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A part of Ilya had thought he’d never have Shane like this again. So sweet and warm and pliant under his hands, his thick thighs wrapped around him, soft moans pressed into the crook of Ilya’s neck. Burying his hand into Shane’s hair, he thrust inside with a pace that was driving Shane crazy. The slow drag made the back of his own neck prickle with the need to lose control, but still he just pressed his lips to Shane’s forehead as he rolled his hips like soft waves lapping at the shore.
He tipped Shane’s chin up to claim a searing kiss. Even with Shane’s lips moving softly against his, even with the taste of him on Ilya’s tongue, it still felt almost unreal that they were here. Shane wasn’t with Rose Landry. He wasn’t kissing her under flashing lights with her hands under his shirt. He wasn’t taking her out to dinner and holding her hand in front of the world so everyone could see how perfect they were. Instead, he was Ilya’s Shane, the one no one else saw, the one he thought he’d never see again: writhing sweetly on his cock, his cheeks flushed and his thighs trembling.
Fuck, Ilya was in so deep. His eyes shouldn’t be stinging at the feeling of the hands on his back, pushing him closer like Shane couldn’t get close enough. He shouldn’t want to suck bruises into Shane’s neck to leave a trace of himself behind. But this had spiralled long ago, and it was too late to fight it now, this fucking madness that bloomed in his chest.
Losing grasp on his control, Ilya finally let Shane have what he really wanted, finding the rhythm that had Shane’s eyes rolling back into his head, his breath stuttering. Ilya kissed the column of his neck—the exact spot where he wanted to mark him—when Shane cried out and threw his head back, thighs clamping around him.
“Fuck, oh—oh, please, I can’t—” Shane was breathless, his voice wrecked, and Ilya’s only thought was making him feel like this, feel so good it made his eyes glassy and distant.
It was all that mattered, the little mewls that spilled out of him, the way their bodies melted together until it was impossible to separate them.
“Ilya.” Shane moaned, desperate and sweet.
Ilya came so hard he forgot his own name.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
It was so hot at the cottage that Ilya sweat ran down the back of his neck. They’d already spent half the day in the lake, dipping back in whenever the heat got too bad. Ilya had also pushed Shane in a time or two just because his indignant squeaks were so cute it made Ilya want to pinch him and then kiss him stupid.
Now, Ilya stood at the kitchen island cutting cucumbers for a salad while Shane and David worked the grill out on the patio. Yuna sat by the table outside sipping on a glass of wine as she waved a hand to emphasize a story that Shane and David were only half following. Shane’s face was pinched in concentration.
It was still a bit awkward with David and Yuna. Not because they weren’t nice, Ilya just didn’t know them that well and he felt more self-conscious, unlike when he was alone with Shane. During their days at the cottage, it had really dawned on Ilya how long they had known each other. He knew, of course, that it had been a long time, but he hadn’t truly realized how he knew Shane so instinctively that it was like they’d always just been together like this.
“Hey, Ilya?” Shane called and Ilya looked up to see Shane still focused on the grill, calling his name like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Is the barbecue glaze in the fridge?”
Ilya pretended he hadn’t heard him, busying himself with the salad. His heart beat fast in his chest.
“Ilya?” Shane repeated and heat ran down Ilya’s back. This time when Ilya looked up, Shane was peering over, his eyes squinting against the sun.
“Hm?” Ilya put the knife down.
“Is the barbecue glaze in the fridge?”
He found the glaze hidden behind some other bottles and headed outside, pressing a hand to the small of Shane’s back as he handed it over.
“So, are you not supposed to put glaze on before it goes on the grill?” Ilya asked.
Shane looked affronted. “What? No! The sugar in it will burn.”
“It is a sauce, where is the sugar?”
“Ilya.” Shane sounded so scandalized that Ilya burst out laughing. “There’s tons of sugar in the glaze.”
“If you say so, Shane,” he said airily, just to enjoy Shane’s pinched expression a bit more.
He shared an amused look with Yuna over Shane’s head, her hand hiding a small smile.
Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s cheek that tasted of sunscreen and Shane scrunched his nose. “It smells good.”
“Go finish the salad.” Shane said. “You’re distracting.”
Rolling his eyes with a laugh, Ilya headed back inside. He stood at the kitchen island, watching the Hollanders outside, his new path spreading out in front of him.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
Ilya was bored.
He’d been playing FIFA on Shane’s playstation for longer than he planned and outside the cottage the rain was pouring. They had the door open to let in fresh, dewy air, breaking the oppressive heat that had lingered for too long, but it wasn’t exactly weather to go out in. Ilya looked out the big windows at the rain drumming on the table outside.
He picked up the book he’d started yesterday because Shane had pushed it into his hands and told him to sit down and let him have a moment’s peace. Which was rude, but maybe fair, because Ilya didn’t really know how to stop leaning into Shane’s space anymore. It was like they’d just become completely enmeshed, impossible to separate, and Ilya only wanted to be with him all the time. Which was concerning, because their time was running out.
The thought had him throw the book aside (he was still on page 11) and jump up from the couch. Come to think of it, he hadn’t seen Shane in a while, and there weren’t many places he could be other than the home gym, so Ilya skipped down the stairs and pulled the door to the gym open, hovering in the doorway. A slow smile spread on his face as he took in the sight of Shane bending down into one of his yoga poses, the indecently short shorts stretching across his ass. His thick thighs flexed and Ilya’s cock twitched, his thoughts spinning in several directions at once.
Shane was in his own world. Ilya pressed his lips together and stepped calmly into the room just as Shane leaned forward even more, his perfect ass too tempting for Ilya to let go. He swatted his hand across it, enjoying the sound of his hand hitting the fabric, and the sight of Shane’s ass bouncing under his touch.
Shane shrieked. “Ilya!” He toppled sideways on his mat, glaring, his cheeks flushed pink. “What the fuck!”
“What?” He said, innocent. “You were showing it off for me.”
“I didn’t even know you were here!”
“You must have known I would feel it in the air, like mating call.”
Shane laughed and threw his forearm over his eyes. “You’re impossible.”
“Hey,” Ilya said and took his phone out of his pocket. “We should do one of those things. Like, yoga challenge.”
“What?”
“You know, the ones where the couples climb on each other.”
Shane pulled himself up from the floor and peered over his shoulder as Ilya found some of the pictures, laughing at a few that looked completely absurd.
“You’re the least flexible person alive. There’s no way you can do this!”
Ilya scoffed. “You are lying. My hips are very flexible.”
“Yes, well.” Shane shrugged, his arm settling around Ilya’s waist. “Every other part of you is not.”
“See, this one.” Ilya tilted the screen a little, showing Shane a picture of a man lying on the floor with his legs straight up and a woman sitting on his upturned feet. Her own feet were held up by the man’s outstretched arms. “I don’t even need to be flexible for this one. Just core strength.”
“We’re going to break every bone in our bodies.”
“Have faith, Hollander!”
Ilya lay down on the mat and quickly realized it was a surprisingly difficult process to have Shane balancing on his feet.
“No,” Shane said, voice strained. “You have to—”
Before Ilya could manage to grab one of his feet to hold him in place, Shane toppled over with a strangled oof.
“You have to sit still!” Ilya said, trying to hold back his laugh at how annoyed Shane looked.
Sitting up, Shane kicked softly against his thigh. “You have to hold my feet first. I don’t have any leverage.”
“What, you want me to lift you by your feet until you can sit down?”
“No, just—” Shane got up and grabbed Ilya’s hands, pulling his arms up into a stretch. He placed one foot on one hand. “Hold me still and boost me up, okay?”
He ended up being boosted too far and tumbled over Ilya’s feet, landing on his back. For a moment, Ilya held his breath, wondering if this was too far, but then Shane was laughing, his hands rubbing over his face. He got back up and pushed Ilya’s legs into position.
“Oh my god, you could help? Why are your legs suddenly dead weight?”
“But you’re doing such a good job.” Ilya grinned up at him.
“You’re such an asshole.” Shane gingerly placed himself onto Ilya’s feet, finding his balance. “One foot at a time on your hands, maybe?”
They somehow managed it, but it was a shaky set up. Shane let out a loud whoop in celebration, but Ilya was busy making it wobblier on purpose. He began swaying his feet just a little, making Shane tremble with the effort of staying in place.
“Ilya!” Shane admonished, his eyes going wide. “Ilya, you’re such a little shit, oh my god.”
“Having problems?” Ilya asked sweetly.
Shane started laughing as Ilya made his own legs shake on purpose. “Ilya!” His laughter threaded through Ilya’s name, the brightness of it making Ilya’s chest crack open. His lips turned into a smile so wide his cheeks hurt.
They tumbled into a heap and Ilya wrapped his arms around Shane’s back as laughter rang in his ears.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
It never lost its novelty to have the code to Shane’s front door. To be able to walk up to it, punch in a code Shane gave him, to let himself inside even when Shane wasn’t there. Or, like now, when Shane was asleep because Ilya’s flight was delayed by three hours.
Time had crawled at the airport, the few hours he’d get with Shane that evening slipping through his hands, and tomorrow their game was early enough that they’d only have the morning together. But now he was entering the quiet apartment, placing his shoes carefully next to Shane’s and hanging his jacket up on the hook. He padded quietly on socked feet through the hallway, up the stairs, and pushed the door open as quietly as he could.
Shane was buried under the covers, curled up on his side. His hair was sticking up, smushed against the pillow, his face slack with sleep and his lips slightly parted. Ilya placed his bag right inside the door and began to undress quietly, his eyes never leaving the bed. This is where he’d wanted to be all evening while wasting away in the airport. It’d been weeks.
Sliding under the covers, he reached for Shane’s sleepwarm body and curled one hand over his waist and the other over his chest where Shane’s heart beat steadily. Ilya watched as Shane’s eyes fluttered open, looking confused for a moment, his eyebrows knitting together.
“Ilya,” he slurred, his sleepy voice warm with recognition. It made Ilya press him closer.
Ilya dropped a kiss to his hair. “Hi, sweetheart.”
“‘m sorry,” Shane said, muffled into Ilya’s shoulder. “Was trying to be awake for you.”
“No, I told you to sleep.”
“‘m awake now.” Shane’s hand slid slowly down Ilya’s side, following the curve of the hip as he mouthed lazily at his pulsepoint. “We can—”
“No,” Ilya said, soft but firm, and rolled over onto his back while holding Shane close. “Sleep. We have tomorrow morning, okay? I will fuck you so good, I promise.”
“‘Mkay.” Shane snuggled against his side. “Night, Ilya.”
Shane’s breath evened out in seconds, his grip going slack.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
“Ilya, no.”
Ilya looked up and his hands stilled, like he’d been caught stealing snacks from the snack drawer instead of folding laundry. Not that he ever stole anything from that drawer anyway, because Shane’s snacks were absolutely disgusting. One time he bit into one of the bars that looked deceptively delicious and he had to scrub the taste and texture off his tongue.
“What?” he asked and looked down at the sheet in his hands.
“Why do you have that?”
Shane stood in the doorway. Ominously.
“You washed it and now I am—” Ilya stopped and tried to figure out where he’d gone wrong. “I’m helping.”
A complicated expression journeyed across Shane’s face and his arm twitched like he was stopping himself from reaching out.
“Oh.” Shane swallowed. “Helping.”
Ilya looked down at the sheet again, a slow realization creeping in. Keeping his face neutral, he folded the sheet haphazardly in one direction, and then the other, making increasingly more crooked squares. Shane’s eyes were wide and he had his teeth digging into his bottom lip.
“See?” Ilya beamed. “Perfect.”
Shane broke. “Ilya.” The name was drawn out into a whine. “No, no. It’s all crooked and bunched up.”
Ilya had to stop himself from pinching Shane’s cheeks for the way he dragged out his name. The look of pure disgust on his face was also hilarious and adorable.
“It looks fine to me,” he said and folded it yet another time just for effect.
“Stop, Ilya. Please.”
Finally breaking out into laughter, Ilya stepped over and pressed the sheet into Shane’s hands while pressing a kiss to his temple.
“Show me how to fold the sheet, moya lyubov.”
⋆⭒˚.⋆
Morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the blinds, painting stripes on the bed. One strip of golden light hit Shane across the hip and Ilya brushed his hand along the warmth of it. He let out a low groan as Shane bounced in his lap, thighs working under Ilya’s hands, and he looked up into the blissed out expression above him. Shane’s lips were open around a moan, his eyes closed and his cheeks flushed, and Ilya wanted to bite them. It was all so hot and tight and good and Ilya could live in him, could stay inside him forever. Shane’s head tipped back, his hands pressing down on Ilya’s stomach.
Fuck, he loved Shane riding him like this. Just letting his eyes travel over every detail of his boyfriend, the love of his fucking life. It drove him crazy how much Shane always loved it too. The way he let himself go, his body desperately seeking what he needed, hips always moving whether he was bouncing or circling his hips or grinding in that slow, intense way that broke Ilya’s brain.
Moments later, he had Shane on his knees, cheek pressed to the mattress and Ilya’s hand on his back holding him down. Shane let out of string of moans as he rocked back into Ilya’s thrusts, his hands twisting in the sheets. Ilya moved his hand down to Shane’s neck, cupping the back of it for a moment, before he brushed a thumb across Shane’s heated cheeks.
“So fucking pretty, Shane.”
Shane whimpered in response.
Ilya shushed him and ran his fingers softly through his hair, in contrast with the harsh roll of his hips. “Does it feel good, hm?”
A dam broke, spilling out Shane. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. Ilya-ah-ah.” He sobbed out the name and it might be the most beautiful sound Ilya had ever heard. It made him want to write poetry, or compose music, or something else completely outlandish. Instead, he fucked Shane until he cried and his own orgasm almost made him black out.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
They had a slow morning that transitioned into working out side by side in Shane’s gym where Ilya tried not to get too distracted. He couldn’t help himself in the shower, though, and dropped to his knees, his eyes fluttering closed with Shane’s hands buried in his hair. Afterwards, he snuggled up against Shane on the couch, letting himself rest his head on Shane’s chest with an arm around him. Even later, Shane made them dinner and they sat on the same side of the table, their elbows knocking as they ate.
Ilya’s packed bag stood in the hallway. It had lingered on the outskirts of his vision the whole day and loomed like a shadow in the background. Now, he stared at it, like he could unpack it with his mind, or maybe wish it out of existence entirely. Something uncomfortable burned in his stomach and he bit it all back, forcing it down even as it tried to leap out.
“I’ll see you in three weeks,” Shane said, one hand splayed softly on Ilya’s back.
“Yes.” It was all Ilya could get out. He was unable to meet Shane’s gaze.
“Unless Marlowe kills you first since you’ve been dodging his call all weekend.”
Ilya fiddled with the zipper on his jacket, irritation rising in his throat as it kept getting stuck.
“Ilya,” Shane said softly, one hand coming to rest on Ilya’s cheek. His thumb brushed across his cheekbone. “Hey.”
Finally looking towards him, Ilya crumpled and fell into Shane, wrapping his arms so tight around his waist that Shane let out a surprised huff of breath. He buried his face into Shane’s neck, heat burning at the back of his neck in shame at how out of control he was. It just fucking sucked, all of it. He was tired of sleeping alone in his bed in Boston, tired of waiting weeks, of missed calls and dinner dates over FaceTime.
Shane rubbed soothing circles against his back. It brought Ilya into himself, little by little, until he pulled away, his arms falling to his sides.
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking away.
“No, no.” Shane grabbed his chin and forced Ilya to face him. “You’re stupider than you look if you think I don’t want to lock you in the bedroom so you can’t leave.”
“Of course you would lock me in the bedroom. My little freak.”
Shane scoffed, caressing Ilya’s jaw as he let go. “I could lock you in the laundry room instead. There’s like three sets of sheets you can wash.”
Now that he properly looked at Shane, he could see it written on his face too. His eyes were soft and wet. There was a pinch at the corner of his mouth and a tension to his brows. At the cottage, just another year with Boston had seemed deceptively short. Something that would pass in the blink of an eye while they explored the newness of texting each other good morning, of thinking I wonder what my boyfriend is doing. But now it just seemed endless. A season that stretched out into perpetuity.
“I will call tonight,” Ilya said. “Don’t forget I made lunch for tomorrow. Oh, I forgot to tell David—”
Shane’s smile took some of the churning in his gut away. “I’ve got it. I’ll tell him.”
“Okay.” Ilya looked down at the time on his phone. “I need to go.”
Placing a warm, lingering kiss on Ilya’s lips, Shane gave his hand a squeeze and let go. “Bye, Ilya. Have a good flight.”
⋆⭒˚.⋆
Ilya had never envisioned a future where he’d babysit for Hayden Pike. He’d certainly never imagined he’d do it without protest, or that he’d enjoy it. But the smaller Pikes were perfect little monsters—the best mix between sweet and mildly evil, which was what Ilya liked most about children. There was an unhinged chaos there that resonated with him. And the Pike household didn’t hold back on the unhinged chaos.
The smallest Pike was resting against his chest as he supported her with his forearm. Puffs of her breath ghosted across his neck, her body going slack with sleep. Inside, Ruby and Jade were screaming so loudly he could hear them through the open door from his spot on the patio and he swore he could see Shane rush past one of the windows. Another delighted scream came from the house and Ilya bit back a laugh as he caught another look at Shane chasing them around inside.
Eventually, the ruckus inside died down for a while as he was letting Amber sleep on his chest. She’d been fussy when they’d tried to feed her, then started crying, and it’d taken him so long to calm her down that he’d thought she’d never stop crying at one point. It seemed to have taken a lot out of her.
Small steps hurried towards the open doors, voices chattering excitedly. Shane appeared in the doorway with three children bouncing on the balls of their feet.
“Why don’t we show Uncle Ilya?” Shane said, his hands gently pushing them forwards.
Ilya’s face broke into a wide smile. It almost hurt—both the muscles in his face and the way his chest flayed open. Shane’s warm, rich voice calling him Uncle Ilya, the kids running up to him with pieces of paper held out in front of them. It was too much and if Ilya from ten years ago could see himself he would’ve been embarrassed, but he was so far from that person now. It was like a lifetime ago.
“Look, it’s us!” Ruby said, holding out her piece of paper.
“You made all of us?” Ilya asked, accepting the drawing with his free hand.
“And me!” Jade chimed in, waving another piece of paper.
“Oh look, Shane is appropriate height.” Ilya pointed Jade’s out to Shane, laughing at his pinched expression. “So small and cute.”
“Uncle Shane isn’t small,” Jade said, tilting her head back to look up at Shane. “He’s a giant.”
“Yeah, you hear that, Ilya? I’m a giant.”
Ilya laughed, reaching out for Arthur’s drawing, tucking Ruby’s behind it. “No one has ever called you that. Oh, look at this!” It was only a collection of lines, but Ilya could see the vision. “Little artist!”
“That’s you,” Shane said. “Right Arthur?”
Arthur nodded, biting his lip.
Holding the drawing up to his face, Ilya grinned. “It is perfect. I look handsome, like always.”
“You’re in the other one too!” Ruby said. “I gave you a crown.”
“Oh, because I am the best, I see! Does your dad know you think I’m the king?”
Shane laughed. “You’re going to start a war in this household. Here, let me take her, your arm must be killing you.”
Grateful, because his arm was going a bit numb, he passed Amber over to Shane and squatted down in front of the other kids. He held all three of the drawings against his chest and smiled widely at them.
“I will hang all of these in my room, so I can look at them every day,” Ilya promised.
⋆⭒˚.⋆
Sneaking up on Shane was always a good source of entertainment. He always let out the cutest yelp, so high-pitched and unlike Shane Hollander, and then his brows furrowed into his most scrunched expression. It always made Ilya laugh and then his heart did something weird because he loved his boyfriend beyond logic and reason.
It might not have been his best idea to tip-toe up to Shane as he was cooking dinner, but he just looked so comfy in Ilya’s hoodie that Ilya just wanted to slip his arms around him and squeeze. As Ilya wrapped himself around him, burying his face into the soft fabric of the hoodie, Shane dropped the spatula and yelped, voice going all squeaky. Ilya laughed, tightening his hold as Shane slapped him across the hand.
“Oh my god! I’m cooking!” Shane wriggled against him. “The stove is hot! I could’ve dropped the pan!”
“You weren’t holding the pan.”
“I could’ve dropped a knife!”
“You weren’t holding a knife.”
Shane made a disgruntled sound. “You’re a hazard, Rozanov. You’re going to make me cut off my own toes one day.”
And, no, that wouldn’t do.
Ilya began tickling his ribs, finding just the spot that sometimes made Shane flinch if Ilya’s touch got too light. Immediately, Shane began twisting in his grip, his breath catching.
“Motherfucker,” he gasped, helpless giggles falling from his lips. “Stop, stop! Ilya! Please, Ilya!”
Satisfied, Ilya loosened his grip, turning Shane around until he could cup his face into his hands. He dropped small kisses onto his lips until the tension melted out of Shane’s body and he kissed back, lips soft and sweet.
“Sorry, Shane,” he said. “I will be careful not to cut off your toes. I will leave you alone and let you be all perfect chef, cooking for me, looking too good in my hoodie.”
Shane slid his arms around Ilya’s waist. “I never said you have to leave me alone. Actually, I forbid it. Not allowed.”
Ilya just smiled at him, letting himself be pulled into another kiss and then another and then another.