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    Ilya’s thumb rubs slow circles into his hip, gaze dark and locked on him. “You’re doing so well, moya lyubov'.”
    Shane whimpers.
    “Such a good boy. Look at you—riding me like a slut.”
    “Just—just for you,” Shane chokes out, blushing hard, hips stuttering. “I—f-fuck—”
    “I know,” Ilya says, sitting up a little now, his mouth curving into a grin, holding steady on Shane’s hips. “You’re so good for me.”

    or: shane is overstimulated. ilya takes care of him afterwards.

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    23 Jan 2026