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Two shots of tequila and his husband’s large hand on the small of his back. It’s a lethal combination for Shane Hollander, really.
They’re at some club in Boston, getting a drink with some of Ilya’s old teammates. Ilya is deep in conversation with Marleau and Connors, and Shane watches the interaction carefully, his cheeks going a little pink and his eyes going soft at his husband’s easy laughter.
It’s always nice when they get to do things like this. Shane never thought it would be possible to be at the club as Ilya’s anything, let alone his husband.
Unfortunately, his eyes don’t stay soft and gooey for long. Ilya’s gaze shifts to him just briefly, and it’s like a switch flipped in his brain. His immediate mood change is not helped by the tequila buzzing through his system; Ilya always says tequila makes Shane slutty.
Shane must be wearing his thoughts on his face, because Ilya’s eyes darken and the corner of his mouth ticks up teasingly.
“Me and my husband, Shane Hollander, must go dance now,” Ilya says, abruptly ending the conversation with his former teammates and dragging Shane out closer to the dance floor.
Shane doesn’t want to dance. He wants to leave.
When Ilya stops them at the edge of the dance floor, he says as much.
“Patience, малы́ш, (baby,) ” Ilya leans close to the shell of his ear to whisper against it, causing a shiver to run down Shane’s spine as he pops his bottom lip out in a pout.
Patience, sure. Shane can play this game, too.
He let Ilya pull him closer by the waist, their hips pressing together as he wraps his arms around Ilya’s neck. He’s hard instantly, but he isn’t too embarrassed, as he feels his husband’s hard length pressing against his own.
He leans forward, letting his head rest in the crook of Ilya’s neck for a moment, pressing a few soft kisses along it. He rolls his hips forward once for emphasis, smirking slightly as he hears Ilya’s breath catch momentarily in his throat.
Ilya tries to match Shane with another grind against him, but Shane pushes his hips back, watching Ilya rut uselessly in the air. He keeps hips pulled back slightly, but leans his upper body forward, placing a chaste kiss on Ilya’s mouth before leaning towards his ear.
“Patience, малы́ш, (baby,) ” he says mockingly, placing a kiss just below his ear. “Be a good puppy.”
Shane pulls back to watch Ilya’s face. Ilya’s eyes, which were already blown wide with lust, seem to get blacker, and he gives Shane a slight nod dumbly. His jaw ticks, and he squeezes his hold on Shane’s hips slightly, trying to pull his body closer again.
Shane lets himself be pulled forward, but angles his hips slightly so he’s pressed against one of Ilya’s thighs. He rolls his hips slightly, worrying his bottom lip to contain the whimper that threatens to fall from his mouth. He grinds against Ilya’s thigh a little more earnestly, avoiding friction against the barely-contained bulge at his husband’s crotch.
Ilya whines softly as he guides Shane’s hips against him, trying to aim the pressure towards his cock instead of just against his thigh.
Somehow, Shane harnesses the will to stop his movements, frowning a bit as he angles his hips away once more. He gives Ilya a disapproving look, shaking his head a bit.
“What did I just say, hmm?” he clicks his tongue, cocking an eyebrow. “What, my puppy can’t even let me use him? Already so stupid and horny, baby?”
Ilya casts a quick glance downward, his cheeks burning bright red, and he shakes his head, a little frantic.
“‘m sorry, I’ll be good, Да? (yes?) Please, I’ll be good for you,” Ilya practically whines, tightening his hold on Shane’s hips, trying to pull him against his thigh once more. “Please, let me make you feel good. I’ll be good, I’ll be a good puppy.”
Shane lets himself be pulled forward, mostly because the sight of his husband begging to be good for him caused his mind to blank out momentarily. He presses his forehead against Ilya’s, soft pants falling from his lips as Ilya clumsily guides Shane’s cock back against his thigh. The lighting in the club seems to shroud them in darkness, but even if the lights came fully on, Shane doubts he could stop himself from moving against his husband.
Shane has been worked up since they entered the club, and he’s way closer than he should be from just a little bit of grinding against his husband like a teenager. He ducks his head and kisses Ilya without much finesse, their teeth practically clacking together as they both part their lips hungrily. Shane is barely moving his hips anymore, letting Ilya roll his pliant body against him as he tongues into his mouth.
Shane breaks the kiss with a low whimper, meeting Ilya’s eyes with his own when he notices: Ilya is gone. Shane can practically see the cotton rolling around in the man’s head. Ilya stares back at him for a moment more, choked-off whines falling from his mouth as grinds Shane against him, his own hips still thrusting meagerly in the air, searching for some sort of relief.
The sight of Ilya, needy and brainless, is nearly enough to bring Shane to the edge. He plants his hands on the front of Ilya’s chest, pushing slightly away from him and wiggling out of his reach. Ilya’s hands follow, still clutching Shane’s hips, as he continues trying to push him forward, rolling Shane’s hips against nothing, like he didn’t even notice Shane pulling away.
“Look at you, so fucking stupid,” Shane says, practically cooing, threading one hand through Ilya’s hair and using the other to grab his face, one thumb pressed roughly against one of his cheeks and four fingers pushing into the other. He uses his hold to force Ilya’s gaze to meet his own, before manipulating his head up and down in a nodding motion.
“Oh, so you agree? You’re just a dumb, fuck-drunk puppy? Just trying to hump anything, hmm?” Shane says, his tone still sweet though his words are not, as he forces one more nod from Ilya, letting his grip shift slightly to cup the man’s chin in his hand. He uses his hold of Ilya’s hair to pull his head back a bit, pressing a thumb into his now-parted lips. Ilya whines lowly, and starts to suck Shane’s thumb in earnest, lapping at it clumsily.
“Pathetic,” Shane quips, still staring at Ilya fondly. He lets him continue sucking for a second before dropping both of his hands and backing away slightly. Ilya chases it with his lips, his eyes focused on Shane’s spit-slick thumb.
“Let’s get out of here,” Shane leans forward to kiss Ilya sweetly on the lips, reaching down to interlace their fingers together. He orders an Uber from his phone, and guides the two of them outside.
Still clutching onto his hand like a lifeline, Ilya presses himself into Shane’s side, leaving sloppy kisses against the line of his jaw. He hasn’t said much at all since they walked out on the dance floor and he told Shane to be patient. Shane wonders briefly if he’s too far gone, and he ducks his head away from Ilya momentarily, guiding his head up with his free hand.
“Color, baby,” he whispers sweetly, giving the hand he is still holding a slight squeeze.
Ilya just nods his head, trying to plant more sloppy kisses against Shane’s face. Shane moves his free hair back into Ilya’s golden curls, steadying his head and waiting for Ilya to focus on him.
“I need words, please,” he says, keeping his hand in Ilya’s hair but loosening his grip slightly, trying to calm the eager puppy down at least a little to check on him.
“Green, green, please,” Ilya is rambling a bit, his voice a low whine. “Please, I’ll be so good, mommy, please.”
Shane feels his heat fluttering in his stomach, somehow seeming to grow impossibly harder just as the Uber pulls up.
“Can you be quiet for me, baby?” Shane whispers, guiding Ilya, who is nodding his head in agreement, towards the car and opening the door for him. He lowers him into the car with a hum, reaching across the man to buckle him into the seat. Ilya rocks his hips forward as Shane’s arm briefly crosses his lap to secure the buckle, and Shane uses his other hand to lightly swat him away, furrowing his eyebrows disapprovingly. He watches Ilya swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. The low lights in the car are reflecting off of Ilya’s eyes, which are completely glazed over. Shane kisses his forehead gently, closing the door and running around to the other side to situate himself.
He greets the Uber driver, who doesn’t even turn around to look at them when they get in, before turning back to face Ilya, who is already staring back at him.
He scoots over to the middle seat and buckles his own seatbelt before bringing his pointer finger to his mouth in a shushing motion. Ilya cocks his head to the side in confusion for just a quick moment until Shane reaches down and begins palming him roughly through his pants.
Ilya tries to jerk his hips, either to or from the sudden pressure against his cock, but his seatbelt keeps him firmly in place. Shane watches as he pushes his head against the seat behind him, his mouth parting open as he chokes back a moan.
Shane glances quickly at the Uber driver, who doesn’t even seem to notice he has riders in the car at all, before looking back to Ilya, keeping the firm pressure against his erection as he continues to work him through his pants. Ilya’s head falls against Shane’s shoulder, and he turns his face into Shane’s neck, panting softly into his ear.
Shane knew Ilya was already close at the club, even though he barely even touched him at all, and the sudden 180 to the steadfast pressure on his clothed cock is clearly bringing him to the edge.
Shane shushes his breathy noises gently, before stilling his hand, leaving his hand resting on his erection. Ilya is fighting the seatbelt now, trying to wiggle his hips and grind erratically against Shane’s palm.
Shane keeps his hand still. Ilya doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s humping his hand rather than Shane palming him. Shane just watches, trying not to let out low moans himself as Ilya simultaneously chases the pressure and seems to jerk away from it.
Shane lets him continue rutting against his hand for a moment, before pressing it back against his cock, palming him rougher than before. They’re getting close to the hotel now, which is good, because Shane doesn’t foresee Ilya staying quiet for much longer.
“Gonna cum, mommy,” Ilya whimpers softly into his ear from his position still resting on his neck. ”ебать-тарахтеть, пожалуйста, (”fuck, please,) need it… please, let me… need it.”
Shane doesn’t answer, but speeds up his hand, applying more pressure as he makes small circles against the man’s groin. He can feel Ilya trembling under his touch, his panting getting more erratic as he pushes his mouth closer to Shane’s neck, nibbling at it slightly.
Shane can tell Ilya is about to tip over the edge, and just as his pleasure crests, he pulls his hand away, removing all stimulation from his cock. Ilya’s whole body jerks and he lets out a broken sob, now coming completely untouched and way less intensely than he was planning to, his orgasm ruined just as the driver puts the car into park.
Shane clicks the button on Ilya’s seatbelt, brushing a few tears dribbling down his cheeks from his face.
“Aw, puppy, don’t cry,” he hums sweetly. “Did you really think I would let you finish before me, baby?”
Ilya is completely blissed out and pliant in the backseat as Shane guides them both out of the car and into the hotel. They get on the elevator, and Ilya turns to kiss Shane sloppily as soon as the doors close, pressing him against the wall. Shane indulges him, practically devouring him with his mouth. As hot as this all is, Shane is starting to get extremely needy, his thin line of control threatening to slip.
The elevator dings, and Shane pulls Ilya to the door, fumbling with the keycard in his pocket as he tries to unlock it. Ilya is pressed up behind him, and Shane can feel his cock filling out against his ass. He presses his hips back once, delighting in the noise Ilya makes. Tears are still brimming in Ilya’s eyes, a battle between overstimulation and his intense need playing out across his face.
Shane closes the door and turns to face Ilya, stroking his cheek gently.
“Get on your knees and eat my pussy like a good puppy,” he says, watching Ilya fall to his knees like a puppet with cut strings. Ilya rubs his face against Shane’s cock through his pants, mouthing at it wetly, before nudging Shane towards the bed with his face, crawling behind him.
The back of Shane’s knees hit the bed briefly before Ilya turns him around from his position on the floor, pushing him face-first onto the bed. He wastes no time pulling Shane’s pants and boxers down, pressing his face into the crack of Shane’s ass.
Shane reaches behind him to spread his cheeks apart a bit, allowing Ilya to greedily lap at his fluttering hole. Shane lets out a high-pitched moan, grinding his hips slightly against the bed below him.
Ilya is licking and fucking him with his tongue like it’s his first meal in weeks, and Shane can feel the slobber running down his chin.
“Fuck, puppy, that’s it,” Shane grunts, a tight heat already coiling in his stomach. “You like eating my pussy, don’t you, sweetheart?”
He can feel Ilya nodding his head as he continues to lap fervently at his hole, switching between pressing his tongue inside and sucking gently on his rim. Ilya is eating him out with such a passion, his moans vibrating against his hole, making Shane clench slightly.
“Can I fuck you? Please, please, mommy, need to fuck you, need to make you feel good,” Ilya is begging sweetly against his hole, and even if Shane was planning to keep making him wait, he could never deny Ilya when he’s being so sweet and needy.
Ilya is still fully clothed on the floor, trying to grind against the side of the bed. Shane pulls his ass away suddenly, scooting further up on the bed and arching deeper, presenting his glistening hole to Ilya.
Shane angles his head to gaze back at Ilya, who is frozen in place as Shane wiggles his ass in the air slightly.
“Come get me ready then,” Shane snips softly, and Ilya snaps into motion, pulling his pants and boxers to his knees and scrambling to the bed, stumbling a bit because of the pants still at his knees. He doesn’t even take off his shirt, palming one globe of Shane’s ass with one hand and pushing two fingers into him without preamble with the other.
Shane presses his hips back against Ilya’s hand, trying to take him deeper. Ilya begins scissoring his fingers, alternating between that and crooking them upwards to hit his prostrate. Shane can feel himself shaking, needy whimpers falling out of his mouth.
Ilya continues for a bit before pulling his fingers out. Before Shane can even say anything or complain, the hand that was gripping Shane’s ass is moved to the space between his shoulder blades, pressing him into the bed as he feels Ilya’s cock plunge into his body.
Ilya warmed him up, but Shane still felt the slight stretch and burn of his rim around the man’s cock. Ilya doesn’t take a second for him to adjust, jackhammering his hips, fucking into Shane roughly.
Shane tries to angle his head to see Ilya in the mirror at the bedside, watching Ilya’s face as he fucks into him mindlessly, not letting up on the harsh pace for even a second.
“Fuck, puppy, so fucking good, so good for mommy,” he moans, pushing his hips back to meet Ilya’s thrusts as best he can at the bruising pace Ilya has set.
There isn’t much finesse to Ilya’s movements, which is somehow even hotter to Shane, like he really is a mindless puppy just trying to get off. He’s moaning and whimpering above him, babbling nonsense in Russian as he pounds Shane into the mattress.
He feels Ilya hook a thumb into his rim as he continues fucking into him rapidly, and Shane’s vision whites out for a second at the overwhelming feeling of fullness.
“Fuck, Ilya, baby,” Shane pants, groaning softly. “Slow down, puppy.”
He watches as Ilya shakes his head in the mirror, keeping the same brutal pace.
“Can’t slow down, mommy. Need you to come, need you to feel good. Need you to come,” Ilya is stuttering out, the tears filling his eyes finally falling over his waterline and dripping onto Shane’s backside. “Please, I was good, I’ve been good, please, mommy.”
At that, Shane can’t possibly hold on any longer, stars clouding his vision as feels cum hitting his chest from where his cock is hanging between him and the bed. Ilya’s focus is not pulled by Shane’s orgasm, and he keeps fucking him through it, slaps of Shane’s ass meeting Ilya’s hips sounding through the room as Ilya chases his own orgasm.
“Come on, baby,” Shane slurs out, hiccup-y moans falling from his mouth as tears of his own brim in his eyes. “Such a good puppy. You’re so good to me, Ilya. So good.”
Ilya thrusts in one final time with a grunt before Shane feels his heat spilling inside of him, making him impossibly fuller. Ilya collapses on top of him, and they both breathe in the silence of the room for a couple of minutes, trying to come back to themselves.
Ilya is wrecked, his eyes closed and his lips red and kiss-swollen still parted in a silent moan.
Shane wiggles around under him, getting himself free enough to slip Ilya’s cock out of him. He feels his ass leaking cum, but he brings Ilya to rest against chest, stroking his hair softly and whispering sweet words in his ear until he comes back to Earth.
Finally, he feels Ilya stir against him. He looks down, meeting Ilya’s eyes with his own. His eyes are still blown wide, he’s still clearly fuzzy and the tear tracks on his face are still apparent. Shane maneuvers his head to kiss Ilya’s lips softly, before pressing gentle kisses on any other part of his face he could reach.
“There’s my good boy,” Shane whispers softly, planting a kiss on the top of his head. “How are you feeling, angel?”
Shane isn’t usually so saccharine, but he can’t help it now, not with Ilya so pliant and delicate above him. Ilya nuzzles impossibly closer to Shane’s chest, humming contentedly as he plants a kiss to his sternum.
Shane holds him for a few more moments before the sticky feeling in his legs really starts to bother him. He shifts Ilya off of him slightly, shushing the quiet whine that falls from his lips with a chaste kiss.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, his voice gentle, and he pads towards the bathroom, quickly cleaning himself off at the sink before wetting a clean washcloth with warm water.
Ilya hasn’t moved from the spot Shane left him in, still just staring in the direction of the bathroom as he returns. Shane cleans him off gently, peppering his skin with kisses and sweet affirmations before placing the washcloth on the nightstand, crawling back into bed.
Ilya immediately snuggles into him, letting another content hum from his lips. Shane holds him against his side, kissing his temple lightly as they both close their eyes and fall asleep.