Chapter Text
Shane knew he was fidgeting, he just couldn’t help it.
It happened when he was anxious, stressed, or overstimulated - by either the world, or his thoughts. He would play with things distractedly, chew on things, stare off into space, his knees would bounce at a million miles a minute, feet twitching. He doesn’t even know when he’s doing it, it’s not like he actively decides to, it just happens. Like the drawstring of his hoodie would make its way into his mouth, or he’d spend five minutes scrunching a blanket because it feels nice.
It was an attempt to self-soothe, to quiet the carousel whizzing round in his head that made the back of his eyes hurt. He knew it annoyed some people, teachers used to physically snatch things from him in school to make him stop playing with them. But it wasn’t done with ill intent, Shane just needed an outlet sometimes, something to do to distract himself from his brain that works in overdrive at times.
Ilya caught on to that pretty quickly. And Shane thought he, like a lot of other people, would get annoyed, maybe ask him about it with a taunting smile, roll their eyes, call him a baby. Ilya did none of those things, but then Shane never expected him to because Ilya wasn’t like everyone else. Part of that was because he was part wolf, yes, but also because Ilya was just Ilya.
He knew Shane had an oral fixation, that much was obvious considering how much Shane liked having Ilya’s fingers and cock in his mouth. And it seems that like a lot of times, Ilya knows Shane better than he does himself.
Today was one of those times. Shane had woken up that morning jittery, unsettled, an itch under his skin, an incessant buzzing in his ears. He woke up with a frown etched into his face and not even looking at Ilya sleeping removed it. That’s when Shane knew it was going to be a bad day. Nothing terrible had happened, it was just one of those days - when everything was too loud, both outside and inside his head.
Ilya had watched him all throughout breakfast carefully, as Shane had winced at every scratch of the fork against the plate, how little he ate because everything tasted like cardboard. He had huffed at Shane’s hair and neck obsessively, trying to sniff out the illness, but there wasn’t any. Although he clearly knew something was up from his scent because he spent ten minutes sucking and licking at his neck to ‘get rid of bad smell’ apparently. It still didn’t work. Shane had managed to wave him off eventually, excusing himself for a nap, encouraging Ilya to go on his usual wolfish duties he goes on during the day.
Shane had tried lying in a dark room under the covers whilst Ilya was out, which sometimes helps, but even that didn’t work. The covers weren’t heavy enough on his skin to block out the itchiness. He tried yoga, but he couldn’t keep his balance and ended up getting so annoyed he kicked his mat across the floor in frustration.
By the time Ilya had returned - sooner than usual, also not being able to settle knowing something was off with him - Shane was lying face down on the sofa, the drawstring of his hoodie stuffed in his mouth, toes dragging across the smooth leather to feel the friction through his socks. Shane thought maybe if he just stuffed his face into the sofa, the pressure would tell his brain to shut up - it did not.
‘Shane?’ Ilya had paused in the doorway of the back porch, eyebrows furrowing to call out his name worriedly, and Shane only gave out a muffled response against the couch. Shane suddenly felt fingers card through his hair gently, tugging on it lightly.
‘What is wrong?’ Ilya’s voice was deadly serious, tight with tension, and Shane knew that he needed to roll over to let him know he wasn’t dying or anything and that he didn’t need to tear throats out or start growling menacingly (like the time Shane had stubbed his toe in the bathroom and had cried out so loud, Ilya had almost blown the door down in protective rage). But Shane couldn’t quite manage the effort to turn over, so he tried to say a garbled ‘M fine,’ his lips mushed up against the sofa.
Ilya repeated his name again and having no physical reaction adequate enough to abate his worry, he got his hands around Shane’s waist to flip him over. Shane still had the end of his hoodie in his mouth, the sky blue colour now darkened by his saliva, his nose no longer aching from squishing it into the cushion.
‘Shane, what is wrong.’ Ilya looked down at him with such worry, big hands gently petting his face, large figure kneeling down next to him with such care and love in his eyes, that Shane couldn't help the frustrated tears that begin to gather, his eyes going glassy. He swallows harshly, biting his lip around the drawstring in his mouth as he blinks rapidly, trying to fight them back.
At the sight of Shane trying to swallow down his tears, Ilya shushes him frantically, dragging Shane to sit up, hands cradling his face, peppering kisses across the apple of his cheeks, his freckles.
‘Shane,’ Ilya murmurs against his skin, and the word is filled with such emotion, such sincerity that Shane can’t help the tears from falling. He feels like an idiot, all worked up over literally nothing, and now he’s crying because Ilya is being nice and not having a go at him for being a baby. It was pathetic.
Ilya draws back, thumb swiping a tear that is tracing a line down Shane’s face, eyes flitting between his, leaning close to nudge their noses together. ‘Shane why do you cry, you need to tell me. We can fix, yes?’ He promises softly, and it has Shane sniffling, more tears dripping down his cheeks, a hand coming to rub at his face roughly in frustration.
Shane tries to speak but doesn’t know what to say, groaning in annoyance, knocking his forehead against Ilya’s, thoroughly chewed hoodie string falling from his mouth.
‘I’m fine, I’m okay, I just—,’ Shane breaks off, blinking back more damn tears and averting his gaze, fingers twisting into the bottom of Ilya’s shorts. Ilya stares at him patiently, pecking him softly.
‘It is okay, deep breath.’ And god Ilya is just so sweet, so good, so lovely that Shane does as he’s told, glancing up at him momentarily to see Ilya smile encouragingly to finally answer.
Shane squeezes his eyes shut to try and focus, opening them to look at Ilya, the buzziness under his skin abating for a moment as Ilya gently sweeps his thumb across the bridge of Shane’s nose.
‘I just can’t relax, my brain is all,’ Shane opens and closes his hand in explanation, Ilya looking down at it with a frown, ‘I just can’t get it to be quiet. Everything is too loud, or scratchy, or just—,’ Shane looks up at the ceiling with a sigh.
‘I just feel uncomfortable and I can’t find a way to not feel like that.’ He chances a look at Ilya, holding his breath, nervous to see his reaction. And instead of ridicule, Ilya is gazing at him with his head cocked, mind clearly ticking away in thought. The silence has Shane fidgeting more, knees shuffling together, sucking the drawstring back into his mouth as he gnaws on it like a rabbit would a carrot. He’s so lost in his head, fingers scratching at the brown leather beneath him that when Ilya speaks, even softly, it sounds like he’s shouting.
‘You need settling.’ Ilya says it simply, and Shane blinks at him in response. And Shane realises with a start, Ilya was once again, incredibly accurate in anticipating what Shane needs. It would be really annoying, if it wasn’t so nice to not have to think too hard about everything all the time, Shane happily letting Ilya take the lead - whether that’s in bed or simply letting him herd Shane round the cottage. And Shane is a certified control freak, so unleashing even a tiny bit of control is a big thing, so the fact that Ilya can make Shane give it up all in a blink of an eye should be terrifying. But it isn’t, instead it just fits, like the last piece of a puzzle, the cherry on top of an iced bun, the candles on the birthday cake. Because that was just how they were.
‘I-I guess so? I don’t know.’ Shane isn’t sure exactly what settling would entail. Would Ilya sit on him? Maybe that would be an idea, like a weighted blanket but an Ilya version. But then Shane isn’t sure if that is what he needs. He looks up at Ilya in question, soft brown eyes still a little glossy from tears, cheeks a little red and Ilya’s grip on his face tightens slightly, the contemplative look in his eye darkening slightly.
‘Hmm, yes. You need to settle, I will help.’ Ilya says it with such volition Shane has no choice but to nod along, even if he has no idea what the hell Ilya is referring to. Maybe they’ll play a game or something, or swim? Tire him out? But Shane isn’t sure if he wants to do that. Shane finds his mind tripping over so many ideas of what Ilya could mean and Ilya watches it happen with a frown.
Ilya moves a hand down to grip his chin tightly, pulling Shane’s gaze back to his from where it drifted past his shoulder. Shane sucks in a breath at the sharp movement, mind grinding to a halt as Ilya presses the pad of his thumb into his mouth, which Shane sucks on instinctively, humming around it as the weight does something for a moment. A small thing, but definitely something, and Shane can feel the frayed edges of his mind soften slightly.
‘No thinking, just do as I say, yes? Like a good boy.’ Shane’s breath hitches at the muttered words, pupils immediately widening at the command, at the idea of finally not thinking. He could honestly feel his body beginning to sing at the mere idea of it. Yes, that would be nice. So nice.
‘Yes?’ Ilya repeats, louder and harsher, more commanding at Shane’s lack of response. Shane nods immediately, speaking out a garbled ‘Yes,’ around Ilya’s thumb in his mouth. Ilya removes it slowly, before leaning forward to capture Shane’s lips in a deep kiss that has Shane’s fingers flying up to rest on Ilya’s wide shoulders and thighs twitching at the feel of it, the way Ilya claims his mouth so easily.
‘Good boy,’ Ilya says lowly into his mouth and Shane tries not to keen like a needy little thing - because that is what Ilya turns him into. A desperate ball of neediness that can be unraveled by the lightest of Ilya’s touch. He’d be embarrassed if he didn’t know Ilya loved it so much, that the wolf man thrived on it with dark eyes and a satisfied smirk.
Ilya stands up and Shane can’t help but whine softly, Ilya turning to smile down at him softly, pushing his hair off his forehead before shushing him. Shane sits obediently, watching as Ilya lies a blanket on the extended part of the sofa, fluffing up the decorative cushions and twisting to turn the TV on. Shane’s brow furrows slightly, confused at what Ilya is planning.
Ilya looks back at him with an amused huff, clearly sensing Shane’s trepidation. Because Shane did not want to watch a movie, and if Ilya’s idea of settling is making him watch a crappy film, he’s revoking all dick sucking privileges for a week.
But then Ilya moves to him again, Shane following him like a hawk, craning his head up to look at the man looming above him, the sharp jut of his cheekbones from below, the golden curls, the muscular chest, the broad shoulders that block out half the room. Shane’s too busy staring that he yelps softly as Ilya picks him up in his arms, bridal style. His hands wrap around Ilya’s neck to steady himself as Ilya swings him up, carrying him to the other end of the couch he has set up.
‘What are we doing?’ Shane asks quietly, and Ilya sets him down on the sofa, before tapping his nose lightly as he crashes down beside him, legs stretching out on the L shaped part of the couch.
‘We are settling. And I told you, good boys do not think. So no questions.’ Ilya turns to say with a raised eyebrow, before gripping the front of Shane’s hoodie to tug Shane forward harshly, sending him tipping over into Ilya’s lap headfirst. Shane lets out a muffled ‘oomph’, face buried between Ilya’s strong thighs. He reorganises his legs to lie across the couch, propping up on his elbows to look up at Ilya with an unimpressed glare and hair rumpled, the expression of an angry kitten.
‘Wha—,’ He tries to say but Ilya suddenly has a tight grip in his hair, using it to yank his head backwards to bare his throat, Shane gasping at the rough touch, Ilya leaning in close so they are nose to nose.
‘What did I say?’ Ilya mutters, voice thin and Shane’s breath hitches, swallowing harshly. He can feel a spark of arousal zigzag down his spine at the dominance leaking out around Ilya’s words, his grip on Shane’s hair.
He licks his lips hurriedly to whisper out his answer, ‘You-you said,’ Shane tries to level out his breathing, ‘Good boys don’t think.’ The air thickens with something familiar, dominance and submission, a neediness to be good and listen, and the feeling has the ringing in Shane’s ears beginning to quieten already.
Ilya hums pleased, ‘Good boy,’ and punctuates the praise with a nip at Shane’s bottom lip with his sharp canines before pulling back, slackening his grip in Shane’s hair to direct his face downwards, having Shane rest a cheek against his thigh.
Shane goes willingly, sinking down with a soft exhale through his nose, slightly nuzzling his nose into the fabric of Ilya’s shorts. Ilya flicks a film on, and Shane looks up to see what it is but Ilya grips his hair again to stop him.
‘Ah, ah, no.’ Shane’s brows furrow in confusion at the order, but then he hears rustling and then feels Ilya lift his hips to tug his shorts down, lifting Shane’s head momentarily as he does and setting him back down against his naked thigh. Shane’s eyes immediately zero on Ilya’s large, soft cock that rests against his hip, like a moth to a flame. Automatically, he feels his mouth fill with saliva.
He watches with bated breath, fingers curling slightly into Ilya’s thigh as Ilya grips it in his hand, tugging on it slightly as Shane watches it twitch, hardening slightly at the touch. Shane’s lips part on instinct, all idea of seeing what film is on completely and blissfully forgotten. Ilya uses the hand in Shane’s hair to draw him closer, and Shane can feel his own cock twitch in his shorts at the idea of having Ilya’s cock in his mouth. Forget about whatever settling plans Ilya has, cock comes first in Shane’s eyes - every, single time.
Shane immediately hangs his slick tongue out in anticipation, breathing getting deeper, heat already curling in his gut. But then Ilya only taps the head of it against his tongue before drawing back. Shane looks up, whining softly but stops short at the hard look in Ilya’s eye.
‘You have my cock but you will not suck. Yes?’ Shane tries to tilt his head to the side in confusion, pouting at the idea of not sucking on Ilya’s cock - what’s the point then? That’s like putting a slice of cake in front of a child and saying not to eat it. But he forgets Ilya still has his hair gripped between his fingers, making his movements stilted. Ilya huffs in amusement at the hungry but put-off look on Shane’s face.
‘I know you want to suck my cock baby but you will not. Only have in your mouth and keep still. Understand?’ And considering Ilya had only begun learning English after being a feral wolf in the forest for the better half of fifteen years, Shane suddenly feels like he’s the one that needs English lessons.
It takes Shane a minute to process what Ilya said, mind clicking with understanding eventually, begrudgingly. He’d argue, but Ilya had told him no thinking, and that also meant no arguing. And Shane was good, liked being told he was good, so if being good meant not being a brat about not being able to suck Ilya’s cock like he wants, then fine. He won’t say a word. Shane nods against Ilya’s grip and the man watches him with a satisfied glint in his eye.
‘Good boy, now open up.’ Shane immediately listens, lips parting wider on a gasp, toes curling at the words coming from Ilya’s mouth.
Ilya feeds his slightly hard cock between his lips, crooning out ‘There you go, so pretty,’ that has Shane moaning softly, eyes blinking up at the man above him to see him grit his teeth at the sight.
Once the head tickles the back of Shane’s throat, Ilya stops even though his cock isn’t all the way in. Shane expects him to bully his cock down his throat, wouldn’t mind it if he did, but then Ilya gently nudges Shane down to rest his cheek against his thigh, cock still in his mouth.
Shane unintentionally suckles on the length in his mouth and Ilya stifles a groan, hands petting his hair. ‘No sucking, be still.’
And Shane tries, but he finds himself fidgeting at the idea of not doing anything whilst the cock of the man he loves is nestled on his tongue. But then Ilya slides his hand to cup the back of his neck in a gentle scruff, something Shane notices Ilya does a lot when he’s feeling particularly in need of asserting his dominance and also to assure Shane, calm him down when his own body refuses to do so.
‘Settle.’ The word is gruff, more of a rumble from Ilya’s chest, but that paired with the tightening of Ilya’s hand at the back of his neck has Shane falling limp, jaw slackening, eyes glazing over with a soft whine. Ilya pets the side of his cheek with the back of his knuckles.
‘Good boy.’
And fuck, it works. Slowly, Shane can feel himself settling, mind floating somewhere nice and quiet, fluffy and soft. Like a solitary cloud, or a big fat pink marshmallow. His senses quieten, his heart rate slows like it does when he does his yoga breathing, except he has Ilya’s cock in his mouth. The sound of the film playing on the TV blurs out to white noise, the only thing Shane can feel is the heavy weight of Ilya’s cock on his tongue, in his mouth, and Ilya’s fingers gently carding through his hair. He can smell the muskiness that is Ilya from his cock. It’s perfect. It’s everything Shane never knew he needed. It has Shane’s eyes drooping, lashes fluttering as his eyes threaten to close.
He tries to keep them open, saliva pooling in his mouth and slipping down his chin as he warms Ilya’s cock but eventually they slip closed, helped by Ilya sweeping his fingers across his eyebrows softly, coaxing his eyes shut with gentle movements. Shane hums contendedly, and distantly he feels Ilya’s cock harden in his mouth at the vibrations. The length is a lot harder than it was when Ilya first pressed it past his lips but Shane doesn’t really notice, too busy feeling like he’s in a dream, his bones heavy, mind vacant except the settling weight on his tongue.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed but eventually he begins to float back to the surface, his eyes blearily blinking open, senses coming back in slowly. His chin is sticky with saliva, some of it pooling by his cheek, his jaw slightly aching. He instinctively suckles around the weight on his tongue and he feels fingers tighten in his hair. Ilya.
He tilts his head up slightly, cheek squishing against the thigh beneath him to look up at Ilya through his lashes, mouth stuffed with cock. Ilya looks down at him darkly, petting his hair.
‘Feel better now?’ He murmurs softly and Shane sucks at the cock in his mouth as an answer, Ilya’s eyes flutter shut momentarily at the feeling. ‘Good,’ Ilya breathes out, half in relief, the other from restraining himself from fucking into Shane’s slack mouth as he floated away all this time. Resisting the tight, warm heat of Shane’s eager mouth, and his angelic face was harder than it looks.
Ilya slowly withdraws his cock slightly so the head rests on Shane’s lips and Shane tries to suck it back into his mouth on a glazed out frown, eyebrows drawing together at the feeling of Ilya removing his cock. Ilya can’t help but laugh softly.
‘Do not worry my love, you can have my cock, yes? Been such a good boy,’ Shane can’t help but keen at the promise in the darkly uttered words, tongue digging into the slit to taste Ilya’s precum.
Ilya smirks darkly before dragging Shane deeper into his lap so his head rests just above his hard cock, length never leaving Shane’s mouth. Shane goes bonelessly, panting around the cock in his mouth as he swirls his tongue along the ridge under the head to feel Ilya’s thighs tense under his fingers as they rest there for purchase. Shane’s head is still fuzzy, brain only on one thing - sucking Ilya’s cock. A single minded focus that echoes in his ears.
Ilya’s voice cuts in, both hands coming to grip the sides of Shane’s face gently but firmly, thumbs hooking around the bottom of his ears as he spreads his thighs, feet coming up to form a foothold on the couch. ‘Going to let me fuck your face, aren’t you?’
Shane’s cock leaks precum at the question and he garbles out a desperate moan around the cockhead resting on his tongue, fingers digging into the naked flesh of Ilya’s thighs. And Ilya chuckles, taking that as a yes.
Ilya’s grip on the sides of his face tighten, before he begins to thrust his hips up at a brutal pace, and fucking his cock right into Shane’s waiting, wet mouth. Shane’s eyes can’t help but roll back at the feeling, Ilya’s cock sliding so easily down his throat, pulling out slick wet noises with every jerk of his hips. Shane moans loudly, the vibrations sending Ilya’s hips fucking up faster, Ilya muttering out a ‘Fuck,’ as he holds Shane’s head still, using his mouth like a cock sleeve.
Shane is drooling so much Ilya’s balls are wet with it, slapping against his chin at every uptake, the wet plap plap plap loud above Ilya’s panting and Shane’s garbled whines and overwhelmed moans. But he knows Ilya likes it messy, likes seeing him drool for it, likes to see Shane wet with it.
‘Fuck, hungry aren’t you?’ Ilya hisses above him, accent thickening in the throes of pleasure, and Shane can’t help but moan in agreement, letting Ilya use his mouth, fucking all the thoughts out of his skull with his cock, the choked wet sounds of Ilya’s length hitting the back of his throat.
Shane would wholeheartedly agree, he’s always hungry for Ilya, but he doesn’t have the capacity or the ability to form words, even thoughts. All he’s good for is to whine and let Ilya use him as a cocksleeve.
‘Good boy needed cock in his mouth, yes? Make you feel better,’ Ilya’s head tilts to rest against the back of the couch, mouth parting at the feel of Shane’s mouth around him. Shane’s eyes cross at a particularly hard thrust that makes him choke, Ilya’s words burning into his brain and the hard curve of his cock trapped in his shorts, steadily leaking a puddle through the material.
And honestly, having Ilya’s cock in his mouth was making Shane feel better, it was like paracetamol, or whatever people take to not feel so anxious - yes, Ilya’s cock was the Xanax equivalent. Maybe instead of taking those daily, Shane should just swallow Ilya’s cock instead as a replacement. That would be nice, Shane thinks distantly as the length slides down his throat again before retreating, shiny with his spit. That would be really fucking nice. Shane wouldn’t have to think at all. And Shane begins to think about just existing for Ilya to use like this, all the time, his mouth, his hole. Just a plaything to hang off Ilya’s knot. The idea of it has Shane keening around the thickness stretching his lips, thighs squeezing together, opening his mouth wider to let the wet glug glug glug sounds of his throat chime out louder.
And Shane wants Ilya’s cum, and he wants it now. Wants to feel it coat his tongue, fill his belly, wants to be full of Ilya in every way possible.
Ilya’s hands in his hair are harsh, tight and borderline painful, holding him in place as hips jerk upwards violently into Shane’s waiting mouth, gasping out as Shane swallows around his length, feeling his orgasm crashing towards him. Shane begins to swallow rhythmically around Ilya’s cock as it shoves deeper down his throat, carving out a space for itself to coax Ilya closer to the edge.
‘Shit—fuck, that’s a good boy, like that,’ Ilya groans out, chest heaving, sweat glimmering at his brow with the feeling of Shane’s mouth around his cock, using his grip in Shane’s hair to drive him forward with each snap of his hips. Shane breathes furiously through his nose, moaning highly to send Ilya over the edge at the vibrations sending a thrum up his cock to his balls.
Ilya snarls deep in his chest, canines bared as he cums, growling out a guttural, ‘Swallow,’ as he fills Shane’s throat with his hot cum. Shane’s eyes roll back at the feeling of it on his tongue, swallowing manically to take it all, not wanting to waste a single drop.
Ilya slows his hips to a grind, moaning lowly as Shane obediently swallows it all down, and all that can be heard is Ilya’s deep breathing as he comes down from his orgasm. Slowly, with gentle hands in Shane’s messy hair, he pulls him off his cock. Ilya’s cock leaves Shane’s mouth with a pop, Shane stuttering on a wet gasp, strings of spit webbing from his mouth and Ilya’s spent cock.
Ilya uses his hold on Shane’s hair to move him upwards, and Shane follows with bleary eyes, an aching jaw and swollen lips, chin covered in spit and a streak of Ilya’s cum that leaked out of his mouth. Ilya holds his face gently, feeling his cock twitch at the sight of the smaller man dazed out from having his face brutally fucked, throat stuffed with Ilya’s cock. Shane swallows weakly, blinking slowly up at him.
Ilya uses a bit of Shane’s hoodie to wipe at the mess on Shane’s chin, tracing his fingers softly against Shane’s cheek to watch as his eyes fall closed. ‘Feel better now?’ Ilya mutters and it takes a moment for Shane to register the words, nodding in a daze, eyes faraway and breathing low, blow pupils making his eyes look back. Ilya draws him closer for a deep kiss, Shane’s fingers curling into Ilya’s chest as an anchor.
‘Did so good, such pretty mouth,’ Ilya murmurs as he draws back to play with the bottom of Shane’s cherry red lip, before kissing him again. As he swipes his tongue into Shane’s mouth to hear him moan weakly, Shane’s hips jerk and Ilya pulls back with a smirk, feeling Shane’s leaking cock through his shorts.
‘Does baby want to cum too?’ He drawls playfully to watch Shane nod frantically, swollen mouth open on a pant. Ilya draws Shane’s hoodie up and off, Shane raising his arms in the air dutifully, before they come flopping back down again, boneless. He only has the capacity to do as Ilya says, there isn’t any room for anything else. And Shane wouldn’t want it any other way.
He pushes Shane on his back, the man collapsing into a wiggly heap as his thighs twitch, shoulders curling inwards, hands coming out to grab for Ilya, demanding him closer. Ilya smiles fondly at the sight, going willingly to pepper kisses across Shane’s face, kissing the backs of his hands soothingly, before drawing up again on his knees to look down at him. Shane immediately whines at the distance between them, face scrunching up in a pout but Ilya soon shushes him as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of Shane’s shorts, pulling them down in one swift move, but leaving his socks on.
The cool air on his hard cock has Shane gasping, hips twitching upwards. Ilya looks on with a hungry gaze, and then he moves.
Ilya grabs at Shane’s ankles before moving his legs up slowly so they rest by Shane’s ears, the stretch delightfully easy with Shane’s dedication to yoga. Ilya folds him in half so his hips are tilted, the lower half of his body in the air helplessly, twitching hole exposed as Ilya presses his socked toes to Shane’s ears. Shane belatedly feels like a pancake. A very horny, needy pancake.
‘Hold.’ Ilya gruffs out and even through the haze, Shane hears, fumbling to grip his own ankles, toes curling by his head in anticipation. He’s essentially on display to Ilya’s eyes, and any other time when he hadn’t just gotten every thought fucked out of his skull by Ilya using his mouth as a fleshlight, he’d have the decency to be embarrassed. Luckily, it’s not one of those times.
Shane can hear his pulse in his ears, cock twitching as he waits for Ilya to move, not being able to see him in this position as Ilya settles down on his stomach. But the first lick of his tongue across Shane’s hole has him stuttering on a moan. And then Ilya begins to eat him out like a man, or wolf, possessed. He sucks at his rim, lashing his tongue teasingly across it to hear Shane whine. He leaves a wet kiss against it before he trails kisses down his taint, licking a strip back up before fucking his tongue past his rim.
‘Fu—Ilya,’ Shane slurs out, tongue too thick in his mouth for anything intelligible as the feeling of Ilya’s tongue licking inside of him has him shuddering. Ilya groans and the feel of it has Shane gasping, eyes threatening to roll back - the colour of his eyes may as well be white given how often Ilya makes that happen.
A loud moan rings out when Ilya slips a finger in besides his tongue, curling just to rest against his prostate. Shane’s cock dribbles out an endless stream of precum, drooling as much as Shane is from his mouth. And then one finger becomes two, fucked deep to the last knuckle as they milk his prostate ferociously. Ilya having Shane fold himself in two like this means that Ilya’s large fingers can get that much deeper, and then Ilya starts pumping them roughly, forearm tensed as he hooks his fingers into Shane’s rim with every outward pull. Shane whines highly, head falling back against the couch in ecstasy at the feeling of it, Ilya finger fucking him within an inch of his life.
‘So pretty,’ He can feel Ilya murmur the praise into the sensitive skin of the crease of his inner thigh and Shane’s hole clench around the fingers inside him. Ilya smiles against his thigh, ‘Baby likes that?’
Shane nods, babbling out incoherently that yes I’m your baby, baby likes it so so so much as his orgasm hurtles towards him, and then Ilya’s mouth is back on him, tongue fucking inside along his fingers and it’s enough to send Shane delirious, eyes rolling back all the way, lips parted on a silent moan as cum shoots up from his cock to spill on his chest. Ilya watches from between his legs with dark eyes, never ceasing his mouth or his fingers as Shane rides out his orgasm, hips jerking into the air at the feeling of having it positively wrung out of him untouched. Shane’s hold on his ankles slips, and slowly his legs fall back down, his chest heaving, fingers curled weakly by his sides. Ilya sucks against his hole one last time just to hear Shane choke on a whine, hips kicking up in oversensitivity before crawling up the length of Shane’s spent body, tongue following the trail of Shane’s cum as he moves. He licks it up with a pleased hum, always enjoying the taste of Shane on his tongue.
Shane is far away again, untethered, blinking sluggishly, breath frantic as he tries to calm down. Ilya kisses his way up from his chest, to his neck to suck a love bite into his collarbone, up to his lips. Ilya kisses him deeply, before leaving gentle kisses across the rest of his face, hands soothingly tracing up and down Shane’s sides as he comes back to him.
A few minutes have passed when Shane blinks once, twice, sniffling to himself as he mumbles something. Ilya hums in question but Shane doesn’t try again, hands weakly coming to clutch at Ilya’s biceps. ‘Did so well.’ Ilya croons against his lips and Shane can’t help the hiccup of a breath in his chest at the praise.
Ilya rolls them to their side so Shane is fenced in between the back of the couch and Ilya’s warm naked chest. Ilya tucks his head in under his chin, hand tracing soothing shapes along Shane’s spine to feel him shiver in delight. The space is tight and dark, and Shane loves it, sinking into it with open arms, breath labouring out.
Ilya drops a kiss against his hair, squeezing Shane to him tightly to mutter, ‘Settled now like good boy. Now sleep.’ And Ilya can’t help the loving smile that spreads across his face at the feeling of Shane immediately listening, smushing his face in between his pecs with a soft moan, body falling limp and heavy against his own, legs tangled together. Ilya can feel the warm puffs of breath against his neck as Shane finally drifts off to sleep, finally settled.