Chapter Text
It’s evening when Ilya pulls into the driveway, shutting the car off after spending a few hours running errands and doing whatever other nonsense Shane asked him to do. He has been away from his husband for far too long today and craves his presence. He opens the car door, grabbing the bags from the back seat before walking up towards the house. The bags are filled with miscellaneous things, like batteries for the remote that had been needing replaced for weeks now. They kept taking batteries from other devices around the house, but have run low on things to steal from.
The vibrator is where Shane drew the line.
They had needed more dog food for Anya, and Ilya was also asked to get Shane’s special bread and whatever other bird food-like items he was running low on. He then had to drop off a package for Rose at the post office, no doubt something silly from Shane. His next errand was picking up his medication from the pharmacy because Shane was worried he was getting low and didn’t want him to run out while he was at an away game. Lastly, he stopped at an ice cream shop to grab a sweet treat for all the hard work he did today.
Naturally, he will not be telling Shane about this last one, so as to avoid a lecture about eating healthy and taking care of our bodies during the season.
He opens the front door, and Anya bounds around the house, excited that her papa is home. “Hello, Anya,” Ilya coos as he walks into the kitchen to place the bags on the counter. Anya follows behind him, eager for attention, which is immediately given as Ilya crouches down and scratches her behind the ear.
Shane walks into the kitchen, all flustered and sweaty. “Hey, honey, what took you so long?” he greets, dropping a kiss to Ilya’s lips as he walks over to the oven and places the dish towel along the handle.
“Was many tasks I had to do. Go to store for Anya, go to store for your bird food, go to post office...” Ilya rambles on, waving his hands in different directions and watching Shane roll his eyes in annoyance. Ilya walks over to him, wrapping his arms around his back. “I am back now, yes?” he says, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his husband's cheek. Shane immediately melts into it, forgetting his irritation entirely.
Ilya pulls away, pressing one more kiss to Shane’s nose, unable to help himself. He turns Shane around and begins to softly trail his thumb across Shane’s cheeks, caressing his freckles that Ilya can never seem to get enough of. “What have you been up to while I was away?” Ilya wonders, mesmerized by the speckled stars across Shane’s face.
A fresh blush spreads across his husband's cheeks. “Just, uh, cleaning up around the house,” he replies, removing himself from Ilya’s grasp to busy himself with rearranging minuscule things on the counter.
An excuse easy enough for Ilya to believe. “Hmm,” Ilya mutters softly, curiously analyzing Shane’s movements, but he was giving hints to absolutely nothing. Maybe he was just cleaning, Ilya decided.
Watching Shane move with ease around the kitchen while humming to some random tune sparked something deep in Ilya’s belly. It had been a few days since they last had sex due to their schedule and events they had going on, and they got home late last night, and Shane was tired, so they decided it was best to go to bed. The next few days, however, they finally have off.
And Ilya wanted to fuck his husband. Bad.
He leaves the kitchen, heading over to the stairs leading to the second floor, where their bedroom is. “I will be upstairs,” he hollers to Shane, and with no response, he begins to make his ascent.
Upstairs, Ilya changes into sweatpants but doesn’t bother with a shirt, knowing it’s going to be on the floor within the next hour anyway. He checks his phone for any new notifications, goes into the bathroom, and looks at his hair in the mirror, fixing the strands that were out of place. He then notices a remote from one of their toys sitting on the counter. Shane must have caved and stolen the batteries from it, so he walks to the nightstand and sets the remote on top. He begins to wonder what Shane is doing. Ilya knows Shane is bursting at the seams.
A few more minutes pass. Ilya puffs out a sigh, getting tired of waiting. He decides to go downstairs to check on Shane when he realizes that maybe Shane is teasing him. And if Shane wants to play the game of who-breaks-first, Ilya will happily play along. He grins to himself, now excited to antagonize his husband.
He continues his pursuit downstairs only to find Shane now in the living room, wiping down the coffee table. Ilya raises an eyebrow at Shane in curiosity. “Sorry, I just had a few other things I needed to clean,” Shane mutters, not looking up to meet Ilya’s gaze. And, well, that just won’t do, Ilya thinks to himself.
Ilya leans against the wall in the kitchen, arms crossed to deliberately show off his biceps, which he knows make Shane’s mouth water. He finishes wiping down the tables in the living room and releases a long sigh, finally done with his cleaning tasks for the day. He looks up only to find Ilya, shirtless in sweatpants and leaning against the wall, watching him. Ilya notices Shane’s gaze tracking up and down his body, taking extra time with his biceps and the bulge forming in his pants.
Shane swallows dryly and walks over to the kitchen to put his supplies back in their place. Ilya watches him intently, following his every move with darkened eyes. Shane, braving eye contact again, walks towards Ilya, whose back is now against the wall, and wraps his arms around his neck. “I’m done,” he chirps and leans in to kiss Ilya.
Ilya, being the competitive sort, wanted to win this game. So, he turns his head away from his husband even as a tiny pang of guilt hits his chest because he hates denying him anything.
“What’s wrong?” Shane asks worriedly, reeling back with confusion spread across his face.
And, oh, Ilya hates that look. “Nothing is wrong, just—” he struggles to come up with an excuse. “Tired,” he rambles out.
Shane, looking slightly hurt and taken off guard, loosens his arms behind Ilya’s neck. “Oh, I thought that because, you know, we had off today, that— I don’t know, maybe…” Ilya struggles to hide his grin while listening to Shane try to find the words to ask Ilya if he wants to have sex. They had been married for years now and seeing each other for longer, but Shane still gets nervous about this topic. “Umm— We could have sex?” he blurts out, tired of stammering around the subject.
Ilya goes in for the kill. “I don’t think I am in mood,” he retorts in a very excruciating monotone voice. This unsettled even Ilya to speak out loud, because when is he not in the mood? And now Shane looks very upset. Ilya is struggling to keep up this charade. His husband wants him so badly, and now he thinks Ilya doesn’t want him back. Shit.
Ilya can't take it anymore. He caves because Shane is looking at him with those sad puppy dog eyes, which are practically begging Ilya to stick his cock down his throat. He is only a man, and who is he to deny Shane of such pleasure any longer? His eyes darkening again, he mutters out, “Get on your knees,” with a growl. His dick is already hardening, growing in his pants, and aching for Shane. There is something almost artistic about Shane's mouth. He swears it was made for Ilya's cock. Shane always wants it so badly, always begging for it, and right now, he's going to have it.
His husband, shocked by Ilya’s sudden change in demeanor, pauses for a moment. The growled order shoots straight to his cock. Shane is now vibrating at the thought of Ilya’s dick in his mouth and practically drooling for it with insatiable hunger. He does what he’s told and slowly moves down to his knees, hands immediately drawn to the hem of Ilya's sweatpants with the goal of ripping them off to gain access to his prize.
What a needy little thing, Ilya thinks to himself, cock springing out while Shane works his pants to the floor. Before Shane can go further, Ilya grabs his chin and lifts it towards his face. Shane pauses for a moment and shifts his wanting eyes up to him, growing impatient with waiting any longer. Ilya, not appreciating Shane’s impatience, finds he is suddenly overcome with the need to fill Shane’s mouth with something else. “Open,” he orders, voice low and eyes completely blown. He was desperate to intrude the empty space. He knows Shane loves having his mouth full, so why not fill the vacant area?
Shane immediately complies, jaw opening wide. Ilya slides two fingers in with ease, right along his tongue, feeling the warmth radiating from it. “Suck,” comes another order as he watches Shane shiver with desire. Shane closes his lips around Ilya's fingers and pliantly sucks on them with so much want and need, almost as if Ilya will take them away at any moment. He sucks like he is trying to savor it. This makes the warmth in Ilya’s stomach grow deeper, seeing his husband on his knees, sucking his fingers like this.
Ilya steps out of his sweatpants, an obstacle in the way, and breathes heavily to the feeling of Shane’s tongue swirling around him. He eventually pulls his fingers out of Shane’s mouth with a pop, a string of saliva following in tow. “Such a good slut for me,” Ilya groans, watching how his words affect the man below him.
Shane, wasting no more time, shamelessly reaches for Ilya's already-dripping cock. He wraps his fingers around it and pumps it once and twice before bringing his lips to it and completely swallowing it all the way down until his nose is flush with Ilya’s intoxicating scent.
“Fuck, Shane,” he cries, taken by surprise with Shane’s quick work, causing his hips to buck off the wall. But, no, Shane is in control now. He places his hands on Ilya’s hips and holds him against it, limiting any movement as he swallows Ilya with a sense of murderous intent. He will kill me, Ilya thinks to himself, sliding his fingers into Shane's hair for any semblance of something to grab onto while Shane sucks him with desperation.
He continues to bob his head up and down Ilya’s shaft, swirling his tongue around the head and sending bolts of pleasure through Ilya, causing him to release a strangled groan from his lips. Shane continues this torturous game on Ilya's cock with one goal in mind, and he’s close to winning. The pleasure building up in Ilya causes his hips to buck into Shane's mouth, overpowering the man's hold on him and pushing his cock impossibly deeper down his throat. The unexpected thrust makes Shane gag, and the sound goes straight to Ilya’s dick.
He peers down at his husband, whose eyes are now watering with tears dripping down his face. “Fuck, your mouth was fucking made for me,” Ilya grits through his teeth. The praise causes Shane to hum, the vibrations bringing Ilya closer and closer to the edge. Using his grip on Shane’s hair, he abuses Shane’s mouth, pounding into him with some sort of possession. “Look how good you take me, letting me use you like this,” Ilya grunts.
He pounds mercilessly into Shane, and the man just takes it. “Being so good for me,” he breathes, causing Shane to moan around his cock, bringing Ilya closer to release. He loves how well Shane responds to praise, and he loves to give it to him. Shane was perfect, and Ilya would find every way to let him know.
Ilya continues the incessant pursuit of fucking his mouth raw while Shane goes completely pliant, letting Ilya use him as he pleases with tears streaming down his cheeks. “Blyat, I'm close,” he swears as his thrusts become sloppy, the fire in his stomach growing into a gnawing burn ready to be let go.
Shane looks up at Ilya with his big brown eyes, completely glazed over in a trance of lust, of want, of desire for him. And with that piercing gaze, Ilya is done for as he whines out, “Fuck, Shane, I'm—“ His orgasm rips through him as he spurts down Shane’s throat, an offering Shane takes willingly and with stride. He sucks him through his orgasm, trying to get every last drop of the salty release as Ilya’s dick twitches through the aftermath. Shane licks a stripe up Ilya’s shaft, giving him one more suck on the head of his cock for any leftovers. “Fuck, Shane,” Ilya whimpers, overly sensitive after the orgasm he just had, and gently pushes him off his softening dick.
Ilya’s head thumps back against the wall, his chest moving up and down, panting, as he tries to come back to himself. Shane offers soft kisses to the inside of Ilya’s thighs. He moves to mark his left hip, nipping and sucking extra hard, then soothing the area with his tongue. He slowly makes his way from thighs to hips to stomach with soft kisses and licks wherever he pleases until he ends up on Ilya’s neck. Kissing the area right behind his ear, he makes Ilya mewl with pleasure. Shane grabs the earlobe with his teeth and pulls hard enough to make Ilya snap back into reality.
Coming to, Ilya pulls Shane’s mouth to his own and kisses him hard. Shane immediately opens his mouth to let Ilya in, and Ilya takes this opportunity to regain control. He licks the roof of Shane’s mouth, listening to him purr with greed at the sensation. He pulls at Shane’s bottom lip with a soft bite that he knows drives him crazy. Ilya grabs Shane's hips, fingers squeezing his ass, and he grinds into him, feeling how hard the man is and how his dick is practically weeping.
A soft moan leaves Shane’s lips. “I want—“ Shane pants into his mouth as Ilya continues his ruthless grind into him.
A shade of scarlet crosses his cheeks. Ilya has found that Shane has a difficult time voicing his wants in the bedroom, a fear still lying deep. So, he has to push him a little bit. “You want what? Use your words, malysh,” Ilya says, as he moves one hand down to palm the bulge in Shane's pants, applying enough pressure to elicit a delicious whine from Shane that Ilya swallows up with his mouth.
“Fuck, please—” Shane whimpers as Ilya begins to guide the man into riding his thigh, a slow agonizing pace providing not nearly enough of the friction that Shane needs.
“Please what, sweetheart?" Ilya questions, nipping at Shane’s neck while settling on a torturous pace, taking full control of Shane’s hips.
“More, I need more,” Shane cries, overwhelmed and needy.
“Ah-ah, what is this more?” Ilya tuts. “More of this?” He sucks hard on Shane’s neck, marking him possessively.
“Ilya, please,” he begs, gripping Ilya’s arms in an attempt to grind himself harder onto the man's thigh, chasing more pressure for his aching cock.
“I cannot do much with this, please, and more you speak of,” he teases, hardening his grip and slowing the grind to something truly criminal, but he knows Shane will break.
“You!” he cries. “I want you to fuck me,” Shane pleads, trying everything he can to provide any friction to his dick.
“So beautiful when you are needy like this,” Ilya breathes into his ear. “Dorogoy, I will give you anything you want,” he mutters, releasing his grip on Shane’s hips and attacking his mouth. He sucks on his tongue, battling for dominance easily won.
Ilya allows the man to brutalize his thigh for a few quick thrusts before moving his hands under his thighs and picking him up. Shane follows easily, wrapping his legs around Ilya’s torso as he is carried up the stairs.
Once upstairs, Ilya carries Shane down the hallway towards their bedroom without breaking from his mouth. He reaches their room and squeezes Shane’s ass before kneeling with one leg on the bed and slowly lowering Shane’s back to the duvet. Still never breaking from the other’s lips, Shane slowly slides himself backwards towards the head of the bed while Ilya follows in pursuit, his mother’s cross necklace hanging between them, while Ilya boxes Shane in with his arms and lowers himself between Shane’s legs, continuing the onslaught of his tongue in Shane’s mouth.
“Too many clothes, off, off,” Ilya eventually orders with a growl, helping Shane remove his shirt and slide his pants off, surprised to see the man was not wearing anything underneath. This stirs up something warm in his stomach as his softened dick begins to harden again. “You are killing me, moya lyubov,” Ilya groans, leaning onto Shane's forehead, both of them panting into each other.
“Just thought it’d be easier,” Shane admits, the red blooming on his cheeks again.
“Da. Much easier,” Ilya grins while slowly guiding his hand down Shane’s chest over his hardened nipples, eliciting a sharp inhale from the man. He makes his way down Shane’s body, a map he knows very well, before he reaches his cock.
Ilya wraps his fingers around Shane, giving him a slow, hard tug. Shane responds with a long, drawn-out moan, and his body shudders with the relief of finally being touched. Ilya swipes his thumb across the head, collecting the beads of precome before bringing his thumb to his mouth and licking it clean. “Ty na vkus bozhestvenen,” he coos softly.
Shane whimpers at the soft-spoken Russian, Ilya’s words of you taste divine rolling in his ears. It settles deep in his belly, increasing the ache for release. “Ilya, please touch me,” Shane whines with need.
Ilya adores how responsive Shane is to his touch. The quivers and whimpers that pass through his lips always bless his ears. Tonight, Ilya has noticed that he has been excessively responsive and more eager than usual. So, he wraps back around his shaft and starts stroking him at a blissful pace, receiving more soft moans and pants that he swallows up with his kisses. After a few more strokes, he pauses for a moment so he can go find the lube, receiving a small cry of protest from Shane.
When he comes back, he finds Shane lying just as boneless across the bed as Ilya had left him, cock leaking over his stomach, red and angry. His face itched with something overwhelming, and the blush crossed his face once again.
Curiosity killed the cat, or whatever they say, but Ilya was on the prowl. What is getting him so worked up? He wonders, padding slowly back to the bed. “Solnyshko…” he says, lips curving slightly. “What is it?”
The shade of red darkens on Shane’s face. Ilya grows slightly worried but quickly brushes it off. He hums as he climbs back onto the bed, placing the bottle of lube off to the side and hovering over Shane. He narrows his eyes at him while Shane attempts to avoid all eye contact. He begins squirming a bit on the bed, getting antsy, body begging for Ilya to—
Ilya’s mouth dries as he begins to realize the cause of Shane’s coyness. Mad it took him this long, he quickly flips Shane over before he can protest and hikes his hips up while Shane’s face is pressed into the bed. The sudden movement causes a high whimper to escape Shane’s lips that Ilya wants to hear again. Ilya knows before he even sees it, but spreads open Shane’s cheeks to reveal a butt plug in his ass. Ilya uncontrollably groans, the sight going straight to his cock.
He sinks his teeth into Shane’s right ass cheek while staring at this toy. Shane’s breath hitches at the soft pain. “Moya lyubov, how long has this been in?” he breathes out, unable to stop himself from pressing his thumb onto the base of the plug.
“Fuck!” Shane shouts, attempting to wiggle his hips away from Ilya’s added pressure, but finds that to cause him more issues. He whines loudly, unable to escape the constant stimulation from the toy pressing on his prostate. “A few hours, maybe two? Right after you left the house,” He punches out as Ilya maddeningly presses into the plug again, creating a long, drawn-out whine. Shane presses his face further into the duvet, with nowhere else to escape.
Ilya’s dick stirs below him, growing increasingly, unbearably hard now. He can’t imagine how Shane is feeling. sits speechless as his mouth begins to water with want. “The things I want to do to you,” his voice coming out lower than before.
“Please hurry up, I can’t take this anymore,” Shane demands as he borders on the line of too much.
“Relax for me,” Ilya coos softly. Ilya’s hand slides down Shane’s spine, fingers curling around the base of the plug. Ilya eases the toy out slowly, prompting a curdled moan from Shane, gasping at the sudden emptiness. Ilya is enchanted, watching Shane’s hole quiver.
Shane’s whines from the loss snap Ilya out of his lustful trance and bring him back to Shane’s ass. Ilya now has a new goal in mind. He reaches across the bed, grabbing the purple phallic object from the nearby nightstand.
Ilya rubs the velvety dildo around Shane’s hole, teasing him slightly. He grabs the lube from the drawer, applying it to the object before slowly pushing it in. Shane groans softly at the stretch.
“You are being so good for me, malysh,” he murmurs, stroking feather-light touches across the other's skin. Shane keens in response, completely unaware of what's about to happen next. Ilya, with a shit-eating grin across his face, presses the power button.
“Holy— Ngh— Oh my G—“ Shane stutters as the dildo begins to vibrate directly on his sweet spot. His entire body begins to shake in overwhelming pleasure, overriding any thoughts in his head. “Fuuuuuck, Ilya,” Shane wails, “it’s— it’s too much— Fuck, it feels—” he can’t seem to get his words out.
Ilya watches Shane writhe on the bed as the vibration ripples through him. Shane chokes on his sobs. Ilya knows Shane is probably getting overwhelmed, firstly due to the fact that a butt plug had been sitting in his ass for over two hours, and now a slightly girthier vibrating dildo had taken its place.
“Color?” he asks, wanting to check in and make sure it wasn’t too much.
Shane whimpers and responds, “Ye—yellow.” Ilya, pleased with Shane’s communication, turns the vibration off to let Shane come back to himself.
Ilya caresses Shane’s body, moving from his legs to up his spine in an attempt to relax him while he recovers from the persistent stimulation. “Taking it so well, sweetheart. Tell me how you are doing?” Praise intermixed with a question, a reward for Shane speaking up.
“I’m good, just—” He clears his throat. “Just need a second,” he croaks.
Ilya kisses the back of his neck. “Let me know if you want to keep going,” giving Shane the choice to stop if he needs to.
“I’m good, I’m ready,” Shane states, huffing out a deep breath and momentarily releasing the tension in his shoulders. Ilya presses one last kiss to Shane’s neck before turning it back on. “Fuuck…” Shane draws out a long sigh as he attempts to push himself through the mattress, rutting his hips into the bed to get any sort of friction.
Ilya notices this immediately and does not approve. He gets up and grabs Shane by the hips to pull his ass up so he can no longer grind his cock into the bed.
“No, Ilya, please,” Shane begs, mourning the loss of contact.
“Not yet, kotik,” Ilya explains before upping the intensity of the vibrations.
“Ah!” Shane yells into the duvet, gripping the sheets until his knuckles turn white.
“Color?” Ilya checks in again.
“G—green,” Shane blurts out. “Fuck, it feels so— nngh…” Shane’s loud moans are muffled by the bedding. Ilya watching Shane writhe like this leaves his own cock dripping and angry. He ups the vibration to the highest setting, causing Shane to jerk out of his grip with a loud shout. “Fuck!” Shane starts babbling nonsense due to the overwhelming sensation on his prostate, his dick literally weeping tears of precome all over the bed, making a puddle of its own. “Ilya— Oh Jesus— Fuck— I’m going—“ he continues babbling, not making much sense until, “I’m so close Ilya, please don’t stop—“ Shane pleads, making the most heavenly whimper that has ever graced Ilya’s ears.
So, right as Shane is about to tip over the edge, Ilya turns it off.
“No, fuck!” Shane actually sobs into his arms, so close to release.
Ilya kisses his ass cheek and begins to rub soothing movements along Shane’s back. “You are doing so well, being so perfect for me,” he praises. “So beautiful with these noises,” he continues.
“Ilya, please,” Shane whispers, a quiet plea.
“Look how wet you are, dripping all over the bed for me,” Ilya mutters, watching with adoration as goosebumps begin to flutter across Shane’s skin in response to Ilya’s words. As Shane’s pants begin to calm, but his cock as angry as ever, Ilya decides it's time to end the delicious torture and remove the toy.
He spreads Shane’s cheeks again and grabs the base of the dildo, gently pulling it out and receiving a multitude of whimpers and whines from Shane during the process. He sets the dildo on the side table, then grabs the lube next to Shane’s head.
The sound of the lube cap snapping open fills the room, and Ilya applies a generous amount onto his cock. He quickly moves off the bed and drags Shane’s hips directly against his pelvis. “Are you ready for me?” Ilya asks. He doesn’t want to push Shane too hard.
“Fuck, Ilya, please,” he groans out with want.
With that, Ilya lines himself up with Shane’s hole and buries himself in until he bottoms out. Both men groan in pleasure.
“You are okay?” Ilya questions, making sure Shane wasn’t hurt from the plug, the dildo, or the sudden intrusion of Ilya’s cock.
“Yes, yes, please move,” he says with a strained breath.
Ilya pulls almost all the way out before pounding right back into Shane with an audible slap of skin. Rough groans begin to leave Ilya’s mouth as he ruthlessly buries himself into Shane.
“Ahh—” Shane loudly moans as his hands go back to gripping the bedsheets, needing to grab on to something. Ilya shifts himself slightly, entering at a new angle, and drives in. “Fuck!” Shane cries.
Ilya now sets a steady rhythm directly onto Shane’s prostate, already swollen and irritated from the dildo's vibrations. Ilya knows Shane is getting close and won’t last long because his walls begin to contract and squeeze around Ilya’s dick, which makes it almost impossible for Ilya to last much longer.
“I can’t— don’t stop,” Shane moans in strangled breaths, followed by quiet needy sounds.
Ilya pulls out and flips Shane onto his back, leaving them face-to-face with the gold necklace hanging between them. “I want to watch as you come on my cock,” Ilya commands in a low grit. Placing Shane’s legs on his shoulders and folding him in half, he resumes his ruthless rhythm with more pleasure at this new angle.
“Let me come, please, oh my God— Ilya, I can’t—” Shane cries out against the merciless pace.
“Come for me, lyubimyy,” Ilya bites out, continuing his unrelenting stimulation on Shane’s prostate.
“I’m— Oh God— Fuck— Ilya!” Shane screams out as he comes untouched, painting his chest with his load. Ilya wraps his hand around Shane, working him through it, emptying him out.
After a few more thrusts, Ilya quickly follows. “Fuuuck, Shane,” he grits out before spilling into Shane, filling him up, and falling on top of him.
They both stay like that for a moment, catching their breath. Ilya lifts his head to gaze at Shane, who looks completely fucked out of his mind and in a daze. He pushes himself up, kissing Shane’s forehead, nose, and temple.
“You were so beautiful, solnyshko,” Ilya murmurs softly between kisses. Shane only offers a soft mumble in return. Ilya kisses his cheek and begins to slowly extract himself, a sharp exhale coming from Shane, a sign of discomfort at the loss of fullness and his overly sensitive hole. Ilya watches his release slowly leak out of Shane, a sight to behold, and he drinks it in.
He can’t help but lean down to lick his rim as it drips down, causing Shane to jolt away and hiss at his touch. “Shit—” he chokes out.
“Sorry, moya lyubov,” Ilya chuckles quietly. “Stay here, I will be right back,” he orders, and pushes himself off, Shane. Once he is off the bed, he heads towards their bathroom. Shane lies dead on his back, sticky with come but without enough energy to do anything about it.
Ilya returns with a warm cloth and a glass of water for Shane to drink. He gently places the cup on the side table. “Sweetheart, I am going to wipe you off,” he announces sweetly. Shane’s eyes are still closed, and he remains in a completely different world. He starts wiping down Shane’s stomach, which is covered in a surprisingly large amount of come. He relishes the warmth from the cloth and the soft touches from Ilya. His body feels boneless, and his mind feels empty, as if Ilya fucked all his thoughts out.
Ilya moves towards Shane’s hole, and he begins to stir and hiss at the contact. “Prosti, dorogoy, I will be quick.” He receives a grunted response as Shane twitches slightly at every pass Ilya makes. “So good for me,” Ilya coos while wiping off any extra remnants, leaving Shane clean of the sticky substance. As Ilya finishes up, he sits next to Shane on the bed, attempting to bring him back down to Earth. “Shane,” Ilya softly calls. "Come back to me, sweetheart.” He watches as Shane releases a deep sigh of content and slowly opens his eyes back up again.
“M’awake,” Shane slurs, slowly coming to.
Ilya places a quick kiss on Shane’s head. “Drink this. I will be back.” Shane reaches out to grab Ilya’s arm, stopping him from leaving and attempting (poorly) to pull him back into bed. “I promise I will be right back,” Ilya reasons, grabbing Shane's hand and giving each finger a swift kiss before placing the glass of water in his hand. “Drink this, please,” he orders. Shane adjusts his grip on the glass and brings it to his lips as Ilya walks back out of the bedroom.
When Ilya returns five minutes later with brand-new sheets for the bed (because he knows Shane doesn’t like to sleep on dirty sheets), he sees the glass, three-quarters empty, back on the table. Shane is sitting up against the headboard, still as boneless as ever.
Ilya walks over to the bed, picks Shane up bridal-style, and places him on the couch in the corner of their room. He makes quick work of replacing the new sheets and discarding the old ones in the laundry bin. He peers over his shoulder, Shane beginning to regain his original conscious state. “Just replacing the sheets for you,” he smiles, turning to walk towards Shane.
“Thank you,” Shane murmurs, eyes still sated and glossy.
“Can you walk?” Ilya asks, already knowing his answer.
“I don’t think I can,” Shane utters with a small laugh.
Ilya picks his husband back up with ease and places him on the fresh bedding. He leans in to give Shane a loving kiss, which is deliciously returned to him as he is met with a deeper intrusion. He hums into Shane’s mouth and pulls away. “I will be right back,” he tells Shane as he walks into their bathroom.
Ilya returns two minutes later with Shane turned onto his side, soft breaths escaping him as he lulls into sleep. Ilya takes in the sight of this beautiful man lying in his bed, heart clenching at how lucky he is to be loved by him. He stays there for another moment before shutting the lights off and joining him in bed.
The creak of the bed frame stirs Shane awake, and Ilya pulls him flush to his chest. He whispers softly, “Ya tebya lyublyu.”
He is met with a soft mumbling reply from Shane’s mouth, “I love you too,” before he’s out again, no doubt drained from earlier.
Ilya chuckles lowly to himself and pulls his husband closer, holding him as tight as he can and never wanting to let him go.