Archive of Our Own

The blood drive had been set up on campus for a couple of days and Ilya went in on a whim. The weather was terrible, wind whipping rain into his face, and the portable center for the blood drive looked tempting. Also, it was a good thing to donate blood. He should’ve been doing that already, maybe.

Two of the large seats were already occupied and Ilya stopped right inside, shook the rain from his hair and looked around.

“Hello,” someone said from behind a small, rickety desk. “Could you maybe not splash water all over our forms?”

The guy was dressed—fittingly—in red scrubs and they were shockingly flattering on him too. He had black hair, a slightly dorky haircut, and very big brown eyes. Freckles were scattered across his nose and cheeks, his lips full and a little pouty. He was, well, pretty. There was no other word for it and pretty wasn’t a word that usually came to mind when Ilya was faced with a guy.

“It's raining.” Ilya gestured vaguely towards the door he just came through.

“Yes, okay, but please don’t shake it everywhere.”

Ilya raised his eyebrows at him. “Do you want my blood or not?”

“I mean, preferably I'd take it,” the guy said and held out a piece of paper and a pen. “Fill out this information for us.”

“I think maybe I should keep my precious blood for someone who’s a bit more grateful,” Ilya joked and looked down at the form.

“Right, sorry.” The guy grimaced. “Your donation would help save lives. It makes a real difference, especially if you have a rare blood type.”

“These are very personal questions.”

“I mean, you’re giving your blood to someone who’s sick. We kinda have to know if you’ve just snorted cocaine.”

“You can at least tell me your name if you want to know if I have had anal sex recently.”

“Well, my name is Shane. If that helps.”

Ilya looked up and grinned at him. “A little.” The next question made his smile falter. “Ah, I do take some medication.”

“Tons of medications are totally fine, so just write down what you’re on and I’ll check it against the list.”

He studied Shane for a moment, hesitating with the pen hovering above the paper.

“We have confidentiality rules,” Shane said after a moment of silence. “I can’t tell anyone any of your information.”

Deciding he’d already made it this far, Ilya wrote down the brand of his anti-depressives and checked the rest of the boxes before handing it over.

“Great. That’s an approved medication, so you’re all good. Come over here with me and I’ll take some additional tests to check your general health.”

“I am a perfect example of health,” Ilya said as he dropped down into the seat Shane showed him to. “Perfect scores for everything.”

Shane snorted as he grabbed the blood pressure monitor. “You smell like cigarettes.”

“So? I am not donating my lungs.”

“No, and thank god for that.”

Shane's bottom lip was pulled between his teeth and the sleeve of the scrubs went tight around his biceps as he wrapped the cuff around Ilya’s arm. Ilya tried not to wince at the way it compressed and made him all prickly. It was always unsettling.

“Why are you here, doing this? This is your job?”

Shane didn’t answer at first, his eyes trained on the display of the machine.

“I’m a nursing student, so I volunteer.”

“You go here,” Ilya said. “I’ve never seen you anywhere.”

“I’ve never seen you either.”

“Well, I am around.”

A brief smile flitted across Shane’s face. “So am I.”

Ilya swore he would’ve remembered Shane if they’d met. There was just something about him. He was very memorable with those big, brown eyes. Maybe he frequented places Ilya just would never go near. Maybe he was in the diving club. Those people were complete freaks, diving headfirst into water from 10 metres up.

“Are you into diving?” he asked and Shane’s eyebrows shot up.

“No?”

“Ah, no you would probably not be the type. Too much risk.”

“We met like 5 minutes ago, there’s no way you know what I’m the type to do.”

“I don’t know.” Ilya grinned and let Shane prick his finger for blood. “You seem like a library kind of guy.”

“We’re in uni, isn’t everyone in the library?”

“Oh, Shane.” Ilya shook his head. “Not really, no.”

Shane shrugged. “Then they should be.”

Ilya watched Shane’s look of concentration, the way his whole focus was on his task. There was something very captivating about it.

“Not everyone is that interested in what they’re doing here,” Ilya said. He had a feeling Shane was very much not one of those people.

Ilya had been one of them, studying economics and leadership because that’s what his dad had wanted, burning himself out on books that bored him to tears and lectures he didn’t give a fuck about. He had shown up to parties several times a week, doing coke and fucking girls just to feel anything at all, unable to imagine what his future was supposed to look like—just a dark, cavernous spot where most people might picture a job and a house and a wife.

“You’re all good to go,” Shane said with a gesture towards another set of larger, more comfortable chairs. “Maya is ready for you over there.”

“You are not taking my blood?” Ilya frowned, feeling inexplicably robbed.

Shane gave him a smile at that. “I’m not really allowed to do that yet.”

So Ilya let a chatty nurse sap a frightening amount of blood from his body and when he was finally allowed to leave, Shane was busy with someone else, his dark head bent as he worked.

The rain whipped Ilya in the face the moment he stepped out.

It was eerie how he had never seen Shane before the blood drive, but now he was everywhere. When Ilya descended the stairs two at a time, late for class, Shane stood down the end of the hallway with a blond guy, deep in conversation. Ilya rushed past them, knocking his shoulder into Shane and winking at him when Shane’s head whipped around, face scrunched hilariously in annoyance. He looked like an angry kitten and it made Ilya weirdly happy—even more so when recognition flashed in Shane's eyes and his lips quirked in a smile he clearly tried to hold back.

When Ilya went for coffee with Sveta, Shane was in line a couple of spots ahead talking on the phone. This time Ilya recognized him by the back of his head and the wide expanse of his shoulders before he heard his voice in quiet conversation. With a wide-eyed Sveta staring at him, he jumped forward when Shane’s coffee was placed on the counter and grabbed it before Shane even had the time to react. Shane stared at him, mouth opening and closing, whoever was on the phone still talking. Ilya grinned, walking backwards still holding the cup.

“You’re actually an insane person,” he said, and then flinched. “No, no, Mom, not you, I—” He held his forehead in his hand.

Ilya moved closer again, cocking his hip against the counter. “You look like you could use this.” He winked.

“Unbelievable.” Shane took the cup and turned around, nearly running out of the coffee shop.

“What, no thank you?” Ilya called after him, ignoring Sveta’s eyes boring into him.

On a balmy Thursday, Ilya found a spot on the grass outside between classes, tipping his head back to feel the sun on his face. A familiar laugh found him and he looked back up to see Shane and a beautiful redhead further down the lawn. The redhead was brushing her hair out of her face, even as the slight breeze kept pushing it back. They looked comfortable, Shane’s whole demeanour relaxed as he leaned back on his palms on the grass. Was that his girlfriend? He couldn’t remember if they’d talked about that. They looked good together, though. Ilya ripped a few pages out of his notebook and scrunched them into a ball, taking aim as he waited for a lull in the wind.

The ball sailed right across Shane’s lap and landed between them. The girl was the first to look up and stare at him in confusion before Shane’s head whipped towards him, his eyes rolling when he saw who it was. Ilya grinned and gave a little wave.

“Are you stalking me?” Shane called.

“That is very conceited of you!”

“You’re everywhere!”

“Well, I do go here. You know, classes. Education. Important things, Shane!”

“Aren’t you gonna introduce us?” The girl next to him said, her face lit up as she started jabbing Shane in the ribs.

“I wasn’t planning to.” Shane tried to wriggle away. “Ow! Okay, okay. Ilya, this is my friend Rose. Rose, this is Ilya, who came to the blood drive and now he makes it his mission to bother me.”

“You wound me,” Ilya said, giving an exaggerated pout. His phone pinged and he looked down at it, leaving Shane and Rose to bicker.

The bass pounded through his body, bones rattling. His tank top was damp with sweat and his head perfectly floaty as he danced, bodies hot against him. He’d left Sveta in the lap of some guy on the couch, her eyes glazed with want, waving him off when he tried to get her to dance. He didn’t need her to have fun, though, lips stinging from the girl who’d bitten down on his bottom lip as a parting gift. Dancing always took him out of his head too, always left him feeling loose and effortless and buzzy.

He was pulled out of his haze by Harris, the only friend he'd made in his marketing class last year. They’d bonded over pictures of Harris’ impossibly cute dogs and the neatly written notes Harris would lend him as Ilya zoned out more and more as time passed. Harris hadn’t even judged him for it, just sat him down and told him to do something that made him happy instead.

“Ilya!” Harris gave him one of his encompassing hugs, ones that Ilya had always felt pleasantly swallowed in. “I haven’t seen you since the semester started! How have you been?”

“Very, very good.” Ilya squeezed his shoulder as they parted. “Thank you for convincing me I needed a change.”

“Oh, you were making me sad as hell, the way you just hated it so much. I’m so fucking happy for you.”

“You look good,” Ilya said, pleased. “You have been doing well, yes?”

“Yeah, my classes this year are so much more interesting than last year and—oh!” Harris reached behind him and grabbed the hand of a tall brown-haired man with a strong jaw and a slightly haunted look. “This is my boyfriend, Troy. Troy, this is Ilya, he was in my marketing class.”

Ilya reached out and took Troy’s hand, smirking at the slight scowl that Troy clearly tried to suppress.

“Nice to meet you,” Ilya said. “You better be good to this man. Best man on the entire campus.”

“Stop.” Harris laughed. “He’s just joking, baby.”

“It is a joke that you are one of the best? I do not think so, Harris.”

“I know he is,” Troy said, voice firm as his arm slipped around Harris’ waist.

Ilya met Harris’ gaze and winked as he left them by the dancefloor, Harris laughing as he turned into Troy’s arms and let Troy kiss him with so much possessive force that they nearly tumbled over. Grinning to himself, Ilya headed for the kitchen, pushed through a group of girls in the doorway and found the drinks out on the kitchen table. He went for a beer, still feeling the haziness from the vodka shots from earlier.

“He came out like this week,” one girl said behind him as Ilya popped the can open.

“Who, Shane Hollander? As, like, gay?”

“Yeah, Bri told me at lunch yesterday, and she heard it from that med student guy she’s been hooking up with.”

Ilya leaned back against the kitchen counter, taking slow sips.

“Oh, what the fuck. I guess that explains why he and Rose broke it off so fast.”

“Right? I always wondered how they stayed friends. I could fucking never, but I guess if we broke up just because he liked sucking dick, it’d be different, you know.”

“Still weird, not gonna lie.”

The girl with long black hair styled into ringlets made his eyebrows raise, his arm crossed over his chest. She kept going, her long nails tapping her bottle of Smirnoff Ice.

“Didn’t I tell you Evy hooked up with him last year and it was so bad she swore off men for months? She said he ate her pussy like he was scared of it.”

“Oh my god,” one of the others shrieked. “And he was!”

“Maybe she turned him gay,” Smirnoff Ice said.

“Fucking imagine, oh em eff gee.”

Ilya rolled his eyes and decided he’d stayed far too long in this kitchen listening to a conversation that was actively making him stupider. As he slipped past, Smirnoff Ice looked at him, her eyes widening as she gave him a flirty smile. She was about to speak when he just turned away, leaving them behind. It became immediately clear why they’d been talking about Shane. He was sitting in the corner of the couch at the far edge of the room talking to Rose and another guy. For a moment, Ilya watched him gesticulate with his legs tucked up underneath him, leaning sideways against the back of the couch.

Taking out his phone, Ilya quickly texted Sveta that Rose was here and when he looked up again Shane was looking right at him. Shane gave a little wave, lips tipped into a smile. Ilya waved back.

The tree outside the coffee shop was shedding leaves, a carpet of yellow and reddish brown below it. One of them was stuck to the window and Ilya's gaze snagged on it whenever he pulled himself out of the essay he was writing. His books were spread out across the table and his essay was close to done. He was actually ahead on his work, which was a feeling that was so unusual that he kept checking assignments and class readings over and over just to be sure. The more this semester kept going, the more he realized just how checked out he’d been last year.

Ilya reached his arms above his head, one hand grasping the other wrist as he stretched, muscles in his back finding some relief. He rolled his head from side to side, wincing as his neck popped, and turned his head, only to find Shane looking at him, a backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Oh,” Shane said, cheeks turning flushed. “Hi. I’m just—”

The words trailed off into silence and Ilya rubbed at the back of his neck as Shane shuffled awkwardly.

“Well, nice to—”

“You can—”

They spoke at the same time and Ilya snorted, hiding his smile against the back of his hand. He used his foot to push out the chair on the other side of the table and pulled his books closer.

“You are here to study?” Ilya asked. “This is the best spot, you know.”

“I know, that’s why I’m back here.” Shane eyed the open seat and stood frozen in place for a moment before he dropped his backpack down on the floor and sat down across from Ilya. “This is my table.”

“Ah." Ilya made a show of studying the table, turning his head in different directions. "I did not see your name on it.”

“It’s quieter back here.”

“Yes, it is.”

“I like the tree.”

“Yes, me too. It's a good tree.”

Shane finally broke into an answering smile at that, relaxing fully into his chair and bending down to grab two thick textbooks and his laptop from his backpack. He bit his lip as he carefully sorted all of his things and tipped up the laptop screen. There was something soft but still so defined and masculine about his face—the contrast between the cut of his jaw, the softness of his plump lips and his very expressive eyes. Ilya had never seen anyone like Shane.

“You know, I think maybe you owe me a coffee for stealing my spot,” Shane said, voice playful, and Ilya startled out of his thoughts.

“Do people know you are very sneaky? Maybe I should tell them: Shane, he is an asshole.”

Shane laughed and it lit up his eyes. Ilya rubbed at his chest, suddenly finding it hard to swallow.

“Is this you trying to get out of buying my coffee? I take it plain, black.”

“You are unwell,” Ilya said, but got up and headed over to the counter to get in line.

He looked back and saw Shane’s broad back as he leaned over his laptop, one elbow resting on the table. It struck him that at this point he could recognize Shane just by the back of his head, would probably notice it anywhere, in any room. A weird familiarity for someone he just met at a blood drive. The barista cleared his throat and Ilya jumped, suddenly feeling like he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. While he waited for their coffees, he stared out the window instead.

“Here is your cup of sludge,” Ilya said, placing it in front of Shane. He took a sip of his own latte as he gave Shane’s a suspicious glance.

“Has anyone told you that you’re really dramatic?”

“No, absolutely never,” Ilya lied and pulled one of his open books closer.

The movement caught Shane’s eye and he locked in on it, his eyebrows pulling together.

“What do you study?” Shane said. “I never asked, I think.”

“Elementary education.”

Saying it out loud made his heart pound a little. God, it had felt like the biggest step, almost impossible. To make the final choice, turning his back on expectations and following something that could very well crash and burn but that was his. Making a choice for himself was a rush. Addictive, even. A lot of the time, he had just felt dragged along, forced by circumstances to go this way or that, or to pick between options that were both miserable. Sometimes it felt like the ultimate choices had been either keep going, somehow, no matter how or give it all up.

“Oh,” Shane said, his mouth falling open slightly. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have guessed that.”

“You would not be the only one.”

“Sorry.” Shane gave a sheepish smile. “It’s not—I mean, you’re probably good at it.”

Ilya snorted. “Relax, you are having a panic attack. I know what you meant and you are not the only one. I am not really the person you would picture for that, I think.”

“A teacher can look like anything. A nurse too.”

“Yes,” Ilya agreed, giving a small smile. “A nurse too.”

“Why elementary education?”

Weighing his words, Ilya sat in silence for a moment as he leaned back, legs crossing at the ankles. He didn’t really know how vulnerable he wanted to be with Shane. It was an ugly story, in some ways, and he didn’t know what Shane would think of him. Keeping it vague was safer, maybe.

“I like children,” he said. “They are real. Funny, too, and trusting. I have always thought that children need people to trust, people that will protect that and not use it for bad things.”

Shane’s eyes were so unbelievably expressive, so alert when he listened to someone speak. Ilya wondered if Shane really knew quite how much his eyes were speaking for him.

“My father wanted me to study something important. It was the only way he would let me leave Russia, really, so I came here to study economics and leadership. But I hated it.”

“Wow, so what did he say when you changed majors?”

“I haven’t spoken to him since, so I don’t know.” Ilya waved his hand dismissively. He also did not mention that he dodged every call from Andrei. “And you? Why nurse?”

Shane sipped his coffee. “I always thought it was interesting, you know, the human body, medicine. I considered being a doctor, but nursing is actually a lot more versatile. There’s so much you can choose to do with it.”

“Have you decided what to do?”

“Not really.” Shane shrugged, but looked a little stiff. “I thought about looking into sports medicine, see if there’s something in that direction for me. I have time to find out, though.”

It didn’t quite seem like Shane believed that, but Ilya let it pass and thought back to the party the weekend before last.

“I overheard some girls talk about you at the party,” he said. “Have things been okay with you?”

Shane's face scrunched up in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Ilya stopped, unsure of how much he’d fucked this up. “Ah, I mean. They were talking about you coming out, that week.”

“Oh,” Shane said, the sound drawn out and ending on a little laugh. “That’s a bit exaggerated, maybe, I think the rumours have just finally started reaching people. I haven’t kept it secret for a while.”

Ilya’s shoulders dropped and leaned forwards, resting against the table. “Ah, good.”

“Were they talking shit about me?”

“Eh, it was just really stupid bullshit.”

Shane grinned, tapping his leg under the table. “Come on, tell me. I need to know what the damage is.”

“Just something about you and Rose breaking up.”

“The classic,” Shane nodded.

“And, ah.” Ilya paused, rubbing at the back of his neck. “Something about you eating someone’s pussy like you were afraid of it.”

For a moment Shane looked stunned and Ilya wondered if he should’ve kept his mouth shut, but then Shane’s shoulders shook and he buried his face in his hands.

“I can’t believe that’s my legacy, oh my god.” He dropped his hands and looked up towards the ceiling. “I mean, it’s painfully accurate, though.”

Ilya bit down on his lip, trying not to laugh. “Well, their painfully accurate reviews do not matter to you anymore, yes?”

“No, thank god.” Shane picked up a pen, opened his notebook, and sat still for a moment, like he was deliberating. “And I still haven’t found a cock that scared me, so.”

The words sent a jolt through him, heart picking up speed, and his eyes fell to Shane’s lips. Flashes of them wrapped around a cock, of Shane choking on it, filled his mind so fast it made his mind buffer in surprise. He forced himself to laugh, ignoring how hot his cheeks felt.

Shane had gotten to their spot first this time, seated in the very corner tucked up against the window with the view of the tree outside. He was wearing a slightly oversized hoodie, both strings in his mouth, and the sight made Ilya want to laugh because it made him look so young and oddly sweet. There was already a mug of coffee teetering precariously close to the edge of the table.

Without asking, Ilya pulled out the chair on the opposite side of the table and slid into it, shrugging out of his jacket as Shane’s head snapped up in surprise. Ilya grinned.

“I was here first,” Shane said, but there was a smile playing on his lips.

“This is the argument they make in kindergarten, Shane.”

“Isn’t it normal to teach children to ask politely?”

“But children also learn to share,” Ilya said, dropping his textbooks onto the table with a muted thud. “Besides, you owe me from last time.”

Shane sniffed and buried his hands in his long sleeves. “I guess that’s fair.” He leaned back in his seat. “How has your week been?”

“Boring,” Ilya said, giving a one-shouldered shrug. “Classes were okay, went to boring party. For some reason someone in my class wanted to go bowling.”

A burst of laughter came from Shane and he tried to smother it. “You went bowling.”

“Completely against my will. They basically kidnapped me.”

“You know how to bowl?”

Ilya made a face. “Of course I don’t, I am not a loser. They forced me to learn. Very terrible. Torture, even.”

“I would pay so much money to see this.”

“You will never see it.”

“There has to be video evidence,” Shane insisted.

“I will burn down the whole campus.”

“Oh my god, don't say that, you’re going to end up on a list.”

“What, for that weak threat? I’ve said so much worse, in much worse places.” Ilya waved his hand. “Anyway, what about you?”

“Busy,” Shane said, looking at the work spread out on the table. “Absurdly busy, even for me. And, oh my god.” He hid his face in his hands for a moment. “I went on the worst date, it was actually so horrible.”

Ilya looked up at that, something buzzing under his skin. “What? Horrible how? He was bad to you?”

“Not like violent or anything,” Shane assured him. “But… I don’t know. I got there and first of all, he didn’t look like his photos and he was definitely shorter than he claimed. And I don’t even really care that much about height, I just feel weird when they start out lying. Just tell me your height, it’s really not that important.”

“Sveta complains about this all the time.”

“Yeah, I guess it’s common. When we sat down for drinks, he just kept talking about himself and this other guy kept coming up in almost all the things he was talking about. At some point he started talking about how his crypto was doing, and then when he actually asked something about me, he took out his phone and started texting while I was talking.”

Ilya frowned, eyes slowly examining Shane’s expression: the slight pinch of his lips, the frustrated look in his eyes and the lines between his eyebrows. A surge of anger rushed up into his throat and he fought to tamp it down. Who would go on a date with this man and treat him like some second rate person? Shane was perfect. Even Ilya thought he was pretty, he was smart, he was funny and kind and sometimes a little catty in a fun way.

“You deleted his number?”

“I don’t know if I deleted it, but—”

“Okay, so you are deleting it right now. That man doesn’t deserve to be in the same building as you. Maybe not even the same country.”

Shane laughed, surprised. “Okay, I don’t think we have to exile him from Canada.”

“He was texting his ex,” Ilya said. “Very rude to you, which is unacceptable.”

“What, how do you know that?”

“He talked about another guy all night and he texted him when he should have been listening to you. Maybe he thought he was over the ex, but that still doesn’t mean he should take it out on you.”

“Huh.” Shane looked at him wide-eyed. “I probably should’ve clocked that.”

“What is his name?”

“I’m not giving you his name!”

“Why not?”

“Because you look like you’re going to hunt him down, for one.”

Ilya crossed his arms over his chest. Bizarrely, he did have a violent urge to show up at the guy’s house. Shane didn’t deserve some lowlife guy treating him like he wasn’t the biggest catch on this whole campus.

“Yes, well. He does not deserve you,” Ilya said and pushed his laptop open, looking for the assignment he was working on.

There was no answer and Ilya tipped his head up to find Shane looking at him, a faint blush dusted across his cheeks, his lips slightly parted.

“What, you think he deserves you?”

“I mean, maybe he just had a bad d—”

“No.” Ilya shook his head vehemently. “Please. Repeat after me: He does not deserve me.”

Shane gave an uncertain laugh and became even more flustered when Ilya just looked at him with raised eyebrows.

Pressing his lips together, Shane took a moment before he made up his mind. “He doesn’t deserve me. Happy now?”

“Ecstatic!” Ilya grinned at him. “Is it really that bad dating men all the time?”

Shane shrugged and made a face. “Often, yeah. But my straight friends meet a lot of weird girls too, so I think dating is just the worst no matter which way you go about it. You don’t date much, do you?”

“Ah, no. Too complicated.”

It seemed like Shane wanted to say something, but then he just hummed and flicked open one of his textbooks. They slipped into a companionable silence, the afternoon stretching out between them as their books overlapped on the table and Ilya bought Shane another cup of coffee.

Ilya’s elementary school mathematics course had run over and he could barely keep his eyes open. It was his last Wednesday class, and Wednesdays were always brutal since he had his first class at 8:30 and he didn’t get out until 6. The only thing he wanted to do was go home and fall facefirst onto his bed. Maybe scream into it for good measure.

He’d made it out of the building into the crisp air and a ways down the road before he noticed someone struggling with two heavy-looking boxes. They were backing out of the front door, pushing it open with their shoulders and trying to manouver themselves out onto the front steps. Ilya made it halfway up the stairs before he caught Shane’s profile, a buzz of recognition making his fingers tingle.

Taking the remaining steps two at a time, he jumped up and grabbed the top box, completely unpreprared for how heavy it was. He stumbled a little as Shane whipped his head towards him.

“Hey! What are you doing?” Shane’s expression changed as his eyes widened in recognition.

“Trying to save you from falling down the stairs and breaking your neck,” Ilya said. “Why is this so fucking heavy?”

“It’s stuff we need tomorrow for this SHAG event we're doing, and I have to keep it at my place for some reason Jackie wouldn’t really explain.”

“What the hell is SHAG?”

“The Sexual Health Awareness Group,” Shane said as he began to descend the stairs.

“So this box is full of condoms, is what you’re saying?”

“Well, not full of them. There’s other stuff too.”

“So you are saying that if I find you tomorrow, you will give me condoms?”

“Please don’t find me tomorrow.”

“But what if I have sex questions!”

“Google it.”

“Shane, what would SHAG say? Leaving me to wonder if it’s normal for a dick to be 9 inches? What if I’m insecure about it?”

Ilya smothered a laugh when Shane stared at him in disbelief.

“There’s absolutely no way it’s 9 inches, and you sure as fuck wouldn’t be insecure about it.”

“You are calling me liar. Okay, I see what you think of me.” Ilya changed the grip on his box, hoisting it higher. It was really strangely heavy, so there certainly weren’t just condoms in there. “I think I deserve to be taken seriously.”

Shane gave him a blank look. “It’s certainly larger than average, but penises come in all kinds of lengths, girths, and shapes. Just be careful with your partner, make sure they're ready and comfortable.”

“Very professional, Shane, wow.”

“Oh my god.” Shane rolled his eyes.

“How far is it?” Ilya asked, trying not to let it show that his fingers hurt.

“I’m right across the road, just through this little bit here.”

Shane’s apartment really was right off campus in a nondescript building in grey with a shabby-looking front door. They pass two groups of people on the stairs, both of which Shane only politely nodded to on their way up to the 2nd floor.

“Thanks,” Shane said as he dropped his box onto the floor in front of his apartment, digging his keys out of his pockets. “It would’ve actually been a bit of a hassle to get them both up here.”

There was a slight sheen of sweat across his forehead and his fringe stuck to the skin, his cheeks flushed. Ilya couldn’t quite stop looking, fighting the urge to brush the hair out of his face.

“Very lucky that big, strong man is here to help you,” he said instead, feeling an inexplicable rush when Shane rolled his eyes.

“Yes, whatever would I do without you,” Shane said, voice flat.

It was an obvious joke, but somehow it made something light up in his chest anyway.

“Shane!” Ilya yelled as he approached the stand with the giant colorful SHAG! sign and the dick-shaped balloons. “I am here for my condoms!”

Several people turned and looked at him, and Shane dragged a hand over his face, looking despaired. The two girls next to him (Jackie and Celeste, according to their name tags) looked delighted, though. They were cackling openly and trying to stop Shane from desperately moving his attention elsewhere.

“Be nice to the man, Shane,” Celeste said. “He wants your help.”

“Why don’t you help him?” Shane snapped back.

Ilya stopped in front of their table and grinned, hoisting his backpack further up on his shoulder.

“You are going to treat me like this?” Ilya asked, pouting exaggeratedly. “After I gave you half the blood in my body.”

“To be very clear, the blood was not for me personally.”

“I would’ve let you have it.”

Shane blinked and stared at him as Celeste and Jackie cracked up. Pursing his lips as if forcing down a smile, Shane held the bowl of condoms out.

“Have at it,” he said and then jumped at the chance to get away when a girl walked up, looking nervous.

Ilya was left with Jackie in front of him and a handful of condoms in one hand.

“Hi,” he said, smiling sheepishly.

“Hello,” she said brightly. “You have already provided enough entertainment to keep me sustained for today. I appreciate it a lot.”

“Happy to help.” Ilya pocketed the condoms. His eyes dropped to the table and a number of colorful brochures.

He picked up one and scanned the front page, his fingers suddenly feeling slippery against the glossy paper.

“This is different sexualities?” He asked, not looking at Jackie.

“Oh, yes. This covers a range of them, but there are more labels that you can research if you go to the link on the back.”

Closing the brochure, he folded it in half and stuck it in his pocket before giving Jackie a brief smile and a goodbye.

Ilya stumbled, catching himself against a rough brick wall. His head was pounding painfully, radiating from the spot under his eye where a fist had landed and he was bleeding from somewhere, he just didn’t know where. He peered down at his hand and the blood that coated his fingers.

It had been reckless. A very bad idea, really. But the things the guy had said to Harris made Ilya’s stomach turn. Harris, who had been his lifeline last year and kept him afloat in a sea of self-reproach and directionless confusion. Harris, who was just so good to everyone. Ilya couldn’t just stand there and watch this sloppily drunk idiot get all up in his face to call him slurs.

It was also a terrible idea to go where he was heading. He just didn’t know where else to go. Sveta had gone for the weekend, and even if she was still back at their apartment, there was some part of him that just wanted Shane to fix it.

Turning the corner, he finally found the right street, ignoring the looks he got from a couple passing him. He braced one hand against the side of Shane’s building and pressed on until he reached the front door, looking for the right buzzer. He almost felt tears spring up in his eyes when he realized the buzzers were all labelled with last names. Had he ever caught Shane’s last name?

He stared at the labels for so long, his eyesight went hazy. Could he remember hearing any of these? Fuck. He wanted to sink to the ground, and was about to, when the door suddenly opened and hit him in the shoulder.

“Oh, sorry, man.” A guy held the door open for him and Ilya darted inside.

When he reached Shane’s door, he leaned heavily against the wall next to it and knocked on it. It was late, and it occurred to him that Shane was probably in bed and this was very bad, but he’d made it this far. He didn’t have it in him to leave, so he knocked again, and several more times before the door suddenly slid open to reveal a sleepy-looking Shane. His hair was standing up slightly and his eyes were bleary like he just woke up. The moment he saw Ilya, though, his eyes went wide.

“Hi,” Ilya said, his voice rough.

“Oh my god,” Shane exclaimed, horrified, and pushed the door wide before putting a gentle hand on Ilya’s arm to guide him inside. “What the fuck, Ilya? Sit.”

Ilya dropped down onto the couch, wincing as the movement made something hurt. He watched as Shane disappeared into what appeared to be the bathroom.

“So nice of you to invite me in. Very forward,” he said, holding his hand against his forehead.

“Of course you’re making jokes after you show up on my doorstep bleeding at 1 A.M.” Shane came back with a first aid kit. “You never stop, do you?”

“I’m a menace,” Ilya said, words slurring a bit. He was so tired.

The couch dipped when Shane sat down next to him, his gaze intent as he turned Ilya’s face towards him with a light touch on his jaw. Ilya swallowed, his pulse skyrocketing. He held completely still as Shane studied his face, his hand pressing delicately over the bruise under his eye.

“This is from a hit?” Shane asked, voice quiet. Ilya just nodded, trying not to focus on the feeling of Shane’s soft touches on his skin.

Shane gave him something iced that had been wrapped up so it wasn’t too cold and gestured towards his eye. It was still uncomfortably cold against his skin and he grimaced.

“Do you feel dizzy? Have you vomited?”

“A little dizzy, but I am also a bit drunk. No vomiting.”

“Headache?”

Shane touched the back of his head and Ilya’s eyes closed. The press of his fingers sent shivers down his back.

“Yes.”

“Okay. Can you tell me where you are right now?”

“What?” Ilya said, blinking at him in confusion. “Shane, you cannot see me on your couch?”

Shane snorted and for a moment his fingers lingered at the nape of Ilya’s neck. “Just answer the question, Ilya.”

“I am on your couch at whatever your address is, Shane, and also you should tell me your last name because I could not find your fucking buzzer.”

“Answer the other questions for me and I’ll tell you.”

Ilya tried to roll his eyes, but it made him moan in pain instead.

“What day is it?”

“Friday. Well, Saturday now, maybe.”

“What month?”

“October.”

“Good, thank you.” Shane turned his attention to the kit open on his lap. “Hollander.”

“Shane Hollander,” Ilya repeated, tamping down on a goofy smile.

“Ilya Rozanov.”

“Ah, little stalker. You remember from my form.”

“Oh, I’m the stalker? Which one of us showed up at the other’s doorstep in the middle of the night?” He took out a little flashlight. “Look at this for me.”

The light made him wince and he wanted to whine about it like a little baby. In fact, he wanted to curl up in Shane’s apartment and have Shane put a blanket over him and feed him soup.

“It doesn’t seem like you have a concussion, which is a relief. Let me look at your hand.”

Ilya had to switch the ice over to his other hand as Shane took his injured one between both of his. It seemed like the blood was coming from splits in his knuckles, and maybe some of it wasn’t even his. He moved Ilya’s fingers and prompted llya to flex them and move his hand in different directions.

“Nothing broken,” he said and picked up a saline solution.

He cleaned Ilya’s hand with his brows furrowed in concentration, his grip firm and careful at the same time. With meticulous care he bandaged Ilya's knuckles and wiped some blood Ilya had smeared across his cheek and his forehead. When he finished, he ran his thumb over Ilya’s bruised and bandaged knuckles and looked up, meeting Ilya’s gaze with his big, brown eyes.

“Who did this to you?”

Ilya got hard so fast his head spun. He let out an involuntary sound and couldn’t look away from the intense expression on Shane’s face.

“Some guy at the bar called my friend Harris terrible things." He shifted, uncomfortably aware of his own reaction. "Terrible things for being gay. I did not really count on his two friends.”

And maybe it wasn’t just about Harris. Maybe it was also that for the first time Ilya had truly considered that these words were also for him. That these slurs and the seething rage of the guy was aimed at the person he was coming to understand himself to be. They were also about Shane and the things Ilya was realizing he wanted with Shane. None of these things deserved that ugliness. The rage had welled up in him, uncontrollable.

“Give me your phone, okay?” Shane said and Ilya slid it out his pocket, missing the warmth of Shane’s hand when he let go. “Oh, Harris has messaged you a lot.”

Ilya felt bad, suddenly. He had sort of disappeared from the bar and of course Harris would be worried about him.

“I’m letting him know you’re safe, okay?”

Ilya nodded and tipped his head back against the couch, watching Shane as he sat with one leg curled up under himself, shoulders slightly hunched as he texted.

“Of fucking course it’s fucking Dallas Kent,” Shane exclaimed suddenly. “Oh, fuck that guy. I'm reporting him to campus safety. Not that it helped the last time someone did it, but at some point it has to stick.”

“He is bad?”

“He assaulted a girl last semester, but he’s still here for some insane reason.”

“I got a few good hits in,” Ilya said, smug. “I think most of the blood was probably his.”

“Never been happier to hear it.” Shane put Ilya’s phone on the table and gave him another once-over, like he was checking for something he might’ve missed.

Reaching over, he took Ilya’s bruised hand in his again and studied his reaction. He looked more open, more raw, than Ilya had ever seen him. It made him realize Shane had always had a guard up, something held up between them. Lifting Ilya’s hand, Shane leaned in and pressed a soft kiss just above the bandage.

It was a featherlight touch that made Ilya’s heart go crazy. He watched, wideyed, as Shane rose from the couch and packed up his kit.

“I will get you some pain meds, and we can get you to bed. My roommate is staying over at his girlfriend’s, so you can sleep in my bed and I’ll just crash in his room.”

“Ah, you do not have to do this,” Ilya said, his cheeks flushing hot. “You can call me an Uber, it's fine.”

“I’d rather you be here in case something happens overnight, okay?”

“Okay,” Ilya said softly, his insides feeling uncomfortably soft and wobbly.

Shane led him into his bedroom and gave him a soft, worn T-shirt to sleep in that smelled of Shane’s laundry detergent. Busying himself with arranging a glass of water on the nightstand, he let Ilya strip himself of his clothes and slip into the clean pieces. He smiled as Ilya climbed into his bed and reached over to drape the covers over him like he was a child he was tucking into bed.

“Let me know if you need something or something feels weird, okay? I’m glad you came here.” Shane stepped to the door and turned off the lights. “Good night.”

“Good night, Shane.”

Ilya stared out into the darkness, burrowing into Shane’s bed. The clothes were comfortable and the covers were warm around him and he felt his muscles relax, even as his head was still pounding and his hand hurt. He’d come here because he didn’t know who else to go to and because he didn’t want to be anywhere else. He’d wanted Shane in this moment. And he’d gotten everything he needed, so much more than he expected. His eyes stung as he closed them.

The bed Ilya woke up in was too comfortable to be his own. He unfurled himself from the tight ball he’d curled into, his body aching as he stretched under the cover. Blinking into the morning light, he looked around, the night before slowly coming back to him. He groaned, conflicting feelings welling up.

Harris’ face when Dallas Kent got up in his face and the storm of anger it stirred in Ilya, those words that now felt very personal. And then the fists, the blood, the ugly release of fighting. The relief when Shane opened the door. His hands, his care, the press of his lips.

Fuck.

Ilya dragged himself out of bed and ran his hands over the soft shirt. His own clothes were nowhere to be seen, so he just stepped out of the bedroom in search of Shane. The apartment smelled of coffee and toasting bread. Reaching the kitchen, he paused in the doorway to stare at Shane by the kitchen counter, the muscles in his back shifting as he moved in the small room. He couldn't stop looking. What if he could always wake up like this, to Shane moving about his kitchen with the air smelling of coffee?

“Good morning,” he said, surprised at how rough his voice sounded.

Shane jumped, dropping an unpeeled orange on the floor. “Oh my god, you scared me. How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.” Ilya tried to smile, but it made his cheek hurt and he pressed his hand against it. “Do you have a toothbrush I can borrow?”

“Oh. I think so.”

Shane left him to brush his teeth with a borrowed toothbrush and look at the damage in the mirror. His cheek and the area close to his eye was heavily bruised and it felt tender to the touch when he pressed at it gingerly. He winced at the feeling. It wasn’t the first time someone had punched him in the face, but it had been a while. He forgot how much it hurt.

When he came back into the kitchen, the table was set for two with a little breakfast spread. A pair of sweatpants hung over the back of one seat and Shane turned to smile at him when he entered.

“Thought you might like some pants.”

“Ah yes, it would be nice.” Ilya distinctly remembered wearing clothes when he arrived. “You sold my clothes to the highest bidder?”

“There was blood on both your jeans and your shirt, so they’re both in the wash.”

“Ah. You did not have to do that.” Ilya put on the sweatpants and sat down, reaching for the coffee immediately. There were also painkillers laid out next to his plate.“You’ve already done too much. I shouldn’t have shown up here in the middle of the night like this.”

“I said I was glad you came, didn’t I?” Shane said, sitting across from him. “I’m happy to help. And my roommate is staying at his girlfriend’s for the day, so there's no rush.”

Ilya picked up a piece of toast and buttered it liberally. “You are a good nurse, Shane Hollander.”

Shane’s cheeks pinked slightly. “That was nothing really, though, just some basic first aid.”

“Well, see, my hand is bandaged.” Ilya waved it at him. “And I don’t have a concussion.”

“The lack of concussion’s not really my doing,” Shane said, but he was smiling behind the back of his hand, his brown eyes bright and warm.

They ate as beams of light from the morning sun fanned out across the floor, turning the small kitchen light and cozy. The conversation slipped into mundane things and it felt like a normalcy Ilya didn’t know he craved. He was going to turn greedy for it, for having Shane across from him like this. It seemed like it was where they were always meant to be. The idea of Shane sitting across from other people—smiling at them and launching into long explanations of something from his classes—made Ilya vaguely homicidal. It was almost absurd now to think that he hadn’t realized he wanted to kiss Shane until neither of them could breathe.

He really wanted to feel that body under him, all strong and firm. Fuck, he wondered what it’d be like to suck cock. He was completely sure that Shane had a pretty one, just like the rest of him. What would it feel like stretching his lips? Ilya had always liked making people feel good, had always liked being good at eating girls out, and he shifted in his seat thinking of sucking Shane’s cock into his mouth and choking himself on it.

After looking for advice online and realizing he might’ve misunderstood some things about himself, he’d pulled out his phone in bed and gone diving into gay porn. It wasn't that he'd never seen any, he'd even lazily jacked off to it before, he'd just figured everyone did that because porn was porn. But he'd never looked at it the way he did now, with his full attention and the new knowledge that this made his cock fatten in his hand because he was fucking into men. Like into men. He'd watched, entranced, as a guy with a thick cock filmed himself fucking into a tight ass below him, the guy pressed into the bed making wounded little whimpers that went straight to Ilya's dick. Leisurely, he'd circled through a number of videos, greedily taking in the sight of two men together until he came, his eyes glued to some guy's thick thighs flexing as he fucked.

Ilya was getting too flustered, his cheeks feeling flushed in a way they never did, and he tried to tune into the conversation, realizing that Shane was looking at him with concern.

"Are you okay?" He asked, reaching over to press the back of his hand to Ilya's forehead. "Is your head bothering you?"

"No. I am fine, Shane," Ilya forced out and took several large sips of water. "Everything is good."

He helped Shane clean up after breakfast, the two of them moving around each other. Their shoulders bumped and their hands brushed, and for a brief moment Ilya rested his hand against the small of Shane’s back as he reached above him to put the plates back into the cupboard. It was becoming too much to bear even before Ilya caught Shane looking at his mouth for a beat too long and a small shiver rushed from the nape of his neck. He waited, watching Shane put the last few things into the dishwasher and brushing his hands together in satisfaction.

“All done,” Shane said, pleased. But then he faltered when their eyes met.

Ilya stepped closer, holding Shane’s gaze, and bracketed his face between his hands. He felt Shane’s breath hitch, his lips parting as his eyes widened, darting between Ilya’s eyes and his mouth. Finally giving in, Ilya leaned in and claimed his lips with a rush of adrenaline so strong his breath stuttered. Shane’s arms wrapped around his waist immediately, his broad body folding into Ilya’s, lips soft and eager. The kiss was dizzying, a brush of tongue making Ilya push forward, ready to devour Shane in his little kitchen.

Unfortunately, when Shane’s hand came up to cup his cheek, Ilya flinched at the sudden flare of pain as Shane brushed against his bruise and Shane pulled back immediately. Ilya tried to follow again, but Shane put a hand on his chest.

“Shit, I forgot,” Shane said, his lips downturned.

“No, it’s fine, it barely hurts.” Ilya leaned in again, wanting Shane’s mouth back on his, wanting to push Shane back against the counter and grind against him.

“Ilya.” Shane gave him a stern look. “You need to rest. You should go back to your place and heal up.”

There was nothing Ilya wanted less. He wanted to stay here, he wanted Shane to fix everything that had ever been wrong with him, maybe. Something must’ve shown in his face, because Shane brushed a hand through his hair, lingering at the back of his head.

“Hey,” Shane said. “Do you wanna watch a movie?”

Ilya nodded, almost embarrassed by the wave of relief. Maybe he shouldn’t let Shane bring him to the couch and maybe he shouldn’t sink down next to him, letting his weight rest against Shane’s side. But he felt a bit raw, still, from last night. Gingerly, he pressed two fingers to the bruise on his face and winced.

“This one looks stupid enough that you might like it.” Shane gestured the remote towards the screen and laughed when Ilya pinched his waist in retaliation.

“Yes, probably,” Ilya admitted and let Shane start an action movie called Operation Fortune that turned out to be much worse than it looked.

When Shane’s fingers slid into his hair at the back of his head, running slowly through his curls, Ilya froze in place and held his breath for a second until he relaxed, dropping his head down onto Shane’s shoulder. Above him, Shane groaned about the movie making no sense and Ilya felt his voice rumble against his cheek. The soft brush of Shane’s fingers through his hair was making his spine liquify, turning him all loose and pliant and a little bit out of his mind.

“I have never kissed a man before.”

The hand in Ilya’s hair stilled for a second before moving again.

“Oh.”

It was impossible to read the little oh. Ilya closed his eyes and listened to Shane breathing below him.

“That’s—well, did you—did you like it?”

Ilya let out a huff of laughter. “Yes, Shane. I liked it a lot.” He placed a hand on Shane’s thigh, letting it splay over the muscular curve of it. Watching intently, he ran his hand along the inner seam of Shane's sweatpants, fascinated by the sight of it. Shane’s thighs were thick and strong and fucking hot. Ilya wanted them wrapped around his waist. Desperately. His bandaged knuckle grazed against the slight bulge of Shane’s cock and Shane inhaled sharply under his cheek.

“Ilya, I don't wanna make your injuries worse, okay?”

Ilya lifted his head and looked up at him. “So responsible.”

Shane’s eyes were dark and full of want, his cheeks flushed. He cupped Ilya’s jaw and ran his thumb over his uninjured cheek.

“You’re making it really difficult, you know.”

Ilya couldn’t stop looking, basking in his proximity to the freckles scattered over Shane’s cheeks.

“You are very beautiful,” he said, smiling when Shane bit down on his lip and looked away. “And very bad at getting compliments. We have to work on that, I think.”

“I’m not bad”

“We will practice. I will tell you how good you look, how well you’re doing.” He rose up and kissed Shane gently. “How sweet your lips taste.”

“Jesus Chr—” Shane cut himself off as he crashed their lips together, slipping his tongue into Ilya’s mouth immediately.

Ilya groaned, surrendering to the kiss and pressing in closer. He felt consumed and hot and a little light-headed. Shane’s hand slipped from the back of his head and down his back in a move so soothing it elicited a sound that almost sounded like a purr. He didn’t know why this kiss was so different from any other kiss he’d ever had, it was just like Shane was made to kiss him specifically.

Pulling back, Shane let in a shaky breath. “Fuck, you’re lethal.”

Ilya hummed. “I think I can be even more lethal.”

“Maybe when you stop flinching every time something touches your cheek.” Shane laughed and pulled at Ilya’s bottom lip that was jutting out. “How can I make it up to you?”

“You can put your number in my phone.”

Shane gave a crooked smile. “I already did.”

There was a particular joy in watching Shane Hollander without him knowing it. He looked relaxed, one leg tucked up under himself in one of the comfy chairs at the café as he listened intently to Rose. His face looked so serious sometimes when he was paying attention to something, a slight furrow in his brow. Ilya could only see part of his face, but he enjoyed his view nonetheless.

He wondered how Shane would react if he noticed him looking. Would he get flustered, or would he be pleased? Maybe he’d pretend to be mad. Ilya loved when he did that. When he looked like a little angry kitten but then could barely hide the little twist of a smile, like he was fond despite himself.

It was definitely too soon to feel possessive. They weren’t even really anything, but it felt like they were something. Maybe Ilya had always felt like they were something, even if he didn’t recognize it. But now he did. He recognized the buzzing impulse under his skin that spelled out mine as he watched Shane chew on his hoodie strings. Shane’s mouth closed around them, the strings resting on his plush lower lip, the lip Ilya had taken between both of his and swiped his tongue across, making Shane moan so sweetly.

Unable to resist anymore, Ilya unfolded himself from his seat and walked up behind Shane. Rose spotted him over Shane’s shoulder, her mouth turning up into a grin.

“What?” Shane said to Rose, confused.

Ilya put a hand on his upper back, smiling when Shane turned to look up at him.

“Hi, solnyshko.”

“Hi,” Shane said, breath rushing out. “What are you doing here?”

“Just having coffee. Enjoying the view.” Ilya took Shane’s jaw in his hand, tipping his head up. The hitch in his breath gave Ilya a rush. He leaned in and brushed their lips together, deepening it for one heady moment.

When he pulled back, Shane’s eyes had slipped shut and Rose looked gobsmacked. Ilya winked at her and ran a thumb over Shane’s freckled cheek as he looked up at him again.

“See you tomorrow,” Ilya said and backed away, seeing Rose smack Shane’s arm as he turned towards the door.

“This is the stuff we share with the class, Shane!” He heard her say and he smothered a laugh when the door to the cafe fell shut behind him.

Sveta had agreed to go elsewhere for the night even though she was still mad at him for not telling her about the fight. Not that they usually cared if the other overheard, but Ilya had a feeling Shane would very much mind and even so, this wasn’t actually a moment he wanted an audience for.

He got up from the couch for the 4th time, moving a cushion from one corner to the other and then back again. When was the last time he'd been nervous about sex? It was never something he felt self-conscious or weird about. He was good at it, he enjoyed it, and even when it wasn’t great, it was rarely bad. But this was something new. He didn’t think he’d be bad at it, but this was Shane. He wanted Shane to feel good, to blow his fucking mind and ruin him for anyone else.

So, no pressure, then.

Maybe he should’ve taken Svetlana up on her offer to teach him her blowjob techniques.

The delivery from the Thai place showed up before Shane did and Ilya spread it out across the living room table. He sat down in the silence of the apartment, not even putting on the TV as he waited, until finally there was a knock on the door.

Opening the door to Shane smiling at him was such a hit to his system that he wanted to do it all over again. Fuck, he was so cute. They’d agreed this was completely lowkey, so he was dressed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, looking cozy and relaxed. Ilya stepped aside and closed the door behind Shane, watching as he toed out of his shoes.

“So this is where you've been the entire time,” Shane joked, looking around the cramped space.

“Yes, and it is definitely always like this.” Ilya had cleaned in such a frenzy that Sveta had taken up space on the couch and laughed at him while eating her snacks.

Shane raised an eyebrow at him. “It’s nice, I like it.”

“It’s okay. Cheap and big enough for Sveta and me.”

With a hand on Shane’s back, Ilya led them to the couch and let Shane pick a spot, settling in after him.

“I feel like I should meet her,” Shane said as Ilya sorted out the food.

“Who, Sveta?”

Shane laughed. “Yeah, obviously.”

“Actually, the two of you can never meet.”

“Sounds like that’ll be a lot of work for you.”

“I will just lock her in her room and sneak you out every morning.”

Shane bumped his shoulder. “So I’m spending every night here?”

Ilya, for once in his godforsaken life, lost all words as he realized he'd taken this from zero to a hundred. His mouth opened and closed, and then again, until Shane hid a laugh behind the back of his hand.

“We’ll spend some at mine too, yeah?” Shane said, and Ilya mercifully recovered.

He winked. “And wherever else you want.”

Shane leaned in and kissed him, brief and a little filthy, before reaching for the pad thai. Refusing to remove his hand from the small of Shane’s back, Ilya tucked into his food one-handed and let Shane tell him about his anatomy class. For a moment he saw himself from the outside, struck by how unfamiliar it was for him to be like this. It wasn’t something he ever thought he’d want—not even the fact that Shane was a man, but the domesticity of it all. Eating together, talking about their day, wanting to attach himself to one single person.

“It wasn’t even that important, not really, and I—” Shane was cut off by Ilya sneaking a kiss, his thumb brushing the corner of Shane’s mouth as they parted.

Dazed, Shane stared at him and then shook his head slightly. “You asshole. I forgot what I was saying.”

Ilya swallowed a laugh and bit down on a spring roll, very satisfied with himself.

“You are distracted?” Ilya asked, leaning back against the armrest, throwing one relaxed arm over the back.

“You can be distracting. Sometimes.” Shane paused, shifting his gaze over Ilya’s shoulder. “You looked unfairly hot with a black eye.”

Ilya doubted it looked very good now, all sickly yellow.

“Mmm, big aggressive man doing it for you?”

“Maybe,” Shane said, scrunching his nose in a way that made Ilya want to explode into a thousand pieces on the couch.

The food was set aside and Ilya’s eyes were glued to Shane as he scooted closer, leaning in until he was almost draped across Ilya’s body. Shane hovered over him, his lips close, until Ilya’s patience snapped and he wrapped both arms around him, dragging him down. A small oof escaped Shane as he fell down on top of Ilya and he laughed, lips pressed to the cut of Ilya’s jaw. Ilya tipped his head back, running one hand up to slip into Shane’s hair, holding him softly in place as Shane placed warm kisses down his neck. He paused to suck lightly at one spot, tongue dipping out to lick over the skin. Heat unfurled slowly in Ilya’s stomach, a hazy pleasure settling in him, surprising in its lack of urgency.

Ilya pulled at Shane’s hair, bringing him up to claim his lips in a syrupy kiss. They barely moved against each other, open and hot and messy, and Ilya dipped his tongue in, hand coming up to cradle Shane’s jaw. A needy little moan slipped from Shane’s mouth and Ilya ate it up, fucking sustaining himself on it. Addiction had always been something that came too easy to Ilya and here he was again, losing himself in the taste of Shane on his tongue and the perfect glide of his lips.

“Fuck, you’re good at that,” Shane said, words rushing out of him the moment they parted, his breath laboured.

Ilya hummed and dipped his hand below the waistband of Shane’s sweatpants and boxers, sliding down to grip his ass. The soft flesh gave under his palm. He couldn’t wait to see it spread for him. Shane’s eyes became unfocused and his hips rolled softly against Ilya’s thigh.

“Feel good?” Ilya asked, grinning when Shane nodded, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. “Yes, Shane. Just take what you need.”

It was with intense interest that Ilya studied him and the way he moved, cataloguing every expression that crossed Shane’s face. Pleasure looked so good on him. Whenever their gazes locked, Shane let out a wounded little noise.

“Do you like that I’m looking at you, solnyshko?” Ilya caressed his cheek before slipping his tongue into Shane’s mouth.

Shane gave no indication that he’d heard him for a moment, but then he nodded, pressing his tongue to the pad of Ilya’s thumb. Ilya felt such a headrush that he dropped back against the armrest for a moment, breathing heavily.

The weight shifted and hands were at the waistband of Ilya’s sweats, prompting him to look back up just as Shane dragged them down. Ilya lifted his hips to let Shane pull at both the sweats and his boxers until they stretched over his thighs, his cock bobbing fully hard against his stomach. Shane was staring at it, his expression slack-jawed, and Ilya huffed a near silent laugh, running his hand over the top of Shane’s head.

“Oh my god,” Shane said, his hand circling the base, so loose it was like the ghost of a touch.

“What?” Ilya asked, amused.

“It’s so fucking pretty, you shouldn’t be allowed to just walk around with this, what the fuck?”

Ilya laughed properly then, shaking with it. His cock did look good in Shane’s grip, his big hand pulling tight around it and giving it an experimental stroke that made the muscles in Ilya’s stomach jump in response.

“Do you wanna suck it, sweetheart?”

Shane didn’t even answer, he just moved down and slipped the tip into his hot mouth, tongue gliding along the underside. Ilya was still reeling when Shane sank down further, engulfing him in a heat that was so perfect that his eyes rolled back and he moaned unrestrained.

“Holy shit.” His voice came out strangled.

He didn’t know what the fuck was happening. His soul was already getting sucked out of his body, his heart hammering at the feeling of Shane’s strong hand at the base and the perfect, wet glide of his mouth and his tongue. And Shane loved it. He was whimpering with his lips spread around Ilya’s cock, a little drool slipping from the corner of his mouth. Ilya stared, mesmerized, his thighs starting to tremble when Shane looked up at him as he pulled off until only the tip was in, tongue flicking against the underside of it. The sight made Ilya’s head spin. His big, brown eyes were wet and glassy, his mouth so plump.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty, ngh, Shane.” Ilya gripped the back of his head and pushed him down on his cock until Shane gagged on it slightly. “Oh, fuuuuck.”

Shane’s eyes closed and he moaned around Ilya’s cock, his cheeks hollowing around it. Rapidly losing control, Ilya swore under his breath and pulled him off, a string of saliva breaking as Shane looked up at him, unfocused.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice raspy.

“Fuck, I was gonna come in your perfect mouth.” Ilya bent over and caught his lips at an awkward angle, mostly licking at his mouth. “And I need to fuck you.”

“Yeah, fuck.” Shane stood up, his legs slightly unsteady, but as he made to pull Ilya with him, Ilya stopped him.

He pulled Shane in and dropped himself to the floor, knees thudding against the thin carpet. His pulse thundered in his ears, then, trying to look more confident than he felt as he looked up into Shane’s face.

“Oh.” Breath rushed out of Shane. “Uhm, have you done this before?”

Ilya’s eyebrows rose. “Last week I told you I’d never kissed a man before.”

“Yeah. But plenty of people get straight to it. For all I know, you’ve gotten off in club bathrooms and just never kissed anyone.”

This was a fair assessment. It wouldn’t be completely out of character for Ilya, really, and he knew it must seem weird to meet an inexperienced side of him. It wasn’t what he was known for.

“I haven’t,” he said, licking his lips.

“You don’t have to,” Shane assured him.

But God, he wanted to. There was something about being on his knees. He was used to taking control, and he certainly was doing that tonight as well, but there was something so unfamiliar about this. It made his stomach freefall, flopping and rolling with something new that he couldn’t name. It was different from having a girl sit on his face, somehow. Maybe it should feel similar, but it didn’t.

“I want to.” The words were difficult to say out loud, almost too vulnerable, but he didn’t want Shane to doubt it. “Just push me off if it is very terrible.”

Shane snorted. “I won’t push you off, idiot.”

“Ah.” Ilya slipped Shane’s sweats and boxers down to his thighs, and he kept his face upturned. “I call you sweetheart and beautiful Russian names, but I am idiot to you.”

Shane hummed and stroked a hand over his cheek. “Poor baby.”

Ilya’s stomach went bright hot, even if Shane wasn’t technically even calling him baby, not like that. And he dropped his gaze from Shane’s face, staring at the pretty, thick cock jutting out right in front of him. He leaned in, slowly, and pressed a slow kiss to the tip of it, letting it rest against his bottom lip.

“I like it when you lick from the root to the tip,” Shane said and when his hand came to rest at the back of Ilya’s head, it was grounding.

Ilya held it and did, for once, as he was told and pressed the flat of his tongue against the base, dragging it up until he could take the whole tip into his mouth. Shane let out a long moan, his fingers tightening in Ilya’s hair.

“Just like that, baby,” he murmured, and Ilya’s stomach flipped so violently that he nearly bit down.

He breathed through his nose, closed his eyes and let himself feel it. There was an intoxicating weight to the cock sliding along his tongue, filling him in a way that was more overwhelming than he’d imagined. He forced himself to breathe through his nose, carefully keeping his lips over his teeth. Shane hummed happily above him, let him feel it out while massaging his scalp slightly.

Ilya couldn’t wait until he was great at this too. It was too raw now, this newness. Not knowing what would make Shane’s brain leak out of his ears was frustrating, but he’d pictured this, he’d wanted to feel his lips stretch around it and now he had it. He let in a deep breath and started bobbing his head, trying to remember what felt good for him, and when Shane moaned there was a surge of satisfaction that spurred him on.

“Ilya, fuck,” Shane said, breathy.

Out of curiosity, Ilya licked the underside of the head, watching Shane’s lips drop open, his cheeks flushed peachy pink. It was best to stop while he was ahead, Ilya figured, pleased with the wrecked look on Shane’s face. Ilya pulled back, licking his swollen lips, fascinated by how they felt slightly numb. Pressing a kiss to Shane’s hip bone, he got back on his feet and let Shane drag him into a wet kiss.

They moved to Ilya’s bedroom, their hands clasped, and Ilya dragged him inside. He grinned, leaning back against his dresser, watching as Shane pulled off his hoodie and folded it twice before putting it at the foot of the bed. Ilya didn’t want to tell him they were probably going to swipe that right off.

“You just gonna watch over there?” Shane said, holding his gaze.

“The view is very good from here,” Ilya said, voice low as he watched Shane get completely naked.

Shane splayed out on his bed and Ilya’s heart jumped into his throat at the sight of Shane, his cock hard against his stomach. Fuck, his eyes were going to bring Ilya to his fucking knees. He pushed away from the dresser and drew his T-shirt over his head, stepping out of his sweats and boxers on the way to the bed. Shane leaned back onto his elbows, head tipping back when Ilya came close enough to bury a hand in his hair.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Shane said, eyes slowly roving over his body, pupils wide.

Ilya reached down with his other hand and wrapped it around Shane’s cock, bringing out a stuttered groan and a desperate roll of his hips.

“Show me how to make you feel good, yes?”

Shane nodded, dazed, and waved towards his hoodie. “I brought the lube I like.”

Smiling, Ilya got the bottle out of the hoodie pocket and handed it over, painfully endeared at the fact that Shane came fully prepared with his favorite lube. He stood by the bed, settling one hand on the inside of Shane’s thigh as Shane slipped in one finger, his lips parting. Ilya rubbed slow circles against his thigh, setting one knee on the bed to get closer, watching raptly as Shane opened himself up slowly.

Shane’s hips rolled as he slipped in another, gasping and bearing down on his own hand. Enraptured, Ilya reached down, running a finger along the spot where Shane was fucking his own fingers, his breath heavy. Shane shuddered and pulled out, pushing the bottle of lube towards Ilya, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as Ilya coated two fingers with it. Ilya pushed both fingers inside, already obsessed with how hot he felt, how his body jerked at the feeling. Experimenting, he spread his fingers, moved them slow, then fast, then a little rough, until he suddenly found the spot that made Shane arch off the bed, loud and desperate.

“There we go,” Ilya said, his other hand stroking Shane’s cheek.

“Oh, fuck, get down here.”

Ilya didn’t have time to react before Shane was dragging him down and licking into his mouth for a hot moment before he sent Ilya sprawling onto his back. Stunned for a moment, Ilya just watched as Shane straddled his thighs, his chest heaving. He leaned back and produced a condom out of nowhere, hands shaking slightly as he tore it open.

Ilya was so hard he could barely breathe and now that Shane was touching him, rolling a condom down the length, his stomach tightened. Above him, Shane was flushed and breathing hard, and holding the base of Ilya’s cock to guide it into himself. Time stood still when there was pressure against the tip and then Shane sank down, slowly taking it inch by inch.

Eyes rolling back into his head, Ilya’s hands flew out to grip Shane’s hips, fingers digging in. He wanted to fuck up into him until Shane was bouncing, but Shane kept both hands on his stomach now, holding him in place. The heat of it felt impossible and it was so tight, so fucking perfect that he was terrified of coming before Shane was even all the way down.

“Holy shit.” Shane breathed in shakily and his voice nearly gave out.

When he bottomed out, he stilled for just a second and then he started circling his hips. Slowly, he started grinding, just a little forward and back. It felt familiar and also new. Not so unfamiliar that he didn’t recognize his own desire shivering down his spine, but still new in a way that lit up his brain. In the mirror he’d hung above his dresser he could see Shane’s perfect ass, his broad back and the way Ilya’s cock split him open.

Then Shane began to bounce on it so suddenly that Ilya yelled out, holding onto Shane’s hips as they moved. The sound of their skin was lewd and loud, and the roll of Shane’s hips so intense that Ilya was slowly losing his mind. Shane gave a high-pitched moan, his face screwed up in pleasure.

“Yeah, you like that?” Ilya asked, voice low.

Shane looked down at him, sliding all the way down on his cock. “Do you like that, baby?”

“So fucking much, I—” He couldn’t find the words, just staring down between their bodies where Shane was fucking himself on his cock instead.

“You feel so good in me,” Shane whispered, like it might be a secret. “I don’t, fuck, oh.”

Looking over Shane’s shoulder, Ilya found the mirror, his mouth hanging open at the sight of the muscles shifting in Shane’s back, the way his ass bounced every time he bottomed out.

“What are you watching?” Shane asked, voice shaking.

Ilya grinned at him. “I can see us in the mirror.”

“Oh fuck.” Shane’s pace stuttered.

“Do you want to know what we look like?”

Shane nodded, lips sinking into his bottom lip.

“Your ass is so fat and perfect.” Ilya grabbed his ass with both hands, squeezing. “Bouncing so prettily on me.”

Shane mewled.

“It looks so good, just taking my cock like it’s nothing. Does it feel like nothing?”

He shook his head.

“You look like you were made for fucking me like this. Olympic medal in bouncing on cock.”

Shane’s thighs were trembling. “What medal?”

“Hm?”

When Shane didn’t answer, Ilya shook with laughter under him when he realized what Shane was asking. Shane swatted him over the chest, their rhythm faltering.

“Don’t laugh!”

“My Shane wants to know if he won gold,” Ilya said and watched, hypnotized, as Shane’s cock slapped against his stomach. “Yes, you would win gold medal, Shane. Gold medal ass, gold medal in riding my cock.”

“You’re so—” Shane’s breath hitched. “—stupid.”

When Shane’s rhythm faltered again, Ilya wrapped both arms around him and stilled him, slowly rolling them over on his too-narrow bed, kissing him deep and filthy. Shane clung to him in return, wrapping both legs around his hips.

“Fuck me,” Shane demanded against his lips.

He was so close he could feel it burning under his skin, his patience—if he ever had any—completely lost, and he pounded into Shane. They both cried out, Shane’s fingers digging into his shoulders, his nails sharp. Ilya’s head swam, his whole body buzzing with the feeling of fucking into Shane. Burying his head into Shane’s neck, he mouthed against the skin there, moaning loudly as he pistoned his hips.

“Ilya, yes, yes, fuck.”

Shane went tense under him, his hips bucking up to meet Ilya, and then he came completely untouched. The desperate sounds he made had Ilya breaking out in shivers, and the way Shane tightened around him turned his brain into soup. He mouthed at Shane’s jaw, moaning into his skin, and came so hard his vision went spotty. Slumping down on top of Shane, he let out a long groan and buried his face against Shane’s shoulder. Breathing hard, Shane nuzzled against the top of his head, arms still around his shoulders.

“Jesus, you’re heavy,” Shane said into his hair.

“You say the sweetest things.”

Shane snorted. “I can say something nice if you want.”

“Do not hurt yourself.”

“I don’t know if I’ve ever come this hard,” Shane said, a bit sheepish.

Ilya grinned into his skin. “You came handsfree. Did not tell me you could do that.”

“I didn’t know I could do that.”

“Ah, so I am the best you’ve ever had.”

“Your ego is astounding.”

Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Ilya leaned in for a brief kiss. “You were so perfect for me. So fucking good.”

Shane’s cheeks flamed and he swallowed, a bashful smile on his face. “Shower please?”

They shuffled into the small bathroom, two large men bumping into each other and pushing each other out of the way to get into the shower. Ilya caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, grinning so wide that he barely recognized himself. What a silly thing to be so weirdly happy about—fighting with Shane about who gets to shower. He pretended to be mad when Shane shouldered himself in first, sticking his tongue out at Ilya when he stepped in under the water.

Afterwards, they dropped back into bed with their phones, Shane curling up against him. It was very new to Ilya to be happy that Shane showed no signs of wanting to leave. He draped an arm around Shane’s back and scrolled through instagram with his free hand. It was tempting to snap a picture of Shane and post it for everyone to see, but he doubted Shane would let him.

“What are you doing?” Ilya asked, peering down at Shane.

“I didn’t do my Wordle today.”

“This thing sounds extremely exciting.”

“You don’t know Wordle?”

“It does not sound like a thing I would know."

“It’s a word game, and before you bully me for it, like half the world’s played it.” Shane tilted his phone so Ilya could see. “You have to guess the word in only 6 guesses, and they’ll tell you which letter is in the right place.”

“Ah, and what word are you starting with?”

“I always start with crate.”

Ilya wrinkled his nose. “Why crate?”

“It’s one of the statistically best words to start with,” Shane said. “You are likely to get the answer in 3-4 tries.”

“Oh my god, you are so boring. Where is fun in that?”

“What, you would just start with a random word?” Shane sounded almost affronted as he looked up at Ilya, chin lowering to rest on his chest.

“Yes, of course. Pick what feels good. Right for the moment.”

“So what would you choose today?”

“Vodka.”

“Vodka?!” Shane looked horrified. “K is a very underutilized letter in English. That’s a terrible strategy.”

Ilya blew a raspberry in response and Shane rolled his eyes, typing in crate. Dropping his phone to his nightstand, Ilya wrapped both arms around Shane as he did his little word game. He was stuck after his second guess, a frown between his eyebrows. Ilya brought both hands to Shane’s impressive ass, squeezing a little, making Shane squirm. Then he tapped each cheek in a random rhythm, like they were little drums.

“What on earth are you doing?” Shane looked up at him, eyebrows raised.

Ilya said nothing, just stared him right in the face and did it again. They both burst out laughing, Shane’s phone dropping onto Ilya’s chest, their giggles filling the room.

Ilya knew Shane’s ideal Saturday wasn’t spent at a party, so he didn’t take it for granted that he had him tucked under his arm in a house where the floor was sticky and the music was loud. He’d make it up to him by dodging the next four invites to anything remotely noisy or crowded. But Shane didn’t seem to be hating it too badly, his arm around Ilya’s waist while they spoke to Rose and Sveta.

There was suddenly a tap on his shoulder and before he could turn, Harris appeared by his side and dragged him into a hug.

“Ilya, so good to see you!” Harris said. “No more black eye?”

“No. I am sad to report it has disappeared.”

“I’m not sad,” Shane interjected.

Ilya pulled him closer. “Harris! Here is my boyfriend, Shane.”

Harris beamed, sticking out his hand for Shane to take. “Oh, you’re the one I texted.”

“Yeah, that was me.” Shane gave him a small smile. “So sorry that happened to you.”

“Oh, yeah, fuck him, really. He used to be Troy’s friend—Troy’s my boyfriend—and he really hates that I’m with him. He’s been a dick for months.” Harris made a face. “But the last I heard, there’s a disciplinary hearing.”

“Really?” Shane said, eyes wide. “I can’t believe they finally did something.”

Harris nodded aggressively and then stared at Shane for a moment. “Fuck, this man is so out of your league, Ilya.”

Ilya laughed when Shane’s cheeks went bright pink. “Yes. Nobody knows how I tricked him into this.”

“Stop,” Shane said, brushing a hand over his chest.

“I think it’s my giant dick.”

“Oh my fucking God.” Shane closed his eyes briefly.

“Yeah, that’ll do it.” Harris laughed and then gave Ilya a soft smile. “Actually, I want to make it really clear that I was joking. You deserve the world, Ilya, and I’m so glad you’re happy.”

“I know, Harris. Wow, you are being so sappy.”

“I think I’m allowed after seeing you self-destruct last year.”

Ilya hummed, knowing he’d have to fully explain to Shane how last year had been for him. He tightened his hold on Shane in a wordless promise to tell him later.

“Harris, have you met Rose and Svetlana?” Ilya asked, looping in the girls.

Later, he had Shane pressed up against him on the impromptu dancefloor complaining that he didn’t know how to dance. Ilya placed both hands on his hips, guiding him into a rhythm that made Shane’s eyes go unfocused and his body pliant. The stiffness in his shoulders had disappeared and he let Ilya lead him into a slow grind of their hips. Shane looped his arms around Ilya’s neck and dipped in for a messy kiss, tongue swiping across Ilya’s bottom lip. Moaning into it, Ilya closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them again, Shane had pulled back, gazing at him with sparkling brown eyes.

Ilya stood there on a sweaty, crowded dancefloor looking at the most beautiful person in the world. It hit him straight in the chest, his heart flipping acrobatically. How different a life could look in only a few months. It was like the turning point in a novel, or a happy ending he’d never even thought up. And it wasn’t even an ending. Words simmered at the tip of his tongue, I love you, far too soon to say them, and yet.

Pulling in close, Shane pressed their cheeks together and whispered, “Take me home.”