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Ilya came walking into the room with a package in his hands and a curved smile on his mouth, putting it down on the counter beside Shane.
This was their last day together before a long stretch on the road for both of them. They had known this year would be hard, but they were both committed to trying harder. Which was part of the reason why Ilya had organised a special gift for Shane.
The other part was because he enjoyed making Shane squirm.
"I guess I should be happy that your spending habits fit in boxes now and not garages," Shane quips and Ilya runs his eyes over him.
He reaches out and puts his hands on Shane's hips, leaning in to kiss him on the temple.
"Maybe, I am still getting motorcycle," he squeezes him tighter as Shane starts to protest. "But no, this is not for me."
"It's not?" Shane asks, eyes looking over the package with interest.
"Is for you."
Shane takes in a breath, looking back at Ilya suspiciously.
"For me?"
"Ah, yes, you should open," Ilya's smile turned into a smirk and this time Shane narrowed his eyes.
"Not sure I like that look."
"We both know this is lie," Ilya pinched at Shane's hip, making him squirm. "Open."
Shane pulls at the packaging, opening it carefully at the sides and Ilya watches with a fond little smile. Shane's eyes crinkle at the edges as he pulls out a rectangular box with the word Lovers embossed in black along the side.
"You sure this isn't a gift for you?" Shane raises an eyebrow while Ilya lifts a hand up and drags it over his chest.
He hums appreciatively and drags his fingertips over Shane's pecs, his cock twitching at the low rumbling sound Shane makes.
"No, is for you. Maybe take closer look."
Shane shakes his head, reading the rest of the words on the front of the box.
Shane thinks it's Ilya's way of trying to be funny, it was clearly a dildo, which makes his cheeks hot. Ilya still teases him about the one he's had in his bedside drawer for years.
His fingers reach for the edges of the box, which is when the word custom jumps out at him and Shane feels a flutter in his belly.
"Please don't tell me this is..." he trails off as he stares down at the deep purple box.
"I think you know what this is," Ilya murmurs, lips brushing his ear lobe as he paints himself to Shane's back.
Shane can't even say it. His cheeks are blushing furiously, and he can feel the heat cover him all over. He couldn't possibly have... absolutely not.
"Ilya..."
"You like yes?" he asks, and Shane can almost feel his arrogant grin against his skin. "I mean, I know you like. You can keep it with your one lonely dildo. I will help you start collection."
"Oh my god..." Shane put his hands on the box as though he could will it away with the depth of his embarrassment. "How did you even... you're insane, you know that?"
Ilya's hands run down Shane's sides and then back up over his stomach and chest, his fingers pinching at his nipple and making Shane gasp.
"I think you like it," he murmurs. "And was very easy, uncomfortable for some minutes but uh, worth it for you to not be missing my cock when I am away."
Shane hesitated a moment before he opened the lid of the box and pulled back the silky black fabric. He swallowed and cleared his throat with a stutter as he stared down at it.
It looked huge against the black velvet lining of the box, and fuck, it was pretty damn close to the real thing.
Shane would know it even without the custom label, the way it curved upwards slightly, the vein that ran from the base and around under the shaft, the curve of the head, heavy and full.
He knows exactly how it feels to have it press inside him and open him up, and Ilya knows exactly how to use it to turn Shane's legs to jelly in a way that nothing or no-one else ever could.
He wondered if a perfect replica might come close...
"I'm not gonna use it," Shane says, and he’s somewhat unconvincing as he slams the box shut.
Ilya just chuckles, hand sliding down until he's cupping Shane's hardening cock through his pants.
"You are too curious not to try it," he says, making Shane close his eyes, hips arching into his touch.
Shane wished that Ilya didn't know him so well, but even if he wasn't saying it with his mouth, he was betrayed by his dick. He was always betrayed by his dick.
Shane turned around and slipped his arms around Ilya's neck. His eyes were drawn to his lips, they were curled into a playful smirk as his hands took hold of Shane's hips and pulled them against his own.
"What if somebody finds it?" Shane asks, and Ilya wants to laugh but he knows that he asks with genuine earnest and so he just smiles.
"Do you have lots of people going through your dildo drawer?" he teases, leaning in to kiss at Shane's neck.
"Shut up. What if they knew it was yours?"
This time he does laugh, breath fanning out over Shane's skin.
"Who is going to be going through your dildo draw, pulling out a cock and deciding it belongs to me?" he asks.
"Half of Boston probably," Shane grumbles.
Ilya pulls back to look at him, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, so you're a comedian?"
Shane smiles and drops his head forward and closes his eyes, letting out a hum from the back of his throat as Ilya slides his hands under Shane's shirt to skate across his skin.
"I can't believe you got that thing made," he says.
Ilya slips one hand under Shane's waistband and squeezes his ass, his lips nuzzling just below his ear again.
"Was lucky I did not have to pay by inch," he purrs, and Shane finally let out a laugh of his own.
"I'm not using it," he says sternly.
Ilya's tongue traces over Shane's pulse, and then he was sucking a mark into his skin, one that would recede quickly but that made Shane's hips arch.
"You will use it, because you love my dick, don't you?"
Ilya squeezes Shane's ass again, rolling his hips forward.
Shane sighs and his mouth drops open, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths as Ilya keeps kissing at his throat and grinding their cocks together through far too many layers of fabric.
Shane's not about to say it, but he is curious about the contents of the box.
"I won't," Shane says breathlessly.
Ilya's hips are rocking slowly as he nips at Shane's collarbone. Shane's mouth might have been saying no, but his mind has been doing quite the opposite.
He sank down to his knees and didn't need to look back up to know that Ilya's smirk was wider than ever. He didn't care, he was already rock hard and so was Ilya as Shane pulled at the waistband of his sweats and let his cock spring free.
Ilya's hand was quick to tangle in his hair as Shane greedily took his cock into his mouth.
"We will see about that," Ilya says, watching him close his eyes and suck him down earnestly.
Shane is moaning around him before Ilya even makes another sound. There is no chance his boyfriend isn't trying out that dildo, not the way he worships his dick when he's on his knees.
He won't be able to resist.
~
Eight Weeks Later, Buffalo
Ilya wraps his towel around his waist as he walks back into his hotel room after his shower. There was a bruise blooming on his right bicep from where he had been hit with an errant puck. It had been a fairly physical game, and he was mostly ready for an early night, but then he looked down at his phone on the nightstand and saw a message from Shane from six minutes ago.
Shane: are you alone?
Ilya grins because he doesn't always ask that question, not unless he's planning something dirty.
Usually it's 'can you call' or 'are you busy'. 'Are you alone' means that Shane is horny, and it's been twenty-three days since they saw one another. Ilya couldn’t wait until this season was over and he was a free agent. These long stretches without seeing one another were killing him.
Ilya: yes, call me now
He pulls the towel from his waist and tosses it to the floor as he waits for the call. Sure enough, in less than a minute his phone lights up. He lets it almost ring out for good measure. He loves how fiery Shane gets when he makes him wait.
As soon as he answers he almost regrets it.
Because there is Shane, naked and beautiful under a sheen of sweat with the dildo Ilya had made for him buried in his ass.
Ilya feels his head spin as all the blood supplying any rational thoughts to his brain rushes to his dick.
"Fuck Shane," is all he can manage to say.
He watches as Shane holds the base of the dildo, his other hand braced against the wall as he bounces up and back, things flexing and straining and voice shuddering as he whimpers with pleasure.
"Tak krasivo," he mumbles, English failing him.
Ilya almost fumbles with the phone to prop it up against the wall. The angle is terrible, but he can't take his eyes off Shane and how incredible he looks, especially because he knows that he's filling himself with an exact replica of the dick he really wants.
"Fuck Ilya," Shane whimpers, his eyes dark and lustful as he stares into the camera. "Been waiting..."
"Yes, show me," Ilya's entire body prickles with desire, with a desperate need to touch his boyfriend.
He wants to be the one making him sweat and writhe and blush, he wants to be buried inside him and feel him tensing and tightening around him, he wants to feel Shane come on just his cock.
Christ, was he jealous of a dildo in the shape of his own dick?
"You want it so fucking much don't you Hollander?" Ilya growls with a steadying breath.
He squeezes the base of his throbbing cock as he watches Shane grind his hips down and drop his head forward with a drawn-out moan.
"I knew you could not help yourself," Ilya slides his hand slowly down his cock, giving the tip some attention.
Shane looks like a fucking vision, and Ilya was torn between being desperately turned on and impossibly frustrated that he couldn’t get his hands on him.
“Fuck off,” Shane said through laboured breaths, turning his gaze to the camera. “You look so good, wish you were… fuck, wish you were here.”
His hair was a little too long in the front and it was falling over his brow, damp from sweat. Shane’s whole chest was shining with it. Ilya wanted to run his tongue over every inch of him. He wanted to stand in front of him and watch, one hand in Shane’s hair and the other pressing his thumb down on his tongue. He wanted to tell Shane what a good job he was doing for him and watch him squirm until he was begging Ilya to take over.
“I wish so too moy lyubovnik,” he pumps his fist over his cock a little faster, shooting him a playful smirk. “You could not have put your glasses on for me?”
“Didn’t want you coming too fast,” Shane grins back at him and Ilya just laughs.
“You are one to know about this problem,” he watches Shane’s cock bob back against his belly and he can almost taste him.
The muscles in Shane’s thigh tense so beautifully as he worked the dildo in his ass, Ilya wanted to close his eyes and imagine it was his cock inside him and not a perfect replica, but he didn’t want to miss a moment of how sexy Shane looked getting himself off on it.
"Is good, yes?” he strokes his cock faster while Shane leans himself forward more and braces his forearm against the wall.
He nods with a shaking breath and hangs his head as his hips give a roll.
Fuck. Ilya lifts his hand to his lips and spits into his palm, muttering something in Russian as he returns it to his cock with a smooth glide and he stares at the screen. Shane’s eyes are staring right through, locked on Ilya’s slick cock like he’s transfixed.
He looked like he couldn’t get enough, which was probably true, Shane could never get enough. Always so hungry and greedy and full of want. And Ilya couldn’t get enough of that look in Shane’s eye, and knowing it’s all only ever for him.
"You like it? Fucking yourself on my cock?" he asks, feeling the heat coiling in his belly far earlier than it should, but he didn’t care.
“You know I do,” Shane says, punctuated by a whimper.
“And so good at it, look at you,” Ilya pouts his lips at he tries to steady his breathing and stave off his orgasm.
He wants to watch Shane first. Luckily, he doesn’t need to wait long.
Shane’s hips stutter a little and the bounce of his hips gets quicker, shallower, it turns into a low grind as he whimpers in the back of his throat.
“Oh fuck, Ilya I’m gonna come, can I–”
“Yes,” Ilya breathes. “Touch yourself.”
Ilya watches as Shane removes his hand from the wall and wraps it around the head of his cock, giving it barely anything before he’s tilting it back towards his chest, and then he’s exploding, cum hitting his belly and chest and throat.
“Vot i vso, detka, da,” Ilya says, giving himself into his own release.
He didn’t take his eyes off Shane as his hips stuttered and he came into his fist, moaning louder than he probably should have in his hotel room but he didn’t care. He let the waves of pleasure throb through him with a lazy smile as he watched Shane lay down on the bed and lift his hips with a shudder as he let himself be emptied, his body relaxing as if turning to jelly.
Shane threw his arm over his head, tilting it to watch Ilya collapse back down onto his own hotel sheets and wipe his hand on the previously discarded towel before adjusting the phone to see Shane better without glare on the screen.
Ilya could see all of him from head to mid thighs, all lean and muscle and perfectly soft skin. For a moment they both just lay there, catching their breath in silence and staring at the expanse of the other's body. Shane looks at his screen, and his lips draw into a dopey smile.
Ilya stares back at him, chest rising and falling and his cheeks flushed under those beautiful freckles. He wanted so much to just reach out and run his fingers over them.
“Bring that with you when you come to Boston,” he says with a smirk, enjoying the way Shane’s brow furrows at the idea.
“What? I'm absolutely not packing that in my suitcase,” he says.
Ilya knows he’s probably worried about someone seeing it on the airport scanners, because Shane is paranoid about everything.
“Come on, it will be fine, no one will know. And I want to watch you for real.”
God, Ilya can’t think of anything hotter right now than Shane lying in the sheets of his bed back in Boston, fucking himself so beautifully, begging for Ilya to take over.
“You can fuck me for real,” Shane says impertinently.
Ilya hums out a laugh.
“Or you can fuck yourself, and I'll let you suck my cock at same time.”
“You're such an asshole.”
“Don't pretend you don't like it. Come on, you're picturing it aren't you?”
“Fuck you.”
“Is like your dream come true.”
“I’m hanging up on you.”
“Noo,” Ilya drawls mournfully, reaching towards the screen of his phone, the closest thing he can get to touching Shane. “Stay. I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Shane says without missing a beat, rolling onto his side and gazing down the camera lens. “Not sure how much longer I can stay awake though.”
His eyes looked heavy, his fingers now tracing lazy circles over his hip. Ilya ached deep in his core. He should be there, they should be lying beside one another right now, with Ilya’s hand brushing Shane’s hair behind his ear and leaning in to kiss his pliant pink lips.
“When do I get to fuck you again,” Ilya whines.
Shane snorts out a laugh through the phone as he gazes lovingly down the camera as though they were really lying side by side and not thousands of miles apart.
“I get to New York in eight days for that fundraiser thing,” he sighs and rests his forearm over his brow. “Think we get two nights, if you booked that hotel I sent you.”
Of course Ilya booked the hotel, and he made sure to book a nicer room than Shane just to watch his eyes roll and his mouth twitch when he finds out.
“Guess we should thank Scott Hunter for being so philanthropic and inviting us both.” Shane continues with his little dazed and satisfied face.
It would be adorable if he hadn’t just mentioned–
“Ugh,” Ilya groans and flops onto his back dramatically. “Yes, I will do it when I am shaking his hand at fundraiser. Hello Mr Hunter, thank you for inviting me to boring party so I can suck Shane Hollander’s dick in the hotel.”
Shane actually laughed at his terrible joke.
That dildo must have been good.
“You shouldn’t do that, he might actually take credit.”
Ilya’s smile grew slowly as he tipped his head and looked at Shane on the screen. He would take every scrap of him that he could get, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.
“I will just be counting down the days instead,” he says as his chest aches at the flush beneath Shane’s beautiful, freckled cheeks. “It has been too long.”
“Why do you think I actually used that thing?”
“Don’t pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
“I think we’re past that,” Shane grins.
“Yes, and you were very beautiful,” Ilya wanted to keep the blush on Shane’s cheeks just a little longer.
“I love you so much,” Shane almost pouts the words, and Ilya hears the ache of longing beneath them.
“Ty — moyo serdtse, moya dorogoy,” Ilya reaches for the camera and Shane closes his eyes, smile brimming until his cheeks are tight and humming out contently.
“I downloaded a Russian language podcast for the plane,” Shane says, and Ilya’s lips trembled with a stifled laugh.
“Of course you did.”
“Kind of hard to practice though with… a plane full of…” his yawn stopped him from finishing the sentence, and Ilya felt the exhaustion creeping in on him as well.
“Sleep sweetheart,” Ilya says, and Shane sighs happily.
“Eight days.”
“I love you.”
“I know that one,” Shane says. “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
“Perfect, no accent,” he reaches further until his fingertips touch the screen. “Ty lyubish' moy chlen bol'she.”
“What does that mean?” Shane asks, and Ilya shoots him a wicked grin.
“It means that you used my gift, like I knew you would.”