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Ilya finds Shane sitting on the counter stool buried in his laptop when he arrives from walking Anya outside. He's uncharacteristically quiet, so absorbed with whatever he's reading that he barely glances up when Ilya walks by him. It takes Ilya calling him twice for him to look up and let out a low hum.
"I asked what got you so focused there," Ilya says, holding back his snort as Shane's eyes dart everywhere and nowhere at once.
It's right then that Ilya notices something. Not bad, exactly, just something worth grilling Shane upon considering the dazed look in his eyes and the way he can't seem to meet Ilya's eyes head on, a rosy blush steadily rising up from his neck to his cheeks.
"Nothing! I'm— nothing's going on!" Shane squeaks, forcibly closing his laptop and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he stands up and walks up to Ilya.
"Okay?" Ilya grunts as he bears the weight of his boyfriend as he tackles Ilya with an almost bear-hug. He buries his flushed face against Ilya's neck and takes in the smell of the early morning, the sun-kissed skin still warm to the touch. Ilya returns the hug and runs his hands down Shane's back. "You sure is nothing?"
Like a bunny, Shane rubs his face against Ilya's neck in a back and forth manner while simultaneously tightening his arms as he says, "It's nothing, I just…"
So it is something. Ilya hums quietly, waiting for his Shane to muster his courage and come to Ilya on his own. Over the times that they've been together, he'd learned that letting Shane think within his own bubble is better than prodding something out of his metaphorical tight grip. Here and there, he'll give Shane his puppy-est dog eyes there is and pout within an inch of his life while mumbling tell me, любовь (which often gives him whatever it is he wants), but at most, he's just happy to wait Shane out while discreetly tidying around the house and humming to himself while hauling the laundry to wash.
Ilya prides himself to be a patient man, and something about seeing Shane squirming against his arms tells him he'll be rewarded a hefty sum for his well-spent effort. It's a little while before Shane mumbles something against his neck.
"What was that?" Ilya whispers back as he kissed Shane's temple.
"I said I wanted to try something," Shane says while trying his hardest to avoid Ilya's eyes, his embarrassment visible against his rigid form. Ilya rubs his back soothingly.
"Something what? I know you have all the time in the world right now, котёнок, but you've been very productive in the kitchen lately, I might as well be bloated even before the season starts," he replied, setting a hand on Shane's head while mindlessly playing with the strands of his hair. It's getting a little longer now, and Shane still hasn't told Ilya whether he'll really grow it out or he'll just let Ilya die before seeing him in long hair. Or a man-bun. You're so dramatic, Shane would chime, but Ilya would brush him off and whine again for Shane to tell him.
"Ilya." The admonishment in Shane's voice never fails to make him feel fond, or hard, whichever happens first.
"Shane?" He tuts back, enjoying the look of frustration clouding his boyfriend's pretty, pretty face. Ah, his pants are getting tight. "Or are you talking about your new yoga poses? You know I will always help you with whatever as long as this cake right here stays fat as fuck."
Giggling, Shane squirms away as Ilya playfully slaps his backside, but somehow forgetting that his arms are wrapped tight around Ilya's waist, dragging him along to lean against the counter.
"Who told you that?"
"Is cake, yes? One day I will light a candle and put them on your ass cheeks just to make myself a cake with how soft and creamy your ass is," Ilya rushes out, not missing the way Shane's lashes fluttered and his tongue darting out to wet his lips. Huh. Interesting.
"Stop it," Shane hissed, shaking his head vigorously, not unlike Anya when she ultimately gets out of the pool after swimming around all day. "I'm trying to say something here."
Ilya lets his face relax, shaking off any lingering playfulness and sets his eyes on Shane's own, the brown of his irises overpowering the dilating pupil. Shane visibly gulps, and Ilya tries his hardest to hold back a grin trying to break free.
"Well, I— I wanted to try something in the bedroom," he whispers the last words like he's afraid somebody will hear them, like they're strangers to the deed, like they haven't been doing this since ever before their ages ended in teen. Ilya is so endeared by him his teeth hurts from how much he's trying not to smile.
Ilya lets out a low hum and prompted Shane to continue talking.
"It's just— do you trust me?" He says it so earnestly Ilya feels a gentle hand squeeze his chest lightly, his doe eyes looking up at Ilya with all the softness and innocence a baby deer can have in such an age, and rapidly flitting beyond his shoulders. Innocence and Shane Hollander in one sentence, now that is something you don't get to see every time.
"You know I trust you with my life, рыбка," Ilya nuzzles his face against Shane's as the nickname flows smoothly from his mouth, brushing their noses together.
It's like fireworks were lit when Shane met his eyes again, the light shining fiercely as his eyelids blink erratically. "You're sure?"
"Yes, sweetheart, anything you want," he slurs the words while fighting off the need to kiss his beautiful boyfriend breathless.
"Okay, yeah, okay," Shane exhales, his arms slithering up Ilya's body, feeling his ribs, grasping his shoulders, until they wound up behind his neck as Shane leans in to close the scant few inches between their faces and kiss Ilya like how he'd been dreaming of since that morning. It's a soft one, full of emotions incomparable to any label, and also ends abruptly, much to both of their displeasure. Ilya powers through, however.
"Okay?" Ilya checks in, searching for the other's eyes through the haze.
"Okay. I love you," Shane whispers back, before pecking Ilya's lips for the last time.
Later, Ilya is vacuuming the living room when he calls out to Shane who's sitting by the window: "Can I ask what it is?"
Shane gives him a stern look before shutting him down with a firm no. Ilya shrugs.
Ilya wakes up to fleeting sensations across his body the next day, the voice whispering for him to wake up still echoing within his subconsciousness.
He feels lips dragging across his jaws first, low murmurs kissing his morning stubble back and forth while soft breaths fanned his face. "Wake up, baby."
Ilya stirs. Ah, is this heaven?
"You feel me now?" The beautiful angel whispers with full sultriness against his left ear, simultaneously biting his lobe in the process. Ilya groans, and the shiver that ran through his body all went to his groin, which, as he's starting to come around, is getting harder by the minute.
Ilya makes a pitiful noise against his throat, a whimper trying to escape as something sturdy and warm steadily wraps around his aching cock.
"That's it," he opens his eyes as he hears Shane's deep voice fill the small space between them. He blinked back the drowsiness behind his lids, the warm rays of the early sun caressing his cheeks as he fights against the sensations pulling him up.
"любовь..." Ilya's groggy voice echoes around the quiet blanketing their bedroom, a stark contrast to the rapidly increasing flaps of Shane's hand against his cock. He braves a look down, down, down, only for Shane to grab his jaw and move his head back, his piercing eyes meeting Ilya's own. His pupils are dilated.
Ilya wasn't able to hold back his whimper this time, bordering on a full-on moan as Shane holds his position.
"Eyes on me, baby," Ilya obeys, his vision going hazy at the edges as the familiar stirrings in his guts start. He wonders how long has Shane been touching him for him to be so close to coming already. Fuck, he's so pathetic. Shane loves it.
"Ah— fuck," Ilya swears, his head trying to break away from Shane's hold but he keeps it firm, his mouth traveling down Ilya's jaw towards the sides of his neck, his audible pants hitting Ilya's skin lightly, making him feel and remember that this is real.
Shane reaches his chest, and the scorching heat of his mouth around his peaked and cool nipple made Ilya jolt against the sheets. "Oh, shit— Shane—"
He remembers his hands then, still lying prone against his sides, and bends them to grip the sheets and blankets strewn about around his head. His hips buck against Shane's hand as he felt a thumb rubbing against his slit.
Oh god, he's trying to kill me.
"Baby, I'm so close, please—" Ilya begs again, his eyes dutifully trained towards the ceiling as Shane forces his way down, down where his hips couldn't stay still as he makes little thrusts up into Shane's hands.
Any other day, Shane would've immediately stopped jerking Ilya off completely, a stern frown settling on his face as he looks at Ilya with warning. Ilya knows that look, and he knows that when Shane wears that look, he'll have to behave immediately or you won't come at all, Ilya. He just gets harder every time. Thankfully, this isn't one of those times as his gorgeous boyfriend blissfully continues his movements, seeming almost dazed with it like he's chasing his own orgasm rather than making Ilya reach the gates of paradise first. If this isn't paradise yet.
"So good for me, Ilya," Shane breathes as he closes in on his groin, the tip of his nose running through Ilya's pubes. Ilya swears he felt Shane inhale. God.
He exhales as he yields control of his arms, his hands crawling towards where he feels Shane's head is, his fingers tangling between Shane's soft and flowy hair. His eyes stayed firmly trained up.
A flick of tongue against the slick and weeping slit of his cock pulls another heavy groan from him, grasping Shane's head as much as he could without looking down.
"Baby, fuck— that's it, ohh," he feels more than hear Shane's moan as he takes Ilya's cock in his sinful mouth, swallowing down the inches of the hard shaft until his wet lips make contact with Ilya's groin, his hands spasming against his boyfriend's head.
Ilya's eyes are closed tight now as he thrashes against the sheets, his hips moving on their own as he grinds and makes little thrusts against Shane, the lewd noises his lovely mouth makes echoing around the otherwise peaceful morning space. He's moaning absentmindedly, that he can guarantee, and he can feel the bed creak as he imagines how Shane must also be humping down the bed like a dog in heat.
God, he's getting off on this too, the pervert. The thought hits him like a bolt of lightning.
"Ahh— Shane, любовь, I'm gonna come— oh fuck!— ahhmfg—" Shane hums, and moans, and the vibrations traveling through his body are the only permission he gets before he's whimpering and shooting down his warm load along Shane's hot mouth, his throat contracting against Ilya's cock as he milks him dry of his orgasm, which seemed never ending.
Ilya thinks he blacks out for a second, and the next thing he feels is Shane's sweaty body slithering up against him, his wet hands cradling Ilya's face as he comes back down, hazy eyes opening to settle across Shane's own. Ilya knows his face is flushed as hell, but seeing Shane's red and rosy cheeks stain with drool and precum makes him feel much better, his spent cock twitching valiantly against his thighs.
Shane smiles, and it's like the sun's come inside the room to bask him in sunshine and wake him up, to which he would never complain about. The last thing he'll do after that mind-blowing orgasm is to mouth off. He beams back as Shane kisses the sides of his lips softly.
"Okay?"
"So fucking okay, Hollander, I feel like I could run miles right this instant," Ilya huffs breathlessly, and he's rewarded by Shane's adorable giggle. "Was that what you had in mind?"
Ilya doesn't know exactly what it was, but waking up to a hand job by your beautiful boyfriend is not entirely surprising on its own, but something that they've been carefully toeing on exactly. You can only go so far of subconsciously humping your sleeping lover before it boils down to an entirely new territory, something they haven't wholeheartedly explored upon. Not exactly new to Ilya, but Shane can be skittish if he really wants to, and shyly propositioning Ilya with another one of his kinks is such a Shane thing to do he's so endeared by the gesture.
Shane takes a moment to pause, his gaze searching Ilya's own, before he smiles bashfully as he shakes his head minutely, the little twinkle of mischief in his boba eyes not lost on Ilya.
"That was just a taste of what I'm about to do with you."
And oh. That's so hot. The only problem is that Ilya thought of another thing entirely from whatever Shane had in mind.
It's still a full day later that things come to unravel themselves, all of course attributed to Shane's careful scheming. Ilya's come home with Anya skipping behind him, leisurely taking her time to shake her fur from the windy stroll they did around the cottage's vicinity, to the enticing smell of dinner wafting through the open spaces of their home. God, he loves his boyfriend so much.
It's also still a few hours later, having had shared the mundanity of their lives over food, and later having camped together on the couch to watch Ilya's much-awaited reality show stream live on TV (I still don't get how you manage to enjoy these things, Ilya, Shane had whispered, yet his eyes remain unmoving on the screen), and making sure that Anya is comfortably settled on her own little cozy bed that Shane herds him towards the bedroom.
He's buzzing with nerves, but there's a certain confidence and authority to his form that Ilya finds weirdly arousing, like with everything else Shane does and is. He can feel Shane's firm but gentle touch on his waist urging him on, and he stops before their bedside table to look back when something silky catches his eyes.
Ilya reaches out with his hands, his body high-strung with the effort to stop vibrating. There's the familiar heat building under his bones, and his senses heighten to take in everything around him, them.
Shane is standing a safe distance back, far back towards the foot of the bed, the point of his thumbs hooked inside his pockets, exuding a casualness Ilya knows he doesn't feel. Ilya knows him enough for that. The bed is still made, carefully so, with none of the routine mess that their bodies do when they slump and roll around in their sleep, which Shane makes sure every morning, despite the fact that he wakes up earlier on most days. The room is bathed with the soft warm glow of their bedside lamp, illuminating the package held between Ilya's fingers a golden tinge, and highlighting Shane's flushed cheeks when he turns back.
"What is this?" Ilya whispered while delicately thumbing the piece of fabric, or rather, a thin strip of silky cloth. It's black and cool to the touch, a little over the length of his arm, and settles on his palm pretty nicely.
"Um, I—" Shane exhales, and he moves to stride towards Ilya like a man on a mission, despite the hesitant quiver Ilya can see on his expressive eyebrows. He waits for Shane to continue. "I was wondering if…"
"If?"
"If you would like me to cover your eyes while I ride you?" He breathes it in one go, like someone's just chased him through the woods, and he'd found Ilya at the end of it. Like diving straight into the water, only to surface with Ilya's arms around him. He says it hesitantly and with clear anxiety that he thinks Ilya will accept it poorly, yet realizes at the end that it's Ilya he's with actually, the relief of having said the words evident in his voice. As if they're trudging out to war right this instant and not talking about bedroom proclivities.
Oh fuck. He's so fucked.
"Say that again?" Ilya grunts gravelly, equally as breathless as his lover, no hints of teasing in his voice.
Shane whines, the noise reverberating between the two of them as they stood in front of each other, his arms grasping out to touch in the shadows of the dimly lit room. "Can I please—Ilya…"
"Go on, солнышко." There's an edge of desperation to Ilya's words now, as he leans in to nuzzle his nose against Shane's dark cheeks. The warmth is engulfing them now, a little cocoon of their own as they stand rooted in the middle of their bedroom, the very place which witnessed every sensual things their hungry bodies could come up.
"I want to ride you," Shane moans, hands holding Ilya's own ones, "and cover your eyes with this cloth. Would you like that?"
"Fuck, Shane." A string of Russian profanities fell from Ilya's mouth as he catches Shane's wrist to drag his hand down to where he's undoubtedly throbbing inside his pants, surprised and pleased as much as Ilya had been to know that he's hard as a rock. "What do you think, малыш?"
"Words, Ilya. I need words."
"Yes, please, yes, yes." He should be ashamed of the sheer desperation in his voice, but Ilya couldn't care less anymore. He needs it so bad.
"Oh, baby. Get on the bed, I got you," Shane mumbles as he takes the cloth from Ilya's hands, maneuvering Ilya with his strong arms to sit back against the pillows. He kneels a leg on the bed as he meets Ilya's blown eyes with his own, carding his fingers through his curls as he says the words that sealed his fate that night. "I'll put this on you now."
"Yes, please."
"Tell me if we need to stop, okay?" Shane is so careful with him, so delicate that Ilya can feel the way his heart flutters at the sincere care Shane throws his way.
"Okay, sweetheart."
"Good, I love you." The way Shane's plump lips wrapped around the words were the last thing Ilya sees before his vision is swallowed by the darkness.
A bolt of anxiety rips through him in seconds, wrapping around his warmed bones as he inhales a sharp breath. He hears Shane's voice in the distance, urging him to stay, telling him to focus. Ilya releases the breath he didn't realize he's held, settling in the bed as he tried to relax.
The first thing he notices is how it isn't completely dark at all. A sliver of lamplight shines through the edges of the blindfold, and the lingering light dances across his lids. He closed his eyes completely, and took stock of his surrounding with his remaining senses.
He felt Shane retreat, probably relieved that Ilya has calmed down. The smell of their shared bodywash wafted in the space Shane vacated, the floral scent hitting his nose as his senses work in overtime. He could hear the faint panting of someone in the room, and he realizes with a start that it's him, his tongue darting out to taste the moist texture of his lips. He shivers, and he catalogues the feeling of his arms and legs against the softness of their sheets. Ilya waits with baited breath.
"Oh fuck, Ilya, look at you," Shane says in awe, absolute desire coating his voice. Ilya forces himself not to squirm, and his hands bunch the sheets in an effort not to.
"Shane please—"
He hears the rustle of clothes first before Shane's socked feet taps lowly towards him. A heap of heavy somethings hitting the floors somewhere makes Ilya jolt in the realization that Shane had forgone folding his clothes. Fuuuck. Ilya knows they're both goners at this point.
"I'm gonna undress you now, okay?" Shane breaths tentatively, hands palming Ilya's body.
"Make it sexy, please," Ilya chuckles, heaving now as Shane gropes around his waist to tug his shirt off, a distracted hum answering Ilya's call for teasing, to no avail. It's one of Shane's qualities that has always kept Ilya going: when he sets his eyes on something, he'll do whatever it takes to finish it before anything else. Right now, he's doing Ilya, and fuck.
"Lift your hips," it's a command Ilya barely registers, but his body complies either way, attuned to Shane the way his limbs move together effortlessly. His waistband slides down his waist to his thighs in slow motion, and Shane mutters a low fuck as he sees that Ilya is not wearing anything else. Ilya grins.
Despite being temporarily blinded, Ilya finds humor when he mouths to Shane: "Like what you see, baby?"
"Shut up."
"Yes, sir," Ilya saved Shane's hitched breath for later, and groans when he felt a firm hand wrap around his cock in a sure grip. "Oh fuck, Shane."
Shane is quiet as he moves his hands up and down, his presence a physical weight right beside Ilya on the bed. Ilya searches for his other hand around the sheets, and breathes as they were entwined together. The movement continued, and he could feel the sloppy way Shane's hand slides down his already wet shaft, the sounds growing louder in the quiet around them.
An abrupt thumb to his slit made him thrust his hips up, and he moaned loudly against the heightened touch. "Oh fuck— oh…"
"Good?"
"So good, малыш, ah—" Breathing through his open mouth now, Ilya minutely hitches his hips up to follow Shane's hands as they touch the skin of his groin. His leg kicks slightly as the weight on his cock disappears, Shane's large hand settling on his goose-bumped hips to stop his motions.
"Stop doing that," Shane admonishes sternly, and Ilya's world falls as he realizes it's one of those times. No.
"Shane, please— I need— oh fuck!" He swears loudly as he feels the wet swipe of Shane's tongue on the underside of his cock, laying limply and oozing freely against his stomach. His head thrashes against the sheets wildly as he realizes how intense all these is, the absence of his vision doubling the intensity.
It's when Shane kisses and swallows his tip that he realizes that he's close, already. Fuck.
"Shane, I—" Ilya breathes through his nose airily, moans echoing carelessly around the room. "I'm gonna come, Shane— baby, ah—"
The little devil doesn't stop and moves even faster, hollowing his lips and sucking on Ilya's cock to drag it across his tongue filthily, the tip touching the back of his throat for every plunge of his head, and oh god, he's gonna come.
It's with desperation that he manages to grasp Shane's face in the dark and slide his hands through his hair later as he allowed himself to thrust up one last time, his body tightening as his orgasm crashes through him.
"Fuck! Ahh— Shane, oh fuck, hnngg—" Shane continues moving, wringing Ilya's orgasm out of him and swallowing his cum completely, the clutch of his lips sealing his milk inside.
"Oh, yes…" Ilya sighs, and moved to straighten himself when he felt Shane swing his legs across Ilya's lap, a complete parallel of themselves just the morning yesterday. He makes a confused noise, furrowing his eyebrows as much as he can with the cloth still covering his eyes.
"Where are you going?" Shane croaks, his voice a pretty, low register following how he deep-throated Ilya just seconds before.
"What?"
"Don't you remember what I said?" Shane's voice is sultry now, a purring deep in his chest reverberating through their shared proximity, his hands resting on Ilya's chest as he lazily grinds his bare ass against Ilya's groin, and oh fuck.
"Baby, любимый, Shane, love of my life, I can't—"
"You can, and you will," Shane says decisively, and proceeds to grasp Ilya's traitorously hard (again!) cock with his wet hand, lining it up to touch against his hole.
"Shane please— I can stretch you instead, I can eat you out, blow you, please," Ilya's out of options now, but he needs to do whatever he can to stop Shane from wrapping his tight heat around Ilya or he'll die. Embarrassingly so.
Condescendingly, Shane coos: "But Ilya, I can only come when you fuck me," lies, lies lies! "and I want to ride you hard into the mattress, please, baby…"
Shane is babbling now, and Ilya is helpless to protest as he feels Shane's tightwetwarm—fuck, hole stretch around his girth, the lube Ilya can feel lathered generously around his hole easing the glide of his saliva-slicked cock in one deep dive.
"Oh fuck! Shane, please— ahh," Ilya whines, his wandering hands victoriously landing on Shane's hips, clear with the effort to either push or pull, yet he couldn't do anything.
"So big, Ilya…" Shane is actively moving now, a steady rhythm building up with his hips grinding back and forth as he rises up and down occasionally. His cries and moans echo around them, a mix of uhn, uhh, ahh— ah, pairs perfectly with Ilya's own exhalations of pleasure. Shane's leaning down now, the angle of his hips changing and hitting deeper as he bends on his elbows to get closer to Ilya's sweaty face.
"Fuck, baby, you feel so good— ohh," Shane mouths against his jaw, his nose caressing Ilya's own and moving against the cloth blocking his eyes.
Ilya moans again, the sounds quickly becoming like whimpered sobs as Shane continues to ride him, gingerly moving faster now, having built his momentum to chase his high.
"Shane…"
"Baby, my baby, doing so good, Ilya…"
Ilya is floating now. His eyes are tightly close, only the darkness remaining behind his eyelids now as Shane continues bouncing above him, taking and taking. He could pick up the faint scent of Shane's aftershave beneath his skin, the bodywash overpowered by the smell of sweat and sex between their bodies. His arms had fallen sideways from Shane's hips now, Ilya forgetting when it happened and only coming about now to bend them beside his head and grasp the sheets. Shane is panting against his ears, his lips trailing kisses and whispering filth from the crook of his jaw until he finally reaches Ilya's open mouth.
"So beautiful, oh Ilya…" It's whispered with reverence, and Ilya, with half his mind left, surges forward to clumsily fit his lips against whatever Shane he could reach. It doesn't happen though. Not when Shane's hands closed around the knot of the blindfold and tugged Ilya's head back, baring his neck towards a feral Shane babbling and whispering praises and insanities against his throat.
Ilya is weightless then. He thinks he came, deep inside Shane, his beautiful, pretty, freak of nature boyfriend who's still humping against his cock like a dog and wailing loudly, hips stuttering to chase his own completion. Fuck. Ilya is seeing white now, which should be confusing because he's clearly blindfolded.
I really am in heaven now.
Distantly, he can hear Shane moaning in the background and chanting his name as his hips slowed down into practiced grinds, moving back and forth as he works their orgasms out of the both of them. Fuck, Shane's hands were on Ilya's chest. He came untouched.
It's with a lazy yet self-satisfied grin that Ilya succumbs to the darkness engulfing him completely, and not because of being blindfolded this time.
"Ilya?"
Everything comes in increments. He hears Shane's worried voice first, so he reaches out in instinct to try and quell his worry with his weakly outstretched hand, Shane holding them back in return. Ilya could feel his relieved breath against his cheek, so he goes and turns that way, mouth pouted in a way that Shane's come to associate with wanting a kiss now. He gets one, albeit it being a light smooch pressed on his damp lips.
It's harder when he opens his eyes, though. It's a good thing the lamp's still the only light inside their bedroom, and knowing Shane, he must have planned to let it stay that way after everything. He takes in Shane in front of him first: alive, flushed, and smiling. His hair is swept back, and he's surprisingly devoid of sweat and other bodily fluids.
It's then that Ilya also realizes that they're under the covers, him on his left side of the bed and Shane on his own on the right. He's also clean of everything, his face refreshingly dry and his hips and thighs devoid of their sticky feeling whenever he and Shane just finished nasty filthy sex.
He's warm all over, he's wrapped around the arms of his favorite person on earth, and he's lying under the sheets inside their bedroom in a beautiful cottage in the middle of the Canadian woods. Life has never been so good. Especially so with Shane Hollander.
"Thank you," Ilya whispers, placing another soft kiss against Shane's lips and another against his flushed freckles.
"No, thank you, baby, for letting me," Shane whispers back, and Ilya once again thinks of how lucky he is that he loves Shane and is loved by Shane wholeheartedly. He's smiling faintly, and Shane is mirroring him with a beautiful smile of his own. And he's so sleepy, and so in love, but he can sleep first and say I love you in the morning because even without saying it now, they know true to their hearts that they feel the same way, unequivocally.