the want or need to fuck himself in favour of watching Shane do it first, since it really truly was such a mesmerising sight to watch him at work, whether it was on Ilya’s own cock or on a toy or even on his own fingers… he’d forget how to wiggle his own toes if he could sit and watch Shane bring himself to completion like this.

But he too wants to enjoy this; the shared experience of getting fucked at the same time had been the overall appeal after all, and so he grits his teeth as he grounds himself down on the toy, and steadily matches Shane’s rhythm with his hips.

“S’good,” Ilya murmurs. Their hands break away, only so that Ilya can garner some purchase to brace both hands behind him on the bed, holding himself up to push down further, bending the rubbery dick inside of his ass to curl towards and nudge against that sweet spot deep inside. 

“Oh, fuck,” he says, voice booming, startling even himself. Shane looks at him darkly, his bottom lip hangs heavy, wet and shiny like the rest of him. 

“Yeah?” He says with a breath, he too braces himself against the bed, seeming to pick up the pace a little. Of course Shane would want to make this a competition. 

Game fucking on. 

“Yeah.” Ilya rasps heavily. He rolls his hips again and again. Every time it pushes back out of him, even at a mere half an inch, it’s pushing into Shane. And then when it pulls from Shane’s wet, tight heat, it’s driving back into Ilya. 

Again and again it goes like this, with the pair of them chasing a tangled pleasure. It’s punching breathy, high, whimpery sounds from Shane as his head falls back again, his knuckles glow white with the force in which he’s grasping the sheets, holding on for dear life as his hips jerk back and forth, his cock swinging, slapping wetly against his stomach.

Ilya is the exact same; driving himself further and further until the dildo is buried deeper within him, and he’s almost hole to hole with Shane now, far further up the bed than where he’d started. 

He reaches for his hand again, palm slapping against clammy, dewy skin before Shane finds his hand again, locking fingers immediately, staying that way like an anchor. 

“Fuck, Ilya. Like that. Oh my god, baby, feels so— uh, so good.” 

Ilya isn’t sure that he’ll be able to last much longer just from the pure onslaught of this thing stroking his prostate so hard over and over again. Usually it’d take him a while to even feel close to orgasm with just ass stimulation but this was clearly a whole new ballpark for them both. 

“Are you close?” Ilya manages to say, watching as Shane writhes around on his end of the fake cock. His chest is heaving, his breaths coming more ragged and wheezy. His whole face is flushed pink now and he’s sparkling with the thin sheen of sweat layering his skin. 

“Yes.” He answers him quickly and then snaps his hips a few more times. “Yes, yes oh god, yes.”

The smile that Ilya feels crawl over his face feels borderline goofy but he doesn’t fight it. He’s so fucking glad that only he gets to see Shane like this. This is his Shane. He gets to make him fall apart like this, and vice versa. This right here was for them, and only them.

“Come on then, sweetheart,” Ilya urges him softly, rocking his hips in a rhythm to match Shane’s more so to bring him to finish than to chase his own. “Let me see you come.”

Shane stutters, head falling forward, body tensing before he hammers his hips forward, fast and unrelenting. The feeling is like no other as Ilya watches him shamelessly hump his hips to fuck himself further, in turn fucking Ilya even harder. 

“Oh, fuck,” Ilya suddenly bites, hunching forwards as a familiar warmth suddenly blooms in his stomach. 

He’d not been expecting to get this close so fast considering this wasn’t his usual method to getting off, but this right here was exceptionally hot, as Shane grunted and moaned whoreishly, his thread on any sort of resolve becoming looser and looser between his fingers, snagging on Ilya’s, too, as the heat in his gut spread and his cock leaked heavily. 

“Close,” Shane mumbles. Beneath them the bed rocks and creaks and the headboard taps relentlessly against the wall likely scuffing the wall further than it already was. “God, Ilya I’m close.”

Ilya flexes his legs, locks his knees as matches Shane’s pace, if not going at it harder and faster, given the stamina he was yet to exert. His own dick bounces off his tummy, a string of precome stretches between the slit and off his abs before it disconnects with a harsh slap, and it pools against his dampened skin.

“Fuck, fuck fuck fuck, fuuuuck—”

His orgasm slams into him like a firework. It’s loud and spectacular and he feels all fizzy inside as he practically doubles over, giving the dildo an even higher advantage of burying further inside of him, nestling in against his sensitive prostrate as his dick continues to spit ropes of come all over himself.

He gets the hearing back in his ears just in time to hear the keening wail of Shane as he slams himself backwards, back arching, legs trembling as he shoots his load up into the air, the thick stream arches before splattering back over his own cock, balls and thighs. 

At some point, the dildo on Shane’s end had slipped free, lay nesting limp in the blankets between them except where one half was still stuffed there deep inside Ilya. Ilya watched as Shane’s worn hole cinches around nothing like a second heartbeat, hot enough to always get him hard a second time, had he not just had the most spectacular orgasm of a lifetime.

“Shit. Holy fucking shit.” Shane’s Canadian accent always sounds thicker when he’s totally blissed out, post orgasm. It makes Ilya smile as he lays on his back, boneless and breathless, stretching his arms out wide so his hands hang off the ends of the bed as he allows for his racing heartbeat to steady itself in his chest. 

“Was good idea, hm?” Ilya croaks around a smile, staring up at the ceiling feeling giddy with it. 

Shane’s knee bumps carefully against his, then there’s the sound and feel of motion where Shane makes the groggy attempt to sit up a little bit, bad looming over Ilya like he’d melt on top of him if he possibly could. 

“Are you alive?” Shane asks him, the smile in his voice so very evident. “Do you need help?”

He was likely only half teasing, half being serious about perhaps the one half double ended dildo still tucked away inside of Ilya’s ass. Truth was, he could happily just leave it there for the time being, but he knew that he always wanted a shower and to cuddle with Shane after this, and by having a dildo trailing out past his ass would probably going to make that just a little bit more complicated, so he just sighs wearily and waves Shane on to get to assisting it out of his body. 

“Breathe out.” He says as he gently pulls it free. Ilya isn’t sure if the breathing technique helped the process or if maybe he’d now become so quickly attuned with the the act of being fucked in the ass that it meant it hurt way less than what he’d been expecting, but either way he’s just thankful it doesn’t hurt at all, rather just leaving a weird empty feeling as his body adjusts without the intrusion. 

“Okay,” he hears Shane say, one hand braced against his chest, absentmindedly thumbing over a nipple before he’s pulling himself up, wobbling on his knees momentarily before getting up. “Stay there, don’t move.”

Shane pads off out the room, a little waddle to his gait when Ilya briefly turns his head to watch him go, which makes him smile and then blush a little, wondering if perhaps he’d be the same if he didn’t feel so boneless to get up and walk himself right now. 

Shane returns less than two minutes later with a damp washcloth and two bottles of water. He dumps them onto the bed as crawls back over Ilya, peppering a kiss to his shoulder.

“Legs up, baby?”

Ilya sighs, almost dreamily as he draws his thick thighs up over his chest, exposing his hole to Shane as Shane plucks up the cloth and gets to work on carefully cleaning out the lube that was drying in and around his hole. 

“You came pretty hard,” he mused as he gently runs the cloth over the inside of Ilya’s thighs — Ilya didn’t think he’d particularly made a mess there but he’d take the attentiveness Shane was giving him any day. His eyes flutter shut and he feels his pulse come to a slow underneath buzzing skin.

“Mm,” he hums before he finds the energy to use his voice. “Was very hot. We both came hard. Untouched, even.”

He opens his eyes to see Shane smirking. God, he was so in love with this man. Shane finishes cleaning him up and reaches for a cool bottle of water he’d retrieved from the fridge. 

“Yes. That’s why I need you to drink this before you even think about having a cigarette,” he tells him seriously. He uncaps the top and insists that Ilya sits up for a few sips. 

Ilya takes it and gulps a few generous mouthfuls, thirstier than he’d thought he’d been. Once he replenishes the moisture in his mouth and throat, he’s handing Shane back the bottle to set aside and then nudging him to lay back down for his turn to be cleaned up. 

“We’ll shower in a bit,” Shane tells him as Ilya works the cloth over his sticky belly, working downwards in methodical swipes. “Fuck. We are definitely using that thing again.”

Ilya chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling from his chest. He works on Shane’s ass (he’d definitely been quite liberal with the lube in all places tonight, evident also when he finds the bottle later nestled in the blankets, way lighter than what it was just this morning).

“Yes, I think so,” Ilya says with a nod. He finishes cleaning Shane off and gets him to shuffle up the bed so they can lay together. “New favourite maybe, hm?”

He wraps his arms around Shane’s middle, nuzzling him sideways, burying his head in the space between his neck and his shoulder. When he presses his lips there against the warm tingle of his skin, he tastes faintly like sweat and the peach scented body lotion he used. 

Shane shifts, holding onto Ilya’s arms as they wound around his stomach. “Yeah?” He says, voice going a little higher with it. “You’d want that?”

Ilya hums and then deepens his kiss against Shane’s neck making him squirm and then laugh and then, sigh. 

“Da,” Ilya simply says. He’ll always love topping Shane in the way that he’s certain Shane will always enjoy bottoming for Ilya, but this was different, this was a middle ground he felt comfortable standing on.

“Okay,” Shane says, and that’s that. There’s no big fanfare or debacle about it. Especially given the way they’d both came tonight, it was kind of obvious that the pair of them had already ranked it fairly high in terms of toys that were absolutely going to see the light of day once more in their bedroom.

Shane takes Ilya’s hand that rests over his stomach and brings it to his mouth and kisses his knuckles sweetly.

“Love you,” he whispers to him before putting his hand back around him, fingers still intertwined.

Ilya melts against him. He was both the greediest and the luckiest man alive, he’d concluded. And he was more than okay with that. 

He breathes and presses in closer. “Love you too, Shane.”