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Summary
“You’re panicking, sweetheart.”
He knew and he wished he wouldn’t be because it was just so stupid. It didn’t make sense why he couldn’t do the one thing his husband always did for him. He brushed his unshed tears away with the back of his hands, furiously, because he wanted it to hurt, because he didn’t deserve the tone Ilya had just used to point out the obvious.
“I need you to breathe, zaichonok.”
“I’m sorry -” He didn’t even know what to say, he didn’t have any excuse besides the fact that he simply did not like it.
“I don’t need explanation, malysh. I need you to be good for me, yes?”
OR
Shane tries topping and hates it.
