Archive of Our Own

Shane was Svetlana's friend more than anything. At first, at least. 

She shared classes with the Canadian, always described him as a quiet, focused presence that loomed in the back, taking notes furiously. That was before they had to do a project together. Ilya still remembers how gutted she was. 

"I think he's the most antisocial person on the planet." She whined to him one evening as they shared a beer in Ilya's dorm room. She draped along his bed, in his hoodie, complaining as he hung upside down on his chair, trying to ignore the pile of homework waiting to be done. "He always looks half terrified that someone might speak to him."

Ilya pitied her then. He hasn't seen Shane yet, but he has a good idea of him in his head. He's had a few odd, overly serious guys in his classes, too. Try hards. Usually rich assholes who looked down on everyone, always with that tiny eyebrow raise if you dared to ask them for a pen. 

"Look, he messaged me on Facebook already. Like, five minutes after the class ended." She showed him her phone and rotated it so he could read in his bizarre position. "He texts like an old man."

Hello. We've been assigned together for our shared economics class project. Please contact me soon about a possible library meeting arrangement, so we can start working on the topic. 

It was the first words Ilya received from Shane Hollander, and he couldn't stop laughing at him. 

He offered to take Svetlana to dinner after her library meeting a few days later, to soothe her mind and hear all about this little robot. He took her to a small restaurant near the campus and ordered her wine straight away. He expected a catastrophe. 

"Did he even say hello to you when you two met?" Ilya chuckled. "Or just went straight to business?"

Svetlana's face lit up unexpectedly. 

"He's so fucking cute."

That took Ilya by surprise, he'll have to admit. He thought she was joking for a moment. She spent half the semester complaining about the smart ass who treated college like it was a strategic warzone, avoiding his peers, bothering professors after class, handing in every paper early, and always asking the most specific questions. 

"Cute?"

"Yeah. I mean, I walked in there, saw him brooding over his books, right? I go to sit down next to him, he looks up and just…" She waved her hand with a big smile, imitating Shane's grin. "So nervous, like it was his first interaction with anyone, ever. He shook my hand and all that. Introduced himself. He kept stuttering at first."

Ilya huffed. 

"So he's a nervous weirdo?"

"He's cute. He's actually very nice, I think he's just that shy in class. He's very organised. He takes things seriously."

"Ah. So he's not mean, he's just boring."

"You're boring."

He blew a kiss at her and proceeded to listen to the full story. 

Svetlana was endeared by the guy. They spent hours in the library, working and talking, and she offered a coffee to hang out soon. She said Shane looked honestly shocked at the invite and kept asking her what she meant, if she was sure that she'd want to spend time with him. He sounded like a loser to Ilya. 

A loser who spent more and more time with Sveta as the weeks went by. 

So much time, Ilya had to schedule his visits now. 

He never had to be jealous about Sveta. She was there when they left Russia for university, she was there when they still fucked and spent their evenings watching TV with pointless arguments about the show's plot, she was there when they became more friends than lovers, and she was there when Ilya's father died. Now, he called her and was rejected by her voicemail. Now, he went to her dorm room and found only her roommate there, a girl named Rose. Rose was often the one to inform Ilya that Svetlana was out with Shane. 

He had yet to meet the man. He was already irritated by him. He had it all figured out here, he had his business major to take care of, his best friend to laugh with, and here comes Shane Hollander, stealing half of Ilya's life by some divine miracle. Sveta couldn't shut up about him. 

"Are you in love or something?" Ilya interrupted one of her glorious rants when he had had enough. Shane, Shane, Shane. All evening, Shane this, Shane that, me and Shane. Sveta laughed. 

"No!"

"You seem to be."

"He's a great guy. Really, one of the best. You gotta meet him."

Ilya shrugged at the idea. Why would he be interested in meeting a sports management major who stole his friend from him? He wouldn't care if Shane fucked Sveta, but he could tone down the study sessions he kept dragging her into. 

Shane didn't like parties. Ilya loved them. Sveta did, too. So Sveta dragged Shane to one of the frat ones, despite his clear reluctance, she claimed she had to make the two best men in her life meet. 

Ilya felt a bit offended at that. He's been proving that title all their shared lives. Shane has been around for barely two months, and he's joining the line? Unfair. 

He's never seen Shane before, not even a picture. He only knew that he was Asian and gorgeous, as Sveta described him, which made Ilya further believe the theory that Svetlana was indeed in love. But who was he to judge? To each their own. He's had his fair share of girls at their college. 

Now, he'd never describe any man as gorgeous. He hasn't looked twice at a guy all his life. He knew what he liked and how to get it, girls liked him back passionately. It would be weird to find a man handsome, pretty, desirable. 

Shane was breathtaking.

It was even more striking how effortlessly beautiful he was while awkwardly being guided by Svetlana's hand through the frat house, across a sea of drunk students chanting some ASAP Rocky song. He looked like a lost kitten, holding onto a can of ginger ale, glancing around with deep brown eyes and rosy, freckled cheeks. He looked like he'd rather be anywhere but here, and still, he followed Sveta's lead obediently. Ilya immediately knew why Svetlana found Shane off-putting at first. Rude, imprudent, closed off. 

Then they were all in the kitchen, and Svetlana was introducing Shane to him. And now Ilya knew how she felt at the library. 

"Hi." Shane smiled at him so very nervously and eagerly at the same time, offering his hand for Ilya to shake. "I'm Shane Hollander."

Ilya shook his hand with an amused look.

"I'm Ilya."

"I know. Svetlana told me your name."

He seemed not to fully grasp the concept of social introduction yet. He surely had the brave enthusiasm, though. 

Svetlana was delighted to have them meet. Shane spent the entire evening trying to look relaxed, while he clearly worked overtime to gain Ilya's approval. 

The same thing happened on a movie night in Sveta's room. Ilya was now finally included in her little date nights with Shane, even if she didn't call them that. She had inside jokes with Shane now. Ilya was not jealous about that at all. 

He spent the evening watching them talk. Shane was extremely chatty once he got comfortable with someone. He knew lots about hockey, lots about anything, really, and Svetlana was a curious girl. 

After the first half of the movie, she excused herself to go to the bathroom, and so Ilya had had enough of this little game. 

Besides him, obviously, Svetlana had a nasty taste in men. At one point, Ilya's knuckles grew sore from punching the assholes she was so drawn towards. He had to show up to class with bandaged hands because of her last misfortune adventure called Roger. Roger. How can you be named Roger and cheat on your girlfriend? Choose a battle, dear God. 

It seemed her experiences made her switch up completely. Shane wasn't an asshole. He was weird, sure, stiff and pent up a bit, but not an asshole. He looked scared as well. Scared to do more than sit a bit closer to Sveta's side of the couch than Ilya's. Scared to put his arm around her. He kept glancing at Ilya and looking away when he was caught. Perhaps Ilya's reputation preceded him. Shane was scared of Svetlana's guard dog. 

Or thought she was taken. 

"I'm not dating Svetlana if you were wondering." Ilya said at last, rubbing his tired eyes. Shane's eyebrows rose in surprise and confusion. 

"Oh…?"

"Yes, so." Ilya shrugged and crossed his arms on his chest. "You can go for it."

Shane seemed absolutely baffled. 

He looked Ilya up and down, slowly, blushing in the dim lighting. 

Ilya could literally hear the cogs in Shane's head moving. What was so shocking? Why was he staring? Why was he moving his knee closer, running his hand through his hair?

"Well, you're, uh…direct."

"You look like a scared little kitten." Ilya chuckled, gesturing towards him, towards how stiffly Shane sat, drank his tea, on the edge of the couch, while trying so very clearly to be nonchalant. Cool, even. "Is fine. Just maybe wait until I'm not here, you know?"

He really didn't have the strength to watch Sveta make out with this guy mid-movie. It was bizarre. Shane was objectively handsome, sure, and quite nice, especially to her, but he seemed like the opposite of her type.

Shane blinked, confused again. He cleared his throat, took a small sip of his tea, and looked at Ilya's shoulders for a few seconds too long.

"You mean…after this?"

Ilya started to suspect Shane was dropped on his head as a baby. Was he not clear? You can fuck my friend, it's fine, just wait until I'm out the door and don't break her heart, or I'll break your nose. 

"Yes. I don't care."

Shane smiled softly and turned his head away, biting his lower lip with a tiny, soft exhale.

"Svetlana didn't tell me that you're…" He didn't finish, but Ilya didn't need him to. 

"We fucked, yes, for a few years, but we're just friends now." Ilya sighed. "So you don't have to be so scared."

"I'm not scared."

"You are having panic attack."

Shane laughed at that shortly and wiped his face. He stayed quiet for a moment. Ilya thought the conversation was over. 

"I'm flattered, really. And I, uh, definitely find you…interesting." Shane said quietly. What did that have to do with anything? "But I'm not really a casual guy, so I'd rather wait until we get to know each other a bit better."

What?

"You know Sveta for two months now." Ilya mumbled, not understanding a word that came out of Shane's mouth during the last five minutes. "You want to wait more?"

"Maybe. Is that okay?"

"You don't like her or something? You know she normally doesn't date guys like you." Ilya raised his hand at Shane's frown. "Is not a bad thing. But she is really special, so I don't see why you're waiting around so much." 

"I…" Shane stuttered. "I like her a lot, of course…"

"So ask her out. Be nice to her. She will say yes."

"Why would I ask her out?"

"Bozhe moy." Ilya laughed, his patience running low. "You don't like girls? Is Sveta the first one you ever came in contact with?"

Shane stared at him in silence. 

Then, he grew red. Still silent. 

That mix made Ilya think twice about what he said, long after he said it. 

Shane looked away, embarrassed beyond words. 

"Fuck, I'm so sorry-"

"What?"

"I'm sorry. I just…I misunderstood you." Shane tried to chuckle, but couldn't, and his hands started shaking on his lap. "I thought…sorry."

Ilya blinked, and his brain had never felt slower. 

"You…you don't like Sveta?"

"I'm gay. I thought she told you that, I thought…" Shane gestured between them. "I thought you were asking me out."

"Oh." Ilya opened his stupid mouth just to close it again. "I'm straight."

He hated how it was the only thing he came up with, but his mind was blank. He could only focus on how Shane looked just a moment ago and how he looked now. He's never seen a person so uncomfortable. 

You can go for it.

Fucking God, if he knew the man was gay, he'd choose his words a bit better.

"Yes, I get that." Shane said with an amused edge to his voice, even if his ears were fully red. "I didn't mean to hit on you or, or any- I just thought you were…"

Interested.

"I'm not."

"Yes, I know. Sorry."

"You don't want to fuck Sveta?"

Shane scrunched up his nose in clear disgust before controlling his face a bit better. 

"No."

If he reacted so eagerly to Ilya's horribly picked words, he might want to fuck Ilya instead. 

Somehow, the thought alone made Ilya finally laugh. 

He had to bend over, holding his stomach, shaking with how ridiculous this all felt. Shane frowned, staring at him, quiet as Ilya laughed his ass off.

"Oh, God. Is so funny."

Shane pushed his knees together, holding the cup with both hands now.

"What, that I'm gay?"

"No! No, fuck, is-sorry." Ilya reached out to him to pat his shoulder lightly, but Shane moved away. "Sorry. No, is okay, I'm not asshole, yes?"

Shane didn't seem to believe that fully. Still, he smiled faintly.

"I sometimes don't get people's intentions, so…"

"No, I get it. I said it all wrong. I thought you liked Sveta." Ilya pointed to the bathroom door. "She didn't tell me you like guys."

Shane shrugged.

"That's nice of her, I suppose. I should've, uh, informed you, or…" He smiled a bit wider at another one of Ilya's laughs. "Shut up."

"Inform me?"

"I don't want you to think I'm brazen."

"What is brazen?"

"Pushing. I'm not. I won't make you uncomfortable, I promise."

He seemed half terrified, half amused. Ilya's heart sank a bit at the quiet tone. What idiots has Shane encountered in the past to be so scared to show his interest?

"Hey, for what is worth, if I liked guys, you're first on the list." Ilya smiled proudly at Shane's chuckle. "Is true. Don't worry about it, yes? You have a boyfriend?"

Shane blushed and shook his head. Figured. He just thought Ilya was offering to hook up with him and wasn't totally opposing the idea.

"No."

"Why? No cool gay guys on campus?"

"There's a lot, but…" Shane's shoulders rose slightly. "No one's particularly interested in me."

"Ah, that has to be bullshit."

"It's true." Shane rolled his eyes at him. "I'm not very outgoing."

"We will find you nice boyfriend." Ilya beamed at Svetlana as she finally left the bathroom, fixing her hair in her bonnet. "Right?"

Sveta looked at them both.

"What are you talking about?"

"Finding Shane a boyfriend."

"I don't need anyone's help." Shane mumbled. "I was thinking about joining a few science clubs here, there's a lot of options…"

"Lot of boring men." Ilya huffed when Svetlana smacked his head, coming back to the couch. "What? He needs a cool boyfriend. We can't let him date a boring weirdo."

"I apologise for him." Sveta sighed deeply, settling by Shane's side. "He lacks tact."

"I noticed that."

Ilya feigned offence.

"Hey." 

He couldn't help but smile back at Shane's smug little grin.

He decided he needed to prove his goodwill somehow. Make up for how terribly embarrassed Shane was that night.

That's how they became friends as well.

It was easier since Shane spent so much time with Svetlana, and Ilya could stop worrying about her getting her heart broken. Shane was so easy to talk to. So easy to rile up, too, watch him get red or irritated, and receive a tiny punch or push to his shoulder for running his filthy Russian mouth.

He was smart, passionate, funny in his own dry way. Infinitely kind. A bit too shy for the big parties, but he's come around to joining the smaller ones. 

They'd hang out until late at night, go out driving for food, meet up in the library for study sessions. Shane would always get them coffee. He's learned Ilya's taste quickly. So attentive. Thoughtful. Rose grew fond of him, too, so Ilya's duo, which became a trio, quickly formed a quartet. He couldn't really complain. Rose was nice and funny, too, and he claimed it was good to balance the forces out. He loved talking to Shane while the girls were occupied with themselves a few feet away.

Life was great.

They went out for Valentine's Day as a group, as neither one of them had a partner. It was a rare occurrence that Shane wanted to do some bar surfing in town. He attracted a lot of attention everywhere he went, despite not wanting any of it, sometimes not even being aware of it. 

"That guy is checking you out." Ilya pointed with his beer to the man in the corner, who kept stealing glances at Shane across the bar. Shane leaned in to listen.

"What?"

He smelled so nice. His hair shone in the neon lighting, and his cheeks were rosy from the drinks he had had. Ilya couldn't blame the stranger for wanting a piece.

Not that he understood him, but. He could get the idea of finding Shane desirable. 

"Go over to him." Ilya shouted through the music. "Get away from me."

Shane frowned at him, the sweetest look he's ever had on his face, confused, big brown eyes.

"Why?"

"So he doesn't think we're together." Ilya explained. "You think he is hot?"

Shane looked to the man, taking a sip of his drink.

"Yeah, actually, he's pretty nice to look at."

"Go get him, tiger."

Shane laughed, almost spilling his drink at Ilya's encouraging push.

"You're horrible."

"Wear a condom!"

"I'm not really- okay, I'm going now."

Ilya watched him walk with a proud smile. They'll get Shane a boyfriend. He deserved one! A good, hot man who would treat him right, and buy him coffee, let him borrow his hoodies, and brush his hair in the mornings.

Someone kind. Someone lovely. Maybe an addition to their pack, if he's cool enough. 

Shane really was one of a kind. It was only fitting to have high expectations for anyone who would come near him.

Ilya finished his beer, watching Shane talk to the man, smile, lean closer to listen. Good! That's a good sign.

His stomach twitched weirdly, but it was probably the cheap booze.

An hour later, they were coming back to campus without Shane, who had only come back to them to let them know he was leaving with the hot man. Ilya clapped for him then. He loved to see Shane blush in embarrassment.

He fell into his bed and fell asleep, still drunk. He woke up barely two hours later, a thing that should not happen if he went to bed after drinking. Anxiety stirred him awake as he grabbed his phone. Four A.M. No text from Shane.

He texted him half awake.

You are okay? Staying at his place?
Let me know if you need me to pick you up somewhere.

Shane didn't text back. He was probably busy getting laid, which, yeah. Cool. Good. He needed it, clearly. And the man was well-built, handsome, he could probably take good care of Shane.

The next morning, Ilya scared Svetlana with how shitty he looked. He hasn't fallen back asleep, waiting for a call. Shane only texted at nine, telling the group chat he was heading back and would be ready for their weekly Thursday breakfast at the cafeteria. That calmed Ilya only a bit.

Was he this anxious when Sveta was hooking up with someone? Probably. He doesn't remember now. 

Shane didn't look great at the cafeteria either. His eyes were a bit red.

"Hey." Ilya exhaled as he saw him, walking a bit too fast to reach Shane first. Rose and Sveta were far behind him. "You are okay? How was it?"

Shane shrugged.

"Fine."

"Fine? Did he hurt you?"

"I'm okay." Shane chuckled sadly. "You don't have to break anyone's nose."

For how weak Shane's voice was, Ilya would gladly break more than that man's nose.

"He hurt you?" He repeated firmly, blood boiling in his veins. Shane shook his head.

"No, he just…I don't know. Do you even want to talk about it?"

"Of course." Ilya watched Shane get some eggs and bread. He couldn't stomach the thought of eating now. He grabbed some water instead. "Tell me."

Shane sighed again, waved at the girls, and nodded as they walked over to an empty table.

"Sex was good, just…I get casual hookups, right? In theory, at least. But he just made me leave right after, and it was late…"

Ilya's jaw tightened.

"He threw you out?"

"He was polite about it." Shane corrected him. "But yeah, basically."

"What an idiot. I told you to call me, I would come pick you up."

Shane stared at his breakfast.

"I didn't want to bother you."

"Bother me. Please." Ilya whined and succeeded in making Shane giggle at this exaggeration. "I can't believe he threw you out."

Shane tilted his head.

"Not everyone likes to cuddle a stranger goodnight."

Ilya would. If he liked men, of course, if he hooked up with Shane, what a strange thought! If any of that was true, he'd cuddle the hell out of Shane. 

Kiss his forehead, bring him water, make him stay until the morning, until the end of time. Was this guy stupid? 

"Is his loss. Really." Ilya reached out to Shane to grab his hand lightly. "You are great. Wasn't your fault, yes?"

Shane smiled at him weakly.

"I don't know. Maybe I was too pushy, or…"

"You weren't."

"You weren't even there, how would you know?"

"I just know." Ilya squeezed his hand before taking his back. "How did you get back here?"

"Uh, Uber. I spent so much money." Shane groaned. "It wasn't really worth it, to be honest. Can you not tell the girls? I just…I don't want to be more embarrassed."

"Of course." Ilya glanced at Rose and Svetlana, who were still picking their food. "You can tell me anything, yes?"

Shane nodded.

"Thank you."

"We find you better boyfriend. Someone nice to cuddle you."

Shane chuckled at the idea, but didn't oppose it.

So, Ilya got to work.

Whenever they went out, he'd look for clearly interested men, measure their looks and the possibility of them being assholes, and send Shane their way. Sometimes, he'd go to them alone first, talk for a moment, see if they weren't ugly up close, or worse, mean, and point to Shane across the bar, the flat, the street. One guy seemed fun enough for Shane to bring him to his dorm. Ilya patted his shoulder when they were saying goodbye, late at night, and tried to ignore the nausea rocking his stomach. 

He wasn't an asshole. He had no problem with it, he never had, Sveta liked girls, too, it never bothered him. Gay guys were fine, too. He's never felt this weird seeing two men sneak out to fuck in a shitty dorm room.

He couldn't sleep all night again. 

It was worry. Of course it was, Shane has become such a good, close friend, the closest male friend Ilya had here. His heart sinking in his chest at the thought of another loser dickhead hurting Shane was a natural reaction.

He texted Shane to ask if he's up, which, shitty thing to do when he knew he was busy, but he couldn't stop himself. Maybe the guy left already?

He walked down the corridor, and onto the next floor, to Shane's room. It was three A.M. Surely, the white man with too many tattoos was gone by now. Shane didn't have a roommate this term. They could hang out, talk, like they used to do all the time.

He raised his hand to knock on Shane's door and froze.

Was that…Shane?

He had to focus to make out the sounds. His face ran hot when he realised that yes, it was Shane who was making those noises. Those loud, filthy, shameless noises, moans that run through Ilya's spine. Dorm doors were thin. 

Jesus Christ.

He could hear the bed cracking, the other guy panting. Words he couldn't understand, but he knew enough about sex to figure out who was fucking and who was getting fucked. It shouldn't come as a shock, but it was surely surprise that made Ilya breathe out so heavily at the image of Shane being bent over and taking dick with those moans escaping his pretty lips.

There was a loud slap and an even louder whimper following. Ilya took a step back, red all over, struggling to catch his breath. Serves him right for trying to interrupt Shane at this hour.

He ran back to his room and put his headphones on, as if he could hear Shane through the roof and countless feet of concrete. He felt as if he still could. He wasn't aware that a person could moan like that. A man, especially. 

And that fucking slapping. Did Shane like it rough?

Why the fuck was he contemplating his friend's sexual preferences? Maybe he did! It wasn't Ilya's business. Ilya's business was to punch idiots if Shane pointed at them with his finger and a trembling lower lip. That's all a good friend would do.

He felt like throwing up when he saw Shane the next day, for a morning run they started sharing since Spring hit the town. 

Shane was glowing.

Hickeys covered his neck, his hair was still messy, eyes a bit tired, but satisfied, with that specific gusto in his walk that men only had after some fun time in the bedroom. He smiled at Ilya.

"Hi."

"Hello." Ilya mumbled. He didn't have the strength to ask how Shane's date went, not this time. Shane, used to Ilya asking, started talking straight away.

"It was so nice yesterday, with Harry." He stretched, the edge of his shirt riding up on his stomach. Did Harry fucking beat him up? It was a bruise-sized hickey, right there, above his hip. "I don't want to get my hopes up, but it went well. I think we'll meet again for dinner sometime next week, isn't that cool?"

Ilya nodded, double-tying his shoes.

"Yes."

"He works in finance. Maybe you two could have something to talk about." Ah, yes, because Ilya was dying to talk to Harry. "He's really nice, too, he offered to…"

"Can we run?" Ilya sighed, straightening up. Shane wasn't done with his warm-up yet, he just blinked at him, surprised at the rush.

"Wait, let me stretch fully first."

"I think you stretched enough last night."

Shane first laughed at that, then looked to him with a slowly fading smile as he realised Ilya's dry tone wasn't a joke. He swallowed hard, the tips of his ears turning red.

"What was that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know."

"I thought you were okay with me talking about this stuff."

Great, now Ilya was an asshole.

"I am. I just want to run."

Shane nodded, barely convinced, but dropped it.

He wasn't so eager to tell Ilya about his second date with Harry. By the time it came around, Ilya was calm enough to actually ask this time. 

"It was fine." Shane shrugged. 

"Just fine? Are you meeting him again?"

"Maybe."

He couldn't get much more out of him, and truthfully, he was glad for it.

He was even more glad to hear Shane was not going on a fourth date with this Harry guy. Four dates were dangerous territory. Serious stuff. Harry was not ready for serious stuff.

Well, his loss.

Ilya let Shane cry on his shoulder for an hour, feeling weirdly warm with his arms around the man.

"He was asshole anyway."

Shane shook his head against his neck.

"He wasn't. He just…he said he wasn't ready for anything serious."

"He should be, when it comes to you. He should change his mind. Who wouldn't?"

Shane laughed against his skin, and Ilya's eyes closed on their own.

"Thank you. Really, for…for everything, I haven't…" Shane straightened up, wiping his puffy eyes. "I've never really had close guy friends like you. I mean, I have Hayden, back home, and J.J., but I can't really talk to them about this stuff. They don't wanna hear much about it."

Ilya raised his hand to wipe Shane's wet cheek lightly.

"I want you to be happy. You deserve a good man."

He could say so much more, but couldn't find the breath to do it. Shane looked at him with so much gratitude, care, trust.

He deserved the best.

Someone who would be serious about him. Who would take him on a thousand dates, not just three. Who would ask him to be his boyfriend the second he could, and do it properly, too, with flowers, chocolates, a nice, romantic evening. Someone who would cook for him, and let Shane sleep on his chest, kiss his tears away, and fuck the university stress out of his perfect body, keep him satisfied, in all the ways Shane wanted to be. Someone his parents would like. Someone Shane would be happy to introduce them to. 

"Thank you." Shane whispered again, lifting his shirt to dry his face. His stomach was beautifully sculpted. His pecks filled out any shirt. Anyone who could see him naked should consider themselves lucky. "You deserve the best woman, too, you know?"

"Eh." Ilya clicked his tongue. "I'm not looking now."

"Why not?"

He didn't really have an answer.

"Too much, too good, you know." He waved his wrist. "A break won't hurt."

It's been a while since he got laid. He hasn't really noticed it, but maybe that was the reason he was so pent up lately. He kept having weird dreams.

The next time they all went out, he hooked up with a gorgeous girl with black hair. He went to her place with her. She even made him coffee in the morning. 

He felt nothing, really. When Shane asked him how it went, he just smiled shortly. He was much more interested in Shane's homework assignment than in recalling that brief encounter.

He got used to him.

More used than he would like to admit. He sat at Shane's room for hours at a time, watching him study, read, write his essays. Shane helped him with his assignments. Ilya helped Shane with his. Sometimes, they would come to each other's rooms unannounced just to sit on the bed and talk. Sometimes, Ilya went to Shane's room only to nap there. He always woke up well rested with Shane sitting by the desk, with his glasses on, doing some reading, while Ilya napped on his bed in sweatpants and a hoodie.

"You should teach me some Russian one day." Shane said quietly, on a cold, dark evening, while they played checkers on his floor. It was raining. The dorms kept losing power supply that night, so Shane lit up his one huge candle, set it on his desk, and let it sparkle. Ilya's never been this calm before. This content. Relaxed. 

"What for?" He asked, glancing up at Shane's dimly lit face. Shane rubbed his eyes. Ah. Sleepy kitten.

"So I can talk to you in Russian."

"Why don't you ask Svetlana?"

Shane shrugged at that.

"I don't know."

Ilya smirked.

"You don't like her anymore?"

"Of course I do!"

"I am new favorite?"

"It's just…it's a bit easier. With you." Shane moved his pieces on the board, playing with a loose strand of his fuzzy sock. Ilya tilted his head. He was lying on the floor on his stomach, swinging his feet, resting his chin on his joined hands. 

"What's easier?"

"Everything. I don't know." Shane mumbled and kept looking down. "Do you know what I mean?"

He hasn't said anything, not really, but Ilya just nodded. 

It was easier. They could be quiet together. Shane liked quiet. Ilya grew to like it as well, if he could share the silence with this peculiar man.

"I just…I don't feel like I have to pretend around you." Shane continued. "It's not that I have to pretend around Svetlana, or Rose, I like them both a lot, it's just…"

"I know." Ilya hummed, reaching out to move his pieces and collect Shane's. "Maybe is because we are both guys."

Shane chuckled sweetly.

"Well, we're not really similar."

"We like a lot of the same things." Ilya argued.

"Like what?"

"Hockey." Ilya gestured between them. "And we like each other. That's two things already."

Shane giggled now, and Ilya felt warmth spread all across his body. Leaving Shane's room when it got too late was the hardest thing he's ever done. It was just so quiet. Shane's voice did amazing things to Ilya's nerves. The rain pounded on the window. He wanted to stay. To squeeze into Shane's bed and sleep there, but that would be absurd. Where would Shane sleep?

With him, maybe. By his side. Ilya kept catching himself longing for Shane's touch. His hugs were amazing. His perfume was Ilya's favorite scent. His hair was soft, Ilya checked one time, when he playfully ruffed it after Shane lost to him in cards.

He's never liked men's touch. He only ever knew the fist of his father and the slap of his brother. Men touching him meant trouble. Fight. Blood. Tears, quiet tears in some forgotten little corner of the world, where no one could see him and scold him for crying. 

But Shane's touch was welcome. Shane's touch was gentle, soft, warm, and Ilya was so, so lonely some days.

He couldn't help it. Shane was a magnet. The next time he went to Shane's room, they were supposed to watch a movie. Sveta had classes late. Rose went to town to run some errands. It was just the two of them.

They sat on the bed, resting their backs on the wall, Shane had a little projector set up. It wasn't raining that night, but all the lights were turned off. It was so easy and effortless to lose himself in this bubble of warmth and calmness. No problems, no issues he had to take care of, at least for the duration of the movie. Shane by his side, in striped pyjama pants, going on and on about the plot, the little chatterbox. 

Ilya wanted to crawl under his hoodie and stay there. It looked impossibly soft. Blue, worn out, Shane's.

He faked a yawn, stretching. He could put his arm around Shane. He wanted to. Was that weird? Rose and Sveta cuddled all the time. 

"Can I put my head in your lap?" He asked, quietly enough to have hope Shane wouldn't even hear it. Stupid. Pathetic. 

Shane raised his eyebrows with a tiny nod.

"Of course."

"I'm just very tired. I need to lie down."

"Yeah, okay." Shane uncrossed his legs to make space for him. "Do you want a pillow?"

Ilya hummed in disagreement and settled on his side, with his knees up to his belly, and his head comfortable and safe on Shane's lap.

He wasn't unused to this. He often lay like this with Svetlana, but she was much smaller than him, leaner, more delicate. Shane was big. His thighs were big. His hands rested on Ilya's hair for a second, before he withdrew them with a quiet apology.

"Is okay." Ilya hummed with his eyes half closed. "Feels nice."
Shane hesitantly put his right hand into Ilya's hair to leave it there. Tangled into his curls, with his other arm tucked to his chest like it could burn Ilya alive.

His fingers were unmoving for the minutes to come, until Ilya felt him relax slightly, brush them through the blonde curls, mindlessly, as he focused on the movie. The gentlest scratches made Ilya sigh deeply, leaning more into it, into the soft warmth of Shane's body.

He wouldn't have realised Shane was crying if not for the quiet sniffing he heard maybe twenty minutes after he had laid down.

He looked up, turning on his back. Shane wiped his cheeks with his free hand, deadly focused on the screen. They were watching a comedy. Nothing to cry about.

"You are okay?"

"Hm?" Shane glanced down. "Yes."

"You're crying."

"I'm fine."

Ilya lifted himself on his elbows, slowly getting back up. Shane's hand stayed in his hair for a moment too long.

"Don't go."

"What's wrong?" Ilya reached for the remote to pause the movie. "You are sad?"

Shane chuckled, shaking his head. His eyes were red-rimmed.

"No."

"Then what's wrong?"

He took a big breath in and wiped his face dry.

"It's been a while since a guy friend let me…you know. Be close." He spoke so quietly that Ilya barely heard him. "Usually, they stopped coming near me once they learned I'm gay."

With each day, Ilya's hitlist was growing larger. How many assholes did Shane encounter?

"Why?" He muttered out, confused. He couldn't find a logical reason as to why anyone who ever knew Shane wouldn't want him close.

Shane shrugged.

"So I don't fall for them or something. Or try anything, which I wouldn't, of course, but, you know." Shane rubbed the bridge of his nose with his fingers. "It's funny, because all the ones that were terrified I would fall in love with them were always just so ugly."

He seemed to smile a bit more genuinely when Ilya laughed at that, lying back down and settling on his back, with his head on Shane's thigh.

"Not your type?"

"No. Never. They would get offended if I assured them I'm not into them, which also makes no sense. You don't want me to be into you, but you're mad that I'm not?"

Ilya clicked his tongue at the twisted logic.

"Poor ego."

"I guess." Shane sighed, looking down at him. "You're kind of the first guy friend that lets me do this."

"You're not doing anything, though." Ilya fixed his head on Shane's lap. "I'm using you as a pillow."

"Am I a good pillow?"

"Mhm. Best."

The grin on Shane's face could light up the entire world.

"That's good to know."

Ilya tapped his fingers against his stomach, watching him from below. Shane had such a pretty jawline. And nose. And the cupid bow of his mouth was carved out so perfectly.

"What's your type then?" He asked. Shane raised his eyebrows.

"Sorry?"

"You said it was always the ugly guys who weren't your type who were afraid you would hit on them. What's your type?" 

Shane huffed with a slight blush covering his cheeks.

"You've seen a few of my dates."

"Those were only the available men at the moment, though, right?" Ilya tilted his head. "What's your ideal type?"

"No one's ideal, Ilya."

"You are horrible at this game."

"I didn't realise it was a game."

"Just tell me! I wanna know. I can tell you my type."

Shane looked at him, unimpressed.

"Oh, every woman who's near and somewhat pretty?"

Ilya giggled. That would suit him very well, actually.

"I like darker eyes lately." He admitted. "Darker hair. I don't know when that changed. I used to be into blondes."

"I'm into blonds." Shane hummed. "I think it's nice how the sun makes blond hair appear."

"But black hair is so sexy. How you say…rich? Deep."

"You mean elegant?"

"I mean sexy."

Shane laughed, brushing his hand through Ilya's hair again.

He still would not speak about his type. Not really. Ilya narrowed his eyes at him.

"Am I your type?"

Shane's hand let go of his head immediately. 

He could feel him stiffen up all over, from his knees to his perfect jaw. He straightened up his back, crossed his arms on his chest, as if he was trying not to touch Ilya as hard as he could, as if Ilya didn't show him already that it really was okay.

"You're my friend."

"Yes, but if I wasn't?" Ilya grinned at him. "If I were a gay guy at the club?"

"You're not, though."

"Entertain me."

"You're entertained enough." Shane rolled his eyes at him, but the corners of his lips twitched up. "I'm not gonna answer that."

Ilya whined.

"Is okay. We are friends. You can tell me."

"So you can brag about it? Or, or…" Shane gestured vaguely. "Freak out?"

"I'm not gonna freak out. I'm friends with Sveta, and she was very into me, remember?"

"I'm not into you!"

"Ah. So your type is, what?" Ilya raised his eyebrows. "Short scrawny guys?"

Shane huffed at the idea.

"No."

"Then what?"

It took Shane a total of three seconds to break and exhale slowly.

"I do like blond men." He said with a flat tone, ignoring Ilya's smirk. "And I do think you're handsome. Happy?"

Ilya pouted.

"Is not the same as saying I'm your type."

"I don't go after straight guys. Sorry." Shane shrugged. "You'll have to live."

Ilya grabbed his chest.

"My poor heart. I am just handsome to Shane Hollander."

"I'll strangle you. I swear to God."

"You like choking?" Ilya laughed as Shane punched his shoulder. "Ah, harder."

"I hate you." Shane flicked his ear, smiling with his cheeks red. "You're the worst friend ever."

Ilya grabbed his hand to put it onto his own hair, demanding. Shane's smile softened.

"You are very uncreative with your compliments."

"It wasn't a compliment."

"Worst friend? Eh, maybe. But just handsome is very insulting."

"I'll kill you in your sleep."

"For comparison…" Ilya went on unbothered. "I think you are very handsome."

Shane opened his mouth just to close it again.

"Ilya." He mumbled after a moment.

"Very pretty. With a good body, too. Objectively." Ilya pointed to Shane's arms, hidden under his sweatshirt. "Strong. Big. Good stamina, you always almost outrun me."

"You smoke! It makes no sense."

"You are smart, too." Ilya lifted his hand to tap his finger against Shane's temple. "Big brain. Big heart."

Probably a big dick, too. 

He wouldn't know, though. Not for sure. But he's seen Shane in boxers a few times, in nothing but sweatpants, too, and the outline alone gave him a lot to think about. It just wasn't fair! Ilya didn't have anything to be ashamed of, obviously, but it shouldn't be possible for Shane to be handsome, tall, muscular, smart, kind, caring, and packing. The universe outdid itself with this man.

Shane bumped his head against Ilya's hand.

"You're being dumb."

"I'm being honest. You are very attractive, as far as I can tell."

Shane looked at him as if he awaited something more. A quick reminder that, hey, you are nice to look at, but just remember I'm off limits. Another you're great, and I really don't mind that you're gay, just please don't fall in love with me, ha! You know. Since you like guys, and I'm a guy!

Ilya stayed quiet, just smiling at him.

"Thank you." Shane whispered. "You are, too. Any woman to have you should consider herself lucky. You're just…kind of ideal."

Ilya clapped his hands in victory.

"So I am your type?"

"Oh, fuck off!"

They laughed again as Shane tugged at his hair as punishment. Ilya had to breathe deeper afterwards, settling back onto his side to finish the movie with his head on Shane's lap.

Weeks went on. Shane stopped dating for a while. 

It was meant to be a joke.

The girls were behind it, of course. They were pregaming a dress-up party at Svetlana's and Rose's room. The girls matched, they were both cowgirls. Ilya was a pirate. Shane was Shane.

He claimed he hated parties like that, so he wouldn't change at all. After two wine glasses were strategically placed in his hand by Svetlana, he started falling under the girls' pleas. 

"Just for us, you can change later!" Rose pleaded, putting her hands together. "I want to do your makeup."

"I'm not gonna wear makeup."

"You have to! Sveta, choose something for him."

Ilya was a bit preoccupied thinking about his stupid classes and Shane's possible hookups later today to notice what they were talking about. It took them forever, but Shane agreed at last and disappeared into the bathroom with Rose and a bunch of clothes in his hands.

"What are we doing?" Ilya sighed, looking at Svetlana, who was clearly having the time of her life, waiting.

"Putting Shane in drag."

"What? Why?"

"Because it's fun, Ilyushka."

He didn't really understand the appeal. Shane was so manly. Even if he was…what was the term? Bottom? 

Even if he liked getting fucked rough and was so loud during it, and his freckles were just so pretty, coming out more with the sun, and his brown eyes were so captivating and adorable at times, Shane was big, tall, broad. He wore athletic clothes most of the time and had his hair cut every six weeks. On Mondays. Ilya had it in his personal calendar to remember.

His arms were huge, and even though he shaved every day, sometimes his stubble would peek through. His jaw was strong, sharp, his nose straight and perfect in every way that mattered, his hands, God, Shane's hands were huge. Bigger than Ilya's. And his thighs could crush a watermelon. His back, especially when he was working out, went on for miles and miles, and the back of his neck…

Shane was pretty masculine. That was for sure.

This whole idea was pretty stupid, but Ilya stayed quiet.

Rose left the bathroom first, joined them on the couch, all giddy. 

"Hide your phones, I promised him we won't take pictures."

Svetlana giggled, obeying.

"How does he look?"

"Well, you chose one hell of a dress."

A dress? They were putting Shane in a dress?
Ilya shifted on the couch, furrowing his eyebrows. His heart started pounding for reasons he couldn't understand. 

The bathroom door creaked as Shane opened it shyly.

Ilya saw his leg first.

He had Svetlana's red heels on.

It sparkled in the light, and almost blinded Ilya for a second. Only then could he look up, slowly.

Above the sharp tip of the heel, above the red strap, Shane's legs were covered in tights, see-through, lacy black tights that went all the way up over his knee and ended halfway through his thigh. A stripe of bare skin followed, and only then did the dress start.

Ilya knew that dress. Red, tight, and with an open back, it was one of Svetlana's favorites. Shiny and stretchy, it ended barely below Shane's ass, snatched at his waist, and wrapped around his chest. The thin straps holding it up on his shoulders were barely holding together with how much they had to cover. The neckline was low, too, and if Shane had boobs, the crack would slip between them. He had a golden necklace on, matching the bracelet that decorated his wrist. 

Then, there was Shane's face.

Rose did his makeup, which Ilya knew. He expected something weird, eerie, a strange copy-paste of Rose's routine, but this was something else entirely. She accented Shane's features, matching the sharp lines of his handsome face, and only going a bit further with his eyes, framing them in black eyeliner and eyeshadow, his eyelashes had mascara on them. He had red lipstick on. His hair was slicked back, curled at the ends, and he might as well be a movie star from the golden era of Hollywood with those swirling strands styled on his temples.

The girls clapped and laughed, encouraging him to come out further. Ilya's brain went dead silent.

"This is stupid." Shane giggled, wine drunk, barely standing in the heels. He took a few careful steps, swinging his hips. The heels tapped against the floor. "It's all too tight."

"Turn around!" Sveta laughed, begging him. Shane did a little twirl, smiling as she clapped again. "You look pretty!"

"You think so?"

"I did such a great job on your hair and makeup." Rose gasped. "I'm so proud."

Shane playfully turned his face the other way to show her her work better.

Ilya felt like fainting.

The stupid dress was ending so high up that if Shane bent over, his boxers would peek out. Or was he even wearing them? What if he wore panties to match everything?

Some red, lacy panties. The outline would show on the fabric of the dress. 

His thighs looked enormous in those tights. One of them rolled down slightly, Shane reached to pull it back up. Ilya had to restrain his hands from reaching out and doing it for him.

He wanted to fall to his knees to fix those stupid tights. Pull them up with his teeth. Slip his fingers under the edge of the dress, and see how little it was actually covering. Lick along the gap in the neckline, Shane's nipples were barely under the fabric, and they were standing up from the cold. Those shoulder straps were pushing into his skin. His back was exposed fully; if Ilya turned him around, made him lean down, he could see it with the dress still on. Run his hand through the carefully styled hair, see if the lipstick transferred to skin, if it could smudge on the pillowcase, he knew how this dress bounced, how it would feel and sound against him, how easy it was to grab, to tear off, to push away just a little, to check if he was wearing panties or not, keep the heels on, feel them on his back, let the lace of the tights burn his skin with friction, he could…

He breathed out, shifting on the couch and growing paler by the second.

He was hard.

In some desperate attempt at staying sane, he pulled his pirate hat off to cover the pathetically huge bulge in his trousers, but it did little to help how lightheaded he felt. His knees twitched. He couldn't catch his breath. He's never become this hard this quickly. He felt weak from it, and all the more desperate, he could come in his boxers if he brushed his hand against himself.

Fate liked to torture him, so Shane looked at Ilya.

"What do you think?" He asked shyly, much less amused by all this when Ilya stayed quiet. He hasn't spoken a word since Shane left the bathroom. "I think…I think I could grow to like the eyeliner, but…"

Ilya interrupted him with an unidentifiable sound that left his tight throat. He cleared it, trying to hold himself together.

"Is nice." He mumbled out. "Pretty dress."

Make me kneel. Make me beg. Make me eat you out in this, make me bite on those fucking thighs, make me ruin this dress completely, push that heel on my chest, sit on me, please, sit on me, grind, fuck yourself loudly, let me watch your chest rip the dress apart, let me…

"Excuse me for a moment." Ilya struggled to stand up, didn't wait for a confirmation that anyone heard him, and ran out of Svetlana's room.

He ran to his floor, almost threw the door off the hinges, kicked it closed, and hid in the bathroom. His roommate, Cliff, was usually out at this hour anyway, but he couldn't risk it.

He barely took his dick out over the toilet, with his pants around his ankles, stroked himself twice, and groaned loudly, cumming. He had to hold onto the shower right by his side to keep standing. He came, and came, and came, panting, his pirate hat lying somewhere in the hall. 

What the fuck?

He watched his dick calm down in slow motion and swallowed hard.

It was the dress. He's fucked Svetlana in that dress. Of course, it was the dress.

It was the memories.

He wasn't even a fan of drag, or anything. He didn't really care for it much one way or another. He was straight. It wasn't exactly a topic straight guys liked to be involved in. Shane didn't seem like the gay guy to be interested in that either, was Ilya ignorant? Was he pushing stereotypes onto his friend? Was he closed-minded?

He washed his shaking hands and tucked himself back into his boxers with a hazy mind. Damn. He liked girls so much, seeing Shane dressed up as one broke his brain!

He texted the group chat about meeting them at the party and took his sweet time calming down. He prayed to God that Shane wasn't going to walk out looking like that. Even if he lost the heels, which were clearly hard to walk in, Ilya will have to tear guys off of him all the way to the party.

Shane was not going as a girl. Well, not any girl, anyway. He kept the makeup on, sans lipstick, and the styled hair, and borrowed a Betty Boop shirt from Rose. It was huge on her, but barely fit him. He looked up to Ilya when he finally joined them.

"Hi." He breathed out, still wine drunk. "Are you okay?"

Ilya nodded, grabbing a beer. 

"Yes."

"You kind of…run away." Shane chuckled, shifting on his feet. "Did you hate it that much?"

Ilya raised his eyebrows.

"Hate what?"

"Me in drag."

Ilya was trying to forget about that already, which was hard with Shane's eyes still framed so perfectly with the eyeshadow.

"I felt bad." Ilya gestured vaguely. "Sorry."

Shane's face would haunt him forever.

"Bad, like…sick?" He asked slowly. "You felt…sick from it?"

"No! Not from…you in drag."

"It was just a joke."

"I know, I…"

"I'm not really into that stuff, I just…" Shane struggled to string words together. "Well, I always said I'm not that gay, which now I know is a pretty shitty way to think, I just, I never felt the need to be like this, but Sveta and Rose…"

"Is fine. You looked nice." Ilya forced a smile. "I think I just ate something bad today."

It wasn't the save he thought it to be. He might as well straight up tell Shane he had to throw up.

Shane looked away, playing with his drink.

"I'm gonna…I'm gonna go, uh…" He pointed to the kitchen. "Do you want anything? Water?"

"No, thank you."

"Okay."

He watched Shane walk away.

It was one of the bigger parties on campus. And Ilya was right. He might just have to form a wall around Shane to keep everyone out.

Now, he really felt sick.

He watched three different guys hit on him, touch his waist, compliment his look, offer him their drinks. Shane was drunk enough to talk more freely at last. He downed a vodka right after talking to Ilya.

The shirt was too short for him. It started a good two inches above his belt. 

Two strangers were actually pushing each other out of the way to get to dance with Shane. Ilya watched from the corner like a coward. Rose and Sveta disappeared somewhere, and he watched the winner make Shane laugh, and put his hands on Shane's hips, lean in to say something, pull him closer.

He lowered his hands onto Shane's ass, clothed in jeans. And now Shane was making out with him. With that stranger, who- what was his name anyway? Who was he? What was his major? Was he even going here? Was he serious enough about dating? Would he let Shane stay the night, make him tea in the morning, help him wash the makeup off? Would he know how to hold him if Shane cried? Would he listen to his rants about hockey? Would he watch him organise his notes for hours?

Ilya lifted the bottle of…something, something strong, and quick, and sour, that he was holding, and poured everything in. 

He drank, and drank, and stepped out for a cig, which was a mistake, because the world has become weird, and itchy, and shaky. He was cold. He was tired. He threw up on the balcony, by some couple that was halfway to fucking there.

"Fuck, go to a bathroom, you idiot!" 

The woman screamed at him, he couldn't hear her. The booze was killing him. He wiped his stupid mouth and stumbled back inside. Some people tried to push him, pull him up, someone grabbed his face.

"Ilya?"

He was close to blacking out. He fought it so hard that he could swear his heart stopped for a second. His knees felt weak. 

He saw Shane, and in a second, the guy.

The man who grabbed him all over, kissed him like Shane was his, and now said something about getting Ilya out of here before he makes a bigger mess. Shane said something back. Ilya's eyes could only focus on how shiny his lips were. The strange man who kissed Shane was still talking.

"...I'm just saying, let's leave him at his dorm and go to my place. He doesn't need a babysi-"

Ilya only registered what he was doing from how hard his hand was suddenly hurting.

He punched the man in the face. Watched him fall over, groaning, and jumped out of Shane's arms to punch the man again.

"What the fuck?"

"Ilya, stop!"

"Get him off me!"

Ilya couldn't tell where the ceiling or the floor was, but he could grab the guy's jacket to roughly pull him up, spitting words out before he could think about them. The world was getting dark.

"You fucking leave him alone." He growled. "You don't deserve him."

The man stared at him, holding his broken nose.

"What?"

"Leave Shane alone!"

He was pushed off by strong hands. Shane's hands. Shane's hands were on him, on his body, on his shoulders. He felt the floor hit him, not the other way around, and then nothing.

When he next opened his eyes, it was light outside.

His head was pounding. His mouth was the driest it's ever been. He couldn't breathe for a moment.

He was in a bed, just not his.

He coughed and looked around with his eyelids still a bit stuck together. There was a bowl next to the bed, and a towel, and a glass of water with some Advil. 

Shane was sleeping on the floor.

On the cold, dark floor, with a single pillow under his head, and a thin blanket, curled up, with his back turned to Ilya. 

He couldn't remember a damn thing. 

What the fuck has he done?

He pushed down the sick feeling rotting in his stomach, drank a little bit of water, and swallowed the Advil straight away. His clothes were all sticky. He sweat a lot during the night. He stank up Shane's bed. His hair stuck to his forehead.

He tried getting up quietly, but quickly lost his balance. He knocked over the lamp, tried to catch it, and tugged it out of the power socket by accident. 

"Shit."

Shane stirred awake, with a frown on his face, his eyes barely open.

"Ilya?"

"Sorry. Sorry, I am…I will go now." 

He tried to fix the lamp, but it fell out of his hands again, so he simply put it by the bed with the cable all tangled. He couldn't bear to look at Shane now. What a humiliation. 

"Wait." Shane got up from the floor, groaning at how his back cracked. "Sit down."

"I'm so sorry."

He must've had his reasons for punching that guy. He must've. He couldn't remember them now, though.

All he knew was he hated the man's guts, for reasons he could not name. And now Shane stared at him.

"Sit down. Please?" Shane rubbed his eyes. "It's still early."

Ilya glanced at the clock on Shane's bedside table. Six in the morning. He didn't even let Shane sleep in on a Saturday.

He sat down slowly, on the bed he spent the night in, alone.

Shane sat by his side.

"How is your head?" He asked. "Are you dizzy?"

Ilya nodded.

"A bit."

"You drank a lot."

"I know. I think I know."

Shane sighed. He looked exhausted.

"I don't think I told you how sorry I am yet." Shane mumbled, playing with his hands on his lap. "About your mom."

What?

Ilya looked at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"What about my mom?"

"Well, you…you said you found her. I'm sorry about that."

"When?"

"When we got here?" Shane gestured to his room. "You said you were twelve at the time. You don't remember?"

Ilya shook his head in silence.

What has he slurred out in his pathetic state?

His heart was beating out of his chest with the possibilities. If he started crying about his mother here, drunk out of his mind, he could've said anything. Anything at all. Things he didn't dare to even think about sober, he could've cried out in Shane's bed.

Shane seemed calm. Tired, but calm. So, maybe it wasn't that bad. Maybe he didn't admit how weird he felt lately. How seeing Shane in a dress made him so hard, he wanted to hump the man's leg like a dog.

"You punched Richard. Do you remember that?" Shane waited for the tiny nod of confirmation. "You started…kind of screaming in Russian. There was a fight, but uh, I managed to talk him down from pressing charges and shit. I just brought you here. You were unwell."

"You mean drunk."

"Very drunk. Yes." Shane smiled sadly, scrunching up his nose. It always wrinkled so cutely, his eyes became smaller when he did it, his eyebrows drew together, and Ilya wanted to kiss the space between them to smooth them out. "You were saying things about your dad and mom, and how…how she died. And how you wouldn't let that happen to me."

Ilya blinked.

"Why would that happen to you?"

"Cause of Richard. At least, that's what you said." Shane shrugged. "You said he wouldn't treat me right and make me miserable, like your father made your mom miserable."

Oh my fucking God.

Ilya could only stare at the floor now.

"I'm sorry."

"I don't like that you punched him."

"I know. I'm sorry, I was drunk."

"That's not really an excuse. I mean, I didn't want to leave with him either way, so I'm not that mad." Shane hummed and bumped their shoulders together. "And I appreciate you care. But you can't just punch guys you think are unfit for me. I can decide on my own."

The thing was, no one was fit for Shane. No one would be deserving of him. Ilya's mind could not imagine a man who could appreciate Shane enough. Love him enough. Shane was so much more than any of them, any of the bastards he let near him. Everyone was a loser. Even the good ones, even the kinder ones, the handsome ones, each of them looked pale and shallow in comparison to Shane Hollander.

Ilya simply nodded again.

Shane joined his hands between his knees.

"Was it the pregaming that made you so angry?" He asked with a weak voice. "Me in drag?"

"No."

"You can tell me. I know you're cool with a lot of things, it was a bit silly." Shane turned his head away, ashamed, as if it wasn't the hottest thing Ilya's ever seen, as if his brain wasn't hacked and turned off the second Shane left that bathroom. "I didn't think it could make you uncomfortable. You're always so open and understanding of…my stuff."

"Your stuff?"

"Being gay. I'm sorry, I feel like I'm making it my whole personality at this point." Shane chuckled shortly. "I can tone it down."

Ilya shook his head before Shane even finished speaking.

"No."

"I know it was a bit much."

"Not too much."

"It made you sick, you said it yourself." Shane ran his hands through his messy hair. "Which is fine. You've been the best friend I could ask for, and I know you accept me, we all have our limits. It was just a drunk joke."

It was Ilya's limit. Just not in the way Shane thought it to be.

He reached for Shane's hand slowly and breathed out only when Shane didn't withdraw his fingers once they interlocked.

"It was not too much." He repeated. "I just had a bad day. Nothing to do with you. I promise."

Shane stared at their joined hands with a slightly trembling lip. His shoulders went down a notch with each second passing.

"I don't want to lose you over something so stupid."

"You will never lose me. Can I hug you?" Ilya's voice cracked. "To say sorry for punching your date."

Shane laughed with teary eyes.

"He wasn't my date, but sure."

They hugged for a full minute. Ilya closed his eyes, with half of his face in Shane's neck, arms wrapped tightly around him.

"Forgive me."

"I forgive you." Shane stroked his back with his hand. "Just stop punching people for my sake. I can punch them on my own."

He could. Ilya knew he could, but Shane's knuckles would be as bruised as Ilya's were now, and his wrist would be sore, and his head spinning, and all of that, Ilya preferred to take on himself.

"I guess I'm just protective." He said as Shane moved back at last. "I was similar with Sveta."

"Yeah, but…" Shane giggled. "You were jealous, weren't you? When it was her with other guys."

"Sometimes."

"You don't have to be jealous now. Okay? Even if I somehow find a cool boyfriend, we'll still hang out. Just the two of us." Shane patted his shoulder. "I won't abandon you, or anything."

No. No, you will watch movies with me, and read your boring books with me, and tell me what you had for breakfast, while you fuck some stupid, blonde asshole that won't be worth your efforts. And I will watch you fall in love and get your heart broken, or worse. Fall in love and get married. Have kids. Leave.

He just hummed a quiet response.

"Yeah, I know."

They had breakfast at the cafeteria. He went back to his room after, to cry his eyes out in bed.

He couldn't get the image out of his brain.

Shane's thighs in that dress. His chest. His arms. His stupidly pretty hair and eyes framed by eyeliner. The jewelry, the heels, the theatrics of it all.

Maybe he should educate himself a bit better.

He spent the weekend reading various articles and watching YouTube videos on drag. It was quite interesting how intense it could get, how it tied back to queer culture, how many different terms there were. He put on RuPaul's Drag Race, for fuck's sake, just to understand it a bit more.

On Sunday evening, while Cliff was out drinking and Ilya could not be bothered to join him, he dived deeper. He put on headphones, made sure his windows were covered, and searched for drag queen on PornHub.

The first four videos did nothing for him. He didn't like the blonde wigs, he figured. It was always a bit too much hair to be believable. A lot of the videos were made by older queens as well. His mind went to logistics instead of pleasure or answers, how does a sixty-year-old guy squeeze into a corset like that? How does he walk in those heels? His feet were almost perpendicular to the floor.

He found another channel. A faceless one. Everything above the neck was cut out. Someone younger, his age, at last. The video started with a man in boxers sitting on a wooden stool with his knees far apart. He had black hair. Ilya could see it on the back of his neck if he turned his head to the right. 

The man sighed, touching himself through the black boxers, and putting one leg up on the table in front of him. He had purple heels on. The video was described as masturbating throughout getting into drag, so Ilya could see a dress prepared, and a black wig, and some panties.

This guy was as manly as it gets, physically. He had beautiful abs, firm shoulders, the bulge in his boxers left little to the imagination. If it weren't for the heels, he'd be the definition of masculinity. The heels, and his pretty narrow waist, that is.

Ilya breathed out through his nose.

He reached into his sweatpants, mimicking the man's touches. He was rough with himself. Palming, pushing, dragging the bulge up and down, showing it off. He slapped it once, hissed, and laughed with a deep, husky voice. Ilya let out a tiny whine.

Take them off.

He begged in his head, watching the screen transfixed. The man seemed to hear him as he stood up, pushed the boxers down, and stepped out of them. They caught onto the heel, he kicked them aside. 

He was big. Hard, too, leaking a bit. He lifted the dress, put it against his body for a moment, before wrapping the fabric around his cock, stroking.

Oh, fuck.

Ilya had to kick his sweatpants lower. The man held the dress in place now, fucking his open fist wrapped in it, the tip of his cock dragging alongside the flowy ruffles. His moans filled Ilya's head like a melody.

He watched him put the dress on, do a little twirl to show how his ass looked. It peeked out from underneath it. He knelt on the chair, his back facing the camera, and now Ilya could see all of his hair, short, black, definitely asian, with how it contrasted against his skin. He could also see the man's ass and cock hanging between his thighs, as he arched his back and moved forward, moaning, grinding the underside of his dick on the pillow on the chair.

The dress had straps on the back, straps Ilya could hold. He gritted his teeth and tightened his hand around his dick so hard, he could black out, fucking into it quickly, as if he was a teenager again, discovering this for the first time. 

He watched the screen with his mouth hung open now, he was drooling all over his chin. The man had put on the wig and was now trying on the panties, and Ilya could only whine.

His eyes drifted away from the laptop to his wall.

He had a few pictures on there. Svetlana, him, and Cliff, a few group outings. Shane.

He took it when they all went to a zoo. Shane was eating ice cream, laughing in the sun, with his hat on backwards and his tanktop barely fitting his chest. Ilya looked back at the screen for a few seconds and couldn't stop himself from turning away again.

He took the picture to embarrass Shane a bit. He was all dirty. Creamy ice cream was melting over his hand and lips, and he was telling Ilya to fuck off as he flashed the photo. His tongue was out. Red and white with the melted cream.

The man in the video was now fingering himself with the panties on, and Ilya finished staring at the stupid photo, pushing his head back into his pillow and wailing.

Maybe he had a fetish.

It wasn't unusual. The number of views on that porn video told him he wasn't alone in this. For some reason, he liked men in drag. That's okay. They dressed up as girls, after all, it was a variation of his taste, not a deflection from it. He was straight and liked women so much that any resemblance of femininity turned him on. That's how straight he was. Straightest.

So, it wasn't a problem. Until it was.

Until he was out shopping for some t-shirts with Shane, and kept glancing at the women's section of the stores, swallowing hard. 

Shane was in such a good mood. He had a new person in his class and he could not stop going on and on about how Paul's sister was a professional swimmer. Ilya wandered off slowly, looking at the summer dresses displayed on the mannequins, while Shane followed him.

One caught his eye. A black one, with pink roses embroidered onto it, short, with a low clavicle. Tight waist. Straps. Ruffles. A bit see-through.

He touched the fabric, shuddering at how soft it was against his fingers. Shane looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, you're looking for a gift for Svetlana?" Shane smiled. "Her birthday is coming up."

Right, it was. Ilya stared at the dress.

"Is pretty, yes?"

"It is. But I don't think she would like it much. It's not really her style, too…" Shane touched the ruffles. "Too extra, I think? Like a doll's dress. She wears tighter ones, this one is kind of puffy on the bottom."

Ilya nodded.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Would you wear this?"

Shane looked at him, dumbfounded for a moment.

"Why would I?" He muttered out, his voice turning harsher. "Are you serious?"

Ilya took one of the dresses lined up on the hangers.

"Is pretty."

"I'm not a girl, Ilya. Just because I dressed up as one, once, as a fucking joke, does not mean I'm a girl." He hissed, too angry to care that they were in public. "This isn't funny."

Ilya wasn't trying to be funny. He was trying to pick the right size.

"I will buy it for you."

"Fuck you, you asshole."

"Shane…"

"I can't believe you. Put it back." Shane tried to push the dress away. "All this just to get a laugh at me? Really?"

"I'm not trying to get a laugh!"

"Fuck you. I get it, it's so amusing to put a gay guy in a dress, but…"

"I want to see you in it." Ilya held the dress to his chest, speaking slowly, so Shane could understand he was earnest. "Please."

"No."

"I'm not trying to…blyat, humiliate you."

Shane laughed with no warmth behind it. He shook his head.

"Sure."

He sounded so heartbroken. As if he couldn't believe his eyes. As if he really expected better of Ilya than to make fun of him.

But Ilya only felt as if he would die if he couldn't see Shane in this stupid black dress that was too puffy for Svetlana to wear.

"Shane." Ilya said quietly, looking into his shiny eyes. "I'm not asshole."

"I'm starting to doubt that. Just because I'm gay…"

"I know you're not a girl."

"Why would you want me to embarrass myself, then?"

"Not embarrass. I researched." He moved the fabric between his fingernails, feeling the hair on the back of his neck rise. "I looked up drag. I want to…I'm curious. Is very interesting."

Shane blinked, still staring at him like he had to stay cautious, as if Ilya could trick him. Maybe someone has, in the past. Maybe Shane trusted too easily, and now thought he was let down again.

He stayed silent.

"I buy it, and you can try it on without showing me, yes?" Ilya asked. "I would like to see. But you will decide."

Shane swallowed hard.

"You'll take pictures of me."

"I won't. It will be just ours. I won't tell anyone." 

Shane looked him up and down.

"Even Svetlana?"

"Even Svetlana. I promise." Ilya put his hands together. "I won't make fun of you. Ever. Well, not for this, anyway."

Shane huffed, turning his face away. 

"You're dumb."

Yes, Ilya thought. So very fucking dumb about you. I can't help it.

He lifted the dress.

"Can I buy?" 

Shane bit on his lower lip before finally nodding. 

"Fine. But if you laugh, or it's ridiculous…"

"I won't laugh. Promise." He offered his pinky to Shane. "Best friend promise."

The title seemed to ease Shane's nerves a bit as he hooked his pinky around Ilya's and cleared his tight throat. 

"I'll wait outside. Get a bag for it."

"Of course."

He paid with his heart racing, asked for a paper bag to make sure no one could see what was inside, and left the store running. He didn't even buy a single t-shirt. Shane was pacing on the sidewalk.

"You got it?"

"Yes. Even got a discount."

"Shut up before I change my mind." Shane dragged him by his elbow towards the campus. "If this is some stupid prank…"

"Is not."

"I'll hate you forever. I mean it."

"Is not a prank." Ilya followed him with the bag in his hand. "I'm very curious."

"Yeah, sure. Suddenly so curious about drag. I'm not even…I've never been the type to try it out, okay?" Shane lowered his voice, with the tips of his ears red. "I don't want you to think I used to steal my mom's makeup or something."

"I don't think that." Ilya raised his finger. "I wouldn't care either way."

"I'm not that gay."

"You said it is a shitty way to think."

"Yes, it is, but I'm just…I'm not."

Ilya knew that. He knew that from the way Shane carried himself, from how he could mix right into the other jocks at uni, from how, as most men, he was very into sports, and sometimes beer, sometimes combined. From how he would playfully push and pull Ilya around, and punch his shoulder, and tell him to fuck off when he really meant you're funny.

They took a bus back to the campus. Quiet. Shane was biting on his fingernails the whole way there.

He snapped his fingers at Ilya when they reached the dorms, and Ilya wanted to climb the stairs to his floor.

"My room or no room." He stated. "I'm not risking your roommate seeing this."

Ilya nodded, jogging back to him.

"Okay."

Excitement rushed through him so much that he could shake. He fiddled with the bag's straps when Shane opened his room, letting him in.

"Sit down." Shane sighed, taking the bag from him. "And give me your phone."

"I won't record."

"Ilya."

He fished his phone out of his pocket and handed it to Shane. His hands were sweating. He wiped them on his jeans. 

Shane pointed a finger at him on his bathroom's doorstep.

"If you laugh…"

"I won't."

"If you do. I'm gonna…" Shane pressed his lips together. "Please, just don't laugh. Or run off again."

Ilya nodded and watched him close the bathroom door.

The last time, he was already intoxicated. The girls were there. He wasn't sure what to expect back then.

Now, he knew Shane would not have makeup on, nor would his hair be styled. It would just be Shane in a dress. In a slutty, puffy dress that was way too short. Black and pink. 

He waited with his heart in his throat, tapping his fingers against his thighs.

Fuck.

It felt like an eternity. When Shane finally sneaked just his head out through the crack between the door and the frame, Ilya sat up straighter, shifting on the bed.

"You want to show me?"

Shane was positively red in the face, but nodded.

"I really don't get why you want to see me in this, but fine."

He sighed, stepping out of the bathroom.

The first thing Ilya noticed was that he still had his white cotton socks on. 

Then followed his hairy, muscular legs, up to the edge of the dress that barely covered Shane's boxers. 

He could see the outline of them through the sheer fabric. Hanging low on Shane's hips, there they were, under the dress Ilya bought him. 

The waist was criminally tight.

The bottom of the dress was indeed puffy, so it created an illusion of Shane's hips being wider than they really were, while his waist looked minuscule. Small enough to wrap Ilya's hands around it and have his fingertips touch. The neckline was all stretched over Shane's chest, and the sleeves, short and cute, looked like spaghetti straps with how huge Shane's arms were. 

He walked up to Ilya slowly. The dress flowed alongside his hips, brushing against his thighs. He turned around, still blushing, showing Ilya the strapped back.

"It was pretty hard to tie it by myself." He admitted. "The bows are all crooked."

Ilya stared with his mouth open and his mind empty.

Shane was close enough for him to reach out and smooth the ruffles a bit. 

"Beautiful." He muttered out. His eyes jumped all over the dress, all over Shane's body, trying to take it all in as quickly as he could, memorise it. Shane tried to pull the edge of the dress down to cover more of his ass. 

"It's dumb."

Ilya looked up at his face, and he must've appeared quite delirious with how Shane frowned at him.

"Is pretty." Ilya whispered. Shane tried to cross his arms on his chest and couldn't.

"Your, uh. Your pupils are blown wide." He mumbled. Ilya blinked.

Everything seemed a bit darker to him. His head felt light.

He was getting hard. 

"I know."

"Do you have a fetish, or something?" Shane laughed nervously, and swallowed loudly when Ilya didn't answer. "I'm gonna change now."

"No!"

He didn't mean to say it so quickly, so desperately. Shane stood in front of him, at arm's length, and Ilya was sitting on the edge of the mattress now, ready to fall to his knees if he had to.

"Ilya." Shane's voice shook. "I'm not a woman."

"I know that. I know…" Ilya brushed his fingers over the ruffles again. "Please, let me…"

He tugged at the dress, making Shane take a step forward, and he could no longer control himself.

He put his forehead against Shane's stomach, feeling the dress against his skin. His hand moved to Shane's waist, holding him close as the man inhaled sharply, surprised.

"Ilya, we're friends."

"Yes."

"You can't just…" Shane's breathing changed as Ilya's mouth caught onto one of the ruffles above his thigh. "Fuck."

Ilya felt high.

He wasn't an animal. He's never been pushing like this, he could very well control his desires, but not now. He's never been so drunk on it all. 

Shane Hollander did such strange things to him.

He looked up to Shane's face, panting, pulling him closer until Shane's knee had to rest against the bedframe between Ilya's thighs, touching his crotch. Shane's eyes went wider for a second.

"You're straight." He whispered. Ilya shook his head.

"I don't know what I am anymore."

"Ilya…"

"You make me crazy. I want to kiss you. I want to touch you." He ran his hand up Shane's bare thighs, making him shudder. "I want to fuck you."

Shane closed his eyes, not moving away, with his hands resting on Ilya's shoulders as if he meant to push him, but couldn't find a reason to.

"I'm not a girl."

"I know." 

As if to prove that, Ilya pushed his head into Shane's abdomen and lower, where the dress barely covered his black boxers and what was underneath them.

Shane was hard, too.

Thank God.

Ilya mouthed along the bulge through the two fabrics, whining quietly when he rolled his hips against Shane's knee.

"Let me suck your cock. Please. Please." He begged, humping by now, looking up with teary eyes. "I'm so fucking hard."

Shane was breathing heavily, so beautifully pink all over, his fingers digging into Ilya's shoulders.

"This is a bad idea."

Ilya started crying with how painfully turned on he was.

Shane stood over him, the hottest view Ilya's ever had the pleasure of seeing, and let Ilya hump his knee with his hands locked on Shane's thighs.

"Tell me to go, then." He choked out. "I will."

"Ilya…"

"If you don't want to. I will go." He rutted against Shane's knee harder, moaning. "Tell me what to do."

Shane breathed out slowly, moving his hands to Ilya's cheeks to cradle them.

"Open your mouth."

Ilya's never followed an order so quickly.

Tears were running down his cheeks, and he felt like he could die without Shane's touch now, but he sat still for a moment, waiting. He'll crawl to his room if Shane turns him away. He'll wither and turn to dust, but he'll go.

His eyes almost closed on their own when Shane took one hand away to push his boxers down.

"Yes." Ilya swallowed, he was salivating too much. "Yes, yes, please…"

"Oh, you poor thing."

"Please." Ilya whined, licking his lips at the sight. Shane's boxers fell down to his ankles, and now he was pulling up the dress. "Shane."

"Open your mouth."

He did, and looked up at Shane for a second before he could finally see.

Shane was big. Cut, and red with how hard he was, and Ilya wanted to lick along the thick vein he saw following his cock to the base. The ruffles fell over Shane's pubic hair. They will tickle Ilya's nose if he manages to swallow him whole.

Shane tapped the tip of his dick over Ilya's mouth lightly, holding his chin.

"You want this?"

Ilya nodded frantically, moving his hands to Shane's bare ass now.

"Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease."

Shane chuckled, pulling his face closer and rubbing his cock on Ilya's wet cheek.

"You're like a puppy."

Ilya whined again, so drunk he couldn't think. Maybe he was a puppy. His tail would be wagging so fast right now. All for this, for Shane in a dress, pressing his big cock to Ilya's face.

"How do I…?" He asked weakly, looking up at Shane through his eyelashes. Shane guided his dick to Ilya's mouth again.

"Lick first."

He stuck out his tongue to run it over the slit. Shane sighed softly.

"Good."

He licked again, slower, humming at the taste. The dress swooshed when Shane moved closer to stand between his legs fully.

"Can you take it in?" Shane asked, rubbing his thumb against Ilya's jaw. Ilya nodded. "You sure?"

"Yes."

"Don't choke."

He moaned at the words. Shane's voice went straight to his cock. He knew he was big.

He opened his mouth and tried to relax his jaw, taking it in. 

It was filling and weird at first, and he was being sloppy at it, wanting too much too fast. He angled his head better, moaned around Shane as he felt his hand in his curls. Shane didn't pull him closer. Shame. Ilya could happily choke on his dick.

He did a moment later, trying to swallow, and now he was crying from the tension. Shane cooed at him, stroking his neck with his free fingers.

"Slowly."

He managed to go as far as to touch the ruffles with his nose and sucked as hard as he knew how. 

Shane shuddered, panting, but not moaning yet. His hips jerked forward, and his hand kept Ilya's head in place.

"Fuck, sorry…"

Ilya mumbled a no when Shane's cock slipped out of his mouth, leaving a string of saliva behind it.

"Is okay." He said with a truly ruined voice. "Please."

"You've never done this."

"Please." Ilya repeated, kissing along the vein. Shane moaned at last, lowly. "Fuck my face in this dress. Please."

Shane trembled all over, shifting on his feet.

"You've got a fetish."

"Yes. Yes, I don't care."

"Jesus, your eyes, Ilya."

He blinked, looking up to Shane, who watched him hypnotized.

"I'm so hard." He cried out. "Fuck my face. My mouth. Please, it is yours."

"You want to hump my leg while I do that?"

"Yes. Yes, yes, yes…"

"You're a fucking dog?"

"Yes." Ilya sobbed against Shane's warm, firm thigh. "Slap me."

Shane's breathing hitched again.

"What?"

"Slap me. Choke me." He guided Shane's hand to his throat. "Feel yourself here."

"Fucking hell."

"Want your cum down my throat."

"Ilya…"

"I want to cum on this dress." He whispered, gathering the fabric in his fists. "On the back. Over your ass. Please."

Shane tugged at his hair harshly.

"You imagined this?"

Ilya swallowed.

"Yes."

"You planned this?"

"No." He lowered his eyes onto Shane's cock again. "I can't…can't think around you. Can't plan. Can't…"

"Can't do nothing, huh?" Shane pressed his knee against Ilya's hard-on, making him squirm. "You want to fuck me?"

Ilya nodded so hard that he bumped his head into Shane's dick.

"Would you, would you let me?" He asked with a shaky voice. Shane raised his eyebrows. Fuck.

"I haven't been fucked for a while."

"Good. That's good, I will do well. I will be good for you." Ilya ran his hands over his ass, grabbing. "I promise. I won't, I won't come quickly, I will…"

Shane shushed him and still looked at him as if Ilya was a work of art in this state.

"God, look at you."

"I will do anything."

"Keep your mouth open, then."

He stuck his tongue out, opening his mouth wide, and swallowing Shane's dick greedily.

He moaned like a bitch in heat, sucking messily while Shane thrusted into his lips. His hair was in a tight lock in Shane's fist, and he was in heaven, he could tell he was in dearest heaven.

The taste was just so much different.

Salty, with a musky scent, a bit of something so undeniably Shane. He could recognise this now. This Shane taste.

He realised, with Shane's cock down his throat, that they hadn't kissed yet. 

He sucked harder, panting through his nose, pushing his hands into Shane's ass, his fingers lowering to touch his hole. Shane cursed, a high, breathy sound that went through Ilya's body like a lightning bolt. 

"So fucking good." He breathed, holding Ilya's face as he fucked it. "You're so eager."

Ilya's hips jerked, needy. Shane shifted to put one foot on the bedframe and let Ilya rut against it, against his white sock.

"Ah, fuck, like this." Shane stuttered out with his eyes closed and eyebrows drawn together. "With your tongue…"

Ilya repeated the move, licking the underside firmly, moving back to suck at the head. Shane's shoulders sloughed.

"Ilya."

He grabbed Ilya's throat to feel himself get back in and squeezed. Ilya grinded his bulge against his foot, blind with pleasure.

"Don't come yet." 

Ilya whined, not able to stop now. He grabbed at what he could, Shane's ass, his waist, his chest, thighs, like a man possessed.

His hips twitched shortly, and he swallowed hard around Shane's length, coming down his pants.

He groaned loudly, all his bones feeling like jello, when Shane pulled his cock out, and fucking slapped him with it.

Ilya looked up after he turned his face back towards him, panting, and still coming, ropes and ropes of sperm wetting his boxers and jeans. He started thinking if it was possible to wet Shane's sock with it.

"I'm s-sorry." He managed to say as he caught his breath. "Sorry…"

Shane pushed him onto the bed, stepping out of his boxers fully.

"How are you gonna fuck me now?"

"I will. I will, I promise." He pulled Shane by his hips until the man was straddling him. "It was too good."

He dug his fingers into the meat of Shane's thighs as he was settling in over Ilya's waist, above the dark spot on his jeans. He grinded against it, dragging his cock over Ilya's stomach, before he took it in hand.

"You really came from sucking me?"

"Fuck." Ilya mumbled, watching him, not understanding a word. Shane was jerking off on top of him. In a dress. After slapping him in the face with his dick. "Shanya."

Shane giggled at the word, not very used to it. Ilya only ever slurred it out when he was drunk.

"Not bad for your first time."

Ilya's eyes stayed focused on Shane's hand moving up and down his whole length.

"Not bad?"

"I think my first time was worse. With a dick in my mouth, I mean."

Shane's first time. With a dick in his mouth. Someone else's dick.

Ilya's arms shot up to his sides, and in a second, he switched them on the mattress, unbuttoning his jeans with a shaking hand and pushing Shane down.

"Shut up."

Shane smiled at him, spreading his legs.

"You don't want to hear about it?"

"Shut the fuck up." Ilya hissed, kicking his jeans somewhat down his knees, pressing his wet boxers against Shane's ass. "Or I'll make you."

Shane looked at him with dark eyes, wrapping his legs around Ilya's waist. Ilya was still wearing a shirt. He didn't have to take it off to do what he wanted to.

He took his dick out over the band of his underwear, stroking it quickly. He'll faint from going again this soon after, and he couldn't care less. Shane's perfect ass was right there for the taking.

"You sure you're okay to…" Shane glanced between their bodies, biting his lower lip. "Fuck, you're huge."

Ilya groaned, tightening his fist. It was all sticky already.

"You like that?"

"Yes."

"You like being fucked." Ilya choked out, leaning in to kiss Shane's neck. "And you're not a girl?"

Shane hit his shoulder and made a surprised ah sound at the kiss Ilya did on his collarbone.

"Fuck you." He managed to say. "You put me in this dress."

"And you're staying in it. I'm gonna cum all over it when I'm done with your ass."

Shane grabbed his hair to lift Ilya's head.

"Cum in me."

Ilya couldn't not kiss him.

He sucked on Shane's plump lower lip, shaking as their tongues met. Rushed and wet and hot, he licked into his mouth, pressing his hips against him, circling them with a high moan. Shane kissed like a God. Needily and deeply.

"You've never…?" Shane asked against his mouth when they ran out of breath. Ilya brushed their noses together.

"Never fucked a man, no."

"I meant, an ass."

"Uh." Ilya licked his lips. "I don't think so."

Shane blinked.

"You don't think so?"

"There was one time, I think, but I was drunk. The girl wanted it like that so she wouldn't be pregn-"

Shane kissed him firmly again before speaking.

"Shut up."

Ilya giggled against his lips.

"I know what to do."

"Oh, do you?"

"I watch porn."

"Well, straight porn is a bit unrealistic in the matter of anal." 

"Who said anything about straight porn?"

Shane looked at him like a shocked kitten.

"You watched gay porn, and you called yourself straight?"

Ilya sighed, hiding his face in Shane's neck again.

"Can we not talk about it now?"

"You're about to fuck me in the ass, I think I get to be a bit confused."

"I'm not straight." Ilya breathed into his skin, a heavy weight shifting from his heart to his stomach. "I think."

"Yeah, you think."

"Shane."

"Sorry."

He stroked Shane's thigh with his hand, thinking. English was hard right now.

"I don't know what I am. I know I want you." He looked up at Shane's brown eyes. Captivating. "So bad."

Shane nodded, brushing his fingers alongside Ilya's cheekbone.

"Are you…experimenting?"

"No."

"It's fine if you are. I just would like to know first." He looked down, as if embarrassed. "You know I'm not really a casual guy, so…okay, it doesn't matter."

Ilya shook his head.

"It matters to you."

"I want you to fuck me, it's fine, we can just…"

"I want you all the time." Ilya put his hand over Shane's chest to lift himself from him. "All the time. I don't know what's happening to me."

Shane smiled at him softly.

"I get that."

"Do you…do you want me like that?" Ilya asked shakily.

Shane bit his lip.

Fuck.

There he was, worrying about ruining the mood when Ilya did it for him.

"You're my best friend."

So, no.

Ilya glanced between their bodies, feeling his mouth run dry.

"Okay."

"I didn't mean…"

"Is fine. I get it. I am hard to be arou- no, fuck, sorry." He chuckled nervously. "No, don't listen to me. I'm dumb."

He won't let Shane pity him. Take him out of mercy. He won't.

Shane didn't deserve anyone so self-deprecating after all. Ilya knew it best. He'd never be enough, and that was fine.

Shane cradled his face in his hands.

"I will tell you all about how I feel when I'm not leaking precum over the dress you bought me, okay?" He asked, pressing a soft kiss against Ilya's chin. "I want you, too."

Ilya's throat closed up.

"I can take that."

"Ilya. Not just like this. I want you. You're not dumb."

"You want to get fucked."

"By you, yes. But not only that."

The tiniest seed of hope bloomed inside Ilya's chest as he nodded.

"After?" He asked shyly. Shane kissed him again.

"After."

"Good. Because I do not think I can hold off longer."

Shane's laughter was the nicest sound on Earth.

He reached for his bedside table, struggling to find something for a moment.

"You'll need to stretch me a lot. You have good hands."

Ilya looked at his fingers, sprawled across Shane's pec now, over the dress.

"You think so?"

"I know so." Shane handed him the lube. "Try not to ruin the dress."

That will be difficult.

Ilya poured more lube than necessary onto his hand and slowly circled Shane's hole with his index finger, watching him arch his back and exhale slowly. What an addicting sight. 

"You will tell me if it hurts?"

Shane hummed.

"I like it when it hurts a bit, but yes."

Dear God.

He pushed the first finger in, watching Shane's face with parted lips. This man was made to be filled. He's never seen anyone enjoy it so much.

He crooked his finger and turned pale at Shane's tiny hiss.

"Sorry."

"It's alright. Just, slower."

"Okay."

He pulled the finger out to try again with his middle finger now. He was more used to fingering a person with that one and his ring finger. He could rotate his wrist better, press his thumb under Shane's balls.

Shane squirmed under him, tightening his legs.

"Oh, fuck."

"Hurts?"

"No, good." Shane panted. "Deeper?"

Ilya laughed at the pleading tone.

"You're a slut."

"Yeah."

He had to close his eyes at the firm confirmation.

He fingered Shane slowly, until he could add a third finger in and saw him relaxing. Lube was spilling out onto the dress and the sheets. Ilya's clothes were still mostly on.

Shane patted the back of his neck.

"You can go in."

"Already?"

"Yeah, I'm flexible." He pressed his knees into Ilya's sides. "Pull my legs up."

Ilya straightened up, kneeling properly and doing as he was told.

He looked at Shane's hole after he pulled his fingers out. Looked at his dick. To Shane's hole. To his dick.

"I'm not gonna fit in you."

Shane smiled widely.

"You will. Just the tip first?"

"I'm not cut like you are."

"I like it that way."

Ilya exhaled slowly, licking his lips before he helped himself with his hand. Shane chuckled again.

"What, you can't aim?"

"Shut up." He breathed, touching his hole with the tip. Shane was burning hot. "I'm trying to…"

Shane bent his legs a bit to pull him forward. Ilya's hips swung with the motion as he buried the head inside Shane's body.

He groaned, his eyes escaping to the back of his head. Tight from all angles, hot and wet with lube, Shane felt like heaven around him.

"Bozhe." He slurred out, chasing the feeling and pushing deeper. "This feels…"

He couldn't find the words. He watched his cock squeeze into Shane with his pupils blown wide. Shane purred under him, working his hips to suck him in.

"Good?" He asked and smiled at Ilya's nods. "Tight enough for you?"

"Jesus, Hollander."

"It's gonna be even better once you move."

"Patience!"

Shane chuckled, and the vibrations almost made Ilya black out.

He thrusted in and felt Shane's fingernails dig into his shoulders through the shirt he still had on.

"Fuck." Shane whined out, prolonging the vowels. "You're the biggest I ever had."

Ilya bit the inside of his cheek not to curse at every other man who's ever had Shane like this.

"Does it hurt?"

"Not in a bad way." Shane moved Ilya's hand onto his lower stomach. "You can feel it here."

Ilya's stupid mouth opened on its own.

He rolled his hips, barely halfway in, but he could feel the tension, the movement, on his fingertips. He glanced up.

"All the way now?"

Shane nodded.

"Yes."

Ilya pushed slowly, moaning out of breath as he buried himself to the base. 

Shane's hole wanted to fucking kill him. 

He's never felt anything even remotely close to this. For a second, he was afraid he'd lose interest in his own hand once he was done with Shane's ass. It was a blinding sensation to be wrapped so tightly.

Shane let out a high moan.

"Ilya. There."

"What?"

"My prostate."

Oh, right. Men had prostates. Ilya rolled his hips just a bit to hit it again and smiled as Shane shuddered all over, precum leaking out of his throbbing cock.

He was so good at taking dick, it made Ilya feel insane.

He thrusted in and out quicker, pounding into Shane, and he couldn't slow himself down, not when Shane was looking so fucked out in the black and pink dress under him, taking his cock with breathy whimpers. He leaned forward to pin Shane's hands above his head, biting his lips, feeling him tighten up with arousal.

"You're a…" Slam. "Fucking…" Slam. "Cockwhore, aren't you?"

Shane nodded mindlessly, arching his back for him.

"Yes. Treat me like one."

Ilya almost cried again with how hard he was slipping in and out of Shane, shaking the bed, moving one of his hands to slap him across his cheek.

Shane moaned louder, with his head turning to the side. 

"Fuck!"

Ilya put his hand over his cheek, keeping him pinned down, and, like an animal let loose, lowered his head to suck on Shane's earlobe.

"Oh, fuck." Shane whimpered. "That's so…"

He interrupted himself with another moan as Ilya sunk his tongue into his ear, eating it out, biting on the delicate flesh and sucking, while his hand still covered Shane's cheek, keeping his ear exposed to him.

He blew air onto the wet skin, whispering into it.

"Call me puppy again."

Shane was shaking by now, his legs falling down with every second.

"Puppy." He obeyed. "You fuck like a good puppy."

"Like your dog?"

"Like my dog."

Like Shane's bitch, chained to his leg, begging for attention.

He pulled out to flip Shane onto his stomach and watched him kneel with his ass up and head down, ready for the taking. Shane grabbed onto the pillows.

"Come on, come on…"

"Bozhe. Is like you were made for fucking." Ilya pulled Shane by the waist, his fingers grabbing onto the straps of the dress. "Weren't you?"

"Yes."

"Is all you're good for?"

Shane nodded, flushed red all over.

"Yes!" He choked on the word as Ilya thrusted into him again. Ilya leaned down, fucking into him, still, and bit on his neck. "Aw, you bite?"

Ilya kissed over the spot.

"Sorry."

"Bite harder."

"What?"

"Bite me harder. I want to feel you." He pushed his hips back to swallow Ilya's cock inside himself. "I'm not delicate."

That, Ilya could tell. 

He sucked on Shane's neck, hard enough to leave a hickey the size of an orange, slamming his hips into him. The bed was hitting the wall, repeatedly, loudly, there was no way no one on the whole floor heard them.

He knelt behind Shane, fucking his hole raw until Shane came untouched, a squirming, boneless mass for Ilya to cum inside.

He held Shane's hips up by his hands alone as he spilled his load into him, watching it leak out around the rim and drip down to Shane's dress. Shane was panting on the bed, looking at him over his shoulder. Ilya pulled out, holding his breath and blinking so he wouldn't faint.

He collapsed onto the bed by Shane's side, tangled in his clothes. They ripped the dress. A few pieces of the fabric were barely holding on.

Shane moved to his side, hissing.

"It's spilling out." He said, reaching behind to gather some of the cum. Ilya wanted to hand him the tissues he had on the bedside table, but Shane just licked his fingers clean. "It will be a nightmare to clean."

Ilya stared at him as he ate his cum.

"You want to murder me."

"No."

He glanced between Shane's lips and eyes.

"Can I taste?"

Shane smiled, nodding. He smeared the cum over his lips, kissing Ilya senseless.

He tasted differently to Shane. The feeling of his own cum moving from Shane's tongue to his was almost enough to make him hard again, but he was spent fully.

Shane cleaned the corners of his lips with his thumbs after he moved away.

"Now the bed's all dirty."

Ilya groaned.

"Who cares?"

"I do."

"I'll help you with the laundry."

"You better."

He watched Shane lie on his side, maybe a foot away. Shane liked to cuddle after sex. Would that apply to sex with Ilya, too?

He stretched, putting his arm around him.

"Come here." He asked quietly and breathed out with relief as Shane pressed himself against his chest.

They were both dirty, yet unable to move. Ilya kissed Shane's hair. Everything he could do, he did. He wasn't sure if it was the last occasion to do so.

"Was it good for you?"

Shane hummed in agreement.

"So good."

"But you…" Ilya's voice cracked. Stupid. He was rushing it again, rushing to the finish line, to the inevitability of Shane wanting him to leave. "You don't like me like that. Right?"

Shane moved to look at him. His cheeks were still rosy from his orgasm.

"I do."

"You said I was your best friend."

"You are." Shane kissed his chin. "You said you were straight."

Ilya cringed at that.

"I don't think I am."

"You like girls?"

"Yes." He said without hesitation. "But I also like this."

He stroked Shane's side. Shane leaned into him more.

"You don't have to label yourself, but I'm pretty sure that's bisexuality."

"Oh." Ilya blinked. "Yes. Maybe that."

"Maybe?"

"Definitely. Fuck." He ran his hand down his face. "I was very dumb."

Shane giggled, reaching to play with Ilya's necklace.

"You said you were straight, so I didn't let myself have any hope. But you're…you're the best guy I've ever met, you know."

Oh, no.

Was this some sort of a pity apology?

You're a great guy. Just not for me. We're better off as friends.

"Okay." Ilya stuttered out, not trusting his voice much more than a single word.

"And I've been actually beating myself up for liking you that much. Since we talked about how my friends would never want to be close, because they were afraid of me catching feelings, but you're different, and then you were close, and I caught feelings, and…"

"What?"

"I wouldn't do anything about them. If you didn't, uh…beg to suck my cock earlier."

"You have feelings for me?"

Shane looked up at him, turning a bit paler.

"Is it…fuck, it's too soon to say things like that? I mean, it's…obviously, it's too soon." He straightened up, trying to sit. "I'm sorry. I just thought…I thought that maybe we would…"

"You like me?" Ilya sat up with him. "Like in a gay way?"

"We just had sex, Ilya."

"I know, but…romantic gay way?" He tried, smiling at Shane's choked-up laughter. "Because I like you. In a romantic gay way. No, romantic bisexual way. I will be a good boyfriend if you will have me."

Shane hid his face in his hands.

"An hour ago, you were straight and my best friend."

"Things change."

"I'm not…I can't be your phase."

"Is not a phase. I promise. It's been months." He reached out to put his hand on Shane's knee. "When you dressed up for the first time, I had to run out because I got hard from it."

Shane blushed again.

"You're joking."

"I am not. And then I punched that idiot…"

"Richard."

"I punched Richard because he was kissing you. It was dumb, I know, but I couldn't look at it." He swallowed hard. "You're so beautiful, and smart, and so kind to me. And I can just be with you without doing anything, and I won't be bored, and I love watching you take your notes like it's military documentation, and for some reason I go crazy when you're in a dress, but I have been similarly crazy when you're in sweatpants, or your blue shirt, or when you fuck my mouth with your big cock. If it's a phase, I want it forever."

Shane looked at him, silent for a moment.

"I once said your name while fucking someone else."

Ilya felt all the blood drain from his face downwards.

"What?"

"Harry. That's why he ended things with me. I called him Ilya, and he left, and I cried on your shoulder about him leaving."

Ilya did the math in his head.

"Harry was ages ago."

Shane huffed.

"I know."

"You wanted to…"

"I literally thought you were hitting on me the first time we met and wasn't against that."

"So I am your type?"

"Have I not made that fucking clear?" Shane laughed. "You are. But, you said you were straight."

"Fuck that." Ilya grabbed him and pulled him onto his lap, ignoring Shane's surprised scream. "I'm gonna fuck you so much we will both forget I ever said that."

Shane smiled, cupping his face in his hands.

"And then we shower?"

"Yes."

"And tell the girls that we're…?"

"Dating. Yes." Ilya mouthed along Shane's neck. "After I fuck you a thousand times."

"I don't think we'd survive that."

"I don't care."

"You really are a dog in heat."

Ilya was determined to prove that to his boyfriend.