Chapter Text
Shane placed his keys on the table near their front door, bending down to unclip Anya's leash and let her roam free.
"We're back!" He called into the house.
"Anya, my sweet girl!" His husband greeted their dog as he rounded the corner, kneeling to let her lick and rub herself all over him affectionately. "Da, da, did you miss your papa?"
"She nearly tore my arm clean off getting out the car so yeah I think so." Shane laughed. Ilya chuckled, looking up, his mouth poised to say something in reply. He froze completely, his eyes widening.
"Why do— why do you look like that?" He questioned, the words coming out quick and a little breathless.
"Look like what?" Shane responded, confused and a bit offended. His gaze slid over to a mirror they kept in the front entrance. He looked the same as he always did. He'd gotten bigger over the years, bulkier from loosening just a bit on his diet and doing more heavy lifting (mainly because Ilya loved when he held him down or picked him up or just manhandled him in any way). His hair was longer, pulled back in a bun right then because he was worried Anya's nails might tangle in it when he went to pick her up. She was always super excited to see them whenever they picked her up from the pet hotel.
"Your clothes... why are you wearing that?" Ilya asked. "Why do you have those?"
"I thought you liked when I dressed like this?" Shane retorted, looking down at himself. He was wearing a brown leather jacket (Ilya's favorite on him), a white henley, and a pair of dark jeans. "You're being really weird right now, Baby, what's going on?"
"When does it—"
Shane didn't hear the rest of Ilya's question. It happened so fast, in the span of a blink. One minute he was staring at his husband and the next he was in a hallway, the momentum of whatever that had moved him causing him to stumble forward. His body collided with the door in front of him, the thud of the impact ringing out into the hallway.
"Ow, fuck, what the fuck?" He groaned, righting himself. "What the hell was that?"
A lock clicked, the door in front of him swung open.
"Sasha, ya ne khochu..." A voice, so familiar even without the rasp Shane knew it would gain in time that he recognized it instantly, stopped. "Who are you?"
"Oh." Shane gasped, his eyes growing wide. There, in front of him, was his husband. Only it wasn't his Ilya, as in the one he was just talking to, the one he woke up next to every morning. This Ilya was a bit smaller, his curls a bit bigger and more wild, younger. His eyes more guarded than the open, adoring blue Shane was used to now. "Oh my god."
This was... how had this happened? What had happened?
Sasha. This Ilya had just mentioned Sasha. Shane tried to rack his brain for what Ilya had told him of the man. Old coach's son back in Russia that he used to mess around with. Moved to Paris. Not super close so they didn't really keep in touch much after they both left Russia.
Fuck, if he was mentioning Sasha like that then this had to be Russia. How the fuck was Shane suddenly in Russia? Even more importantly, when the fuck was he in Russia?
"Where—" He started, ignoring Ilya's question. "Where are we? What year is it?"
Ilya's face scrunched up with a frown, his eyes weary as he looked Shane over.
"Sochi. Is twenty-fourteen." He answered after a moment. His head tilted, thinking. "You look like athlete. You are here for games, yes? Lost your way to village?"
Sochi, Russia.
The 2014 Winter Olympics.
That... that was seven years ago.
Holy shit.
Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!
This was time travel. Shane was... Shane had time traveled. How was that even possible?
'Okay, okay.' He thought to himself. 'Breathe, think.' He racked his brain, suddenly greatful to Wyatt Hayes for making Ilya watch so many American movies that his husband then forced Shane to sit through. 'Okay, think, Back To The Future. The Time Traveler's Wife. Avengers: Endgame. There's gotta be some truth to some of those rules right?'
"I'm not– I don't—" Shane stammered. "Shit."
"Hmm..." Ilya hummed, his eyes raking over Shane. "Then you are here for me?"
Shane had no idea what to do, what to say.
"You are very pretty." Ilya continued, thinkingly. "You remind me of someone a little."
'Me.' Shane thought. 'I remind you of me.'
"Fuck." He hissed, cheeks flushing like they always did when Ilya complimented him. Ilya's hand gripped the front of his shirt, dragging him in so quickly he stumbled.
"We should not." Ilya murmured, the door to his apartment shutting soundly as he backed further in. His grip on Shane's shirt pulled him to follow, crowding Ilya against the wall. "Is very dangerous here but you... you are so pretty."
'You always say that.' Shane thought fondly, dazedly.
"We can't— I can't—" He started to protest even as his hands gripped Ilya's waist. Automatic, familiar. This was a bad idea. This was completely against all the rules. "I'm— I'm married!"
"I'm married to you!" He wanted to say. "You're my husband... or you will be in seven years."
Ilya pouted, he would deny it like Shane knew he always did if he pointed it out. "Russians do not pout, Shane. We glare. Glower. Grimace. Nyet, is not cute because I am not pouting!"
"But you are sneaking to my home, like creepy pervert." He stated, his eyes going down to the ring on Shane's finger. The ring he would pick out in seven years to match the one Shane would give him.
"I did not sneak up here, asshole!" Shane replied, the words rolling off his tongue easily. Ilya's eyes widened slightly, darkening.
"You talk like him. Must be boring Canadian too." He said, more to himself than to Shane. He didn't elaborate but he didn't need to. Shane knew exactly who he was talking about. Something resolute shifted on to Ilya's face, his arms wrapping around Shane's shoulders. "No one will know. I can keep secret, yes?"
Fuck. Fuck... this was so weird. Ilya was— God, he was actually encouraging this. Shane was gonna cheat. He was gonna cheat on Ilya... with Ilya. Did that count? Was that still cheating? This was fucking insane!
Another thought hit him then, understanding of his Ilya's behavior just before he got sent back in time. He recognized the way Shane looked, the outfit he was wearing. So... so this was supposed to happen, right?
Shane should have protested more, probably, but he'd always been a little weak willed when it came to Ilya.
He surged forward, crushing their mouths together. Ilya groaned in surprised delight, his mouth opening almost immediately. Shane's tongue slipped out, forced its way into Ilya's mouth. His hands slid down to the younger man's thighs before he was hefting him up.
Ilya whined into his mouth, his legs wrapping around Shane's waist. For him this was the first time someone had picked him up so easily. That was hot. Like really, really fucking hot.
Shane's hands slipped under his shirt, grabbing at his chest. His thumbs brushed over hardening nipples before he tugged just the way he knew Ilya liked.
"Blyat!" The Russian gasped against his lips. "Why touch?"
"Potomu chto tebe eto nravitsya." Shane responded, continuing to roll and tug at the buds as he sucked at the skin under Ilya's jaw. "Why would I not play with your tits when you always enjoy it so much?"
"Ty govorish' po-russki?" Ilya panted, happy that he didn't have to force his brain to remember to use English. The surprise was enough to distract him from the strangeness of Shane's words.
"Da." Shane answered. 'I learned it for you. Because of you. Oh shit...' Another hit of realization. Shane had started learning Russian because one day Ilya had randomly started using it on the ice. He had wanted to know what he was saying and how to chirp back. 'Is this why you started doing that? What the fuck, Ilya?'
Shane stepped back, Ilya's grip tightening on him as he lost the solid support of the wall. He walked through the apartment, carrying Ilya to his bed. His mouth stayed busy kissing, licking, and sucking at the skin on his neck. Ilya loved when he marked him up, when he had physical evidence of how much Shane wanted him.
They fell onto the bed easily, Shane's bigger body hovering over Ilya. He pushed up the hem of the Russian's shirt, exposing the pale expanse of his torso. Ilya's arms lifted, gripping the hem and tugging the shirt all the way off.
"God..." Shane couldn't help but groan. "You're so fucking hot." His hands were everywhere, his mouth following their trail, drawing little groans out from Ilya's mouth. Shane's mouth clung to one dusty colored nipple, his hands slipping into Ilya's shorts.
"Fuck!" Ilya moaned lowly, head falling back when Shane's hands gripped his aching cock. Shane gave it a tug, the familiar weight of it in his hand making him groan. He loved his husband's cock, always had. The cut, the color, the length, the girth. Everything about it was perfect, just right for Shane however he took it. In his hands, his mouth, his ass.
Shane slid down, shushing Ilya as he complained about the loss of his mouth on his chest. He made quick work of the man's shorts, tossing the fabric across the bed.
He made a low sound, his mouth wrapping around the flushed head of Ilya's dick before Ilya could even blink.
"Oh god!" He hissed, his hands raking over Shane's shoulders before gripping his head. Shane sunk lower and lower, sucking Ilya down all the way easily. "You— blyat, oh fuck— you are so good, shit, how are you so good at this?"
'Because you taught me. I know how to make you feel good because you showed me how.' The thought alone had Shane moaning, the sound muffled with the way Ilya's dick was down his throat.
"F~uck!" Ilya stammered, his hips snapping up to thrust at the feel of the vibrations. Shane hummed, his arm reaching over to press across Ilya's hips and hold him down.
"I will—" Ilya started, his hands tugging on Shane's hair. "Is good, eto tak khorosho. Fuck, gonna come."
Shane's efforts doubled, his free hand batting away Ilya's when the man kept trying to tug him off his dick.
Ilya came in Shane's mouth with a sharp sound, wide eyed and staring down at him in disbelief.
Shane didn't gag or choke like that year's version of him still would because of inexperience. He had sucked Ilya's dick, brought him to orgasm, and had his cum flooding his mouth so many times now that he almost swallowed on reflex.
He leaned back, sitting on his knees, mouth opening. Ilya moaned as he watched Shane let his cum fall from his mouth and onto his fingers.
"Oh my fucking god." The Russian croaked, his cheeks going that pretty shade of pink that Shane loved to see and making him smirk.
His hand reached out, a cum covered finger pressing between Ilya's cheeks. Ilya froze, his brow furrowed. His gaze snapped down between his legs and then back up to Shane's face.
"You... you will fuck me?" He questioned, puzzeled. Shane hesitated. Hadn't he done this before with Sasha?
"You've been fucked before?" Shane asked though it sounded more like a statement of fact than a question.
"Nyet." Ilya answered. "I have not done it like this before."
This time, Shane frowned. That wasn't right, that couldn't be right. He knew it wasn't right. Ilya had told him he had when they first switched. Shane remembered being irrationally jealous of the fact that another man had gotten to do this with Ilya first which delighted Ilya to no end.
"I want you to fuck me." Ilya had said to him during their first stay at the cottage. "I have bottomed before. Only once, back in Russia." He had told him softly (his face red with a shy kind of embarrassment that Shane had never seen before) when Shane had voiced his surprise at the sudden change in dynamic. "It will be much better than Rose Landry."
And it had been. Shane wasn't sure if it was because it was a guy instead or if it was just because it was Ilya and everything they did together was great.
Ilya still fucked him a lot too, of course, but he also got fucked just as much now. Shane loved how different he was when he was receiving. Open, needy, a little bratty. Where Shane liked to be treated like a slut Ilya liked it a little softer. Like a princess, Shane sometimes teased affectionately. He liked having Shane talk to him sweetly with all kinds of cute pet names while being firm and manhandling him.
"Oh." Shane said. Then a moment later as his eyes went wide, "Oh! Oh fuck... holy shit!"
"Only once, back in Russia." Shane had just assumed that it must have been with Sasha. It hadn't. It had been him. It was this night. With him. Shane was the first man that Ilya had bottomed for. The only.
"This is insane." He muttered to himself, trying to wrap his head around it all.
"Lose nerve, Pretty Boy?" Ilya teased, a smirk spreading slowly over his face. "I can fuck you instead, hm? I bet you will look so, so, pretty on my cock."
"Shut up." The Canadian growled back, leaning forward. His finger pressed forward, rubbing at the puckered ring of Ilya's hole. Ilya's breath hitched, his body stilling. "Baby..." Shane called sweetly, kissing Ilya's chin. "Be good for me, malysh, let me in."
Ilya groaned, his legs spreading open more and hips jutting up. His eyes were completely blown, black having swallowed up all the lovely blue. Shane's finger sunk in slowly.
"That's it, Honey." He muttered. "Good boy."
"Weird." Ilya huffed. "Is weird."
"I know." Shane offered in understanding. "But it'll be good, I'll make it real good for you." Shane worked in a second finger, spreading them before curling them and pressing up a little.
"Oh!" Ilya gasped sharply, his head lifting up to look down between his legs. "That— I—" Shane rubbed firmly, pressing on Ilya's prostate completely.
"That's your sweet spot, Baby." Shane cooed. "You've never even played with it yourself yet?"
Shane knew the answer but he wanted to hear Ilya say it.
"Nyet?" The Russian whined, bewildered like the thought of fingering himself had never even occured to him. "Fuck, oh!"
Shane pressed in a third finger, his thrusts turning sharp and certain. His fingers kept their angle, bumping and rubbing at the bundle of nerves relentlessly.
"I—" Ilya whimpered, his thighs shaking as his back arched. He threw his head back, the pale column of his neck bared as he panted.
"Da, that's it..." Shane purred in encouragement, his eyes transfixed on the sight before him. "You're doing so good, dorogoy, being so good for me."
"Hah." Ilya gasped, his hand reaching up to grip Shane's arm. "Something is— fuck, bozhe, I feel—"
"Fuck..." Shane groaned, pressing a kiss to Ilya's open mouth. "You gonna come again, Baby?" He slid lower, his mouth sucking in the head of Ilya's dick as his fingers fucked in and dragged over Ilya's prostate.
"Fuck, oh fuck!" Ilya moaned, his body jerking uncontrollably as he came. "Bozhe, hngh, fuck, please!"
Shane swallowed this time, his eyes dragging up to watch how Ilya moaned when he tracked the way Shane's throat worked to get it all down.
"I can—" Ilya started, licking his lips. "You have on too many clothes. I want to touch too, please let me touch you. Feel like I am losing mind."
"Well we can't have that." The Canadian laughed, sitting back to make quick work of his clothes. He resisted the urge to fold them like he wanted to, afraid that it would give himself away. He let Ilya look at him, watching as blown out blue eyes took in his form.
Ilya's eyes landed on his dick, his gaze heated and starved and wanting. His dick wasn't as long as Ilya's but he was thicker, his husband was always quick to purr praise of how full Shane left him. Praised the way sucking his dick left his jaw aching, the way it stretched his hole so much that sometimes he wondered if he'd tear.
"You are beautiful." Ilya stated, making Shane flush.
"Thank you, Honey." Shane replied, unable to stop the sweet smile that graced his face at the words. "I think you're gorgeous."
Ilya frowned, clearly disagreeing.
"Mm, nyet. I am very hot, sexy, ruggedly handsome even— is true, they say so in People Magazine. Not these... these soft things. Pretty, beautiful, gorgeous. Nyet, those are too nice." He argued.
"You are all those things and more." Shane pressed, unable to let Ilya ever think otherwise.
"How you know?" Ilya grumbled, rolling his eyes. Shane's hands cupped his face, pulling him in for a sweet and loving kiss. Shane sat next to him, his back pressing against the cool wood of the headboard.
"I can't tell you that." He answered. "But just know that I'm right. You're extraordinary."
"You are strange man." The Russian mumbled. "I thought you were creepy pervert but you are just pathetic sap. Your wife does not like this about you, hm?"
"My wife likes everything about me." Shane stated. "She likes when I'm downright filthy and when I'm hoplessly romantic. She loves it all, craves it all."
The pout was back, a fire in Ilya's eyes as he huffed in annoyance.
"But I am still better." He snipped back. Shane's brow rose, a laugh bubbling out of him. God... God, Ilya was jealous. He was jealous of Shane's "wife". He was jealous of himself. It was hilarious but also cute and maybe a little bit of a turn on. Shane couldn't help but to tease him more.
"My wife is so good to me though." He told him. "She's always such a good girl, she takes such good care of me."
"So?" Ilya snapped petulantly, climbing into Shane's lap. "You still go try and fuck man in the ass. You are big time asshole."
"Mmm, maybe. Takes one to know one though." Shane retorted. "But I think she'll forgive me for this."
"She is pushover." Ilya stated. Shane laughed again, nodding. Yeah, his Ilya was a bit of a pushover but only for Shane. "Stop talking about your wife now, da? You are supposed to be popping my cherry." And who the fuck had even taught him that?
"Oh? You want it that bad now, malysh?" Shane chuckled.
"Do not tease me." The Russian hissed, trying to sound affronted but just coming off as bratty. "I want to suck your dick."
"I thought you wanted me to pop your cherry." Shane pointed out. His hand slid down his body, reaching down to grip his hard cock and jerk it a little. "You have to ask nicely, I know you can. Be a good boy and be sweet for me, lyubimyy."
"Please." Ilya whined, his eyes practically zeroed in on Shane's crotch. He always hated when Shane teased him like this, denied him. He just loved sucking Shane's dick that much. He had even cried once when Shane kept telling him no. Sometimes Shane even woke in the morning with Ilya's mouth already on him, milking his cock before the Sun had even fully risen. Ilya claimed it was to help with Shane's morning wood but Shane was about ninety-nine percent sure his husband just had an oral fixation that was now focused primarily on his dick. "Let me suck it, please. I am good at it, I am so good at it. The best. I will make it good for you. I want to, please. I can be good for you, Da— hmph, pozhaluysta. Ya mogu byt' khoroshey."
"Da, okay, I know milyy mal'chik. I know." Shane cooed, ignoring the slip for now. He moved, sliding down to lay flat on the bed before gripping Ilya's hips and moving him.
"Why are you— oh fuck yes!" Ilya said, perplexed as to why he was being turned, his head now facing the bottom of the bed as he hovered over Shane.
"Come on, Baby." Shane urged, tapping Ilya's thigh. "Be a good boy and get it nice and wet for me."
"Da ser." Ilya groaned, tongue poking out to lick languidly over Shane's dick. Shane's hum turned into a low drawn out moan as Ilya sucked the purpling head into his mouth. He was sloppy, like always, practically drooling over Shane's dick with how bad he wanted it.
Shane's hands gripped his ass, squeezing for a brief moment before he pulled. He moaned as he spread Ilya open, his hole a little red and puffy and twitching already.
"Fuck, Baby..." He whispered, reverent. "So fucking hot, look at you." He leaned up, mouth open and tongue licking wetly over Ilya's hole. Ilya made a sharp, needy sound against his dick, his body jerking in surprise. Shane lost his mind just a little at that...
He shoved his face forward, licking and sucking at Ilya's entrance until it was a glistening mess. His tongue pointed, slipping in past the loosened muscle and Ilya shook.
Ilya's head felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. His mouth was full of cock and jaw aching, pleasure made his belly feel white-hot and tingly. Something in him gave way, clicked in just right. The rough edges smoothed out, the sharp walls he always had raised crumbled. He was left a whining, wanting, needy mess in the wake.
The man's fingers (and really Ilya should have pressed him more about who he was if only to be able to put a name to face) rubbed at his rim, two hooked in over the edges, tugging— fucking spreading— as the man's tongue slid out. Ilya could feel a complaining whine, bratty and a touch bitchy, building up in his stuffed full throat at the loss. It didn't come out, didn't even fully form. Instead a wrecked, keening sound left him at what the older man did next.
He fucking spat in Ilya's hole, exaggerating it so that the sound of it was loud enough for Ilya to hear.
"D-Daddy?!" Ilya's voice called out. Shane chuckled at how scandalized he sounded. And maybe he was really scandalized. No one had ever treated him like this before and no one would until he taught Shane, his Shane, to. And wasn't that a real head spin? Ilya would show his Shane how to be his Daddy because this Shane was coming back to show him that he needed one in the first place.
Ilya stilled, realizing his words.
"I— that— I mean—" He started to sputter, his body shifting like he was going to move away.
"You're such a good boy, lyubimyy." The Canadian praised, his hand reaching down to grip the back of Ilya's head as his fingers sunk into the man's hole. "Such a good boy for Daddy."
His grip was firm, steady but not unkind as he guided Ilya's head back down.
"Yeah, just like that, Honey." Shane crooned as Ilya swallowed his cock with a high, reedy whine. He hummed in encouragement. "There you go Baby, khoroshiy mal'chik, that's it, get Daddy's dick wet so he can fuck you."
His fingers shoved in, pressing on Ilya's prostate as his other hand held Ilya's head, his hips snapping up to fuck into his mouth.
Ilya came. Shane could feel the way his hole tightened, could feel cum spilling hot and sticky on his chest, could feel the cry Ilya let out vibrating around his cock.
"Bozhe, Baby." Shane groaned. His husband was so hot, always so fucking hot. Every version of him was so fucking hot it was a wonder Shane could even think properly in his presence. "Fuck, God, you're so good for me."
Ilya looked ruined already when Shane pulled him off. Skin flushed red, glistening from sweat, curls wild, his eyes blown and dazed with his lids hanging low. Completely cock-drunk. Fucked out.
Pride filled Shane as he looked at him. 'I did that. I made him like that.'
"Such a pretty baby." He murmured, moving Ilya to kneel over him. "You wanna ride Daddy first, Sweetheart?"
Ilya blinked, slow and syrupy. He nodded, his hands pressing against Shane's chest. He licked his lips, squeezing the pecs. He ducked down, kissing Shane. Soft and sweet first but then sloppy and needy.
"Come on, moy dorogoy." The Canadian encouraged, one hand on Ilya's hip and the other holding his cock still.
They groaned in unison as the head breached into warm, wet heat. Shane gave Ilya's hip a reassuring squeeze before he stopped, letting the other man take the lead.
Ilya gulped, panting into Daddy's mouth. This was different than a tongue or fingers. Firmer, longer, thicker. Bigger and just so much more. He pressed down, sinking lower. His nails dug into Daddy's chest as he groaned.
"Good... Vpusti menya." Shane praised, watching intently. "Good boy, malysh, you're taking Daddy so well."
"G-Gospodi!" Ilya hissed, leaning back as he sunk down the rest of the way. His head fell back, body shaking minutely. "So big Daddy, blyat, bozhe, I feel so full."
Shane was going to die. He actually might fucking die. He'd had his Ilya on his dick hundreds of times and he was breathtaking each time but this... this just felt different, felt like so much more. It was the first time. Ilya's very first time and it was with Shane. It was with Shane and would only be Shane.
Ilya's hips rolled, small movements that barely pulled them apart. Shane let him, watching in awe as the man he loved, the man that would become his husband years from now, discovered how much he liked taking Shane's dick for the first time ever. He watched as Ilya's face slipped through every first time emotion. First anxiety, then discomfort, unsurety, curiosity, and finally the beginnings of pleasure.
Ilya hummed, rising more as he got used to the weight inside him. His legs slid out further, feet planting, his hands gripping Shane's thighs for stability.
"Fuck yeah..." Shane groaned as Ilya's pace quickened. He saw the exact moment Ilya found his prostate, the Russian's eyes fluttering shut as he moaned raggedly. His hands gripped Ilya's waist, hips shoving up to meet him.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" Ilya muttered, practically bouncing on Shane's dick now. His hand gripped his own chest, kneading at the flesh. "Daddy— blyat, da, da, da, oh god! Fuck me... Daddy please!"
"Christ!" Shane growled, rolling them. He had Ilya's long legs thrown over his shoulders, body curling in so that he could duck down to press kisses to his lips when he wanted. Ilya's fingers scrambled, looking for something to hold onto. They dug into the sheets, curled around the edges of his pillows. "You feel so good, Baby, fuck... you feel so good. Tight and wet and hot just like Daddy likes. You feeling good, dorogoy? Is Daddy making you feel good?"
"Uh-huh." Ilya choked out, tears brimming in his eyes. Little punched out sounds left his throat as Shane pounded into him. "Feel good, so good Daddy, bol'she, bol'she, please."
"Look at you." Shane crooned, his eyes sliding down to take in the mess of Ilya's dick. Hard again, flushed dark, the head a mess with pre and the cum from his previous orgasms. "You're all wet, Honey, all wet and dirty for your Daddy." His hand reached down, finger toying with the messy cockhead.
"Shanya..." The Russian mewled then. Shane froze, wondering if he'd been had. 'Does he recognize me? Is he supposed to recognize me? Is our future fucked if he recognizes me?' "Fuck, sorry, I did not mean to. Daddy, mne zhal'. I was— I was not thinking."
Oh.
Oh...
"Are you thinking of someone else, Baby?" Shane wondered, his stomach doing fucking somersaults. Shanya. Ilya was thinking of him. Ilya was fucking thinking of Shane, his Shane, even as he let someone else blow his fucking back out. Fuck... fuck, Shane was going to lose his fucking mind. That had no business being so fucking hot.
"Mne zhal'." Ilya whined. "I cannot help it."
"You want him, hm? You want him to do this to you? You want your Shane?" Shane inquired. Wanting, needing, to catch even a glimpse of how Ilya felt about him back then.
"Need him." Ilya nodded. "Sorry but he is—" His eyes went a little round with shock when Shane resumed fucking him, a punched out sound leaving him.
"Keep going, Baby, he is what?" Shane prompted.
"Krasivy." Ilya stated. "Everything. Moy solnyshko. Want him but I— is too— is too hard to be— ungh, Daddy please ne zastavlyay menya—"
"Okay. That's okay." The Canadian soothed. "Daddy's not mad, I don't mind Honey. You can think all about your Shane if you want. Call his name for me, milyy, I want you to."
Shane's hand wrapped around Ilya's dick, pumping in time with his thrusts. His other hand flew to Ilya's mouth, covering it when he got impossibly loud. He groaned as Ilya tightened around him, the man's back arching as he had yet another orgasm. Tear-filled eyes stare up at Shane... God he was so pretty when he cried.
'I did that.' Shane thought. 'I can give him another. I can give him what he needs.'
He flipped Ilya, the Russian making a warbly sound of indignation at being empty and turned like he weighed nothing. Shane put him on his hands and knees, his body taking up the space between his legs.
His hips snapped forward as he made a low, wordless growl. Ilya bit into his pillow to keep from screaming as he went from achingly empty to deliciously full again. His hips worked almost on their own accord, meeting Shane's harsh thrusts as the man picked up right where he left off.
"Daddy!" He groaned. "Shanya! Is good! I like it, I like it, I like it, blyat Daddy, fuck me more pozhaluysta!"
"Yeah, Baby, fuck, like that, just like that, good boy." Shane hissed, one hand hot on Ilya's hip and the other on his shoulder to force him back on his dick. "Fuck, yeah, Baby, you like it just like that? Merde, you feel so good around me, oh my god..."
"S-Shanya!" Ilya gasped because for some reason calling another man's name seemed to get Daddy off, made him groan loud and his dick twitch inside Ilya's hole. His prostate got hit dead on and suddenly he had a mouth full of bed sheets as Daddy slammed his face into the bed to muffle the way he wailed.
All those hook-ups with Sasha didn't compare to this. Didn't even come close. He was in Russia. He was in Russia fucking "face down, ass up" getting absolutely railed by a man— a big, strong, older man... a real man— while he called out another man's name. Fuck, fuck... He wished Shane could see him like this, he wished Shane was with them, wished it was Shane doing this to him. He wanted him, fuck he wanted him so much...
"Tam, fuck, fuck, Daddy right there! Keep fucking me right there, want to feel you still when I play tomorrow!" He keened brokenly. "Bol'she, bol'she. Bystreye. Sil'neye, Daddy, trakhni menya sil'neye. Please, oh fuck— pozhaluysta Shanya!"
"Yeah Baby, appelle mon nom." Shane muttered, arms wrapping around Ilya and gathering him up in his arms as he sat back on his heels. Hips rolling dirtily, cock spearing in like it was trying to carve a new space inside Ilya. "Même maintenant, tu veux juste moi, tu ne penses qu'à moi. My baby, mon amour. You're so beautiful, so perfect, my good boy, tu es toujours tellement bon pour moi."
"Hngh!" Ilya's hands reached up, digging into Shane's hair as Shane hooked his legs over his arms. "Gonna— coming, coming!"
"Gonna come again?" Shane panted in his ear. "You gonna come on Daddy's dick? Make a mess again for Shane?"
"Shanya, solnyshko please..." The Russian slurred, more tears spilling. "Strange, is strange. Daddy, it feels strange."
"Shh, it's okay, just let it happen Sweetheart, be good." Shane replied. Ilya's mouth opened soundlessly, his toes curling, and body going taut before cum shot out, thin and watery all over the bed. "Yeah, good, good Honey, fuck that's so hot, you're so fucking hot, oh my fucking god. Fuck, Daddy's gonna come, Daddy's gonna come in you milyy. Mark you up, make you full, paint your insides with my cum. T'es à moi. Moy malysh. Tu seras toujours à moi. Merde, tabarnak, je t'aime. Je t'aime tellement, lyubimyy. Bozhe, Ilya, fuck I'm coming!"
Shane buried himself in deep, right against Ilya's prostate, his teeth digging into the meat of Ilya's shoulder to stiffle his shout and making the Russian let out a noise that sounded like a squeal. He could feel Ilya's hole tighten as he filled him, the younger man's final orgasm completely dry.
Ilya went limp against him, head lolling on Shane's shoulder.
"Well shit..." Shane sighed, panting. He let Ilya's legs go slowly, his hand reaching up to press against the other man's chest. His breathing was slow and even, his heartbeat steady. A disbelieving laugh bubbled out of Shane.
Ilya had fainted.
Shane had fucked Ilya so good that he had fainted.
"I can't believe this." He scoffed, kissing Ilya's temple. Ilya's face was blank, soft. The stress of his life that normally hardened him smoothed away in his unconciousness. His pretty pink lips were parted slightly as he breathed. "Oh when I get back home you and I are having a very long talk about this, you asshole."