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Ilya desperately wanted another puppy. A sweet little thing to dote on, to willingly devote himself to caring for, someone to look up at him with trusting eyes, like he holds the keys to the universe in his hand. Anya could not be more perfect, but she was very much an adult dog now, and seemed to think of herself as a contributing member of the household rather than a pet. Ilya knew this because one time, he caught her bringing a pair of socks to Shane in her mouth while he did the laundry.
Every time Ilya brought up how much he wanted to get another puppy, Shane had the same answer, and it made sense, it really did. The Hollanders were already too generous with Anya, caring for her whenever they could during away games. Another dog, a puppy at that, would be asking for too much from their family. They had Anya, and Chiron, and all the dogs at the Drover family orchard, so that should be enough. Still, Ilya missed the feeling of having a puppy around, something with the sole purpose of being Ilya’s pet. There was something so gratifying, so empowering, about such a small, innocent thing relying on him, and the feeling of being selected as a puppy’s favorite human was like no joy he’s ever felt in his life. Save for marrying Shane, obviously.
The first time Ilya noticed it about his husband, he and Shane were sitting on the couch in their Ottawa home, watching the highlights of last night’s win against Montreal. Shane smirked from where his head rested on Ilya’s lap as he watched himself on the TV, stealing the puck from Comeau, snapping it into the net. The zoom-in on Drapeau’s bewildered face made both of them chuckle.
Anya was curled up to the right of Ilya, paws tucked neatly in front of her, head resting on the cushion of the couch. Ilya turned to softly scratch her head behind her ears, and her tail thumped softly against the fabric. He looked to his left at Shane, as if to say look at my perfect daughter right this instant, and it struck him that Shane was mirroring Anya, without even meaning to, his legs tucked in, his head resting on Ilya’s thigh as Anya’s rested on the couch, his paws- his hands curled sweetly in front of him.
Instinctively, Ilya brought his closer hand to Shane’s hair, running his fingers through the dark strands before settling behind Shane’s ear, scratching at the closest equivalent to where he pet Anya. Shane sighed, relaxing into the touch. He either had no idea that Ilya was petting him like a dog, or it felt too good to care. Ilya smiled to himself, filing this into things to drink in now and tease Shane for later.
Ilya will never forget the way Shane whimpered when he removed his hand, reaching for his water bottle on the coffee table. It was a mid-pitched, desperate noise, one that Shane would usually be embarrassed to make, but the sheer earnestness of it made Ilya’s heart skip a beat. He drank from his bottle in quickened pulls before bringing it to Shane’s lips. Shane obeyed Ilya’s instruction without a single word between them, lifting his head up awkwardly to drink from the water bottle. As soon as his lips left the bottle, it was back on the table, and Ilya’s hand was back in his hair, gently scratching the back of his neck. Shane sighed happily, relaxing further into Ilya and softly nudging his thigh with his forehead. Like a puppy, Ilya thought.
-
The second time, Ilya was eating a bowl of dry Cocoa Puffs after an especially grueling morning practice. Shane had been polite not to comment on the empty carbohydrates, until Ilya held out the bowl to him in a silent offering, and he couldn’t help himself.
“I can’t eat that during the season, Ilya,” Shane huffed, “it’s all white sugar and empty carbs.”.
Ilya narrowed his eyes. He could have responded that carbohydrates are the body’s preferred source of energy and that as a professional hockey player, it’s perfectly reasonable to eat a bowl of cereal after a four hour practice. This little experiment was so much more fun, though. He kept the bowl outstretched towards Shane, unyielding.
“I really don’t want any, thank you.” Shane was growing indignant. The idea of eating a bite of cereal was actually outrageous to him, evidenced by his snippy tone and the way his body recoiled from it like it might jump into his mouth.
“Get on your knees.” Ilya pointed to the kitchen floor.
“What?”
“On your knees.”
“Ilya-”
“Shane.” Ilya dropped his voice an octave, keeping his volume low and controlled. Shane dropped to his knees with a thud and a roll of his eyes. “Good boy.”
“Open your mouth.” Ilya commanded sweetly, pinching two pieces of sticky-sweet cereal between his fingers and bringing them to Shane’s lips. Shane made a face, pulling his lips away from the cereal as his nose twitched. Sweet puppy was sniffing his treat, Ilya thought unbiddenly. He kept his face gentle as he held the cereal out, silently coaxing Shane to take it.
Perhaps the scent of chocolate got to him, or perhaps the tension of avoiding Ilya’s demand was just too much to bear. Either way, Shane reached up and snatched the cereal from Ilya’s hand, popping them into his mouth with a sideways glance, chewing a few times, and swallowing like it hurt him. Big, brown eyes peered up at Ilya, clearly expecting the praise Shane thought he deserved.
“I thought you don’t eat empty carbs.” Ilya teased instead.
“Fuck off, you just-”
“You just do whatever I tell you, right? So easy, so eager to please.” Shane’s breath hitched.
“Yes.”
Ilya nodded in response, collecting a palmful of cereal from his bowl in his cupped hand and extending it to Shane. It was 50/50, whether he’d do it, but the odds were looking good.
“Ilya.” Shane protested, squirming where he knelt beside Ilya at the kitchen table.
“You take what I give you and you say thank you.” Ilya thrust his cupped hand towards Shane’s mouth. Shane shuddered, seemingly lost his resolve, and reached a hand up to collect a few pieces of cereal.
“Uh, uh.” Ilya tutted, moving his hand away as fast as he could without spilling the contents. Shane recoiled in confusion. It seemed to hit him exactly what was expected of him when his hand came back down to his side and Ilya brought the cereal back to his lips. His eyes widened, and he looked up at Ilya as if to say do you seriously want me to do this? Ilya raised his eyebrows, jutting his chin at his hand.
With a sigh, face already rosy, Shane leaned forward and began to eat out of Ilya’s palm. He started cautiously, gently grabbing a piece or two at a time with his teeth, lifting his neck up to chew and swallow, then coming back down for more. The shame of eating out of Ilya’s hand, and the less rational shame of eating a few bites of cereal, kept him from letting go fully. Ilya’s hand found his scruff and began to pet him gently. Shane keened into the touch, and Ilya’s palm started to tickle as he felt Shane’s soft lips press against them. Shane was eating the cereal in earnest now, out of the palm of Ilya’s hand, as though he had just been waiting for his permission. When Shane finished the last bite, Ilya could have sworn that Shane tried to lick his palm clean.
“What do you say, Shane?” Ilya chided. Shane’s eyes were glossy and distant, and the embarrassment on his face had been replaced with a profound calm. He was smiling softly, the way his face lights up only when he can’t control it.
“Thank you, Ilya.”
-
It solidified one night after a brutal loss against New York on home ice. The second they got through the door, Shane had turned to Ilya and asked him, in no uncertain terms, to make him forget the past four hours of their careers. What choice did Ilya have but to oblige his husband, especially with this dejectedness etched across his pretty face?
Ilya had practically dragged Shane to the bedroom by his wrist, playfully shoving him onto his back before ripping his pants and underwear down in one firm yank. He dove onto the king-sized bed between Shane’s legs, pushing them back toward his torso so Shane was spread perfectly open for him. Ilya leaned in and planted a messy kiss on Shane’s asshole. Shane’s hips bucked up, little more than a twitch, and Ilya stuck out his tongue, engaging the muscle to draw a wet circle around Shane’s rim. His palms reached to squeeze harshly at the meat of Shane’s ass, before spreading him open further.
Shane thrashed, digging two clenched hands into the soft off-white sheets. After a few minutes of fervent licks and kisses, Shane was relaxed enough for Ilya to stick his tongue in, fucking into him in slow, deep movements. Ilya added a finger, then two, and Shane’s moans grew louder and more frantic. He sounded fucking stunning, the pleasure mixing seamlessly with the pain of being penetrated with only Ilya’s spit as lubricant, his noises indicating both at once.
Ilya knew that Shane wanted it to hurt a little tonight. The sounds he made were proof that Ilya was on the right track, and god, it was so fucking satisfying to hear Shane like this, to see him like this. Ilya’s own dick had grown painfully hard, tight and uncomfortable in the dress pants he left the arena in. That needed to change, immediately. Ilya slowly retreated his fingers, planting one final kiss to Shane’s puffy hole before he scooted back.
“Get the lube” Ilya said calmly, as he stood to remove his clothing. Shane blinked, twice, tilting his head in confusion, brain shut off already. Good, this was exactly what Ilya was going for.
“The lube.” He tried again, and Shane blinked again before nodding, twisting his arm around to pull open the nightstand drawer and retrieve the half-full bottle of water-based lube. Ilya removed his pants first, his dick springing up against his lower stomach, then his suit, then unbuttoned his black button down, rolling up the sleeves so the muscle of his forearms was on full display. Shane had the bottle in his fist, holding it out for Ilya once he was ready for it.
“Take your shirt off, too.” Ilya commanded, snatching the lube from Shane and opening the bottle with a click. Shane obeyed, unbuttoning his own shirt with shaky hands. Ilya enjoyed the view as he poured a quarter-sized amount of the liquid onto his dick, using his right hand to stroke it up and down, distributing the lube evenly with a lewd squelching noise.
“On your stomach.” Ilya tapped Shane’s stomach as he said it, and Shane practically flung himself down onto the bed, arching his spine so his ass sticks up as far as possible. “Good boy.”
Shane’s breath hitched at the praise. Always so fucking easy. Ilya shifted onto his knees behind him, lining up his dick and using his hand to angle it, pushing just enough to breach Shane’s hole. He stayed there for a minute, soaking in the tight warmth of the squirming mess in front of him. Finally, he snapped his hips forward harshly, drawing a low moan from Shane.
Ilya set a rhythm, fucking Shane hard but not quite fast yet. Each thrust filled the room with the plap of skin-on-skin and a moan or grunt from at least one of them. Ilya’s hand found Shane’s back, between his shoulder blades, and pressed down. Shane whined, and Ilya sped up, fucking into him with as much force as he could manage. His hand traveled up to Shane’s hair and pulled, yanking his head back and deepening the angle of the thrusts.
Shane made a lot of noises during sex, both of them did. Now that they could touch each other in the privacy of their own homes, after years of shushing each other in hotel rooms, they usually didn’t hold anything back. Ilya was prepared for any variation of a groan, whine, moan, whimper, or scream. He was not prepared for the noises that were coming out of Shane’s mouth now.
Shane was not moaning, whining, or whimpering. His mouth was open, his tongue loose in his mouth, and he was fucking panting. The best part was that he was so lost in pleasure, so out of his head and in his own body, that he didn’t even realize he was doing it. That was just Shane, Ilya’s sweet puppy. Ilya didn’t need to get a new dog. He had one right here, the sweetest puppy in the world, and wasn’t this so much better than pee pads and constant barking?
“Good puppy, taking it so well.” Ilya hadn’t meant to say it out loud. It was a thought for his own head, something that he could have brought up to Shane in a neutral context if he was still thinking about it, but he couldn’t help it. He was just calling it how he saw it. He had the urge to slow down and pull out, to make sure Shane was ok and he hadn’t crossed a boundary, but before he could get a handle on his own momentum, Shane was coming undone, whimpering loudly as he came untouched, his dick spilling onto the sheets. If Ilya could see his face right now, he’d be willing to bet that his eyes were rolled back and his mouth was flush and open. He almost regretted choosing doggy style. Almost.
Ilya took Shane’s sudden tumble to the edge as permission to keep going, promising himself that they’ll have an open dialogue about this later. For now, he kept thrusting, overstimulating Shane’s already sensitive prostate as he brushed against it. He wasn’t necessarily trying to, but Shane’s pathetic whines were too good, Ilya had no choice but to see it through. Just as Shane grew truly frantic, trying to wriggle away from Ilya’s grasp in his hair, Ilya reached his own climax. He buried himself to the hilt, letting his cum fill Shane as deep as possible, before releasing his grip on his lover’s hair and pulling out, slower and gentler than he’s done all evening.
Shane’s head hit the soft mattress, flopping himself over to avoid the cooling pool of semen he had left beneath him. Ilya had one more idea.
“You made a mess.” Ilya stated, pointing to the wet spot on the sheet.
“So did you.” Shane retorted sleepily, gesturing vaguely towards his ass. “Get me a towel and I’ll change the sheets?”
“Hmm, no. You make a mess, you clean it up. It’s only fair, yes?” Ilya’s tone dripped with condescension. Shane’s face twisted in confusion, and right when he opened his mouth to protest that he was about to do exactly that, Ilya threaded a hand through his hair and shoved him down, facefirst in the puddle. Shane groaned, the sound muffled by the mattress. With far less resistance than the cereal, Ilya noted with an air of genuine concern, Shane began to lap at the stain, cleaning up as much of his cum as he could.
“Good boy. You can’t help yourself, hm, silly puppy?” This time, Ilya got to see Shane’s eyes roll back as he nodded against the mattress. Fuck, he really liked that. They would need to talk about this at some point. Shane was red in the ears, and when Ilya pulled his head back up, he saw that Shane’s dick had chubbed up again, the same angry shade as the tips of his ears. Instead of talking, Ilya slid a finger into Shane’s hole, the muscle relaxing easily with Ilya’s cum as lubricant, welcoming him in. He played with him idly, ignoring Shane’s half-hearted protests, until Shane came again with a small shudder, a smaller puddle collecting a foot from the last one. Ilya sighed theatrically and shoved his sweet boy’s head back down to clean up his mess.
-
“So. We need to talk about the puppy thing.” Shane stood in front of Ilya where he lounged on the couch. Ilya’s legs were spread so that if Shane were to walk towards him, Ilya could easily straddle him. Shane rubbed at his forearm, clearly uncomfortable and forcing himself to talk about it anyway. Ilya felt a swell of pride as he processed how far they had both come with talking about what they needed.
“Oh, you changed your mind about getting another dog? Should I call the shelter and tell them we will take the cutest puppy?” Ilya feigned excitement. He was proud of Shane for bringing it up, but he couldn’t resist the impulse to tease, to make Shane work for it.
“You know what I mean. The other thing. Last night.”
“Oh. Ok. What do you want to talk about?” Ilya asked, patting the cushion next to him. Shane’s brows furrowed, processing something, before taking his seat at Ilya’s side.
“Uh, I liked it. A lot…” Shane confessed, lips turning upwards into an embarrassed smile.
“I know you did,” Ilya reached up to scratch Shane behind the ear, the way he had started to do more and more, if only to watch how sweet and pliant it makes him. “It was very obvious.”
“Fuck off, I already feel weird!”
“I liked it too. Why do you feel weird?”
“I don’t know, it’s just weird, isn’t it? Why would I want to be treated like a dog?’
“Because you like to be good. You like to obey, get rewarded. You like for me to think for you. Makes a lot of sense, actually.”
“I guess. Well, if you don't think it's weird, I mean, if you liked it too, maybe we could do it again sometime? Maybe incorporate it into the other stuff?” By other stuff, Shane meant their less traditional sexual activities, what he now knew was usually somewhere under the kink or BDSM umbrella. Most recently, they had learned that Shane loves to be choked. He swore he came so hard he saw stars. While Shane was more often the one suggesting the supplements to their sex life, he usually didn’t know their proper terminology, and he rarely explained himself without a deep blush overtaking him.
“Of course, my tomato.” Ilya teased, rubbing at Shane’s cheek to deepen the tint. Shane smiled, relieved that the conversation went as he had probably been planning since the moment aftercare ended last night. Then, he turned to face Ilya fully, smile dropping just a hair.
“Ilya?” Ilya hummed in response.
“You aren’t, like, picturing me as a literal puppy, right?” Oh, Shane. Ilya had to think about it before he answered. No, he wasn’t imagining that Shane was a literal dog. He felt a little insulted that Shane felt he had to worry about that. In all honesty, when Shane got all bleary-eyed and pliant, Ilya didn’t see him as a dog or a person. It was just his Shane, in his purest form. If this blissed-out version of Shane happened to act like a cute little puppy, Ilya had no complaints.
“No, just a Shane puppy.” Ilya nodded as he spoke, and Shane relaxed slightly. His brows were still furrowed like he had more questions. Always more questions, with this one.
“Were you, I mean- Is this something you’ve been thinking about for a while?” Shane leaned toward Ilya as he spoke, hanging onto every word for permission to be as into this as he was.
“Mm, maybe. I always think you act like a little puppy. You whine and tilt your head and wag your little tail at me,” Ilya pinched Shane’s asscheek harshly at the word tail, pulling a sharp whimper from him.
“And you eat from my hand so sweetly. It’s cute.”
“ I actually… I’d be ok with doing that again. If you were reasonable about it.”
“Mm, no, sweet one. Puppies can’t have chocolate. Maybe a different food.”
-
“Remember what we talked about last week?” Shane had gone to Farm Boy at Ilya’s request to grab a few missing ingredients for dinner, but when he returned, he had a grocery bag in one arm and a cardboard box in the other. Based on the shipping label, Shane had probably grabbed it off the doorstep, but Ilya didn’t order anything and usually, Shane let him know to expect a package.
“How would I forget that?” Ilya deadpanned, turning away from the onion and cucumber on the cutting board to give Shane his undivided attention. If whatever was in the box had to do with that conversation, dinner could wait.
“Ok, well, I did some research. I learned a lot about the whole pup thing. It’s actually pretty common, especially for gay men. I might have ordered some stuff. If you want to look through it, see if anything makes you curious. No pressure, obviously, it’s all returnable. If it’s unused, of course.” Shane’s tone was so matter-of-fact, Ilya almost worried he was hearing things. This was real, though, evidenced by the large box his husband placed on the kitchen table. Ilya tore into it immediately, stabbing the box with a pair of kitchen shears and sliding them down the tape, slicing it with satisfying ease.
Shane Hollander was a fucking pervert, and it was perfect. Ilya’s face lit up into a toothy smile as he rifled through the contents of the mystery box. The first thing that caught his eye, because how could it not, was a dark blue collar, thick leather and an O-ring secured to what was presumably the front. Ilya figured it attached to the matching leash, which he picked up, measuring its weight and give subconsciously. Next was another leather contraption, black this time. Ilya only registered it as a harness once he held it out in front of him. While he looked, Shane hovered behind him, monitoring Ilya’s reaction. The last two objects came in velvetlike bags, one small and black, the other larger and white. Ilya opened the larger one first, and he couldn’t stop his jaw dropping in time. Inside the large white bag was a pair of clip-on ears, raven to match Shane’s hair. They were soft faux fur, floppy like a retriever's. Ilya hadn’t even considered how sweet Shane might look with a pair of puppy ears. Leave it to his husband to take a pervy idea and turn it into a full-fledged fantasy.
The last bag was small and didn’t weigh much, and Ilya couldn’t even begin to guess what it was before opening it. It wasn’t until he did that he realized just how much fucking research Shane must have done. The small bag housed a clicker, a black button on a small device. There was even a keychain on it, for easy access. Ilya recognized it immediately. He had looked into clicker training when he got Anya, but he had decided against it in favor of a different method. He was starting to thank his past self, because the idea of training Shane to be his brainless puppy was getting more appealing by the second, but it wasn’t worth complicating Anya’s training or causing her any confusion.
“Shane, oh my god. You are insane.” Ilya lifted the clicker up at Shane, his face somewhere between genuine awe and wanting to eat him alive. Shane blushed and shoved Ilya lightly.
“That’s a-” Shane pointed to the clicker, no doubt ready to overexplain, to justify what he wanted. Ilya ruffled his hair condescendingly, cutting him off before a potential word vomit striked.
“I know what this is. This is what you want?”
“I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Ok. You want to play tonight?” Ilya snaked his arm behind Shane, finding the small of his back and pulling him closer. He moved his hand down until it reached Shane’s ass, and he squeezed tight.
“Fuck, yes.” Shane was breathing heavily, grasping for purchase on Ilya wherever he could - his muscular arm, his broad chest. Ilya delivered two sharp smacks to Shane’s ass and returned to his chopping, ignoring the huff that came from his husband when he walked away.
-
“Shane, dinner is ready!” Ilya called out, plating steaming hot chicken on top of the veggies in two bowls. At the same time, he exited out of the Reddit tab on his phone titled “Clicker training, anyone tried it with their sub? r/BDSM”. Ilya didn’t make it a regular habit to obtain his information on Reddit, but for stuff like this it was often the easiest way to get an answer that wasn’t too vague or fraught with confusing terminology. Ilya was happy, no, ecstatic, to indulge Shane, but clicker training was serious business, and he needed to make sure he understood what he was doing before he literally conditioned his husband.
“Smells amazing, thank you.” Shane trotted down the stairs, hair damp from his shower, wearing a fresh t-shirt and gray sweatpants. His pleasant expression twisted with confusion as he realized that Ilya had set both bowls in front of himself, where he sat at the dining room table, and he hadn’t placed any utensils in front of Shane’s spot.
“You eat right here.” Ilya smirked, nudging his head toward the floor, where a dark green throw pillow sat at his feet. The blue collar, which Ilya attached to the leash while Shane took his shower, rested on top of it. Shane shuddered, looking to Ilya for any sign that he wasn’t serious. In response, Ilya bent down and snatched the collar from the pillow, patting for Shane to kneel. Shane stumbled forward and sat down one knee at a time, resting his thighs back on his calves so he could kneel comfortably for longer. He took several deep breaths, settling into the position. Ilya set the collar and leash down on the table next to his food and pulled something out of his pocket.
“Good boy” Click-click. Shane’s head shot up to see the clicker in Ilya’s hand. Ilya set it down on the table and picked up his fork, stabbing into a piece of chicken. He brought it to his mouth and chewed slowly, savoring the flavor of lemon and dill. He did the same with a bite of vegetables, taking his time to enjoy the food he worked so hard to cook, making a point to ignore the soft whines that had begun to escape Shane. Finally, Ilya took pity and put his fork down. From the bowl he hadn’t touched, he pinched a piece of chicken between his thumb and pointer finger, dangling it a few inches in front of Shane’s face.
“Open your mouth.” Shane glared up with the sharpness of several daggers, but opened his mouth and leaned forward to catch the chicken between his teeth. Ilya briefly wondered what it would be like to be the flesh caught between those lips, an all-consuming desire to be a chew toy for his sweet thing.
“Good puppy.” Click-click. At the sound of the clicker, Shane whined again, the tension in his shoulders melting a little more. They carried on like this, Ilya taking a few bites of his food with the fork, then turning to feed Shane. He had planned to only hand feed Shane for this scene, but the vegetables were too soft and liquidy, and Shane would be pissed if his gray sweatpants got oil stains, so Ilya shared his fork, bringing a mouthful of vegetables to his puppy’s lips. Occasionally, he gave Shane a scratch behind the ears or used the clicker, but most of his praises came from the awe-inspired way he was gazing down at Shane. By the time the final bite was gone from each of their bowls, Shane’s eyes were glazed over, and he was staring straight ahead, lips upturned in a slight, pleased smile. Click-click.
“You did a very good job with your dinner. Do you want your collar now?” Ilya picked up the collar, turning it over in his hands as if still deciding whether Shane deserved it.
“Yes, please. Please.” Shane breathed.
“Once the collar is on, I don’t want to hear any more words from your mouth unless you need something or you need to safeword. Puppies don't speak. Do you understand?” Ilya kept his voice quiet, but firm. Shane was operating on a new frequency, staring up at Ilya like he didn’t know what he was saying but he wanted to drink up every word.
“I said, do you understand, puppy?”
“Yeah. Yes, I understand. Please put it on.” Shane nodded, blinking harshly. He sat up straight, rolling his shoulders back. Ilya hadn’t even needed to tell him to adjust his posture. Click-click. Ilya bent down in front of Shane to crouch on one knee.The collar had the same mechanism as a belt, so it was easy to figure out how to loosen it enough to pull it over Shane’s head, then tighten it. Ilya slipped two fingers between the collar and Shane’s neck, ensuring that his circulation wouldn’t be impacted, then grabbed the leash, tugging on it once with an experimental jerk as he stood. Shane jostled forwards slightly, movement limited by the leather around his neck, and he caught himself with his hands before he could fall forwards.
“Fuck, you look so beautiful.” Shane opened his mouth to say thank you but caught himself in time.
“Are you ready for your ears?” Ilya yanked the leash again, softly. Shane nodded frantically, so Ilya turned to grab the white bag off the counter, leash pulling taught. He pulled the ears out and turned again to kneel next to Shane. He clipped one ear on, then the other, yanking ever-so-slightly to ensure that they were on tight enough. Shane whimpered, of course. Ilya stood up and admired his handiwork. Shane looked fucking incredible, on his knees with ears and a leash. His perfect puppy. This was exactly what they had both been missing.
“Such a good boy for me. Look at you, you’re fucking stunning like this.” Ilya praised, standing up just to reach down and pet Shane’s ears as if they were just as much part of him as his hair. They looked like they could be. Shane was fully immersed, fully under, grinning up at Ilya with glossy eyes, keening into his touch. Ilya was going to fucking ruin him tonight.
“I think I am ready to go up to bed, puppy.” Ilya announced, and he turned and started walking out of the kitchen. Shane only had a few seconds to compensate before the leash pulled too tight, so he leaned forward on his hands and began to crawl, moving somewhat frantically so as to keep up with Ilya. Ilya kept his hand tight on the leash, but he didn’t look back, trusting that Shane would be able to follow him. He climbed the stairs in twice the time it would usually take him, stepping at basically a snail’s pace so that Shane could keep up on his hands and knees. Shane crawled up the stairs and down the hallway without a trace of defiance.
“Sit.” Ilya commanded, plopping himself down on the edge of the bed facing the door. Shane returned to his position on his hands and knees, this time without the cushion of the pillow to protect his knees, but the carpet provided him some insulation, at least.
“Good job.” Click-click. Ilya dropped the leash on the bed, shedding his clothing to reveal the angry red boner forged by the evening so far - by his deeply perverted husband. Naked, he sat back on the edge of the bed, spreading his legs and grabbing the leash again.
“Suck my cock.” Ilya said simply. Shane whined, crawling forward until Ilya could feel his hot breath on his rigid dick. Shane leaned in, taking in as much of Ilya’s scent as possible. For several moments, he did not move, just sat between Ilya’s legs, face in his crotch, and breathed deeply. Finally, he stuck out his tongue, licking a long, gentle swipe up Ilya’s dick. Ilya was growing impatient. He pulled back the leash, just enough that Shane’s mouth opened with a groan, and used the leverage to feed his hard dick into Shane’s mouth. Ilya thrust his hips forward and felt his cock hit the back of Shane’s throat.
“Fuck, yes, good boy, so good.” Ilya’s hand fumbled for the clicker, discarded somewhere on the bed. Click-click.
“I need to be inside you now. Did you prep in the shower? You can nod or shake your head.” Shane nodded, obviously beaming with pride.
“Such a fucking perfect puppy.” Ilya shifted backwards, his dick leaving Shane’s mouth with a pop. He leaned down and unhooked the leash from his puppy’s collar, then grabbed the collar itself, hoisting Shane up carefully. Shane wobbled, his legs grown used to kneeling, and Ilya tossed him backwards onto the bed.
“Take your clothes off” and Shane did, peeling off his shirt and folding it messily before lifting up his hips and doing the same to his pants. Laying exposed on the bed, Ilya noticed that Shane’s dick was just as hard as his, if not worse. His good boy would never complain, though. Ilya clipped the leash back on, leaving the length of it strewn next to Shane on the bed.
Ilya walked around the bed to the nightstand, popping open the lube and pouring it directly on his dick, giving it a few firm strokes. He put the bottle back one-handed, mounting the bed between Shane’s legs. Without needing to be told, Shane was laying belly-up, legs pulled back so that he was completely exposed, ready for whatever Ilya wanted to do to him.
Ilya lined himself up and wasted no time pushing through the tight resistance of Shane’s hole, inserting half of his length before pulling out and slamming back in, all the way to the hilt.
“Ah, fuck, Ilya-” Shane’s eyes rolled back, and he gasped, fingers curling to grip the sheets.
“What was that? My puppy doesn’t speak, that can’t be right.” Ilya snarled, and Shane shut his mouth, blushing, moans still escaping with a muffled, nasally quality. Ilya set a brutal pace, fucking into Shane with all the strength he could muster. Shane was warm, and tight, and the expression on his face was pure, unadulterated bliss. He let out the most precious little uh-uh-uh noises, face squinching up when it felt unbearably good. After only a few minutes of thrusting and admiring his unreal husband, Ilya was rapidly approaching his orgasm.
“Fuck baby, you’re perfect like this. I should keep you like this all the time, my pathetic, dumb puppy.” Ilya gasped, thrusts becoming messier. Shane moaned, nodding frantically. He would hate that, in actuality, but it’s fun to fantasize.
“Let me breed you, puppy.” Ilya breathed, his air of authority slipping just a little. Shane whined louder, his eyes communicating what Ilya wouldn’t allow him to speak.
“Good fucking boy.” Ilya fucked into Shane once, twice, three more times, then he came undone, spilling deep into his husband with a drawn-out groan. He let himself bask in the orgasm for a minute, before slipping himself out and settling in between Shane’s legs. Ilya brought Shane’s hard tip into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the slit. Shane’s back arched, but he found resistance where the leash kept him from moving further.
Ilya took Shane into his mouth further, bobbing his head up and down, pressing the hand that held the leash on Shane’s lower stomach. Suddenly, Shane was tapping Ilya’s head, desperately warning fuck gonna come fuck ‘m sorry. Ilya reached his hand out, feeling for the clicker just in time for Shane to spill down his throat with a click-click. Shane’s orgasm made his whole body lock, muscles tensing before releasing, his stomach clenching with the effort of withstanding so much pleasure at once.
The two of them sat in a sweaty heap for a while, catching their respective breaths. Shane still appeared to be floating somewhere above earth, completely drunk on the bliss of being Ilya’s puppy. Ilya reached out to gently run his fingers through Shane’s hair, and his husband relaxed into it, humming happily.
“How was that, sweet boy?”
“That was so fucking good. Thank you.” Shane sighed, rubbing his hand down his cheek.
“Next time, I get you a shock collar.” Ilya said with a wink, bouncing up to grab Shane a towel, never missing the way Shane went quiet, his eyes wide in equal parts surprise and curiosity.