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Ilya was pissed. He came to America when he was barely 18, looking for a better life. He got hired at a construction company, as many Eastern European men did; he found an apartment, and he got a girlfriend. Jaqlyn. Now he was 21; he was constantly tired from work, and his apartment looked worse with each day he lived there. At least he had Jaqlyn; she was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. The knowledge he could come back home and just feel her body against him brought him much comfort.
“Honey, I’m home! I bought the groceries, so you don't have to go; come help me unpack.” His call went unanswered, and a feeling of dread settled in his chest; she always answered. He ran to the toilet and yanked the door open. It was empty, thank god. He was closer to the bedroom, and he could hear Jaqlyn talking to somebody; her voice was high-pitched. He cautiously approached the door and slowly opened it; Jaqlyn was in their bed, her body naked, arching of the bed as a man he didn't know slid his length in and out of her pussy. Ilya just stood there and watched the woman he thought was the love of his life get fucked into the bed; they clearly did not hear him entering the room. Jaqlyn was moaning and grabbing at the sheets; the man's hands gripped her waist tightly; they would definitely leave imprints on her skin.
“What the fuck?” The sentence left Ilyas' mouth with no thought. Jaqlyn's eyes flew open, her face twisting in panic; she let go of the sheets in a second. She started grabbing the blankets laying on the bed, covering her body and babbling apologies. The man looked shocked; he either didn't know she had a boyfriend or didn't think they would get caught red-handed. He slipped out of his girlfriend and covered himself with his hands.
“Hi baby, it's not what you think, I-um I-I’m so sorry baby just stay here, and we can talk this through, yes?” Jaqlyn sounded more wounded and panicked with each word that left her mouth; her face went red and her eyes watered. She looked at Ilya with begging eyes, like she still thought she could butter him up. Like she still thought they would have a future together. She thought he was an idiot.
“You didn't tell me you had a boyfriend? What the fuck, sorry, men I-um fuck I’m so sorry.” The man finally spoke; he had already put on his boxers and pants. Ilya finally had enough time to look at the other man, and he couldn't say he didn't like what he saw. If they met under different circumstances, Ilya would find him attractive; his face was dotted with freckles and was oh-so-symmetrical. His body was sculpted; he looked as if he had exercised, and now his beautiful face was twisted with regret, his body closing in on itself. Turns out he and his girlfriend have the same type in men, who would've thought.
“Yes, now you are. After you fucked my girlfriend. Get out of my apartment. Now.” Jaqlyn started grabbing her clothes and walking out, Ilya stopped her with his hand. “No- not you. We need to talk; dress yourself.” Ilya felt a little bad about how he'd treated the other man; if he told the truth, he really hadn't done anything wrong. Well, except fucking his girlfriend. She quickly put on her dress and stood in front of Ilya as the man took the rest of his clothes and headed toward the door.
“Well- I’m-uhh gonna go… Bye. Sorry again, I really didn't know. Sorry.” The man left awkwardly, leaving them alone in the middle of the room. The second the door closed, Jaqlyn started bawling her eyes out, clawing at Ilya and falling to her knees, but Ilya knew this relationship wasn't going anywhere. He needed to ground himself, which was hard given the crying woman at his feet. He took a deep breath and spoke.
“Get up. You look pathetic.” She stood up, content, hope lighting her face. The tears stopped, and her face lit up in a sly smile, and Ilya understood they were just for show; she didn't care about him. “I will leave for an hour, and when I come back, you will not be here. Take all of your stuff and never speak to me again.” The smile on her face disappeared as fast as it appeared. Her eyes filled with tears again, but Ilya just turned on his heel and left the apartment. The second he left the building, he grabbed a cigarette and lit it.
“You're not supposed to smoke here.” The voice came from his left, and Ilya met the eyes of the man that fucked his girlfriend. The cigarette smoke burned his lungs, and anger overtook him fully; he had to physically restrain himself from beating the fuck out of his pretty face.
“And you're not supposed to fuck taken people.” The sentence left his mouth faster than he could process what he said. The words were sharp and meant to hurt.
“Look, dude, I’m very sorry, but she said she was single. I really didn't know.” He genuinely looked apologetic, and Ilya started feeling bad again. “We met in a club, and she approached me. I really am sorry.” The man looked like he was about to cry; Ilya really did feel a little bad for him, not enough to show it, but enough to try and not offend him more.
“Is okay. Why are you still here? Waiting for her?” Ugly jealousy squeezed his heart as he thought of the two years he wasted on his relationship. He thought they would get married. He thought that he finally found peace, that he could have a family.
“Ah, no, I’m waiting for Uber. I didn't take my car, you know, clubbing and all that… Sorry, um, that's me.” The man pointed to the silver Toyota that pulled up next to them. He started walking away, but when he reached for the handle, he turned back and looked Ilya straight into his eyes. “I’m really sorry, bye.” He quickly got inside the car, and all Ilya could do was look at the disappearing car.
He finished his cigarette, put it out on the concrete, and started walking in the direction of the canals. He always found them calming. The silent sound of water moving soothed his mind and let him think everything through. Suddenly the tears came, like a dam breaking. Ilyas ' knees buckled and hit the concrete, his hand finding his face and hair. His sobs choked him, eyes too blurry to see anything, sounds of his crying mixing with the sound of the water, becoming one.
Some time later, maybe minutes, maybe hours, Ilya regained his breath, his tears dried, and he finally got up from his knees to go back home. The apartment felt empty; it was empty. The groceries he bought lay on the counter untouched. He couldn't care less; after taking a short shower, he went to bed and fell asleep.
The days blended into weeks and those blended into months. Ilya blinked and a year passed. He was mostly over Jaqlyn; he didn't think about her at all, if he was being honest, but he still didn't go out much. The wounds were too deep.
“We're going out, brochacho.” Cliff's huge bicep hugged Ilya, and he sputtered. He loved his friend normally, a little less in this moment.
“Um, is there a special occasion?” Ilya arched his brow, a questioning look on his face. He really didn't feel like coming out; he would get drunk, cry, and go to sleep miserable just to wake up with a nasty hangover.
“You need to get laid. Stat. You look too sad.” Cliff was a little bit of a man slut. Ilya saw where he came from, but Cliff was never in a serious relationship, so he never got cheated on or had his heart broken.
“And you think sex will fix that?” Ilya tried to show with his face that he was not following Cliff's line of thought.
“Well, not fully but partly yes, I think so. C’mon, the new gay bar opened; let's check it out.” At least Cliff was aware that it wasn't a good idea. Ily figured that he really just wanted to go clubbing and not many constructio worklers would go to a gay club.
“I don't want-” Ilya stopped himself. Nothing was holding him down from partying a little, and he did miss going out with his friend. Maybe he would find somebody to fuck, it didn't have to be serious. " Ah. You know what? Fuck it, let's go.”
“Yes!” Cliff pumped his fist and looked at Ilya once more. “We're totally getting you a hot piece of ass tonight. Be ready at 8.” His smile was blinding, and Ilya couldn't really say no to that, could he?
The club was big, filled with people dancing and making out. Ilya went straight to the bar; he wanted to forget everything and have a good night. The bartender was a muscular woman; her bicep flexed every time she shook the tin-on-tin. Ilya wanted to lick her all over. His eyes went from her arm to her face when she finally came over to take his order. He asked for vodka shots and waited. He could hear a loud laugh to his right, and when he turned, his eyes met the man that fucked Jaqlyn. He never thought he would see the man again, especially next to a gorgeous ginger girl in a gay club. Ilya's eyes locked on him and glared daggers through him. As if he could feel it, the other man turned, and his face went red. He said something to the girl he was with, and she shooed him in Ilya's direction. She had a huge smile on her face; it looked sinister, and Ilya shuddered.
“Um-hi. I didn't think I'd see you again.” The other man looked uncomfortable, even if he was the one who approached Ilya. His hands were visibly sweating; he kept on rubbing them along his massive thighs. That Ilya saw naked. Because he fucked his girlfriend. Fuck he wanted to fuck this man into the sheets, he wanted to see him unravel and pay for his sins.
“Likewise. What are you doing in a gay club? Run out of girlfriends to steal, so now you switched to men?” Ily threw one of his shots down. He knew he sounded snarky, but he couldn't help himself. He was still bitter, but he figured maybe this man he could make it sweeter.
“No! Oh my god, I told you I was sorry and that I had no idea she had a boyfriend. And I'm gay; I kinda needed time to figure it out. She was the last woman I fucked, so yeah…” That shocked Ilya. He slid one of the shots towards him and nodded. They both brought the shots up. “Zdrovyie,” Ilya looked the other man straight into his eyes and licked his lips. “Cheers,” and threw them back. Shane winced at the taste of straight vodka, and Ilya smiled to himself. He was so cute he could bite him, cute aggression as they called it.
“Ah fucked my girlfriend; now you want to fuck me?” The tiny smile never left his face as he watched how uncomfortable and apologetic the other man was. The thought didnt leave his mind now that he spoke it into existence. He could imagine the man in many positions, under him, riding him, against a wall… Ilyas' mind wandered when the other man spoke.
“What? No! I mean, yes, you are very attractive and..., but I didn't think.. Fuck. You make me nervous. I… fuck yes, ok I want you. My name's Shane.” He stumbled with his words, trying to act as if his eyes were not roaming the other man's body, trying to map it out. He extended his hand towards Ilya in a welcoming manner, but Ilya ignored it.
“Mmmm… Well then let's get out of here.” Ilya threw his last shot and started walking towards the door. His eyes skimmed the crowd, looking for Cliff, but the other man was too busy to notice him, grabbing at a man on the dance floor, while a woman was mouthing at his neck; at least both of them would get lucky.
Shane started nearly running after Ilya when he realized the man had left. They stepped out of the club, and Ilya lit his cigarette up. He waited for Shane to catch up and started walking towards his apartment.
“Shit, can you slow down?” Shane was out of breath; small clouds came out of his mouth as he was panting. Ilya did slow down; he looked over his shoulder and arched a brow as he exhaled the cigarette smoke.
“What? You don't remember where you fucked my girlfriend?” He was being sarcastic. Ilya knew it wasn't the best coping mechanism, blaming a guy that most probably genuinely didn't know, but he preferred it that way. He wanted to blame the person that didn't know him, a person that wasn't living with him and telling him that they loved him just to sleep with another man in his bed.
“Oh. It was your apartment… Are you still angry about that?” Ilya snorted. Of course he was still angry. What kind of question was that.
“Well, yes? We were together for two years. I wanted to marry her.” His bravado died down, his face falling. Shane felt visibly guilty, his face frozen in disgust. Ilya knew he wasn't made for this. His parents weren't made for love, his brother wasn't made for love, and he wasn't made for love. The Rozanov curse, but just this once he let himself believe he was lovable. He guessed she proved him wrong.
“I really didn't know. I’m sorry for what she did to you. I– fuck, I really am sorry.” The other man was stuttering over his words; his face was red, maybe from the cold, but Ilya wanted to believe it was because of him. He wanted to lighten the mood; he wouldn't be able to get it up otherwise.
“Is okay. I guess you really didn't know. You apologize quite a lot.” Shane's eyes went wide, and he started apologizing again. “Does it make you uncomfortable? Sorry I– sorry…” Stop apologizing. And now I'm gonna fuck you so it's even, yes?” The smile came back to Ilyas' face as he said that. They finally arrived at Ilyas' apartment complex. He quickly entered the PIN and grabbed Shane's hand to drag him upstairs; he complied beautifully. Ilya made quick work of his lock, and he pulled Shane inside his apartment, closing the door using the impact Shane's body made when he pushed him against it and immediately found his mouth. He started aggressively, their mouths fighting for dominance. Ilya's fists were gripping Shane's hoodie while Shane's hands grabbed at Ilya's hair, nearly pulling it out. Their tongues slid together, split running down their chins. With each second, the make out sesion grew more aggressive; Ilya wanted the other man to feel him for the next month; he wanted to make it impossible for Shane to forget him.
One of Ilya's hands traveled to Shane's waist and squeezed; Shane let out the tiniest moan, he let his mouth open a bit more, and Ilya seized the opportunity to slide more of his tongue into him. Ilya's hands went to Shane's ass; he squeezed it and picked him up with no problem. Finally, his days of hauling bricks came in handy. Shane visibly panicked; he let out a little squeak, muffled because their mouth were still connected. He relaxed a few seconds later, seeing how confident Ilya was at holding him up, and he wrapped his legs around Ilya's torso. He was content in Ilya's grip, relaxing his body, and Ilya knew in that moment that he could do whatever he wanted to the other man.
Ilya walked through his apartment with ease, slowly making his way to the bedroom, making Shane forget his own name at the same time, their mouth never leaving the other. Finally in the room, he dropped Shane onto the bed, their mouths making a wet sound when they disconnected. Shane let out a little noise of disappointment that died down the second Ilya took off his shirt. His eyes started roaming the muscled body, remembering every nook and cranny.
“What are you waiting for? Get naked, zaychik.” Ilya couldn't help but call Shane a bunny; he looked so good, lying there, his hoodie riding up and showing his happy trail, his eyes big and glassy, his mouth wet, the saliva running down his throat, making it glisten. Shane grabbed his hoodie and pulled it off; he put it on the empty nightstand after he folded it. He then bent down to slide his pants down, folded them, and put on the hoodie. Ilya was endeared; he had never met someone so particular. He was growing fond of the other man. The sock and underwear were next; he just put them on top of his clothes. He was now fully naked, laying on Ilya's bed, looking like a wet dream.
“Aren't you going to join me?” He looked up at Ilya, his big doe eyes swallowing Ilya whole. He quickly yanked all of his clothes off and got on the bed, his phone in his hand. He slowly kissed his way up, starting at his thigh, and their mouths reconnected. They kissed like the world would end if they stopped. Ilya's hand traveled to Shane's hole, and his finger easily went inside. Ilya pulled their mouths apart and looked at it, shocked. Shane bit his lower lip and smiled shyly.
“I opened myself up.” Ilya cursed under his breath and flipped Shane so that his ass was up, and what a sight it was.
“On your hands and knees.” Shane complied, arching his back to make his ass look bigger. Ilya opened his phone and tapped the camera icon. He started recording as he fingered Shane; his digits were getting swallowed so easily. After a short while, he took his cock in his hand and pumped it into full hardness. Shane started whining at the emptiness he felt; Ilya just laughed and tapped his cock on Shane's hole. The slapping of flesh on flesh filled the room, and Shane let out a long, needy moan.
“Tell Jaqlyn how much you want my cock.” Ilya's voice boomed loudly, and Shane's brain turned off. He was commanding, and Shane knew he would take good care of him. He wanted to show he was good.
“So much, need you cock, please, Ilya.”His voice turned needy, his body moving slowly, enticingly. If he could arch his back anymore, he would. Ilya swiftly slipped inside the tight head; he let out a long moan as his cock settled inside Shane. When he was fully in, the only noise filling the room was Shane's panting. Ilya brought his empty hand up and lowered it onto Shane's ass cheek. The bedroom filled with a loud crack, and Ilya could see the tight flesh vibrating under the impact. Shane moaned loudly. Ilya started moving.
“Good boy. Fuck you're so tight. Such a tight hole, because that's all you are, a warm hole for me to fuck.” With each word, Ilya's pace picked up, his hips snapping faster. Shane's ass was like a perfect cushion, as Ilya pounded his ass. His hand moved from Shane's hip to his hair, and he tugged it towards himself. He wanted to use this man to his limits.
“Yes, please- uh, uh, uh, harder.” Ilya smiled to himself and put more force into what he was doing. He focused the video on his cock disappearing inside Shane, at his hungry hole, stretched to its limits. He wanted to show everybody who owned this hole
“Such a slut. You get a little cock, and you turn into a whore. Whose hole is this?” Shane tightened at every dirty word that left Ilya's mouth, his hole pulsing when he got called a whore. He loved being used and being owned. Ilya visibly had a lot of strength, and he used it well.
“Ah-thank you- ah ah ah, I'm -fuck- a whore, only for you.” Ilya's hips started moving faster as he chased his own release; he came inside Shane, burrowing his length inside and filling him with small bucks of his hips. When he was finished, he slid out and let his cum flow out; he filmed every second of it happening. When the cum started dripping onto Shane's balls, Ilya took one of his fingers and traced the cum from the bottom right back to Shane's hole and started pushing it inside. After a while of toying with Shane's ass, he shut the video off and threw his phone on the other side of the bed. He flipped Shane again and started pumping Shane's cock.
He kissed the tip of Shane's cock and started licking down it. Shane's body was writhing on the bed; he was grabbing at the sheets. Ilya finally took him into his mouth, Shane's cock heavy on his tongue. His hand pumped the length that he could not fit in his mouth, and he started bobbing his head. Ilya made sure to swirl his tongue around Shane's shaft, bringing him as much pleasure as he could. Shane's hands went to Ilya's hair and tugged at it; he started moving his hips in harmony with Ilya's head and hand. Ilya's free hand stopped Shane's hips from moving, and he sped up his movements. Shane came in Ilya's mouth with a loud moan. Ilya swallowed everything and dropped next to Shane on his bed. He reached for his phone and sent the video to Jaqlyn, while Shane nuzzled into his chest. Maybe something good came out of getting cheated on.