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Shane wakes with a nasty pressure in his sinuses. It bleeds into his temples, making his head pound in time with his heartbeat. He groans and blindly reaches out to his nightstand, for the bottle of water he always kept there. His fingers wrap around the blue plastic. He drags the bottle to his lips, gratefully sucking down cool water from the plastic straw. He sighs as he sets it back down onto the nightstand. His eyes felt dry, his throat was scratchy, and his skin felt prickly. Shane Hollander was sick.
The second thing Shane notices is that Ilya isn't in bed. It makes him wonder how late it actually is. He fears checking his phone. Still, he has shit to do. He can't rot in bed all day. So, he tosses the sheets off of him, swings his legs off of the side of the bed, tries to stand, and immediately crashes back to the mattress. Shane groans as his head spins.
Because Shane's luck is never on his side, Ilya fucking Rozanov chooses that moment to walk into the bedroom.
"Are you meditating?" The man snorts, coming to stand before Shane's spread legs.
Shane grunts and manages to sit up with a small wince. His brain feels like it's doing backflips in his skull. "No," he answers unhelpfully. Ilya's gaze is penetrating, and Shane finds that he can't keep eye contact. He looks away with shame. To occupy himself, he reaches for his water bottle again and takes a deep swig. It makes his gut roll.
"Hollander..."
Shane parts from his water to huff petulantly. "I'm fucking sick, alright?"
Ilya steps closer, between Shane's legs, and puts a cool hand on his forehead. "Oh, sweetheart," Ilya sighs. There's this dark look in his eyes, but Shane is too tired to try and decipher it. He leans into the cool touch on his forehead and closes his eyes.
Ilya leaves without a word, leaving Shane longing for his presence. In the meantime, he returns his empty bottle to the nightstand and settles back under the sheets. He's been hit with a chill, and he shivers under the thin fabric. He wasn't one for blankets like Ilya is, but now he kind of wishes he was.
Ilya returns with the same sappy look on his face and a handful of miscellaneous pills from Shane's medicine cabinet. He's got a glass of water, too, and Shane gratefully takes it. He swallows the pills once Ilya hands them over. The man kisses his scalp while he swallows. Ilya busies himself with tucking Shane in after the pills are gone. He fluffs his pillow, fusses with the sheets, and sighs before dragging a quilt from the corner of the room— one he'd brought with him from Russia. It's heavy around his shoulders, and smells exactly like Ilya. His eyes are closing before Ilya can finish fussing with it.
"Rest up," Ilya murmurs against his forehead where he leaves one last parting kiss. Shane is already unconscious.
Shane wakes feeling uncomfortably warm and sticky. He's on his stomach, face buried in his pillow. He groans and shifts, turning his head to the side only to see Ilya staring back at him. Shane smiles at him, gazing lovingly through the shield of his lashes. Ilya returns the smile and places a tender kiss to the spot between Shane's brows. Something under the covers shifts, and Shane moans softly.
"...Ilya?" He murmurs in question.
"Shhh," Ilya soothes. His hand moves under the covers and Shane feels it again. Ilya's fingers are in him, stretching him. Petting along his walls and teasing his g-spot. Shane whimpers as calloused fingertips press cruelly into his g-spot. It makes his back arch and his legs kick— and then Ilya lets go and Shane can breathe.
"Relax, sweetheart," Ilya purrs in a deep tone. It makes something in Shane's gut stir in anticipation so quickly he's dizzy with it. He blinks dumbly at Ilya, brain lagging behind as he tries to think up a response— something to say, anything.
"M tired," he settles on.
"I know," Ilya smiles softly, like he can't help the expression. He pets over Shane's g-spot again just to see his lashes flutter. "Relax."
Shane's eyes roll back into his head as Ilya spreads his fingers apart. His hole parts beautifully for them with a wet squelch. Shane blushes, but Ilya never hesitates. He fucks his fingers in and out slowly, spreading them, digging blunt nails into his walls just to watch Shane squirm.
He feels heavy as he lays there, limbs like lead weights. His consciousness wavers as time passes, too. He blinks slowly, feeling melting in and out of focus. His world is narrowed down to the fingers in his cunt and the pillow under his head. Shane sighs as Ilya adds a third finger. He mumbles, barely coherent, about a kiss. Within a moment, chapstick soft lips are pressing into his own. Shane moans softly as Ilya melds his lips to his. He loved kissing Ilya. More than anything, really. It was his favorite activity. Ilya was a drug, and Shane was an addict.
Shane loses track of both time and sensation. He comes to on his back, Ilya hovering over him. The man always looks so good like this, light brown curls hanging over his forehead, eyes sparkling as he gazes upon Shane's loopy expression. He tries to move, tries to lift his arms to wrap them around Ilya's neck. He finds, however, that his limbs won't move when he says move. He whines, uncomfortable, and Ilya coos.
"Ilya..." Shane whimpers. "Why can't I move?"
Ilya's expression grows soft at his terrified question. He swipes a bit of dark hair from Shane's forehead and caresses his cheek. "You took some medicine, remember?"
"You drugged me?" Shane whines. Ilya looks at him, his best puppy dog eyes on full display. He does look like a kicked puppy, but even drugged, Shane's glare has a kick to it.
"Only a little," Ilya supplies sheepishly. "You need to relax…”
"You drugged me," Shane complains again. This time, Ilya laughs.
"A little," he insists. His grin is wide, and it makes Shane's chest feel warm.
"A little," Shane concedes.
"They help! Mostly..."
Shane blinks, and then his vision is swimming. He groans in disdain as his head pounds and the room spins. His thighs are tight, muscles stretched to the limit as Ilya keeps his knees by his head. By the time his eyes focus, Ilya is still grinning down at him.
Shane groans, temples drilling into his brain. "Are y'gonna fuck me or not?"
Ilya snorts. "You are so greedy. I could be raping you right now, but you still beg for my cock."
"You're my fucking husband," Shane rolls his eyes and immediately regrets the action. "You always have—"
"Always?" Ilya presses. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated. Shane nods, shocked into silence by Ilya's... forwardness.
Shane nearly gets whiplash from how quickly Ilya lets his thighs go and stands off of the bed. "Stay," Ilya commands, and then he hurries out of the room. Shane watches blurrily as his bare, freckled back disappears behind the door frame.
Ilya could have been gone for hours, time all felt the same to Shane. He blinks, swallows some oddly dry saliva, and then Ilya is back. He hardly had time to wonder what the man could be doing. Still, Ilya returned, and he did so with a glass of water and more pills. These were small and unassuming, and Shane eyes them warily.
"Take them," Ilya prompts, shoving them further into Shane's space. Shane does not immediately rise to take them, so Ilya presses them even closer. "You said always."
Shane isn't a liar. He trusts Ilya more than he trusts his own mother. Defiantly, he pokes his chin out and parts his lips. Ilya sucks in a breath, and then he's gently pouring the tiny tablets onto Shane's tongue. He follows it with a mouthful of water, and Shane swallows obediently.
Ilya gulps as Shane does. He looks drunk, Shane thinks. His pupils are encroaching on his pretty hazel eyes, his plush lips are parted, and he looks moments from drooling like a dog. Ilya lets out a soft breath once the pills are safely tucked away in Shane's stomach. He looks like he can't believe Shane actually took them.
"What now?" Shane asks quietly.
"We wait for them to kick in," Ilya replies helpfully. He's crawling back on top of Shane, peppering kisses to his chest and collarbone.
"And then?"
"And then I fuck your unconscious body."
Shane probably should go to therapy over the way his cunt clenches at the thought. He definitely shouldn't find it hot. And he probably should be more concerned over his husband's willingness to drug him and have his way with him. But he also knows that Ilya would never hurt him. He'd rather follow in his mother's footsteps than live with knowing he hurt Shane. So, he lets Ilya capture his mouth in a much-too-sweet kiss for how naughty their situation was.
"I love you," Ilya murmurs as he pulls away. Shane smiles. He feels warm and loopy.
"I love you, too.”
Ilya settles over him fully at long last. His body is warm, and Shane soaks up the heat. He's still smiling when Ilya leans back in for another kiss. It's merely skin against skin until Ilya grabs his jaw and licks into his mouth like a man starved. Shane moans at the same time heat shoots down to his core. Ilya twists their tongues together, and a thick glob of slick leaks from his hole.
Ilya begins moving downward soon enough, trailing kisses over Shane's jaw, his throat. Down his chest and flexing stomach. All the way to his sticky, greedy cunt. Shane is whining at the first hint of wet tongue against his folds. Ilya trails the tip of his tongue in a little arch over the hood of Shane's clit, teasing him. He flexes his toes and groans, wishing he had the strength to cling onto Ilya and get what he wants. But, he was drugged and useless. All he could do was take what Ilya offered. And the man was a tease.
Shane weakly grasps the sheets as Ilya presses the flat of his tongue to his clit. He flutters it, causing Shane's hips to jump and a startled moan pours from his lips.
"Ilya!" Shane gasps breathlessly. The man doesn't respond except to part Shane's folds with the tip of his tongue.
Shane's world is narrowed down to the wet tongue teasing his cunt. He doesn't think about how heavy his limbs are. How his brain is coated in a thick layer of fog that makes thinking seem impossible. He doesn't think of the drugs working in his system to drag him into the depths of unconsciousness. It's Ilya, and the sweet pleasure he's bringing as he suckles on Shane's pulsing clit.
At one point, when the desire to cage Ilya against his cunt grows too strong, Shane realizes he can't dial back into reality. His eyes are crossed as he stares at the ceiling, vision so blurry the fan is just a brown blob.
"Ilya...?" He slurs, tongue lagging behind. He's scared, suddenly. He's not in control of his body. He's never not been in control.
Ilya rises at the timid call of his name. He takes one look at Shane's dismayed expression, and he drapes himself over him again. Ilya presses a kiss to Shane's nose, but he can’t focus his eyes enough to truly see Ilya.
"Relax, sweetheart," He soothes. "I've got you. It's just us." He kisses Shane, then. Presses his plush lips to Shane's slack ones. Shane doesn't kiss back. He can't kiss back. He's nothing but a doll to be used. He's still scared, fear sitting curled up in his gut, but he's so fucking turned on. He'd never considered how it'd feel to truly give up power. To put his complete and unwavering trust in Ilya.
Shane is still conscious when Ilya pulls back— if only by a slim margin. He wonders what Ilya is doing for a torturously long moment, and then the blunt head of his thick cock is pressing at his entrance. Shane moans as Ilya presses in without fanfare. Ilya is always so big. It felt like taking a fucking baseball bat. Ilya presses in inch by agonizing inch, and Shane just takes it. He's a useless little doll as Ilya uses him like a toy. Because that's what he is right now, a glorified fleshlight. And it makes him so fucking wet. Grool leaks out around Ilya's cock.
"Wait..." Shane huffs. He blinks rapidly, trying desperately to stay awake. "Condom?" Ilya laughs at him, the sound cruel and melodic all at once. If he responds, Shane doesn't hear him. The last thing he feels is Ilya's cock pulsing within him.
The first thing Shane feels when he wakes is his head. It pounds in time with his heartbeat. It makes him nauseous, and he blearily opens his eyes. He's on his stomach, he notices. His legs are hanging over the bed, ankles gripped by Ilya. His body rocks up and down in time with the man's thrusts. Shane groans and clenches around Ilya's cock. His cunt is sore. He feels more stretched out than ever, the friction of Ilya's thrusts nearly burning. He wonders how long he was unconscious. How long Ilya's been at it. Did he take viagra? Shane wouldn't put it past him.
"Ilya," Shane grunts. He's not sure what he wants, he just knows that Ilya is included
"Good morning, sleepy head," Ilya purrs. The sun is low in the sky, and orange light dances across the room. Shane tries to look back and look at Ilya, but the strain makes his head worse so he gives up quickly. Instead, Ilya leans in close, bending Shane's calves to the back of his thighs.
"You're quite flexible, you know," Ilya offers. "And still so fucking tight."
"Not anymore," Shane sighs into the mattress. He blinks up at Ilya and the perfect slope of his nose, his kissable lips, his long curls. He looks dazzling in the warm light of sunset, skin dewy with hours of exercise.
Ilya laughs and thrusts his hips hard into Shane's, as if to prove a point. "I don't know," he says. "I kind of prefer you like this, filled with my kids."
Shane blinks dumbly before his face twists into a snarl. "You came in me?!"
"You said you wanted kids," Ilya shrugs. "I am only helping. You worry too much. Relax."
Shane sinks into the mattress with a sigh. "Are you fucking done yet, then?"
"Grumpy!" Ilya chuckles, joy written across his features. "Only good boys get rewards," he sings.
"Shut up, Ilya."
"You love me!"
"You're lucky I do, pervert!"
Ilya fucks into Shane hard, hitting his abused and very sore cervix. Shane lets out a pained "ah!" as he's jostled. And then Ilya does it again, and again. He fucks Shane up the mattress, eventually crawling on top of him to truly mount him like a dog. Ilya fucks down into him with a loud moan, hips stilling as his cock spasms.
"Shane..." Ilya moans gratefully. At last, he pulls out. A thick glob of cum follows, falling onto the sheets. More leaks out of Shane's hole, and when he flexes, he feels how truly full he is. He's been bred.
"Ilya..." Shane groans, unimpressed. Ilya looks down at him with his best puppy dog eyes. "You're cleaning me out before you do anything else."
"Can I at least start the bath?"
"No!”