Archive of Our Own

“Do you want to come?” 

Ilya says it completely casually. They’re just lying in bed, after a long lazy day at the cottage, after Ilya fucked Shane and left him wanting, the way he almost always does now. 

So it takes Shane a second to process the words. Not long. Then he’s begging, so desperate and pathetic for Ilya right away. “Please, Master, please let me. I want it so bad, I need it, please—“

“Shh,” Ilya says, all sweet and soothing. “You don’t have to beg.” Yet, he doesn’t add. “I’ll give you what you want.” 

That first time is easy. Shane is easy. Ilya just brings the arm he’s already got wrapped around Shane’s hip a little further down to find his cock. He’s tender with him, sucking kisses into his neck, a light scrape of teeth against his ear. 

“Come for me whenever you can,” he says. “I want to watch.”

He can’t see Shane’s face in this position, but that’s okay. He can still feel Shane tensing in his arms, squirming back against him, hear his sweet little cries as Ilya slowly strokes his cock. 

It barely takes anything. Five seconds of the world’s laziest handjob and Ilya cooing permission in his ear and Shane is crying out Thank you, thank you, fuck, and bucking his hips into Ilya’s hands and coming. 

It hasn’t even been that long since he let Shane come. He’d given him an orgasm just yesterday, hands-free while Ilya fucked him and made Shane beg and beg for it. Shane had been so adorably shocked when Ilya said yes. 

But the fact that he just came yesterday doesn’t matter. Ilya keeps him on the edge so much of the time that he needs almost no stimulation to come whenever Ilya gives him permission. One of Ilya’s most treasured plans for retirement (this is going to take a lot of supervision so it can’t happen yet) is training Shane to come just at his command, without touching him at all. He’s pretty sure Shane will be able to do it, with the right encouragement. 

He’s always been so responsive, and all the more so now that Ilya restricts his orgasms the way that he does.

Shane thanks Ilya for letting him come, so sweetly, cleans his come off Ilya’s hand as soon as Ilya raises it to his lips. 

“Good boy,” Ilya says. “Get on your back.”

He steals a glance at Shane’s face as he crawls down Shane’s body. He looks so relaxed, so perfectly contented to be in Ilya's bed, underneath him, that Ilya feels a little bad about how he’s going to torture him.

Only a little, though. Certainly not bad enough to have mercy on Shane.

He wraps his mouth around Shane’s spent dick. It twitches valiantly in Ilya’s mouth, trying to get hard again already, but it can’t, not yet. Shane makes a satisfying little noise of surprise.

That’s all right, he has time. He has all night, he has as long as it takes. Shane is his.

Ilya spends some time sucking Shane’s dick, just until it starts to plump up in his mouth. Shane is a little squirmy under him but still mostly letting Ilya take what he wants. When Shane starts getting hard again, Ilya pulls off and starts playing with him. A kiss under the head, a playful lick over the slit, a warm breath down the length. He catalogues Shane’s reactions carefully: Ilya spends plenty of time playing with Shane’s cock like a toy, but not usually right after he’s come. He notes all the most sensitive spots, where Shane sighs in pleasure and where he tenses up because even a light touch is too much already. He plans to use every bit of this information later. 

He pulls away for just a moment to say, “Come whenever you can,” and then goes back to teasing Shane. It doesn’t take very long for him to get hard again. It never does. He always wants more. 

Ilya’s looking forward to finding out when that will stop being true. 

He licks a long stripe up Shane’s cock and says, “Look at you. Already desperate for it again.”

Shane whines, high in his throat. Ilya knows what he wants, what he needs to send him over. He needs Ilya to flex his power over Shane, to put him in his place. 

Ilya teases at the tip of his dick a little, like he’s contemplating something. And says, “Very fun toy for me to play with, however I want.”

Then he takes Shane’s cock down to the root, til his lips are pressed against Shane’s pelvis and his nose buried in his pubic hair and he can taste Shane’s precome at the back of his throat. He swallows around the intrusion, getting used to the feeling, and then puts both hands on Shane’s ass, wordlessly encouraging him to thrust up into Ilya’s throat.

Shane lets out a truly glorious sound, shock and pleasure and need all at once. He doesn’t come quite as quickly this time, a little sated by the first orgasm, so Ilya gets to enjoy the familiar taste of him for a while. The way Shane thrusts into his mouth, all jerky and uncertain, like he no longer even knows how to use his own cock, always thrills Ilya. 

He reaches up Shane’s chest so he can grope his tits while he sucks him off. They’ve only gotten bigger over the years, Shane’s body bulking up as he approaches his thirties. Ilya can’t wait to see how his body will continue to change as they grow older together. How he might soften under Ilya’s hands. 

He pinches both of Shane’s nipples hard, and Shane thrusts up into his mouth and Ilya just takes it, and Shane cries out and comes down his throat.

Ilya keeps Shane’s dick in his mouth, keeps sucking him, until he’s gone completely soft and for a few seconds afterwards, just until Shane tenses up because it starts to actually hurt. Then he pulls off, trails a delicate stream of kisses along Shane’s soft cock and his sac and his upper thighs until he reaches the cleft of his ass. 

“Roll over,” Ilya orders, and he does. 

It seems like Shane still hasn’t figured out what game they’re playing. That makes sense: it’s not his job to think. It’s his job to take whatever Ilya chooses to give him. Pleasure or pain or so much of either that the differences stop mattering. 

He traces his tongue around Shane’s rim, so softly and tenderly. The delicate skin is still a little raised and puffy from Ilya fucking him roughly earlier. As if to make up for the injury he’s inflicted, Ilya kisses his hole. Long and slow, like the way he kisses Shane’s mouth. It takes no effort at all to work his tongue into Shane. He’s still gaping just the slightest bit, and his body eases back open with no effort at all. Sometimes Ilya can fuck him without any prep, just lubing himself up and pushing in, because Shane is so used to yielding to him, opening for him. 

Ilya is getting hard himself at this point, obviously, but he doesn’t do anything about it. That will come later. At the end. 

He kisses across the swell of Shane’s ass, bites hard right at the meatiest part of it. Then back to Shane’s hole, warm and fluttering open and all for him. 

As Ilya’s tongue curls properly inside him for the first time, Shane gives an abortive little thrust forward. His whine is one of pain, not pleasure.

“Go on,” Ilya says, pulling away with another messy stroke of his tongue. “Grind on the sheets, let me make you feel good.” 

“’s too much, Master,” Shane mumbles, his voice hazy. 

“Mmm.”

Ilya spends another moment tracing around Shane’s rim with his tongue, the familiar soft skin over trembling muscle. Then he says, “I think I decide when you’ve had too much, no?”

It hits Shane then. Ilya can see from the way he goes tense, maybe scared. He almost, almost tries to get away from Ilya’s mouth as he descends on him again, relentless. But Shane is too good. He’ll take whatever Ilya decides to give him. 

Just like he was told to, he thrusts against the sheets. It clearly hurts, rough on Shane’s overstimulated cock, harsh after the warmth of Ilya’s mouth. Ilya hums as he licks back into Shane, enjoying the feeling of him caught between Ilya’s tongue forcing him to get aroused again on one side and the pain of his too-sensitive cock on the other. 

“H… how many?” Shane asks timidly.

Ilya pulls off enough to answer, but not enough that his breath doesn’t fall hot over Shane’s open hole with every word. “How many what?”

“How many times do I have to come, Master?”

“Oh, now it’s have to,” Ilya says, because he is, fundamentally, an asshole. “Fifteen minutes ago you were begging me to let you come. All I need it, please, I will be so good. Now you don’t want to? Make up your mind.”



“It hurts,” Shane whines. Overstimulation always makes him this way, almost petulant as Ilya continues to wring more and more out of him. He’s said before that it’s because he feels like his body is betraying him as it starts to hurt but he still can’t resist the urge to chase the pleasure Ilya wants to give him. That’s not your body betraying you, malysh. It’s your body obeying me, Ilya had said. Which had of course gotten another orgasm out of Shane. Ilya doesn’t know what he loves more, how good Shane always is for him or the little moments where Shane tries to push back and how easily Ilya puts him back in his place.

“Did I ask if it hurts?” 



When Shane doesn’t answer, Ilya reaches up between his legs and pinches the swollen rim he’d been playing with a moment ago. Shane whimpers.

“You don’t get to know how many times, and I don’t care how much it hurts. You’re going to take everything I want you to take.” 

He slaps Shane’s ass, once, hard, before putting his mouth back on his hole. Shane cries out underneath him. He doesn’t know whether to buck his hips forward or backwards, whether to lean into the warm wet pleasure Ilya is offering him or follow the instinct to get himself off on the sheets that is starting to build or try to get away from the overstimulation somehow. 

Shane doesn’t like when Ilya calls rimming eating him out, but that’s how it feels when he’s like this. Like Ilya is devouring Shane, eating him alive, consuming all of his desire and all of his pleasure. 

Shane’s cry as he comes is an anemic, pathetic thing. Ilya would guess there’s almost no pleasure left in the orgasm, having given Shane no downtime at all between any of the first three. Shane still manages a Thank you, Master, because he’s such a good boy.

Ilya thinks about telling him that, praising him. Then he thinks about telling Shane that he’s not even halfway through, just to see how he would react, but it’ll be more fun to surprise him. To give him so much pleasure that he’s terrified of more. 

He doesn’t give Shane even a second to breathe before starting again. “Up on your knees, come on.” He has to manhandle him into position, Shane limp from the force of multiple orgasms. Then he pushes two fingers into him. Shane’s hole must be getting as oversensitive as his cock now, between the rimming and Ilya fucking him earlier. He’s still soft and wet inside with lube and Ilya’s come. Shane usually moans in pure pleasure when Ilya first penetrates him, with fingers or his cock or a toy, but this time the sound he makes is more of a whimper. 

Ilya has had his fingers in Shane’s ass enough times to know exactly what he likes. He can perfectly predict the spots that make Shane cry out, that make him feel good. He curls his fingers right into Shane’s prostate and attacks it relentlessly. No playful teasing, no lead-up, just Ilya’s fingers rubbing hard at the spot inside Shane that is always too sensitive for this much stimulation. 

The noises that come out of Shane’s mouth are broken, involuntary, animalistic. Ilya is playing him like the world’s filthiest instrument.

Shane struggles a little bit, almost trying to get away, and Ilya grabs his wrists with the hand that isn’t inside Shane and pins them behind his back, then leans over him, putting his weight on Shane so that he can’t even move. 

“Where do you think you’re going, whore?” Ilya breathes into his ear. “You think you can get away from me?”

“No, I’m sorry, I can’t help it—“

“I can play with you however I want, remember? You’re my toy.”

“I am, I’m sorry—“

“And this is one of my favorite ways to play with you. Making you come without touching your dick. Very fun, like pushing a little button that turns you on.” 

He rubs particularly hard against Shane’s prostate at that. Shane whimpers. 

“I am in no hurry,” Ilya says. “You are going to come like this, without a hand on you, even if it takes hours. But if I were you, I would try to hurry up. The longer I have to play with your hole to get you off, the more the next one is going to hurt.”

Ilya seems to have finally exhausted Shane’s hair trigger, because it does take a while. He’s not rough about fingering him at all, just steady and deliberate and unyielding, Shane pinned into place and forced to take pleasure that can’t feel good at all.


When he finally comes, a tiny little dribble of fluid escaping, Shane lets out a low groan, like he’s being punched rather than having an orgasm. 

Ilya withdraws his fingers, flicking Shane’s balls on the way out. “Was that nice?” he coos in Shane’s ear.

“No, it hurts,” Shane whines, broken down from too much pleasure in a way denial doesn’t make him. But he remembers his manners. He doesn’t get out of being polite when Ilya makes him come, whether he enjoyed it or not. “Thank you, Master.”

“Good boy. Stay where you are.”

Ilya reaches into the bedside drawer and withdraws the wand vibrator. He turns it on for a second so that Shane hears the sound, knows what’s about to happen to him. He watches Shane flinch in pure fear before Ilya touches it to the tip of his dick. The vibrator is intense anyway, enough that it’s painfully overstimulating even under the best of circumstances. Ilya mostly uses it to make Shane come without permission so he has an excuse to punish him. Usually it takes only seconds.

This time it will be much longer. Plenty of time to relish every one of Shane’s flinches, his whimpers. 

Something is wrong with Ilya, he knows. Something twisted in his mind, that he can look at this man who he loves more than anything, who he would literally die for, and enjoy every second of his misery. Luckily, Shane loves it just as much, wants it just as badly. Ilya’s ownership of Shane, his sometimes-cruel control of Shane’s body, his willingness to hand out pleasure and pain and humiliation. This, too, is how they love each other.

Shane is shaking his head, trying to squirm away, but Ilya doesn’t let him. He keeps the vibrator pressed a little too firmly against the base of Shane’s cock, pulls it off to give him a second of relief, then ghosts it softly against the head. Then he presses in, harder, harder, harder. Shane is begging Ilya to stop, which he ignores completely. 

Shane isn’t hard yet, but that’s okay. Ilya is sure he can come at least one more time, and he thinks probably more than once. He’s certainly going to find out.

The relentless pressure eventually gets to Shane. He never gets hard again, but he does come. He cries out, “No, no, no, please,” as he does, abs spasming, face squeezed tight. He only has a drop of come left, more a drip than a spurt. Ilya wipes it off his cock and makes Shane lick it off his finger anyway.

Ilya presses the vibrator to Shane’s balls for one cruel second before switching it off.



“I think I am being too nice to you,” Ilya says. Shane looks at him with tear-filled eyes, obviously confused and disoriented after Ilya playing with his body and his mind for so many rounds. “I am working so hard to give you so many nice orgasms, and you don’t even appreciate. Asking me to stop, even, like I care what you think.”



It’s the last trick in Ilya’s arsenal. Degrading Shane will always, always turn him on, no matter how inappropriate the setting or how exhausting the scene has been. The meaner, the better. 

“Last time you are not even saying thank you. Breaking the rules.”



Shane apologizes, eyes big with tears. That is a thrill that never gets old—Ilya can be so cruel to him and still Shane is the one saying how sorry he is.

“So this time you’ll come the only way a whore like you deserves. Grinding against my foot.” Ilya manhandles him off the bed, puts him forcefully on his knees, and almost kicks his foot between Shane’s legs. “Go on. Like a bitch in heat.”

Shane looks up at Ilya, his eyes so wide. Ilya loves him so much. Ilya wants to break him into pieces. After a second, Shane finds the words to beg. “Please, Master, don’t make me. It’s too much, I can’t.”


Ilya grabs his face, hard enough to hurt, and tilts it upward. He spits on Shane hard, aiming just below his eye so Ilya’s spit drips over his beautiful freckles and down his cheeks. “A lot of backtalk from you today, slut,” he says, which isn’t even true. Shane has been as good as ever, maybe with a little more begging for mercy. And Ilya likes when Shane begs him for mercy. “This is why I don’t usually let you come. Makes you forget to be my good boy.”



Being reprimanded always makes Shane desperate to please, and he does what Ilya told him to. Maneuvers forward on his knees so that his cock—at this point, visibly swollen even though it’s still soft—is touching Ilya’s foot. He lets out a little hiss of pain, but he starts to grind against Ilya’s foot, just like he was ordered to. 

Making Shane do this to himself is much worse than when Ilya was holding him down and making him take it. His movements are slow and tentative, rocking against Ilya’s foot like he’s pressing on an open wound. Every breath he takes is unsteady, and a few times Ilya thinks he might actually collapse. 

“My poor little toy,” Ilya croons. “All worn out and sore. Did I play with you too hard?”

Shane nods. He doesn’t stop grinding, even though his face is tight with pain and he’s gasping on every inhale. 

“Am I going to break you?”

Shane squeezes his eyes tight. Tears are leaking out steadily. He nods again.

“I’m not going to stop,” Ilya warns him. “I’m going to do whatever I want with you. And you like it.” God, he can feel how swollen Shane’s dick is against his foot, how hot, and still soft. He can’t imagine how it must feel to Shane, overstimulation long since tipped into pain.

“I love it,” Shane says, his voice tiny. “I love being yours.”

He’s so perfect. Ilya wants to tear him open. Almost has, he thinks. Just a little more and Shane really will break for him. He pushes his foot forward, more pressure on Shane’s oversensitive cock. 

Shane flinches away, instinctively. Ilya slaps him because he’s nice like that. Shane deserves a little help forcing a sixth consecutive orgasm out of himself. 

“Be good,” Ilya says, firmly. “I told you to get yourself off on my foot. You’re not even trying.”

Shane is breathing hard, a little gasp on the end of every exhale, but he does as he’s told. He’s thrusting unsteadily, shakily, every thrust messier than the last. He has almost no control of his body at this point. Shattered and exhausted and making himself suffer because Ilya told him to. 

Ilya is starting to get concerned that he’s not going to make it through the last section of his plan, which requires him not to come in his pants watching Shane do this for him.

“My little slut,” he says. 

Shane’s face is dripping, sweat and tears and the drool that’s running out of his open lips even though Ilya has yet to give him anything to suck. He’s trembling, and Ilya wonders if he’ll collapse out of position. He’s giving Shane no help supporting himself, and all his muscles must be exhausted from coming over and over with no break. 

“Come on, come for me again,” Ilya says, and Shane does it. His body obeys Ilya’s command almost automatically, in spite of everything. It’s a completely dry orgasm—he has nothing left to give. He doubles over as he comes, but he doesn’t stop moving against Ilya’s foot until he gets permission.

By the time Ilya pulls him back up onto the bed and onto his knees, Shane is sobbing. Not pretty little tears. Red face, nose running, open-mouthed sobs. When he feels Ilya lightly circle his rim with one finger, actual, genuine fear flashes across his face. “No, no, please, not again-“ 

Ilya withdraws the finger right away. “Okay, milyy. You don’t care if I get off, is up to you.” 

He wonders what Shane will do: if he’ll take the offered mercy, or if he’ll let Ilya use him no matter how badly it hurts. Ilya is aching with the need to get off after watching Shane fall apart for him so many times in a row, but that feels unimportant. Fucking with Shane’s head like this is a million times better than the best orgasm in the world. Shane loves to bring Ilya pleasure more than anything. When learning a little about these things they do together, Ilya had seen the phrase service submissive, and that’s Shane to his core. He wants to be good and useful so badly that he’s willing to break himself on the rough edges of Ilya’s desire just to please him. 

On the other hand, Ilya has made him come six times in the last hour and Shane is in a lot of pain. His whole body has to be sore at this point from his muscles spasming, and his cock and balls and hole must hurt at the lightest touch.

But he shouldn’t have doubted. Shane’s begging changes immediately. “Please fuck me, I’m sorry, please, let me be good for you.” 

“Is that really what you want? I thought you were too tired and sensitive. I thought it hurt too much and you could not take anymore.” 

“I always want you, Master,” Shane says, so fucking sincere and sweet. So of course Ilya is mean back. 

“If I fuck you I’m going to make you come again. You know me, I am very generous lover. Cannot send you away unsatisfied.” 

This isn’t true at all. He probably fucks Shane twenty times for every one time he’s allowed to come. But the tease lands, makes Shane flinch, so of course Ilya pushes further. 

“Maybe I will even make you come twice. A lot of my girls do that, and you are a slut, should not be hard.”

“Whatever you want, please,” Shane manages through his tears.

“I could just jerk off instead. Or use your mouth. Then your poor cock wouldn’t have to do anything, sore little hole would get a break.” There’s a little flicker of relief in Shane’s tearful eyes, until Ilya says, “I mean, I’d rather have your ass right now, but I don’t have to get what I want all the time.” 

This gets Ilya the exact response he expected. “Yes, you do,” Shane says, sweet again. “I want to give you whatever you want, Master.”



Ilya considers saying how good Shane is, how much Ilya loves him. Instead, he says, “I wonder if there’s anything I could do to you that would make you stop being a slut who is desperate for my cock.”

And he slides into Shane, who is so exhausted that his body offers absolutely no resistance. 

Now the hard part, which is that Ilya has to make Shane come again—which will be a long process—before he comes himself—which would ideally be a very short process, he’s right on the edge from tormenting Shane for so long. It’s going to take all of Ilya’s self-control not to spill into Shane immediately when Shane is so soft and open beneath him and when he’s sobbing because it hurts so badly as Ilya’s cock brushes his prostate but still pushing back onto Ilya, still trying to clench around him. Trying to please him no matter what it costs Shane to do it. 

lya has pretty good self-control—like he said, he’s always committed to getting his partners off, usually multiple times, and it’s not like he didn’t have to have stamina to do that during his slut phase. But there’s a difference between being about to come from pure physical sensation and being about to come from watching the love of his life shatter from the pleasure Ilya gives him and still think only of making Ilya feel good. 

Ilya fucks Shane in sharp, almost stabbing thrusts, focusing on hitting Shane’s prostate precisely and avoiding picking up the kind of even rhythm that would bring himself any closer to an orgasm. He had hoped to make Shane come twice while fucking him—once without touching his cock at all—but he has to admit to himself that that isn’t going to happen within seconds of entering him. He won’t last. 

Shane is still completely soft under him: his cock, yes, but also his whole body, gone slack after so many rounds of the tension and release of orgasm. Ilya pauses, buried all the way inside him, giving himself a moment to catch his breath. Both of them, really—he feels Shane take a few shaky breaths beneath him, while he’s getting a break from active stimulation. 

Ilya decides to be nice to him for a moment, while he focuses on not immediately coming himself. He kisses up Shane’s neck, over to his ear. He catches the smallest glimpse of that smile Shane only gives when he’s completely fucked out, the smile no one but Ilya has ever seen. “So good for me,” he says, treasuring the shaky, sharp inhale of Shane’s breath that comes in response. “Giving me everything you have. And you’re going to give me one more, okay?”

“Okay,” Shane says. He sounds exhausted.

Ilya grins. “Good boy.” Then he starts fucking Shane again in those same hard thrusts, wraps an arm around him to feel for Shane’s cock. It’s still soft, and Shane flinches minutely when Ilya takes him in hand. He doesn’t start stroking it yet, though, just holds Shane so that every time Ilya thrusts into him Shane is pushed forward into his hand. 

It makes him whine deliciously, and tense up again and again at the overstimulation, at the pain. 

“Shh,” Ilya coos in his ear. “You can do it. Does it matter if it hurts?”

Shane shakes his head.

“Does it matter if you don’t want it?”

He shakes his head again.

“What’s the only thing that matters?” Ilya is curious what his response will be. There are a few he can think of. It could also go wrong. Asking Shane open-ended questions when he’s all the way in subspace sometimes makes him anxious, as if anything he could possibly say could be wrong.

But the words fall so easily from Shane’s lips. “Pleasing you, Master.”

Later, Ilya will try once again to tell Shane what it means to him to hear those words. He’s done so many times, but Shane never seems to entirely understand. Yes, it turns Ilya on, but it’s so much more than that. It makes him feel invincible. It makes him feel safe. It makes him feel more loved than he could possibly have imagined. The ease and completeness of Shane’s submission. If there is any limit to Shane’s devotion to him, Ilya hasn’t found it yet. And, of course, Ilya would do anything, anything, to be worthy of the precious trust Shane places in him.

“I love you so much,” Ilya says, soft, in Shane’s ear. “And I want you to come for me, one more time, while I fuck you. Can you do it?”

Shane gasps as Ilya starts to roll his hips, grinding against his prostate. “I… I think so, I…”

The only limits to what Shane will give him are what is physically impossible. If he can’t do it, he can’t do it, but Ilya thinks he has one more in him. Ilya nips at Shane's ear, hard. "Do it. Come for me."

The sound Shane lets out when he comes is indescribable. His limbs give way, and he falls flat on the bed as his body spasms. It’s almost totally dry—Ilya feels Shane’s cock jerk in his hand, feels the slightest wetness at the tip as he cruelly trails a fingertip across that most sensitive part, but that’s it.

As soon as Shane’s orgasm begins, Ilya fucks into him as hard as he can. In part to make Shane keep crying like that, and in part finally chasing his own release. Ilya comes as soon as he lets himself, gasping Shane’s name. 

He flops down against the bed, exhausted himself even though he only came once (twice if he counts earlier). 

Seven times. Ilya has plenty of reason to be impressed with his own sexual prowess, Shane certainly routinely makes him feel like he’s the most skillful lover who has ever lived, but Ilya doesn’t think he’s ever made someone come seven times in a single bout like that. 

He pulls Shane, who is limp and too tired to do anything more than collapse where Ilya puts him, into his arms. He nestles Shane’s sweaty head on his chest. “This okay?” Ilya murmurs. “Sensitive all over, or just poor little hole and cock?”

“Just…” Shane blushes. It’s still hard to get him to talk directly about his own body like that. “This is really good. It’s. Um. It’s what I need.”

“Good.” He kisses Shane’s forehead. “Fuck, that was amazing. You’re amazing.”

“Yeah?” Shane’s voice is quiet, a little shaky. 

It sounds like he’s on the verge of dropping, or could be. That makes sense. Ilya was really hard on him, had pushed things to the point where Shane almost failed several times. Even though he hadn’t—even though he had been nothing but good, far past the point of what Ilya would have even thought was possible—it doesn’t surprise Ilya that it has Shane feeling unsettled, especially when Ilya teased him a bit about it. But they’ve been doing this long enough that Shane knows to reach for Ilya when he feels this way, and Ilya knows how to take care of him.

He wraps both arms around Shane in a snug embrace. “Yes,” he says, as firm as Shane is doubtful. “Yes, you are incredible. My perfect toy to play with. Giving me everything I want, even when I know it is so hard for you. Letting me hurt you, letting me have you however I like. Use you even when it hurts. Every day I think I am luckiest man in the whole world.” 

He grabs Shane’s jaw and guides him in for a long, slow, claiming kiss. Shane’s eyes stay closed, his mouth relaxing into a half-smile, when Ilya pulls away.

“What do you want first, moy lyubimyy? Shower or rest?” Shane is covered in sweat and come, but he must also be exhausted.

Shane gives a happy little hum and tucks his face back into Ilya’s neck. “Up to you, Master.”

And it always is.