Chapter Text
Shane and Ilya had a few days to themselves. Their next game wasn’t for a week, which means the Centaurs had a few days off from practice. Shane made sure that Yuna didn’t schedule him any brand meetings, but he had to compromise and promise to still answer some emails. They’ve made no plans with friends. Just the two of them alone, together. They cherished these moments because they were able to slow down and do the mundane. Right now they were relaxed on the couch with Anya in her bed, watching the New York vs Pittsburg game.
“Gospodi, I can’t believe Scott Hunter hasn’t broken his ankle yet. You know, frail bones at his age,” Ilya says. He’s half watching the screen while scrolling his phone. Shane’s head is in his lap.
“Scott is your friend, why do you always have to chirp him?” Shane asks. His voice is relaxed because Ilya’s free hand is slowly running through his hair massaging his scalp.
“Okay, we are friendly, not friends. Please, there is difference Hollander. But because I am nice friendly guy, I am looking out for his health. Maybe I should buy him a cane?” Ilya laughs at his own joke and Shane just smacks his knee but nuzzles back into Ilya’s lap for more head massages.
This is the position they usually find themselves in when watching anything on TV. Ilya slouched and relaxed into the couch with Shane's head in his lap. They’re both exactly where they want to be. Ilya loves to play with Shane’s hair, alternating between massaging and gently scratching Shane’s head. It’s what his mother did for him as a child and he remembers the way it made him feel so loved and cared for. It soothes Ilya to know that Shane is right there, safe with him, and not going anywhere. Sometimes that dark part of his brain tells him that Shane is going to leave him. Even after all these years, being married, living together. He’s scared that Shane might change his mind one day and tell Ilya he’s too much, too sad, that he can’t do this anymore. So touching Shane in any way he can has become a coping mechanism for him. If he can touch Shane, feel Shane under his hands, he isn’t going anywhere. His conscious brain knows this isn't true, that Shane is just as deeply in love with and committed to Ilya as he is to him. But depression can be a fucking bitch. The pills have kept the darker thoughts away, but they still creep in from time to time.
Shane equally loves lying in Ilya’s lap. Feeling Ilya’s hands in his hair. It almost makes Shane purr—honestly, he may have purred a few times in the past. Often after a difficult day, whether he was unhappy with his performance in a game, had too many meetings about brand deals or talk to too many people about things he doesn’t know or care about, he’ll crawl into Ilya’s lap and silently nudge at Ilya’s hands with his head begging for him to play with his hair. The moment he feels Ilya’s hands on him his mind clears. His anxiety subsides and he can breathe. If he could stay in Ilya’s lap forever he would. There is nowhere in this world safer to him or more comforting than his husband's lap. He’s never admitted this to Ilya—but this is the entire reason he wears his hair longer now. Ilya’s hands playing with it, sometimes tugging gently, just feels so much better with longer hair. And when those gentle tugs turn more forceful with Ilya’s silent question for more… Yes, Shane is very happy he grew his hair out.
Ilya glances down at Shane and sees his eyes closed, content. He knows Shane loves this just as much as him. He also thinks it might be why Shane grew his hair out, but he’s never asked. Ilya continues to absentmindedly play with Shane’s hair and glances at the game when he gets a notification from Svetlana. She sent him a post on twitter. Sveta always had a lot of followers online, she’s beautiful, clever, funny. Things that people love. When it was discovered that she was Ilya’s best friend, her followers grew even more—mostly because of how severely she roasts Ilya at every opportunity. Her follower list might be full of hockey fans, but her following is full of models. She loves clothing and is watching every runway during fashion week—she’s even attended a few. Often she’ll send Ilya posts of some photoshoot as inspiration for him because she keeps trying to convince him into doing editorial modeling. Ilya knows he’s hot, hotter than most with his sharp cheekbones and full lips. But he’s never had an interest in modeling. He opens the post Sveta sent him expecting another photoshoot that she thinks he would have been better for, but what he sees makes his breath hitch.
Sveta sent him a post from one of the male models she follows, along with a message.
I almost thought this was Shane, thought you might enjoy ;)
The photo attached is a shot of the model from behind. His arms behind his back leaning to one side, fingers interlocked and resting against his hip. His shoulders are broad like Shane's, his waist small like his too. His hair is dark and short like Shane’s used to be. Muscles on full display. But the thing that made his breath hitch is what the model’s wearing. He’s got on a light pink bralette and panty set. White frill around the edges, fabric completely sheer. The bralette is stretched tight over the models back, but the panties. That’s what really made Ilya’s brain short circuit. Because of the sheer fabric, the models full ass is on display despite being fully covered. And all he can think about is Shane in this outfit, in this position. Coming up behind Shane and squeezing his ass through fabric, slipping his fingers underneath. He replies to Sveta.
Fuck.
She replies, You’re welcome.
Ilya got so distracted by the photo that his hand in Shane’s hair stilled. Shane nudges his hand but Ilya doesn’t react. He tries again and whimpers Ilya’s name. It still doesn’t work so Shane shifts onto his back to look up at him. This was very important head scratching time and Shane needs to know what made it stop so abruptly. When he looks up he’s met with the back of Ilya’s phone. What is Ilya looking at? He reaches up to move Ilya’s phone out of the way and when he sees his face Shane is immediately pulled out of his perfect cozy fog. That glazed look in Ilya’s eyes is far too familiar. What the fuck. The movement of Ilya’s phone brings his focus back and he blinks a couple times. He looks down at Shane to find him glaring back with a pout on his lips.
“What the hell are you looking at?” Shane asks.
Ilya immediately feels a flush rise to his cheeks and replies “Nothing, why?”
Shane gasps. “Oh my god, are you blushing? That’s not nothing, show me!” He moves to reach for Ilya’s phone but Ilya holds it out of his reach and attempts to bend down to give Shane a kiss.
“It’s nothing, moya lyubov. Just a silly photo Sveta sent me,” Ilya says.
Shane isn’t having it and scrambles out from underneath Ilya and changes positions to straddle his lap. Ilya tosses his phone onto the cushion next to them and rests his hands on Shane’s hips. He’s still red.
“Ilya, a silly photo would make a person laugh, not blush. What did she send you?”
“She sent me a picture. I already said. Maybe you need your ears checked.” Ilya tries to joke and then leans in for a kiss again.
Shane dodges him and Ilya whines. “Uh uh Rozanov. My hearing is perfectly fine. Stop trying to distract me with kisses!”
“But you love my kisses,” Ilya whispers. Shane's cheeks heat up. But he’s determined to know what made Ilya blush like that, what made him look like that. Because that look has only ever been for him and Shane is starting to feel something sharp and tight in his chest. Jealousy.
They stare at each other for a second. Shane can see that Ilya is embarrassed—like he got caught looking at something he shouldn't—which has Shane’s mind reeling as to what the fuck, or the who the fuck this photo could be of. Shane needs answers and after all these years, he knows how to work them out of his husband.
He cups both sides of Ilya’s face and slowly leans in until their lips are almost touching.
“Pozhaluysta, Ilya,” he whispers.
As Shane knew he would, Ilya caves. “Fuck, how can I say no when you do that? But this will not work forever, lyubimiy”.
“Yes, it will.”
Ilya can only chuckle because Shane’s right. Hearing Shane speak Russian will always make Ilya’s heart flutter. He can’t ever deny the love of his life when he begs in his mother tongue.
Ilya grabs his phone from the cushion beside them. “Fine. You know how Sveta follows all those models and is always sending me these posts, trying to convince me to do it too?”
Shane nods.
“Well, she sent me another model photo but this time because she thought he looked like you,” Ilya says hesitantly.
“Oh really?” Shane says. He’s waiting. That statement hasn’t made things better.
Ilya unlocks his phone now and turns the screen towards Shane. He shifts his gaze from Ilya’s face to his phone and his eyes go wide.
Two things happen at once because Shane’s body loves to betray him and confuse him. First, the photo makes him blush. He can’t help it. Sexual things outside of the closed doors of his bedroom still make him squirm. He’d rather the world think he’s a sexless robot than know he’d willingly crawl on his hands and knees for a taste of his husband's cock—and has. Second, that small tight ball of jealousy in his chest has exploded inside of him like a nuclear bomb.
He knows Ilya is studying him for his reaction. So when tears form in Shane’s eyes and he tries to get up, Ilya is quick to react. He drops the phone and tightens his grip on Shane’s hips, keeping him in place.
“Let go, Ilya,” he mumbles. Shane can barely speak. Looking anywhere but at Ilya’s face. His mind is racing. How dare Ilya lust for someone else? What the fuck.
“Shane, look at me,” Ilya’s voice is calm.
Shane doesn’t move.
Ilya lifts one of his hands from Shane’s waist to grab onto his chin. Forcing him to look at Ilya. He tries again.
“Shane. Look at me sweetheart.” This time Shane lifts his gaze.
“Tell me what this is. I think maybe I know, but please. Use your words, don’t hide from me.”
Ilya’s eyes are locked onto Shane’s. God, he gets lost in Shane’s eyes. For someone who has such a difficult time putting words to his feelings, Shane’s eyes tell Ilya everything he’s ever needed to know.
Shane looks away again. His jealousy is consuming him, and he feels like he could burn the house down to the fucking ground right now. He’s felt jealousy before. Before they decided to be something real he used to feel jealous of Svetlana, of anyone that Ilya touched besides him. But that was before Shane had any right to Ilya. They weren’t together, Ilya wasn’t his.
But things are different now. Ilya is his. Only his.
He feels Ilya’s grip on his chin tighten, his other hand comes up trying to smooth the crease between Shane’s brows.
“Shane. I told you to look at me. Tell me why you look like you could murder someone,” Ilya tries teasing.
Shane whips his gaze back to Ilya. “You want to fuck him,” He accuses.
Ilya stays relaxed, locked onto Shane’s gaze. Then he slowly cracks a small smile and shakes his head “No sweetheart, I do not.”
“What the fuck do you mean no you don’t? I saw your face, that look. How are you smiling right now? Fuck off!” A tear threatening to spill over.
Fuck he hates crying like this. But when it comes to Ilya he physically cannot stop himself. Ilya sets every single one of his nerve endings on fire and Shane’s never been able to extinguish that flame. He feels so deeply for this man it takes over him. So to see Ilya looking at someone else with the look that is Shane's only, well, he could murder someone right now. That stupid model more specifically.
Ilya’s smile grows wider. He knows it’s pissing Shane off, but he can’t help it. He thought Shane might react like this—it’s why he hesitated to show him the photo at all. He thought Shane might misinterpret why Ilya was blushing, why he evidently looked turned on looking at that photo. What he didn’t expect was this level of jealousy. He can feel Shane vibrating with it, and Ilya loves it.
He needs to clear this up quickly, but he wants to play just a little bit first.
He wraps his arms around Shane and shifts their bodies so Shane is lying flat on his back on the couch and Ilya is above him, pressing his weight into him. He doesn’t want Shane escaping.
Ilya hovers over Shane for a moment, searching his face. The look he finds tells him that Shane is giving him nothing until he gets an answer. But he’s not pushing Ilya away. He’s actually wrapped his arms around Ilya’s biceps, holding Ilya to him. Shane didn’t even think about the action, he did it on instinct. Ilya smiles again, which makes Shane’s brows furrow even further. He ducks down and nuzzles his nose into Shane’s neck, inhaling deep. Testing the waters as they say. He hears Shane’s breath hitch which spurs him on. He scrapes his nose up the line of Shane’s jaw until he reaches his ear.
With his lips an inch away he whispers into Shane’s ear “You know I love it when you tell me to fuck off. But you have me curious Shane. What is this ‘look’ you mention?” He finishes by licking that sensitive spot behind Shane’s ear. Ilya knows he’s playing with fire.
Shane lets out an involuntary shiver. “Ilya, you know exactly what look.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Ilya feigns innocence and goes back to nuzzling Shane’s neck.
“Yes, you fucking do!”
“No. I don’t. You are jealous, this is clear. I need you to use your words and tell me why. What look did I have on my face?” Ilya pulls back now to look at Shane again and what he sees makes the blood begin to rush to Ilya’s cock. He can see a blush spreading across his perfect husband's face. That combined with the tears still lingering in Shane’s eyes and the furrowed brow—lethal. Shane really is so fucking beautiful when he’s angry.
“Ilya, you know what I’m talking about,” Shane’s voice is barely above a whisper. Ilya’s proximity makes him feel light-headed.
“Hmm maybe, but you still need to say it,” Ilya smirks again and that snaps something in Shane. He’s openly lusting after another man and has the audacity to smile about it? Shane's jealousy rears its head full force and he lets go of Ilya’s arms and firmly pushes at his chest to get some distance between them. Ilya sits back on his knees.
It's too much, Shane erupts. “You were looking at him like you wanted to fucking eat him alive, devour him! Like you wanted to bury yourself in him! That look is for me, Ilya. Only me! Do you understand? You’re mine! Do you hear me? Fucking mine!”
Shane’s chest is heaving, breath ragged. The tears have spilled over as he stares dead into Ilya’s eyes.
Ilya’s heart could burst from his chest. The grin on his face could be seen from space and his cock was rock hard.
“Why the fuck are you smiling? You realize I’m pissed at you, right?” Shane spits. He really looks like an angry kitten, but Ilya knows better than to say that out loud.
Instead Ilya leans forward and plants his hands next to Shane’s thighs, leaning in, still smiling. “Sweetheart, I only have eyes for you. From the day we met. All I think about is you, all I want is you. You know this.”
“Then why the fuck are you looking at him like that? With me in your fucking lap no less!” Shane is so confused. Ilya is saying one thing, but Shane knows what he saw.
Ilya realizes that Shane isn't putting two and two together. He looked like he wanted to fuck that model because he wasn’t seeing the model at all in the image, he was seeing Shane. His Shane. In tiny little sheer panties that he wants to bury his nose in. He lifts his hand to swipe his thumb across his husband's freckles that he adores so much.
“Shane. Are you forgetting why Sveta even sent me this at all? It looks like you moya lyubov. I looked like I wanted to fuck, because I was thinking of you in those sexy little panties.” Ilya is holding Shane’s gaze, he needs him to understand.
Shane is staring back, his eyes flickering back and forth between Ilya’s. “Oh.”
“Did you forget I said this?” Ilya’s curious. Shane is anything but a forgetful person.
“Uhm, I don’t – uh,” he pauses. “I heard you say that. But – I just, I don’t know. I saw your face. I saw a photo of someone who wasn’t me, and uh – fuck. I just lost it.”
The jealousy is subsiding a little. He doesn’t want to commit a violent crime anymore, but he can still feel it sitting in his chest. Sharp and ugly. Now that he can somewhat think again Shane knows he has no valid reason to be jealous. He knows Ilya hangs on Shane’s every word. But he saw the face, saw a photo of someone else on Ilya’s phone and all sense went out the window. He saw black. But he doesn’t care, he’s not apologizing for it.
“I have never seen you act like this before Shane. So jealous. Yelling at me. Whoa. It is very hot, I am very hard,” Ilya says matter-of-factly, rubbing his nose against Shane’s.
“Shut up. I’m still angry. I don’t care that he looks like me, he isn’t me.” Shane pouts.
Without thinking, Ilya’s hand lifts and he trails his thumb so lightly across Shane’s lower lip. “Mmmm, those lips. They are my favourite.” Ilya leans in slowly for a kiss, hesitant. But this time Shane accepts him.
It starts gently. A brush of lips. Ilya wants Shane to know he can pull away if he wants to. Ilya would never force him into anything. He lays the softest of kisses on Shane’s lips. It brings Ilya back to the first time he fucked Shane. In the stairwell after, when he was saying goodbye. Neither of them were able to admit what they were feeling, both too scared and in denial. But Ilya couldn’t help but put his feelings into that goodnight kiss. He still thinks about it. And now, he’s putting all his feelings into this kiss. Because this is a language they have always been able to understand.
Shane doesn’t pull away so Ilya moves. He pulls Shane back underneath him, pressing down with his body and seeking friction for his erection. Shane moans into Ilya’s mouth. He wants to worship Shane, take things slow. Show him that there couldn’t possibly ever be anyone else for him. Ilya begins to pepper kisses across Shane's cheeks, eyes—his forehead. His hands are wrapped around Shane's head buried in his hair, grinding into him.
In return, Shane’s arms have slipped underneath Ilya’s shirt and up his back, pawing at him for more. He’s arching his body into Ilya’s, always hungry for him, but this feels different. He needs to stake his claim to Ilya, mark his territory. He knows it's ridiculous, but he feels like a man possessed. This jealousy has sunk its claws into Shane and the image of Ilya looking at that photo won’t leave his mind. He needs to replace it with another.
Ilya has finished his path of kisses around Shane’s face and makes it back to his lips. He can feel Shane getting irritated with his slow pace, but it’s half the reason he loves to go slow. When Shane gets irritated like this he starts whimpering and weeping for him, bucking into Ilya. It’s the sluttiest thing Ilya has ever seen.
“So greedy for it,” Ilya drawls.
“More. You owe me,” Shane begs. He’s about to lose his damn mind. His own cock is painfully stiff and leaking. With the way he’s bucking into Ilya he can feel Ilya’s erection rubbing against his own.
“I do?” Ilya has begun trailing kisses lazily down Shane’s neck, his chest.
Shane can’t take it anymore. Ilya is going too fucking slow. He is never the one to take charge, take control in any way. But Ilya pissed him off. He needs to apologize and he knows exactly how he wants Ilya to do it. He slips his hands out from underneath Ilya’s shirt and firmly grasps both sides of Ilya’s face, forcing him to look up at Shane.
Ilya’s eyes widen and glaze over. He can count on one hand how many times Shane has taken any kind of control in bed over their fifteen years together. They prefer their respective roles. Ilya loves to tease Shane, pin him down, tell him how much of a cockslut he is. But his favourite thing to do is to make his shy husband follow his orders. Because no matter how depraved the demand, Shane will obey. And the blissed out, fuck drunk look on Shane’s face when Ilya calls him a good boy—Ilya doesn’t know what he did right to deserve the beauty of Shane Hollander, but he thanks God for him every day. So in these rare occasions when Shane takes control, Ilya’s mind tends to short circuit. The clear desire and determination in Shane’s face sends another wave of heat to Ilya’s cock.
“Yes, you do. I don’t give a fuck that he looks like me. You are mine Ilya. Like I’m yours. How would you feel if things were reversed right now and you caught me looking at a photo like that?” Shane asks.
Ilya stiffens under Shane’s hands.
“I thought so. So you know what I think? I think you owe me an apology,” Shane states firmly.
He feels hot all over. He never talks like this, not in real life and especially not in bed. The overcoming concoction of jealousy and possessiveness that's bubbling inside him has to be what's giving him this courage.
Ilya looks like a man starved and Shane is the first scrap of food he’s seen in days. That’s better, Shane thinks.
“Serdtse moyo, forgive me. Tell me, how can I make it up to you?” Ilya pleads. He’s breathless, enraptured.
Shane fists Ilya’s hair. “You’re going to suck my cock. I want to see your lips wrapped around me.” He knows he’s beet red. He feels intoxicated, barely recognizing himself. But he needs Ilya's mouth on his cock like he needs air in his lungs.
Ilya grins wide. “Anything for you.”
Ilya shifts back and pulls his shirt over his head. Shane’s eyes run hungrily down his body, reaching out to touch his abs. Ilya stays there for a minute, straddling Shane’s hips, letting him touch what belongs to him. Ilya can barely look at Shane’s face. His eyes glassed over, face flushed, biting his lip. Ilya could almost cum from this alone, he’s so turned on.
He shuffles down Shane’s body, and pushes his shirt up to his chest, kissing his stomach and reaching for his waistband. He inches them lower. Ilya ducks his head down and presses his nose and mouth into Shane’s tidy patch of hair, inhaling deeply then kissing the base of his shaft. Fuck, he wants to be surrounded by Shane’s smell.
Shane is watching Ilya and has barely breathed. His hands are fisted at his sides, but he lifts one now to tug on Ilya’s hair lifting his head back up.
“Hurry up.” Shane demands.
“Yes, sir.” Ilya winks, lifting an arm to mock a salute. Shane huffs and tugs harder.
Ilya leans back and fully pulls Shane’s sweats off. He takes in what he’s seeing. Shane lying there, his skin fully flushed, shirt pushed up all the way, his eyes almost black from lust and his wet cock standing straight up. Ilya licks his lips. He loves how wet Shane gets. Every time they fuck he leaks like a fountain all over himself and Ilya.
Ilya doesn’t take his own sweats off. This is for Shane. He crawls over Shane’s body and settles in, placing Shane’s legs over his shoulders. Shane’s cock twitches from the anticipation of Ilya’s mouth being so close. Ilya can smell his desire and it’s exhilarating.
He rests his head on Shane’s thigh to just admire the stunning man before him. Looking up at Shane from this angle, he feels the urge to immortalize this. He suddenly wishes he could paint, because he would paint Shane like this. Consumed by lust, skin glistening, cock leaking, looking down at him. He wants Shane to be able to see himself like this. Ilya is sure that would convince him that he has never thought of another for even a second. Shane fulfills every desire Ilya has ever had. Shane brought him to life, Shane saved him. Shane is the only one he could ever want.
Ilya lifts his head, eyes still locked onto Shane’s and wraps one hand around the base of Shane’s cock, the other gripped tightly around his thigh.
Shane doesn’t even know how long ago he stopped breathing. The moment Ilya grips him he gasps and a ragged breath rocks through him. Still after all these years, every time Ilya touches him it feels like the first time. He watches Ilya move his mouth to the side of Shane’s thick shaft, placing a languid open mouthed kiss to him. Shane swallows hard and narrows his eyes. Ilya might be letting him take control, but of course Ilya still has to tease him – still has to play with him.
Ilya decides then to lay his tongue flat out and lick Shane firmly from base to tip. Shane’s head falls back.
“You are always so fucking wet for me Shane. You are mad at me, mad I looked at someone else—but still so, so wet for me. Such a slut for me.” Ilya emphasizes each ‘so’ with a kiss to Shane’s cock.
Shane can’t speak, he only manages a wanton strangled whimper in response.
“So beautiful.” Ilya wraps his lips around the swollen head of Shane’s cock then, hollowing out his cheeks and sucking down.
Shane whips his head back forward and his thighs clamp around Ilya’s head, hands gripping the couch. Ilya’s blowjob abilities are something Shane has been in awe of since their first time. Where Shane’s blowjobs are always so messy and eager, begging for it—Ilya somehow stays in control, showing his dominance even when he’s on his knees.
Ilya starts bobbing his head up and down, followed by his hand firmly gripped around Shane’s shaft, gently twisting around him. Ilya’s mouth is so warm, sucking Shane with every down stroke. He pauses on the up stroke to lick the tight bundle of nerves below the head of Shane's cock. Ilya pulls off to watch more precum ooze from Shane’s slit. He eagerly licks it all up.
“Mmmmm,” he says with his lips pressed to the underside of Shane’s cock so he can feel the vibration. “You taste so fucking good, Shane. Very nice bonus to your boring healthy food, yes? You taste so clean, so sweet for me.”
He takes Shane fully back into his mouth before he can reply. Shane lets out a crying moan, almost embarrassed at the sound. He sounds so needy, so gone. Shane still doesn’t understand how Ilya makes him feel so fucking good. And as much as he could sink into this pleasure and fully let go, that’s not what he wanted tonight. It's natural for him to fall into submission, it’s second to breathing for him. Just as it's Ilya’s nature to take control.
But Shane is also a stubborn and determined man. He decided he was going to stake his claim, make sure Ilya remembers who he belongs to and that’s exactly what he’s about to do.
Ilya’s eyes are closed, savouring the weight of Shane’s cock on his tongue when Shane’s hands grip both sides of head, gripping his hair tight. His eyes shoot open and he looks up. Shane is gone. What’s left is a man crazed. Shane’s gaze is boring into his. He stills Ilya’s head and gently thrusts once into Ilya’s mouth.
He feels like he’s about to soar out of his body. Shane is asking to fuck his mouth. He wants control. And Ilya gives it to him, he wants to give it to him. He did say he’d do anything for him and this is so fucking hot. Shane has never asked for this before. He grips Shane’s hips and nods his head gently, giving consent. Ilya can feel his own cock throbbing, untouched. He thrusts into the couch to try and get some relief.
Shane begins to move now, thrusting up into Ilya’s relaxed mouth. He feels drunk on the power that Ilya’s just conceded to him. The possessive itch in his chest comes to the surface. He feels bold and hits the back of Ilya’s throat. And the sound of Ilya gagging around him makes Shane feel insane. Drool dribbles from Ilya’s mouth and down the sides of Shane’s cock. He fucks into Ilya’s mouth a few more times, hitting the back of his throat again. A tear forms in Ilya’s eye from gagging, but he hasn’t asked Shane to stop. He only grips onto Shane's hips tighter and Shane knows he’ll have marks there tomorrow. He decides to give Ilya a reprieve and lets up a few inches so he can catch his breath through his nose, but he doesn’t pull Ilya all the way off.
They’re staring at each other, both of their chests heaving. Shane’s hands are holding Ilya’s head in place, his mouth wrapped around Shane’s cock. His drool pooled at the base of Shane’s cock, a spit bubble leaking out the side of his mouth. And his eyes. He’s waiting. Waiting to do whatever Shane wants.
"Mine," Shane growls. He doesn't even realize he said it.
Ilya doesn’t think Shane realizes how possessed he looks right now. He knows Shane is claiming him. He knows Shane needs this. Regardless of his intention, Ilya’s actions hurt him. Shane feels he needs to remind Ilya who he belongs to, and even though Ilya could never forget, he lets him. Lying here with his husband's cock in his mouth he feels so loved by Shane, owned by him. He is never the one to submit, to beg. But the idea of Shane marking his territory makes him feel delirious.
Ilya moans in agreement, sending vibrations through Shane’s cock again. Shane is so far gone. His feelings have completely taken over and he needs to hear that Ilya understands.
He gently brings Ilya’s head up and off him. He loosens his grip on Ilya’s hair, bringing one hand down to caress Ilya’s cheek. Ilya leans into his hand and closes his eyes. They hold there for a moment before Shane grabs his cock with his other hand and taps the head against Ilya’s lips. He instinctively opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out.
Shane rests his cock on Ilya’s tongue and with the last bit of control he has he asks “Who do you belong to?”
Ilya opens his eyes and smiles. With Shane’s cock still touching his lips he replies, “You. Only ever you. My beautiful, gorgeous, jealous boy.” He presses a small kiss to Shane’s frenulum which sends a jolt through Shane.
Shane humphs in satisfaction but he’s nothing if not thorough. He needs to drive the point home.
“You are mine, Ilya. In every way. Like I am yours. My mouth is yours, my cock is yours, everything is yours. I expect the same in return. You are not allowed to look at others. Ever. Only me. Ponyal?” Shane is staring into Ilya’s eyes, rubbing the tip of his cock over Ilya’s glistening lips.
“Ya ponyal,” Ilya answers. And not for the first time in his life, he looks at Shane and sees his salvation. This man is so perfect for him in every imaginable way. Ilya knows he will worship at Shane’s feet for the rest of this life and into the next.
“Khoroshiy. Now please, make me cum.” Shane lets go of that last shred of control completely. He releases Ilya’s cheek, let’s go of his own cock and throws his arms over his head, holding onto the throw pillow behind his head. Giving himself over to Ilya.
Ilya echoes his words from earlier “Anything for you.”
Letting go of Shane’s hips—he only just realized how tightly he was gripping them—he moves one hand back to the base of Shane’s cock and reaches his other arm up Shane’s body to squeeze his peck. Shane instantly melts into the couch and closes his eyes.
Shane’s back where he’s meant to be. Putty in Ilya’s hands. As exciting as it was to be in control briefly, this is what feels right.
Shane’s legs fell open when he gave himself back over to Ilya. Ilya can’t believe the feast before him. Shane’s cock is drenched from his own precum and Ilya’s saliva. His mouth waters at the anticipation of having Shane back in it, but he starts by kissing Shane’s inner thigh, moving up to lick the crease where Shane’s leg meets his body.
“Ungh, please," Shane begs. It’s the filthiest sound in the world.
Ilya doesn’t have the strength anymore to prolong this either. He wants Shane’s cum on his tongue now. His own cock has gone untouched this entire time, he thinks he could cum anyway.
“Okay, okay.” He chuckles before licking the tip of Shane’s cock before swallowing him down.
“Fuuuck!” Shane cries out. His hand flying down to hold onto Ilya’s wrist on his peck. A plea for Ilya to squeeze harder, which Ilya is very happy to oblige.
Ilya is bucking into the couch seeking his own release as he swallows down Shane’s cock with everything he has, hungrily bobbing up and down. It isn’t long before he feels Shane’s body tense under him, his thighs coming back up to lock Ilya’s head in place.
Shane’s entire body shakes as he cums. Rope after rope erupting into the back of Ilya’s throat who hungrily swallows it all down.
Ilya opens his eyes to watch Shane and the sight combined with everything that’s happened tonight has Ilya shooting his own load. The orgasm wracks his entire body. He waits until the last waves of Shane's orgasm have past before he pulls off. He brings his hand down to Shane’s stomach and lies his head back on Shane's thigh. Completely spent.
He trails a finger up Shane’s softening cock, pulling a whimper out of him.
“Am I forgiven?” He turns his head up to Shane.
Shane looks down and sees Ilya gazing up at him with soft eyes an inch from his naked cock. It’s almost sensory overload for Shane so he moves to sit up. Ilya moves with him.
“More than forgiven. I love you.” And after all of that, Shane still turns his eyes away blushing.
“You just made me choke on your cock sweetheart, but you still blush,” Ilya laughs.
“Shut up.”
Ilya pulls him in to kiss his forehead. “I love you very much. Come it’s late. We need to clean up, then bed.”
Ilya stands and pulls Shane’s sweats back up for him. He lifts Shane to his feet and makes sure he’s steady then takes his hand and guides them upstairs. Anya is already upstairs, lying on her bed in their room. Ilya could not have told you at what point she disappeared from the living room.
They start getting ready for bed. Shane heads into the bathroom to shower while Ilya turns down the covers and makes sure they have everything they need. Glass of water, fan on, phones plugged in. Finished, he heads into the bathroom.
Shane’s alone in the shower and he finds that his mind drifts back to that photo. Not out of jealousy this time, but curiosity. His mind has cleared fully now, so he can actually think. Ilya said he was imagining Shane in that outfit. He’s never worn anything like that before—but he could. He suddenly feels overwhelmed because where does he even start? What style would he buy, he doesn’t even know what different styles are called. What colour? What store is best? Oh my god, what size? Maybe he can ask Rose. He knows she’ll help, she’ll know what to buy. But oh god, does he want Rose to know he’s buying lingerie to wear for Ilya? Hmm, he’ll have to weigh the pros and cons of telling her.
Ilya comes into the bathroom then and gives Shane’s ass a little smack before swapping places with him in the shower.
“Hey!” Shane whines.
“You love it!” Ilya quips.
Shane rolls his eyes, but says nothing because Ilya’s right.
He does his skincare, brushes his teeth, then heads back into their room. Clean and changed into new underwear he finally settles into bed, waiting for Ilya.
Ilya comes in a few minutes later, turning off the light. He slides into bed and wraps his entire body around Shane’s, legs tangling. Shane sinks back into him, sighing. This is his favourite part of the day. Safe in bed, wrapped in his husband's arms, surrounded by his smell.
Ilya nuzzles into his neck. “That was very exciting, hmm?” his breath tickles Shane’s neck.
“Yeah, that was, uh, really hot.” Shane’s cheeks burn thinking back.
“You are always surprising me, kotenok. I wonder how you will surprise me next?” Ilya kisses the back of his neck.
Shane doesn’t say anything. Mostly because Ilya has instantly fallen asleep. He's always baffled that Ilya's able to do this, but he just tucks back into him and smiles. Because for once, he knows exactly how he’s going to surprise Ilya next.
Now he just needs to find the perfect pair.