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There was this unspoken rule, a line neither man would cross. Both didn’t truly know why. Shane chalked it up to never really fighting anyone. It was part of his image. and Ilya, well Ilya would fight anyone so he was even less sure why. But any time Boston and Montreal touched the ice, no matter what happened, who said what or what fists were already flying Shane and Ilya never fought.
Today, however, was strange, Ilya hadn’t done his normal sexting routine, trying to get into Shane's head, and Shane didn’t bother sending his own message over to the Russian. If Ilya wanted him, he’d text after the game. Ilya had every right not to text considering Boston is on a bad losing streak, the last 3 road games ending in losses, 2 of them being overtime ones. On the other hand, Montreal is on fire with a 6 game home winning streak before traveling tonight.
Neither boy let hockey triumph their love for their boyfriend but with playoffs rapidly approaching it’s no wonder Ilya would be so silent. They need this win, or a win, in the next few games to keep their spot. Otherwise Boston could be shoved into wild card contention, a much harder battle to fight to get to the cup.
Due to last minute line up changes, Montreal was losing, Boston up 7-6 in the 3rd period. Not losing much but for some reason it got under Shane’s skin. He only managed a goal while Ilya had happily scored a hat trick. Ilya taunted the bench, skating close to Shane as he went to collect his congrats from his team. As he did, Hayden bucked up, putting himself in Ilya's face, calling him an asshole. Ilya shoved Hayden back, not super hard, but hard enough the man lost his balance and slipped into the boards.
Everyone got in each other's faces, Ilya yelling something in Russian and Shane had to put his head down. He hates when Ilya rifles up his team cause then they make comments about the lack of fight that Shane has against their biggest rivals. The press notices it too, leaving him stuck answering 40 questions about Ilya and doing his least favorite thing: Lying.
When Shane is pushed by his coach to take the face off he almost says no, denying the man outright, but he has no choice. He skates slowly to the center, preparing to speak with Ilya, face to face, for the first time in a month.
“Tough game” Ilya says, eyes lidded and smile goading, “Hard to lose to your rival”
“Fuck off” Shane said, looking down at his stick to avoid Ilya’s gaze. “Not now.”
“Ahh I see,” Ilya laughs, a low chuckle that has Shane's pulse thrumming. He knows Ilya can read him like a book “angry?”
and then Ilya leans in, at center ice, with most of the eyes of the hockey world on them and whispers “someone didn’t text you?”
Shane sets his jaw as the puck drops and before he can think so does his gloves. Shane lets Ilya win the face off because by the time the man looks up, Shane's helmet has hit the ground as well. Shane fists his hand in Ilya’s jersey before clocking the man in the jaw. It’s a harsh unexpected hit and Ilya falters, taking a moment to catch up. But his gloves drop just as fast, a hit catching Shane across the face. His eye burns from where he was hit but he was not letting Rosanov win this. Not now.
It becomes a mess of fists. The crowd is roaring and he can hear the stick taps from the bench. Ilya punches Shane in the same eye again and the pain is worse this time around. His brow bone pulses in pain but Shane collects himself to sock Ilya across his mouth. Blood splatters across Shane's jersey from hot lands. His hand hurts, bleeding from where it caught Rosanov’s teeth. The man runs his tongue over them, checking to see if they are broken but when it’s clear they aren’t the two continue.
They tussle, linemen blowing whistles in an attempt to get it to stop. It’s not until Shane punches Ilya upside the head that the man gives up. Ilya’s legs buckle and Shane lets him fall, the Russian's knees hitting the ice loudly. Shane just stands over him, watching as blood drips from Ilya’s lip.
“Holy shit Hollander” Shane can hear Hayden, but can barely locate him. His brain violently thrusts him back to the reality of his actions. “That was a..”
“To the box, Hollander” A ref calls and Shane skates slowly, no escort required.
He can feel bile rise in his throat but he chokes it down. Ilya rushes off the ice, leaving a trail of blood behind. What the hell was he doing? Why did…? It didn’t matter. Shane had clocked his boyfriend across the face with minutes left on the clock. Ilya will want nothing to do with him after this, probably out for the rest of the night. Shane wants nothing to do with himself as well.
He’s forced to watch the clock tick down from inside the box. His suspicions are confirmed when Ilya never returns. Boston’s main line is weak and Hayden takes advantage, scoring a goal to tie the game. It goes to overtime. Still no Ilya. Shane’s free to skate again but he returns to the bench, unsure what good he would be. His center manages a shot on goal that sails right over the goalkeeper's shoulder. Shit.
The fans boo. Shane has left Boston with an injured team captain and another loss, this one on home ice. Shane sulks his way back to the locker room, boys clapping him on his shoulder. He fakes a smile, gives his small victory speech and presents Hayden with tonight’s team player award for the game tying goal. The boys talk about where they will go to party but Shane just sits staring blankly at the floor.
“Duuude” Hayden slaps Shane's arm. “Your phone's been ringing for the last 3 minutes. You good?”
“Oh yeah.” Shane says, standing to grab it. He’s been so in his head that still in his skates. “Just uhh..”
“I got it. No need to explain.” Hayden says. “Hopefully that's not Mrs. Boston calling to tell ya ‘stay away from their captain.”
The joke doesn’t land, Shane clonking his head against the locker.
“Hey woah.” Hayden says. “Look, if it wasn’t you, it would have been me. We are in Boston and Rosanov was being an asshole, okay? He had it coming.”
Shane just nods before spinning around. His phone rings again and he rushes out to the empty hall to take it. He assumes it will be his mother, calling to ask why he fought his boyfriend on his home ice. The screen instead flashes ‘Lily” and Shane almost lets it ring out. But he can’t. As he raises the phone to his mouth he goes to speak ,but Ilya's voice cuts him off.
“My place, 20 minutes”
The line goes dead. Shane's left standing open mouthed in the hallway staring at the reflection of his shameful face in one of Boston’s old trophy cases.
————
He doesn’t know why he got them but here he stands at Ilya's doorstep with flowers, feeling like a complete idiot. He rings the bell and waits for Ilyas to walk through the house to the door. It swings open and Shane's apology gets caught in his throat,
Ilya's lip is split, not too bad but bad enough for a stitch to bridge the gap between the split skin. His jaw is bruising badly, turning a gross green at the edges. Ilya’s temple is worse, a clear imprint from where Shane's last hit landed. A few bruises cover Ilya’s bare chest from other players checking him. It's a normal sight but with the facial bruising Shane can’t help but feel worse at the sight of the injuries. Ilya just stares, looking at Shane's brushing eye.
“Who are those for?” Ilya asks, leaning against the doorframe.
“You” Shane says, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry I-“
Shane can’t find any words, Ilya’s stare keeping him silent. The man looks angry, and not in a sexy fun way like he has in the past. More in a you-punched-me-and-I-am-mad-at-you way.
“Why?” Ilya's tone doesn't change
“I thought-“
“You are an asshole. You know?” Shane nods, agreeing before Ilya’s sentence is finished. Tears form in Shane's eyes and he has to tear his gaze away.
“I’m…I don’t know why I did it.” Shane sighs. “I was so annoyed at how I was playing and then you-“
“Oh so my fault.” Ilyas smiles, as he pushes off the doorframe. “I see”
“No I-“
Ilya cuts him off with a kiss. Shane lets out a small groan and Ilya drags him in his house before they are found making out like teenagers on his doorstep. Shane whimpers into the kiss as he realizes Ilya can’t be too mad at him. The door shuts causing Shane to startle.
“You Idoit.” Ilya says. “A huge idiot. You pissed me off.”
“I know. I didn’t mean to.”
“And even still,” Ilya pulls Shane’s head up to look at him with his chin. “I never fought you. I always let it go.”
“Ilya please. I am sorry. If you want me to leave I-“
“No.” Ilya's face twists into confusion. “No. I haven’t seen you in a month anad you fucked up. and then brought shitty plant to my house.”
“They are roses” Shane says “Like…your last name”
and Ilya laughs, throwing his head back. Shane almost cries as the tension breaks. He shoves his face into Ilya's chest again to try and hide it. Ilya just wraps his arms around him. Shane can sense a hint of cigarettes but no is not the time to scold Ilya.
“My face hurts,” Ilya says. “and I am tired from all the goals.”
“I know.” Shane laughs. “We can rest.”
“Mmmm, no.” Ilya thinks for a second before landing on a plan. “You will fuck me tonight.”
Shane almost chokes on his own spit. He has to pull back and look at Ilya to make sure the man is not joking around. He's met with sincerity.
“Me.” Shane says “You want-“
“Yes. If we have sex, you fuck me.” Ilya declares, moving through his house towards his bedroom. “Unless you’d rather just watch the game back-“
“No!” Shane groans. The last thing he needs to see is a replay of the fight. “I just…I never- Well my track experience isn’t great.”
“Not hard.” Ilyas says. “Sure you can manage”
So Shane just trails behind Ilya like a puppy, his brain working overtime to figure this out. This is new for Ilya. They have done a ton of stuff over the last years but this one is…It’s abnormal for Ilya to do things without thinking about them first. Shane almost wonders if the man has been mulling over this for a while and only now has the perfect opportunity. Not that Shane never thought about it. He had. A lot. Ilya does such a good job at taking care of him but he rarely gets a chance to return the favor. This may be his only opportunity.
“Wait” Shane stops at the door to Ilya’s bedroom. “You’re not- actually hurt. I didn’t actually-“
“No.” Ilya says, placing his hands on Shane's hips. “No uhh…they checked for the uhh….head stuff.”
“A concussion?” Shane asks and his breath is taken away as Ilya nods. “They checked for a concussion?”
“Yes, but none” Ilya smiles, hands rubbing over Shane's hips to smooth him.
“Holy shit,” Shane buries his head back into Ilya’s chest. “They thought I gave you a concussion.”
Ilya curses in Russian, complaining for a second. He lifts Shane's head again “Oh god. So much drama. I’m fine. Good. Okay?”
Shane keeps his eyes closed as he works through the shame. Why did he fight him? It was too risky. He could have actually hurt Ilya and kept him out for the rest of the season.
“It was hot,” Ilya says. Shane recoils back at the words. Ilya takes the chance to pull free and walks towards the bed. “You came at me, confident. Did not know you could punch like that.”
“I never really have” Shane says “Only that one time with Hunter“
“Your punch is better than your backhand,” Ilya says.
“Okay, fuck you.” Shane crosses, pushing Ilya down on the bed. He lands and bounces slightly. He moves to straddle Ilya, kissing him softly, thinking about the stitch. The noise Ilya makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper. Shane wants to hear it again, slipping his tongue into the man's mouth. Ilya lets him lead.
“Why did you make me want to punch you?” Shane says between small pecks. “Why are you such a fucking brat?”
And this time Ilya lets his head fall back, arching his neck and hiding his face from Shane's view. The moan that he lets out sends a thrill of arousal across Shane's chest. Ilya tries to hide it, a light blush crossing over the Russian's cheeks.
“Oh.” Shane says and Ilya almost shoves him off. “Hey, No. We talk about things now. You like that? Being my brat?”
“I-“ Ilya’s words melt into Russian and he knows Shane can’t understand him. He has to take a second to find the words, hand up to let Shane know he’s thinking. “I’ve never- I don’t take.”
“I know” Shane says, hoping it comes off as endearing and not sarcastic. Ilya nods and Shane lets him take the time to conjure another sentence. Ilya’s throat bobs, slightly painful with his neck craned this far back.
“Fuck” Ilya starts, closing his eyes. “It’s…scary. To take. But-“ and he has to bite into his hurt lip, the pain grounding them. Shane almost scolds him until he realizes that Ilya is trying desperately not to give up on this idea. “You. I want it with you.”
Shane smiles nodding before ducking down to press a kiss onto Ilya's neck. He nips a small love bite and Ilya’s muscles finally relax. The two rest in the soft silence of the interaction and Shane is happy to leave it here. If Ilya wants to brat, Shane will push back. He doesn’t have much experience topping but he knows Ilya and he knows what he needs when he bottoms.
“I can try” Shane says, when Ilya’s head has returned back to rest gently across the pillow. “Okay? Just let me know if it’s too much.”
“Yes.” Ilya says, pulling Shane down by the nape of his neck.
Shane's hands explore, trailing across Ilya’s chest and down his sides. Ilya lets his body push up into the contact. For a second anxiety about being weak slips into Ilya’s head. To let someone in, inside him, instead of taking charge has him conflicted. He can feel the judgement if others knew. But no one would know. This is just for Shane and him. When Shane drags his knuckles slowly across Ilya’s cock the anxiety is replaced by a pulsing arousal.
“Come on.” Ilya urges, the closest he’s ever gotten to begging.
“Shhh.” Shane says against his lips. “Just relax. I will go as slow as I want”
Ilya rolls his eyes but Shane’s hand dips into his pants. Shane's grip is loose but Ilya thrusts up into it anyways happy with any contact. Shane feels a swell of pride at how clear it is that Ilya wants him. It has been months since they last saw each other, waiting on games and one being snowed out due to Montreal weather. The result was the two of them already panting despite barely stripping the top layer of clothes.
“Off” Shane says, tugging at Ilya’s pants.
Shane watches Ilya scramble like he normally does, Ilya pulling his sweatpants off haphazardly. Shane plus back, sliding in between Ilya's open legs. He takes his time taking his shirt off, about to fold it like normal. Before he can Ilya's’ sweatpants collide with his shirt, knocking it out of his hands and onto the floor.
“Hey!” Shane looks at Ilya who has a shit eating grin on his face. “Pick those up and fold them.”
Ilya rolls his eyes but Shane slides back from between Ilya's legs, giving him the space to move. Ilya raises his eyebrows trying to gauge if Shane actually means it. Shane doesn’t even give him a response, his face remaining impassive. He could sit here for the rest of the night, He always folds his clothes and Ilya knows it.
Ilya says something in Russian under his breath before finally moving to grab the discarded garments. He has to lean off the bed. rolled almost entirely on his front. Shane sees the opportunity and takes it, bringing his hand down on Ilya's ass hard. Ilya's arm reaches out desperately trying to keep himself from falling forward off the bed.
“Your want me to fuck you? Yes?” Shane asks, holding Ilya’s arm so he stays stable. “You want my cock?”
Ilya lets out a small whine, squeezing his hand in response. But it’s not enough. Shane brings his hand down on Ilya’s other ass check. This is his chance to establish their roles for the night. “Words”
“Fuck, Hollander” Ilya says, voice strained. “Yes.”
“Then fucking listen to me when I ask you to do something.” Shane yanks on Ilya's arm dragging him back up with their clothes in hand “Now fold”
Ilya sits up, eyes staying on the items in his hand. He shifts on his ass, whining slightly as he does. He folds quickly, not as neat as Shane normally does but he will give it a pass. Ilya throws both items onto the chair by the bed when done.
“Was that too hard?” Shane says. It's meant to be a tease but his small chirp creates a wave of humiliation across Ilya’s body. The man shakes his head no.
Shane, enamored by Ilya’s attempt at submission, leaning down to look at Ilya’s lip. The stitch is small and the cut is basically healed at this point. Ilya lets Shane move his head around by his chin. Ilya's eyes are slightly vacant, as if he’s not all there. When Shane lets go Ilya leaves his head where Shane left it.
Shane shifts down, his knees sliding back so he’s lying on his stomach. While he does he takes Ilya into his mouth as far as he can. He pins Ilya’s hips down, arm landing across his pelvis. It was clearly the right choice as the action is met with a loud groan and Ilya trying to thrust himself deeper than he already is.
“Shit” Ilya says, pushing his hips back down into the bed below him. It’s an attempt to stay good for Shane. “I- Fuck”
Shane smiles around him, loving how easy it is to read Ilya’s mannerisms. Ilya’s hands come down to Shane's hair, pulling to move him. As soon as he does, Shane pulls all the way off. Ilya tries to push him down or buck his hips up. Shane only pushes back harder, forcing him down.
“Do you want me to suck you off?” Shane asks, a small fire in his eyes. Ilya can tell he’s fucked up. “or do you want to watch me jack off on my own? You enjoyed it so much last time.”
Ilya’s jaw stays tense, his hands balling up. Everything tells him to walk away, kick Shane out, hide. But then his brain shifts to his dreams. Ilya dreams of Shane often, more than he’d ever admit to anyone, even shane himself. But the Canadian drifts into his consciousness often, leading him to have long cold showers in the morning or sneak off to let himself cum in hotel bathrooms. But at his apartment, it’s different. With all the space and time he can do whatever he wants, wherever he wants.
So when his dreams drift to Shane, taking him from behind while telling him how good he’s being, he woke up harder than ever. He ended up with 2 fingers in his ass just short of his prostrate. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t get the right angle, and he doesn’t own any toys cause he truthfully had never thought too hard about it. Well, not before Shane. So maybe it was that Ilya has thought about this and he always wanted things to end up this way. But his pride…. he has to let it go or he will get nothing.
“No.” Ilya finally said, dropping his hands from Shane's hair. He runs his hands across the sheets below them. “I want you”
“Want me…?” Shane drags it out clearly looking for another word. Ilya almost denies him.
“Please.” Ilya says. And Shane's smile is wide and greedy. Ilya once again fights his instincts and gives in. “Please suck my cock”
and Shane grabs him by the throat. Ilya leans forward eagerly to accept the kiss. What he gets is Shane stopping just a centimeter from his mouth, breath ghosting over his skin.
“Good boy”
Then Shane's gone from Ilya’s view, dipping down without ever touching Ilya’s lips. The noise from the Russian has him looking up at him, face hot and flushed. Before Ilya can make more of a fool of himself, Shane's him pulling into his mouth.
Ilya has to work hard to keep his hips down and out of the way. He’s used to thrusting up, fucking the back of Shane’s throat. But this is slow, methodical and has Ilya lost in a whole other way. Shane runs his nails up and down Ilya’s thighs watching as they quiver below his touch. Ilya’s garbled words coming out in short clipped Russian sentences. Shane can’t understand a word of it but he uses it as a meter for how close Ilya is.
“Shit. Shane I-“
Shane's mouth disappears again. This time Ilya stays still, a small whimper the only thing he let out. His head hangs down in front of him. Shane’s hands wander up the man's chest to rest in his hair. Shane grips it, yanking Ilya’s head back so he can make eye contact. Ilya looks gone already. His pupils are huge and his eyes are watering.
“Still with me?” Shane asks and he watches as Ilya’s lips quiver slightly. “Hey. Hey. It’s okay.”
Ilya’s eyes well up in a way Shane is not used to. But a hand on his chest has Ilya closing them shut. He feels Ilya take in deep breaths, only one tear slipping down his cheek.
“As long as you can tell me to stop I don’t care how distant you get.” Shane smiles, even though Ilya can’t see it.
“What’s wrong with me?” Ilya’s accent sits thick around the words, as if he’s used to asking himself this.
“Nothing.” Shane says. “Let me take control. I got you. I won’t let you fall.”
and Ilya nods, opening his eyes. The haze starts to slip back in and he reluctantly lets it. It feels awkward, Shane holding his face, watching as he lets him in, lets Shane see him freely.
Shane makes it easy for Ilya, pulling him in for a light kiss. His lip aches from where the man hit him but it sends another wave of arousal across Ilya’s skin at the fact that Shane challenged him. He tested Ilya’s teasing and took him down on the ice. It has Ilya even more floaty. Shane can protect him. Ilya can let him lead.
“I need to…you know.” Ilya has never said the word in English. He has no clue how to phrase it. “Clean…myself”
“Ahhh.” Shane understands. “Yes.”
“Don’t know word.” Ilya says looking down at where Shane’s hand rests on his thigh.
“Uhhh. Like the action or the object or…” Shane then thinks. “They are technically the same now that I think about it.”
“Yes?” Ilya prompts.
“Well uhh,” Shane chuckles slightly under his breath. “I think you know the word just for a different reason. It’s douche.”
Ilya tilts his head like a confused puppy and Shane has to stifle his laughter.
“As in what you call annoying person?”
“Yep,” Shane’s face lights up at Ilya’s confusion. “Same word.”
Ilya’s face screws up and Shane falls backward on the bed laughing this time. He’s met by a slap to his leg and random russian muttering. Shane just laughs as he watches the man slip into the bathroom.
Shanes is left alone and he is unsure what exactly to do. This is normally when he sneaks away only to return to Ilya scrolling on his phone or absentmindedly jerking off on the bed. Now Shane is left with a bunch of nervous energy. So he does what he can. He put Ilya’s clothes away, folding his pants on top of his shirt. He then pulls out clean pairs of boxers for the two of them.
He moves downstairs, getting two glasses of water and the bag of chips that Ilya keeps in the back of his cabinet. He passes the fridge about to head back upstairs only to stop and also grab a coke. The sugar could be good. He places the items on the nightstand, pulling out the lube and a condom as well. The less the better to not throw off Ilya. Only then does he sit back against the headboard.
The shower stops as Shane pulls out his phone but he chooses to keep looking down at the various articles about his fight on the ice. The door opens and Shane takes a moment before looking up, trying to appear calm.
Ilya looks…Scared. Like he thought maybe Shane wouldn’t be there. He is standing stiff, uncomfortable, towel still wrapped around his waist.
“Come here.” Shane pats the bed and Ilya moves to sit next to him. “You still okay?”
“Yeah.” Ilya's face screws up, shifting anxiously as he sits. “Just- Fuck. Why is this hard? I fuck you all the time. I-“
“Change is strange.” Shane says. He can tell Ilya is overwhelmed. So he gives him options. It always helps Shane. “Do you want to look at me while we do this or lay on your stomach?”
Shane can tell that Ilya’s not going to answer. The Russian closes his eyes before he flips his hand over in the air, letting Shane know he wants to be on his stomach. Ilya slowly flips over as Shane pulls a pillow under Ilya’s hips. The towel lays across it protecting it from the mess they are going to create.
It’s strange to see Ilya like this, ass propped up on display, head down in the pillows. Shane taps the man's arms, trying not to scare him. Ilya jumps slightly regardless.
“It’s just me” Shanes looks across Ilya’s body, He debates spending his time but moves quickly to run his hands all the way down to Ilya's calves. They are tight, tensing slightly under Shane's touch. “This okay?”
“Yes.” Ilya says and Shane waits for the quip but nome comes, so he gently digs his finger into the skin. It gives slightly, not fully. Ilya lets out a hiss into the pillow. Shane just continues, unknotting the muscles, right calf then left. By the time he gets to Ilya’s thighs he can feel him melting into the sheets below.
“Are you still with me?” Shane whispers, letting his hands drift across Ilya’s thighs. They quiver under his touch.
“Da.” Ilya says, voice muffled in the pillow. It comes out softer than his normal voice. Shane waits again, expecting Ilya to tell him to speed up but he’s met with silence.
“I love your thighs.” She says absentmindedly. Ilya's body shivers at the words. “So fucking perfect”
Ilya's hips rut down into the pillow. Shane can tell he’s needy but trying his best to give himself over to Shane. A small possessive part of Shane kicks at his ribs, exciting him more. Ilya’s letting him do this, trusting him to take him, no one else.
“I’ll go slow.” Shane says and Ilya grunts into the sheets. Shane's hands come down to spread him open and Ilya makes a small noise of protest. Shane silences him by licking a line from Ilya’s balls up to his hole. Ilya’s hips jump down and Shane has to tighten his grip to keep Ilya still. Shanes has this done to him enough times to know it feels good.
Curses in Russian pathetically filter into the pillows as Ilya shoves his face down. Shane lets him hide in the sheets for now. He laps his tongue over the
hole, wetting the surface as he kneads the skin of Ilya’s ass. Eventually Ilya’s hips relax and Shane takes that as a sign to push his tongue into his hole.
“Fuck. Shane!” Ilya’s voice is loud, spilling into a moan.
Shane remembers the first time Ilya did this to him. Shane was worried about not being clean enough or too tight to do it. But then he broke fast, begging Ilya to keep going. He wonders how long he can stretch this out. He lets the tip of his tongue lick at the soft inside walls. Ilya’s hips push back, trying to get Shane deeper, a good sign that Ilya is okay with this. Shane lets him grind down, pointing his tongue and letting the excess spit dribble down his chin to rest at the base of Ilya’s balls.
Ilya is…confused. He’s tried this before. Always alone by himself in a dark bedroom, tears in his eyes as he tried to fight back the shame of trying this, His want to be cared for, held. Who was he to want to be taken apart? And who would ever want to see him like this? But now he can barely keep his breathing even as Shane eats his ass. He tries to stifle any noise or reaction. He wants- Fuck he wants to feel Shane. As he thinks, Shane is running a finger though the pooling saliva across his ball and the words rush out quickly.
“Пожалуйста, Солнышко. Ты мне нужен” Please, sunshine. I need you. The russian is accented by a small moan. His eyes are filled with tears as Shane pulls back ‘No,’ Ilya thinks ‘I fucked it up.’
“I got you, darling.” Shane is letting his fingers play across Ilya’s balls. “I got you. I'm going to finger you now. Okay?”
The words get caught in the back of Ilya’s throat and he lets out a pitiful whine. Shane pauses, trying to gauge the man. His shoulders shudder. Shane wants to reach out, grab and touch.
“Continue,” Ilya's voice is small and weak, having Shane moving quickly.
“Okay baby. You’re doing so well for me. Shane says, uncapping the lube. The spit will eventually dry and that is not a gamble Shane is willing to take.
“So strong. Being so nice for me.”
Ilya's resulting whine is an attempt to protest. But he can’t find the words. Ilya pushes his hips away from the touch. “Shh, Don’t try to pull me away. I got you.”
Shane spreads Ilya’s ass with one hand and lets his fingers slowly circle Ilya’s rim, pressing lightly. Ilyas lets out a groan. He knows it will feel different. But his brain craves it. He lets his hips push back as he tried to relax.
“There we go.” Shane says, pressing a kiss to Ilya’s ass. “Being such a good boy for me. Thank you baby.”
Ilya knows Shane is rambling, just like he does when Ilya is balls deep. Only now Ilya has to listen. All he can feel is Shane, all he can hear is Shane. He feels both overwhelmed and under stimulated at the same fucking time and he can’t do a single thing about it. He has to wait for Shane to decide to continue. He gets it now, why Shane loves this so much. What must only be seconds for Shane, turns into what feels like tense minutes for Ilya.
“Please” Ilya says, face wetting the pillow below him. “I- finger. please”
and Shane pushes in, the finger pushing past Ilya's relaxed rim. It’s not too intense but the stretch sends a twinge of painful pleasure that rests in his pelvis. Shane says something to him but he can't parse out the words. The English turns to gibberish as his body zones in on the push and the glide of Shane's finger. Eventually Shane’s knuckles brush against Ilya’s ass, fully inside.
Ilya can barely process anything and he’s only one finger in. For a second he thinks of calling it off again but then a small kiss is pressed against the back of his neck. Shane had shifted forward and Ilya hadn't even noticed.
“Hi, baby.” Shane says, nipping at Ilya’s ear. “This okay?”
Shane kept his English simple hoping it helped. It did.
“A lot.” Ilya says, shifting his hips slightly.. Shane starts still pressing kisses across Ilya’s shoulder.
“I know.’ Shane says. “Always seems impossible.”
“Not bad… but.” Ilya thinks for a second his breath hitching. “Just strange.”
“It’s different, right?” Shane says “Someone else doing it.”
Ilya’s head shakes in the sheets. His brain has calmed down. He shifts his head to the side and Shane understands leaving down to press a kiss on Ilya's cheek. Ilya cranes his head so one eye can see Shane and Holy Shit. Has he always been this handsome?He loves how Shane looks below him, the fucked out expression as he rails him. But this was different. Shane looked powerful, as if he owned Ilya. In reality he did and Ilya had to shut his eyes before asking for more.
“I want-“ He breathes out so he can get words out. “Move please.”
Shane slowly pulls his finger out before thrusting it back in. Ilya’s thoughts scatter again. The pressure is constant, tugging on a thread of ecstasy at the base of his cock. It’s not as sharp as he felt before. Like the start of an orgasm but constant. Shane bites down on Ilya's shoulder, pulling Ilya back into his body, shivers radiating across his skin from where Shane’s teeth land. It’s intoxicating. Shane has stripped Ilya bare and a surge of confidence runs through Shane at the thought of it.
“I am so lucky to have you like this.” Shane murmurs, bending his finger to stretch Ilya more. “So lucky to see you like this. So fucking good for me. My strong boy.”
and Ilya starts to hump back, something Shane does unconsciously when he gets fingered. He takes it as a sign for more. His other finger still slick from the lube joins the other. Shane starts sucking a dark mark on the back of Ilya’s neck. The man below him tried to push him away, the pleasurable feeling right on the edge of pain.
“Shane I-”
Ilya words fall into a loud cry as he scrambles for a hold on the sheets and pillows. Shanes crooked his finger right up into Ilya’s prostate. The bliss is sharp and all consuming, Like how it feels when Ilya has already cum. He tries to reach out, grasping for Shane but his hand gets pushed down. Shane holds it still, like he does with his fingers, resting them against the sensitive spot.
“It’s okay,” Shane says murmuring into Ilya's neck. The man pants as he struggles to come back to himself. “Jsut breathe. I know it’s a lot.”
“How-“ Ilya's voice is harsh, dry. He takes a deep gasping breath. “How do you- how?”
Shane laughs at the half attempt to string together a sentence.
“Lots of practice and kisses.” Shane continues to press his lips across Ilya’s shoulder. He lets Ilya rest, but still moves subtly. He’s gentle, slowly stretching him out. “You’re sensitive because you’re new at this.”
Ilya says something in Russian. It sounds like a question but Shane catches none of it. Note to self - Learn Russian if you wanna talk to Ilya while he bottoms.
“I can’t understand you, darling.” Shane says. “I know it’s hard but if you need something you gotta ask in english.”
“Sorry.” Ilya gasps out. “Thought I was. Can I-..water? . Please.”
“Yes.” Shane says. “but I have to pull away okay?”
Ilya nods, resorting to body language again. Shane is as gentle as he can be when he moves, taking one finger out at a time. Ilya makes a small noise, halfway between a whimper and a moan. Shane moves slowly from between Ilya’s legs, holding the man by one hip and gently rolling him onto his back and off the pillow. A dark grey spot is visible on the towel but Shane folds and flips it before Ilya can see. It's after that he turns his attention to the man.
Holy Shit. Ilya Rosanov look fucking wrecked.
Not even cute wrecked. He looks like he’s had the life rocked out of him. Shane leans over to press a kiss to his lips. It takes a second for Ilya's brain to restart and kiss back. When he finally does, it’s slow and soft, giving himself over to Shane.
“Come on, sit up for a second.” Shane coaxes him.
“Mmmm, no.” Ilya says, complaining. It has Shane's insides clench with admiration for how much he’s destroyed his boyfriend.”
“Just for one second” Shane leans back, pulling Ilya up by his shoulders. Ilya doesn’t help, body loose in Shane's arms. “Water, Ilya.”
“Da.” Ilya mumbles, finally using his core to sit up. “Water”
“Thank you.” Shane says as he grabs the water off the bedside table. He places it in Ilya’s hands. “Drink”
and Ilya listens, immediately. He brings the glass up to his lips slowly, sipping the water. His eyes are far off, not looking at anything. The gaze looks strange compared to Ilya's normally piercing stare. He brings the glass down and just stares at it as if it’s going to disappear on its own.
“I got it.” Shane takes the glass from Ilya's hand. “You okay over there?”
Ilya blinks slowly before his hands eventually find Shane's arms. He tries to push them up, signalling Shane to drink. Shane does, moving slowly. He lets Ilya guide him. The thought that even when Ilya’s this out of it he still is watching out for Shane makes him smile as he drinks. Once done, the glass finds its way back to the bedside table.
“Ready?” Shane asks.
“No?” It sounds more like a question than an answer. “Wanna… see”
“See what?” Shane asks, watching Ilya's face. It shifts as he searchs to find the words. and then it hits Shane. “Do you wanna lie on your back this time??”
Ilya nods slowly. It’s as if the man has been turned to half speed. Everything moving languidly, even his eyes as they travel to Shane's face.
“Okay, baby." Shane says. Slowly pushing Ilya back into the sheets. He moves the pillow back to rest under Ilya’s hips so he isn’t fighting gravity to hold his legs up. Shane searches through the sheets to find the lube again.
“Good now?” Shane asks, watching as Ilya deciphers the words.
“Kiss” Ilya says, reaching up.
Shane wants to laugh but forces it away in favor of leaning down. Shanes kisses him softly, guiding his tongue into Ilya’s mouth. The man's hand tangles in Shane's hair as he lets himself be kissed. Shane pulls away, forehead pressing against Ilya’s as they take a moment together.
“What have you done to me?” Ilya asks. He knows Shane is laughing but all he can hear is admiration.
“Hopefully something good.”
“Yes, good.” Ilya says it back as if he’s repeating the word exactly as Shane said it.
Shane takes that as reassurance, sitting back on his thighs to hoist Ilya’s leg over Shane’s shoulder. If they weren't used to the stretch it would probably be uncomfortable but Ilya bends easily.
“Like this?” Shane lowers his hand back to Ilya’s rim, circling it again.
“Yes,” Ilya tries to push down onto Shane but he has no leverage. He’s completely at Shane's mercy. “Please”
Ilya’s moans are louder, no longer muted by the pillows. When Shane finally slipped his fingers back inside, Ilya’s eyes roll back in a sinful way. Shane
grinds forward slightly, his crotch brushing where his hand is buried, providing some sort of relief for his cock. Ilya’s cock lays forgotten between them. Shane knows it’s dangerous for him to play with both at the same time, having come more than once due to the duel stimulation. As much as he may want too, it could send Ilya over the edge too fast.
So Shane stays like this pressing kisses across Ilyas face as he fucks him open on two, and then three fingers. By the time he could add a fourth, Ilya’s body is covered with sweat, eyes in a daze and words reduced to Russian sentences that end before he can finish them.
Ilya starts to protest, repeating the desperate word in Russian. Shane pulls away only for Ilya to get more needy.
“Baby, I can’t understand you.” Shane says, pulling back to give Ilya some air. “I need a clear sentence or I have to sto-“
“Please fuck me.” It's a desperate shout, sounding strange around his accent, Shane is surprised he even caught it between the rest of the noises.
“Okay, Darling. I hear you.”
“Shane.” Ilya's voice is light. “need you.”
And now Shane gets it. Gets why Ilya loses his mind at Shane's submission. A wave of need, a feral want crashes into him. A desperate feeling to be as close, as deep as he could in Ilya as possibly could. It must be noticeable on Shane's face because Ilya’s eyes go bright with recognition and somehow he can sense how much he affects Shane.
“Want you,” Ilya grasps at him and Shane kisses him angrier than he has been. Throwing the caution surrounding Ilya’s injury to the wind. It’s claiming and Ilya lets himself whimper. Shane slowly pulls his fingers free, reaching for a condom for the nightstand. Ilyas hand pulls his arm back and when he sees the look in Ilya's eyes he drops the package quickly.
“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane’s words slip into a moan as he pops the lube cap again. “You-“
“No talk. Please” Ilya says. ”Just you”
Shane nods, stroking himself slowly, just enough to lube himself. It's still mind numbing. He ignores the pleasure, choosing instead to line himself up. He lets his cock catch on Ilya's hole, It pulls him in slightly. Shane lets out a small choked noise but when Ilya whimpers Shane can no longer deny him. He’s slow, careful to not overwhelm Ilya. There's a pressure until it gives, letting his tip slip into the tight, hot heat. It’s still slick from Shane's fingers. Ilya’s legs clamp down on Shane’s sides as he throws his arm across his eyes. Shane lets him hide. He watches Ilya’s breathing, pausing when Ilya can’t find its rhythm and pushing in once it’s steady again.
Ilya, on the other hand, has no clue how Shane knows when to stop. He can hardly think. He can’t feel anything beyond the push and stretch. Fuck- He feels like he’s being split in two. Just Shane and him. The slow pace sends ripples of arousal through him, as he struggles to center himself around Shane. He can feel his cock jump at every moment. Shit, he could come from this alone. Losing it over nothing but Shane inside him.
“Almost there, darling” Shane’s voice floats by, his tone is the only indication of how much the man is affected by Ilya. “You got it,”
Ilya lets out a gasping moan as Shane pushes fully in, hips meeting Ilya’s with a dull thud. His cock runs over Ilya’s prostate, settling just beyond it, a constant pressure across the sensitive spot. Ilya shakes wildingly as if he's going to cum but It’s not enough to do anything but tease. All he can hear is the constant pulse of his heartbeat in his ears. His body stays tight as a bowstring, muscles flexing as he comes to terms with the feeling.
Fuck he’s been so mean to Shane whenever he fucks him, anytime he rests just sitting with his cock rubbing against Shane’s prostate . He tries to say anything but even his Russian is failing him now. He’s not even sure he can get out the full sentence.
“Still with me?” Shane asks, grabbing the arm still across Ilya's eyes. Ilya pulls against the touch, forming a thumbs up with his hand to confirm he is fine to Shane. Okay, let me know when you want me to move.”
Shane presses a kiss to the back of ILya’s hand. Ilya pushes his hips up slightly, adjusting against Shane. Shane takes it as a sign to shift his hips downwards to be flush with Ilya’s. The change in angle has Shane directly rubbing the center of his prostate. A desperate cry spills from Ilya's lips and it’s the man's last straw. The sharp movement has cut through the haze.
“Move” Ilya says, sharp and clear. But Shane once moves the clarity dissipates.
The drag is slow at first, sparks dancing across Ilya’s skin. It is as if every nerve in Ilya's body is alight with a blinding feeling. It was impossible to pick out any one sensation, them all pulling with and against each other to create a cacophony of pleasure that ebbs and flows with each time Shane thrusts in and out.
Shane lets out a low groan. Ilya feels so fucking good. He never even came close to this feeling before with anyone else. Most times he’s so caught up in worry, anxiety he’s doing it wrong. But not now. Now Ilya is letting himself be used by Shane, handing himself over. Shane’s chest swells with admiration for the man below as he wrestles to regulate his own brain. Shane lets his hands rub up Ilya's side before resting to the left and right sides of Ilya’s head.
“You feel so fucking good.” Shane says and Ilya can’t find the words to tell him to shut up “Beign so fucking good for me.”
“Shan-“ Ilya's words are stolen as Shane grinds down hard, hitting Ilya's prostate with a sharp thrust. “Shane I- fuck I can’t. “
His sentence falls apart as Shane thrusts down . It’s harsh and Ilya’s breath is forced out in a pitiful moan. Every thrust has him clutching Shane, running his nails down Shane's back. He knows everyone on his team will see the marks. He should be more careful. If they saw- Fuck! The thought drifts away as his vision whites out. His body starts to spasm, movement only building as Ilya tester on the edge of an orgasm.
“S-shane.” Ilya’s head shoots up to look at the man. His desperation is clear.
“I know, baby.” Shane smiles, only thrusting down harder. “You can cum. Cum on my cock for me.”
Ilya’s body goes tight, back arching up as his legs grip Shane's hips. His breath is forced out as short clipped moans, too shallow to get any air in his lungs. He feels like he’s on the precipice of the cliff about to fall off. Only he doesn’t fall, he shatters. Pleasure explodes as he feels each spurt form his cock as it jumps on his stomach. It sends cum up Ilya’s chest even hitting Shane’s as he lets go.
Shane lets out a warning noise and starts to pull out of Ilya but Ilya's legs lock him in place. Shane tries to warn him but Ilya seemingly knows. Ilya’s name is all he can manage as cums, hips grinding directly into Ilya’s prostate. Ilya can feel his cum flow across his prostate with each grind. It milks Ilya as his cock kicks up each time, weeping pitifully as his body is wracked with aftershocks.
Ilyas finally meets Shane's eyes, tears threading to spill from the overstimulation, from the touch, from the care. Shane just leans forward, resting on his arms, catching his breath. Neither boy speaks, keeping quiet as they lie still in the silence.
“I’m proud of you” Shane says softly and Ilya doesn’t know why but the tears fall. Shane doesn't panic, expecting it. He’s been that soft before, knows how easy it is to drop, to let everything overwhelm you. Shane watches as Iya manages to find his way back, tears still falling but eyes more focused. He's actually looking at Shane and not just through. him.
“How-“ Ilya breathes. “How do you talk while I fuck you?”
Shane laughs and Ilya can feel it inside him. “I’m not sure. It just happens. You still-“
“Yes, very good.” Ilya smiles anticipating Shane’s words. He thinks about doing it again and realizes he doesn't think he could for weeks. His body is exhausted, brain empty. “not all the time”
Shane smiles back. “Not all the time”
“No. But for now, “ Ilya’s smile shifts, his normal edge returning to his actions. “It’s nice.”
and Shane realizes he will spend the rest of his life in love with that smile.