Archive of Our Own

“I miss you,” was the first thing Shane’s boyfriend, Noah, spoke into the phone, after a few days of not bothering to call.

They’d gotten together last summer, and had been together for a few months now, inching close to an entire year. He was at an away game with his volleyball team, and had informed Shane last minute, brushing it off with a wave of his hand and the classic excuse that he, ah, forgot. I forgot to call, I forgot to text, I forgot to tell you. The usual, really.

Currently, Shane was sitting on his couch, freshly showered and ready to just relax, give himself some well deserved rest after stressing over nothing.

Well, not really nothing. Noah had mentioned something about a plus one that he could take with him. Apparently there was an extra spot, because his coach had issues with budgeting and mixed things up. And since Noah was the captain, he’d been first choice when deciding who the spot could go to. Shane had perked up and asked if he could go, already thinking of what to bring with him.

But then Noah’s brows furrowed and he looked at Shane like he was crazy for even asking.

“Oh.. Sorry, babe,” he’d said, flashing Shane a sheepish smile. “One of my friends asked me first, and I already gave them the information and stuff. I didn’t think you’d wanna go, since, you know, you don’t like going out.”

Didn't want to go? Didn’t like going out? Of course he’d want to go, he could cheer on his boyfriend. And, if Noah really wanted, he could go with him to all the flashy clubs and parties, maybe force himself to deal with all the noise just to keep him happy. 

And friend? What friend? Shane was required to tell Noah about all of his friends, yet.. Noah could mention someone who Shane didn’t know in passing, and brush it off when Shane asked who he was talking about like it was nothing. He’d casually mentioned the rule to Rose before, and she was appalled, saying he was controlling, and that led to her attempting to “talk some sense” into him. 

“What friend?” 

Noah shrugged. “You don’t know her.”

Shane wondered who she was, but let it go after a while. It was late now, and his boyfriend finally agreed to call him since Shane was being adamant about it, insisting that they’d barely talked lately. 

“I miss you too,” Shane sighed into the phone, sinking further into the couch. “We barely talk lately.”

“Well.. We say, like, good morning and goodnight to each other every day, right?”

Shane frowned. “You haven’t said it back in like, two days. My messages are still marked as delivered,”

Noah cleared his throat, and Shane made out the sound of sheets rustling from his end. “Cmon, babe. I’m sorry. I’ll look at them later. Just been really busy, you know? With the guys, and the games and stuff. I haven’t had time to be on my phone, I’m always doing something.”

You’re not that busy if you can post on your Instagram story every night, Shane wanted to say, but he choked the words down—they tasted bitter on his tongue. Noah getting mad at him and ending the call wasn’t something he wanted right now. 

“That’s okay,” he replied softly. “I understand. How are your games going? Are you guys winning?”

“Yeah, yeah, we are. It’s fun.”

“Fun like how? I’m pretty sure practice isn’t fun, I know we play different sports but volleyball drills look pretty exhau—”

“Actually, uh, Shane. Can you—can you give me a minute?”

“Oh,” Shane blinked, nodding before he remembered Noah couldn’t see him. “Yeah, sure.”

“I’ll mute you really quick, hang on.”

Shane set his phone down on the couch and pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his chin against them as he waited.

If Noah thought he was muted, then.. he was wrong. More faint sounds of sheets rustling came from his end, then muffled laughing, and Shane’s brows furrowed. He picked his phone up again and brought it up to his ear, straining to listen, but unfortunately, he could only make out a few words here and there—see you, love, tomorrow, missed you. 

And the voice—unmistakably, it sounded like it belonged to a woman.

“Okay, I’m back. Oh, fuck,” Noah muttered suddenly, his breath catching, “was I not muted?”

“No, but it’s whatever.” Shane tried to keep his voice steady. No, he’s not doing anything. You’re overthinking, Shane.

You give the people you love the benefit of the doubt, right?

“…Okay,” Noah said slowly, skepticism evident in his tone. “Sorry about that, I was saying goodbye to a friend. But, anyways, how are you?” 

“I’m good. Practice was fine today, and I got to talk to you, so,” Shane replied, the tension easing as a small smile tugged at his lips. He shifted, resting his cheek on his knee. “I really missed you. I know it’s late for you, you’re in a different state and time zones are a pain in the ass. I might get bored, so I’ll probably ask Ilya if he could come over and play something with me.” 

Immediately, silence followed on the other end of the line. The warmth Shane had been trying to build to lighten the mood was gone now. Shane hated this, hated how it felt like walking on eggshells when he was talking to his own boyfriend. 

“Ilya?” Noah’s voice dropped, a cold edge to it. Fuck, he was angry, and Shane messed up. Bravo, Hollander. “Why are you hanging out with him again?”

Shane blinked, entirely caught off guard by the sudden shift. “What do you mean? He’s just coming over to play video games, he mentioned a new controller he picked up earlier. We’re just hanging out,” 

“Earlier? You didn’t mention to me at all that you were planning on seeing him today,” Noah snapped. “In fact, you barely mention him at all lately. What’s up with that, Shane? Are you just hiding when you see him now? Is that what this is?”

“Hiding it?” Shane retorted, sitting up straighter, his cheek leaving his knee. “Noah, I’m literally telling you right now. I just thought of him because you said you were busy. Why are you getting mad?”

“Because he’s an asshole, Shane! And you know I don’t like him, what the fuck is your problem? You keep doing this!” Shane winced, pulling his phone away from his ear as Noah barked into it, his voice rising.

Noah would never admit it—could never admit it, to Shane nor himself—the real reason why his blood boiled whenever Ilya’s name came up. Ilya looked at him as if he knew something Shane didn’t. His smug, teasing voice still lingered in Noah’s head since the last time he, Ilya, and Shane were all in the same room together. “Seriously, Shane. Noah? Come on, look at him. You are out of his league.” And Shane laughed it off softly, shaking his head and telling Ilya to be nice.

Noah felt inferior to Shane, constantly. He was a good catch, seemingly flawless in his eyes. Shane could have anyone, even Rozanov, yet he was still loyal. One day he’d realize that he could leave, he deserved better, and Noah knew it. 

So, he did the only thing that made him feel like he had a grip on the relationship: pushing, monitoring, controlling who Shane interacted with. It had even gotten to a point where Noah was beginning to get jealous of how much Shane spoke to his parents, and it was Shane’s turn for him to look at him like he was crazy when that happened, telling him his worries were all for nothing.

Instead of talking things out, though, he let his resentment build over time, and placed his anger on Shane, blaming him for everything that went wrong. 

“I just think it’s sketchy,” he continued. “You know how I feel about him, yet you wait until the last minute to casually drop that he’s coming over. Late at night. If I didn’t tell you that I was busy, when were you going to tell me about this? Tomorrow? Next week?”

Shane stared down at his couch cushioning, completely bewildered and hurt. This was unfair. He was still trying to move past the whole conversation thing he’d heard earlier, and now.. this. “It’s not like that at all,” Shane whispered, his voice cracking. “He’s my best friend, Noah. He’s just my friend. You know him. Can we not do this right now? All I wanted was to talk to you.”

Noah sighed loudly, muttering and grumbling about something under his breath.

“Noah, please,” Shane pleaded, his voice soft, almost begging. “It’s late. Don’t be so.. harsh. I’m not hiding anything from you. You mean a lot to me, and I’m just trying to find something to do while I wait for you to get back. Okay? There’s no reason to look at things like that.”

On the other line, Noah stayed quiet before he swallowed hard and sighed obnoxiously loud into the speaker, making sure Shane heard him.

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It’s whatever. I just.. I don’t like him around you. You’re mine, Shane. You know that.”

Shane sighed, scratching at his nose and bringing the phone closer to his ear. “Sorry,” he murmured, a bit relieved now. Noah was calm-er, at least. “But you don’t have to worry about anything. Truly.”

“Yeah, sure. Look, I’m sorry or whatever that I snapped.”

Shane’s heart softened immediately. “It’s okay, I know—”

“But I’m so alone in my hotel room right now, and it sucks,” Noah groaned. “I’m miserable, babe.”

“Oh,” Shane said softly, a crease finding their way to the middle of his brows. He knew where this was going. “Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?”

A hum echoed from the speaker. “Yeah, actually. You know what? Cheer me up. Send a pic, or something.”

“…A picture? Of what?”

“Come on, Shane, you know what I’m talking about,” Noah laughed, and Shane frowned. “Just one? Or two, I miss you. Let me see what you’re wearing, and.. oh, actually, do you still have the pair of panties you bought?”

Shane blinked, a bit startled once again, and his frown deepened. “The ones you made me get to ‘spice things up a little’? Yeah, I think so. You seem to really like those,” he said quietly.

“Yup. You look nice in them. So.. yes? I wanna pretend I’m looking at you. And it’s the least you can do after the whole Ilya bullshit.”

This was the usual. Whenever Shane had to be the one to apologize, which was way too often, it could never stay innocent. It always had to turn sexual one way or another, and something transactional that always left Shane feeling slightly hollowed out. Still, his curiosity and guilt about the girl's voice he’d heard earlier lingered in his mind. Was he really being cheated on? Things were starting to make sense—Noah had asked him a lot recently to keep his clothes on during sex, wear more feminine things like lingerie and like now, panties. If it satisfied Noah, Shane was more than happy to oblige, but still..

Fuck, no, you’re overthinking things again.

Shane just wanted to make Noah happy, and try to save this fragile relationship that seemed to be crumbling in his own hands. 

“Fine,” Shane murmured, shifting to sit on the edge of the couch and stand up, making his way to his room. “Give me a second. Do you still want to stay on the call?”

“No. It’s really late here, and I kind of need to head to bed soon. I’ll text you goodnight or something, okay? I’ll be waiting,”

Shane frowned and stopped in his tracks, glancing up at his bedroom door. “Can you just.. stay on a little longer? Sorry, I know I’m being clingy, I just..”

“No,” Noah groaned. “I have to go. Hurry up, okay?”

Shane sighed and took his bottom lip into his mouth, worrying it. “Okay. Sorry. Goodnight.”

He pulled the phone away from his ear and watched as Noah ended the call, and his home screen was visible again—it was a picture of himself in Noah’s volleyball jersey, smiling and holding up a framed picture of him. That just made him feel worse, almost like this whole situation was being rubbed in his face. He walked over to his bedroom door, pushed it open and was about to set his phone down to look through his drawers, when a notification from Ilya flashed across the top of his screen. Instinctively, he clicked on it, opening their messages.

Oh, right. Shane picked up his phone again and smiled at Ilya’s message, laughing to himself and shaking his head. Ilya was nice. He always checked in on Shane, made sure he took care of himself, and was always willing to spend any ounce of free time he had with him. They were best friends, after all. His thumb hovered over the message to click on it while he thought of a reply, but then another one came in, pushing Ilya’s message out of view. 

Shane’s thumb hovered over Noah’s text. The comfort from Ilya’s text was short lived, replaced by a faint sense of dread. Sometimes Shane questioned why he was still with Noah in the first place if all he ever did was make Shane feel bad, but he brushed it off most times as he was stressed out or having a bad day. 

Deep down, Shane knew he would leave him soon and put an end to how toxic of a relationship this was becoming—it was just a matter of time. 

He put his phone back down and started rummaging through his drawers until he found the pair, folded neatly and stashed in the back of the very last one. Black and lacy—Noah had insisted on it being lace, and said that black was his favorite color.

Black was Ilya’s favorite color, too. 

Moving on autopilot, Shane stripped himself of his shorts and slid the panties on, quickly snapping a few pictures and randomly selecting whichever one looked the best. He was so exhausted, so entirely drained from the emotional whiplash of going back and forth with someone who claimed to love him, that he wasn’t really paying any attention to what he was doing. His mind was elsewhere, thinking about how to respond to Ilya, and oh, right. He was on his way, Shane needed to tidy up his dorm a bit, and thank god his roommate wasn’t around right now. Coincidentally, he was also on the volleyball team, and went for the away game, dodging Shane’s questions about what they’d be doing there. 

He tapped on his boyfriend’s message and sent a picture along with a quick apology, then Ilya’s, sending him a picture of the brand of chips he wanted, along with a protein shake he liked. He tossed his phone onto the bed and started re-folding anything he’d messed up, waiting for the ding! from Noah that’d signify he got it, and then this whole thing could be over with. 

A few minutes dragged by in silence. Shane was in the living room now, (thank god for bigger housing) and was busying himself with wiping things down when his screen lit up—Noah’s contact. 

Surprised, Shane picked it up, tucking his phone in between his shoulder and cheek. “Hello? I thought you were asleep,”

“Where is it?” 

Shane’s brows furrowed. “I sent you the picture already. Maybe it’s your connection, wait a bit.”

A harsh laugh echoed through the room, followed by a wow, like he couldn’t seem to wrap his head around what Shane was saying. “My connection? Are you hearing yourself right now? My connection is fine, Shane. I’ve been sitting here for, what? Ten, twenty minutes? Did you change your mind? Are you seriously blowing me off right now?”

Okay, what? Shane ran a hand through his hair, tugging at a few strands—something, anything to figure this out. “What? No, Noah. I sent it. Check your texts, I sent it like five minutes ago. And can you not talk to me like that? I’ve told you before that I’m not the reason for your anger, don’t project it on me. I don’t like it.”

“I am checking! And what you did send to me is something completely different? What in the world am I going to do with a picture of a protein shake? Is this a joke?” 

Oh. 

Instantly, Shane sat up, pulling his phone away from his ear and switching to his messaging app. He opened his texts with Noah, hoping against hope, and—fuck. 

“No, no no no—”

Just like he said, a picture of a vanilla protein shake stared him right in the face. Shane’s heart nearly dropped to his stomach and he swallowed hard, clicking out the messages to go to his texts with Ilya, hoping and praying it hadn't been sent, that he’d been too distracted to hit the send button, and it was still saved as a draft. Shane’s only saving grace was that it was still marked as delivered, but that was once again short lived when it switched to read before a typing bubble appeared, then disappeared. Then Ilya’s text came in, and oh, he was fucked. 

Whoops. Shane’s eyes were glued to his recent message, and there it was, the picture that was intended for his boyfriend. The timespan that would have allowed him to delete the message for everyone was long gone now. 

“Shane? Hello? Why are you quiet? Did you send it or not?”

“Noah, fuck, just stop,” Shane groaned, tossing his phone aside and dragging his palms down his face harshly. “I can’t— I’ll deal with this later, can you please just go to bed?”

“What? Are you kidding me?”

“I said I can’t deal with this shit right now, okay?” Shane snapped, his voice cracking. “I can’t deal with you right now. Actually, you know what? I can’t do this entire conversation anymore, goodnight. We can talk more when you get back, doing this over the phone clearly isn’t going to work.”

“You don’t get to shut down on me, and what are you even talking about?” Noah spat into the phone, louder this time. “You promised me a picture, and now you’re suddenly picking a fight? What has gotten into you? Are you crazy?”

Jesus, this was making Shane’s head hurt. “I’m the crazy one?”

“Yes! You can’t even keep your promises and you’re switching up out of nowhere, who does that?”

“Noah,” Shane breathed out, his voice sounding strained. It took every single ounce of self control to not yell at him right now, and risk someone being nosy enough to knock on his door and ask if he was alright. Fed up was an understatement. “Yeah, no, I’m done with you, I just said that. Fuck you, now goodnight,” and with shaky hands, he pulled the phone from his ear, and tapped the red end call button. 

The room fell eerily quiet, save for the frantic sound of his own pulse drumming in his ears. Noah was over with, he couldn’t worry about him right now, but Ilya? He had to explain himself, fast. Despite his efforts, when he managed to get his hands to stop shaking so much and call Ilya, it just kept ringing. His phone was definitely on, and he wasn’t picking up.  

“Oh my god,” Shane whimpered, bringing his knees up to his chest, digging his blunt nails into the meat of his calves. 

A knock came about ten minutes later, and Shane hadn’t moved. He was still sitting in the same position, one of his hands buried in his hair in an attempt to calm down, and he still had the lace on. He’d forgotten to take it off, and simply slipped his shorts back on before tidying up. 

“You have a key to my dorm, Ilya,” Shane groaned. “Just come in.”

Ilya stepped inside and closed the door behind him with a soft click. He toed off his shoes, dropped the plastic bag he was holding on the coffee table, and began to take off his jacket, leaving him in a t-shirt and sweats. He was tall—had been since freshman year when they went to high school together; he’d shot up four inches over the summer—and he made his way over to the couch, plopping down onto it right next to Shane. 

Blue eyes swept over the living room. It was clean, and Ilya knew what Shane had been doing—he only cleaned this much when he was stressed, even if Shane himself didn’t know. 

“So..” Ilya started, a bit wary, and scooted back to rest on the cushions. “I am a bit confused,”

Shane finally lifted his head and let go of his hair. “I would be too, I’m..” he sighed. “I’m really sorry. It was an accident.”

“Was meant for your boyfriend?”

“Ex boyfriend,” Shane winced.

Ilya paused, his mouth forming into an o-shape. “Oh,” he said quietly, and sat up when Shane turned his head to meet his eyes. “So, then.. I am assuming Noah finally proved himself to be a piece of shit, yes? Or am I wrong?”

“Yeah, sure, whatever the fuck he is,” Shane rolled his eyes, sighing once again. 

“Do you want to talk about it? We can throw, ah.. a pity party. I did that for Sveta once. Get drunk, cry, talk shit, watch movies and eat snacks?”

“No,” Shane grumbled, although it came out more like a laugh. “We have practice coming up so I can’t drink right now, I’d rather not cry over someone like him, we can talk about what happened later, and nothing really sounds good right now. Sorry.”

“Boring, but is okay,” Ilya huffed playfully. “Anyways, though. I got what you wanted, or at least what I think you wanted. Your gross veggie chips are in the bag, and I got you the chalky protein shit you like. I don’t know how you drink that, but is whatever,”

Shane smiled. “How did you know? I was gonna send you a picture of it, but, then, you know.”

“You always drink it,” Ilya shrugged. “If not that, then it’s ginger ale or water, something like that.”

Shane felt his heart swell in his chest. Ilya always paid attention to tiny things, unlike Noah. It was nice to be cared for, and to be acknowledged for once. “Wow,” he breathed out. “Thank you.”

Ilya laughed. “Is just a protein shake, Hollander,”

“Yeah, I know, I just.. Everything is just a lot right now, actually can we—can we watch a movie?”

“Yes, sure, whatever you want. I pick, or?”

“You can pick,” Shane replied, leaning to grab a throw pillow and drag his finger tips against it.

“Good choice,” Ilya nodded, but quickly trailed off when he saw a glimpse of lace peeking out from the waistband of Shane’s shorts. He wasn’t staring, maybe just a quick glance to Shane’s lap and back up. 

Shane glanced over at him. “What?”

“No, no, nothing,” Ilya shook his head, swallowing down the spit that was starting to pool in his mouth. 

“I know you better than that, don’t lie to me too,” Shane frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Did you change?”

Shane’s face went hot. “I told you it was an accident, Ilya. The picture. I wasn’t trying to—”

“Yes, I know that,” Ilya tossed the remote aside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But you did not answer my question. Did you change?”

Shane stared at him. Silence kept growing between them, and Ilya was starting to regret asking. Maybe he’d just made things weird, Shane had just broken up with his boyfriend after all, and—

“No,” Shane whispered. “I didn’t change, I still.. have them on.”

Ilya breathed out slowly, a tiny bit relieved. He’d been holding that breath for years, actually, and respected Shane’s decision about them just being friends. But.. “Can I see?”

Nobody had actually cared enough to be interested in Shane the way Ilya did. Not with their voice steady, and their hands resting on their open thighs, actively engaged in everything he said. Most times Noah was turned away from Shane whenever he spoke, busy on his phone, responding with tight smiles and blunt yeah’s and sure’s whenever he talked about something. 

Initially, Shane’s curiosity about lingerie was his own thing. He’d been looking around, saving pairs he found pretty but was too shy to actually buy. When Noah found out about it, he’d been ecstatic and bought Shane tons of pairs, even going as far as to ask him to dress up as a girl and wear makeup during sex, which Shane wasn’t all too comfortable with, but anything to make him happy.

This was different, though. Ilya always looked at him like he was something worth waiting for.

Shane’s fingers found the hem of his shorts—cotton and grey—and with a slight tug, underneath them, was lace.

He pulled the waistband down an inch, then two. The black tiny bow at the front appeared first, then the deliberate scalloped edge, and then, the full expanse of black mesh stretching across hips he always thought were too broad, and often made him feel clumsy in the fabric. The shorts pooled around his thighs and out of embarrassment he kept his head down, feeling uncomfortably exposed. 

“Fuck,” Ilya cursed under his breath. “Shane. Look at me,” 

Shane glanced up, and met his eyes. A pretty shade of red flush adorning the apples of his cheeks. He’d braced himself for the inevitable look of disgust that would be plastered across Ilya’s face, for his brows to furrow and for him to throw a joke in Shane’s direction about being way too curious, and with a tight smile, ask if he could change into something “acceptable.”

But Ilya’s expression wasn’t even close to that. He raked his eyes up and down Shane’s frame, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze dropped down to Shane’s lap and when Shane followed his eyes, he realized Ilya was looking directly at the lace on his skin, zeroing in on the tiny black bow on the front. 

“I hated him,” Ilya said suddenly, his voice quiet. “His hands on you, his mouth. I remember every time we all hung out together he would always be so close to you, and touch you so many times, like he was trying to rub it in my face that he had you,” Ilya continued. “You texted me about fighting and him making you cry so many times, I should have said something..” he trailed off, sighing. “I should have told you I was serious when I said you deserved better. I wanted to be better,” 

Shane’s lips parted and his breath hitched, his heart hammering against his ribs. “You?”

“Yes. If it was for you, then yes,” Ilya gave him a smile that touched his lips, but didn’t quite reach his eyes. “And then you sent the picture, I thought I was seeing things.. You’re so pretty, Shane. I am glad you did not send it to him. Have wanted to tell you that for years now but I kept quiet, you know?”

“Ilya..”

“Tell me to stop if you want me to. I can shut up, we can play whatever you want and pretend this never happened.”

Shane stared at him, and after a while, he very slowly shook his head.

Ilya grinned and closed the distance between them, now sitting close enough to Shane that he could smell on his skin the soap he always used—minty and clean—and Ilya’s hand came up. He hesitated, just an inch from the curve of Shane’s jaw, then cupped his cheek, almost impossibly gentle.

“You are shaking,” Ilya noted.

Shane smiled, his gaze flickering down to Ilya’s lips for a split second before returning. “I know.”

“Good nervous or bad nervous?”

Ilya was rewarded with a laugh from Shane, soft and breathy. “I don’t know yet..”

“Can I help you figure it out?”

Quickly, Shane nodded, his lips parting further. “Yeah, please, anything to forget about him,”

Ilya leaned forward, closing the remaining distance between them. His lips touched Shane’s in a soft, tentative brush, silently asking is this okay? Can I kiss you? Shane exhaled shakily against Ilya’s lips and chased the kiss when he pulled away for a split second, all the tension in his body melting away as he sunk further into the couch, into Ilya’s hold. As Ilya deepened the kiss, Shane’s hands tangled desperately into Ilya’s t-shirt, pulling him closer. 

When they broke apart, Ilya’s thumb traced the waistband of the panties. “If you want to use me tonight to forget about him, I do not mind, if it makes you happy.”

Selfless, that’s what Ilya was. Hurt flashed across Shane’s face. “No, Ilya, that came out wrong,” he frowned. “He’s a piece of shit, okay? I was so focused on trying to fix the relationship that I didn’t even realize what I had in front of me,” Shane sighed, and reached up to brush a curl back from Ilya’s forehead. “I’m sorry.”

Ilya nodded, pressing his lips together in a terrible attempt to hide the giddy smile that eventually broke across his face, flashing all of his teeth. One of them in particular was a bit whiter than the rest—he’d gotten one of his front incisors knocked out in a fist fight on the ice after talking too much shit during a game, and laughed his ass off about it with Shane on the phone, showing off the gap in his teeth right before he was about to get it fixed. He’d even tried to whistle through it, and that sent both him and Shane into a laughing fit that left them in tears. Jeez.

“Mm. I accept your apology. Only because you are very, very pretty in these,” Ilya said, hooking a thumb under the waistband and lightly snapping it against Shane’s skin. “You put these on for him, or?”

“Kind of,” Shane choked out, his hips twitching. “He asked me for a picture with them on, that’s how this whole thing happened in the first place.”

“And he did not get to see, his loss,” Ilya shrugged. “Did you want someone else besides him to see you in this?”

A whimper. Shane couldn’t help it. “Maybe,”

“Who?” Ilya’s fingers slid down, his palm pressing flat against the front of the lace, drawing a groan from Shane. He was already half-hard under Ilya’s touch, and involuntarily, his hips bucked up into Ilya’s hand. 

“You,” Shane managed.

“Me?” Ilya’s voice dropped to something low and sultry, dark and sweet, and it rushed to Shane’s head, sending pulses of sparks rushing through his body. “You wanted me to see this? Watch you make yourself all pretty? Did you want me to touch you through them and tell you how good you look in them?”

“Yes, please, Ilya—”

“You know, I was driving when I got your text,” he hummed, dragging a finger along Shane’s bulge that was straining against the fabric. “I almost crashed my fucking car.”

Shane’s head fell back. Suddenly, the ceiling was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen in his life, because if he even dared to look at Ilya’s face again, he might’ve come right on the spot. 

“Can I take these off?”

Shane forced his head upright. “The—?”

“No no, not the panties. The shorts. Want you in just the lace,” Ilya’s hand stilled. “Is that okay?”

Shane nodded, before he realized actual words were required right now. “Yeah. Yes, that’s—yes,”

Gently, Ilya slid Shane’s shorts the rest of the way down his legs, and onto the floor. Save for the hoodie he was wearing, the lace that left nothing to to the imagination and his socks, he was completely bare, and Ilya’s gaze was nearly eating him alive.  

“Lie back. Do you have lube?”

“Check under the coffee table,” Shane replied while leaning back, grabbing a throw pillow and placing it under his head. 

“Why do you have coffee table lube?” Ilya asked while grabbing the tiny bottle, one of his brows raised.

A groan left Shane’s lips. “Doesn’t matter,”

Ilya hummed and dropped the bottle next to him on the couch, shifting to nudge Shane’s legs—one arm hooked under his knee, spreading them open, the other hand tracing along the lace again. 

“Do you know what I was thinking about?” Ilya’s fingers trailed down, down, until he found the damp spot where Shane was leaking through the fabric. “Every time he made you cry, I wondered what you’d sound like if I did that to you, but different way, yes? Maybe if someone actually took their time with you.”

His index finger found the edge of the lace, where inner thigh met crotch, and he tugged it aside. The first touch of skin on skin drew a gasp from Shane, and Ilya pressed his fingertip to Shane’s entrance, biting his lip when he felt it clench around nothing. Shane was so responsive, and Ilya couldn’t help himself. He grabbed the bottle of lube and squeezed a generous amount into his palm, warming it. 

“I thought about this,” Ilya breathed, leaning forward. “Fucking you so good you’d forget your own name. Ah, I bet stupid Noah couldn’t do that for you, could he? I wonder how he got you when he doesn’t even know how to fuck such a pretty thing like you properly.”

“Please,” 

“Please what?”

Shane’s nails dug into the couch—tiny little crescent marks would probably be left behind after. 

“Please, Ilya, please—”

A lube slicked finger slipped past Shane’s rim—it was one digit, just one, but Shane’s back arched off the couch instantly, clenching hard. 

“When was the last time Noah fucked you?”

“Two weeks ago,” Shane managed.

“Okay, but I meant when was the last time he fucked you with your pleasure in mind?” Ilya worked him open before adding a second, waves of satisfaction washing over him when he curled them upwards and drew a long moan from Shane. 

Shane cursed under his breath, shifting his hips forward to try and fuck himself back on Ilya’s fingers. “I don’t—oh fuck, I don’t remember,”

“Makes sense, you have seemed miserable lately. How does this feel? Better than his dick?”

“Yeah,” Shane moaned, his jaw going slack. “So much better, thank you Ilya,”

“There you go,” Ilya drawled, smiling. His free hand found the hem of Shane’s hoodie, pushing it up until it bunched up right above Shane’s pecs. 

“Did Noah ever touch you like this?” 

Shane’s eyes fluttered shut and shook his head, moaning into the pillow. “No, nobody, just you,”

“Nobody,” Ilya said to himself, rolling the word around on his tongue. It felt nice to say—just him, only him. He gave Shane’s pec a quick squeeze and brushed his thumb over Shane’s nipple, the calloused pad of it dragging across the brown peak. “So I’m the first?”

Shane arched, a tendon in his neck going taut and he let out a whimper when Ilya curled his fingers up once again, hitting his sweet spot. The roughness of Ilya’s thumb on his chest, the feeling of Ilya’s fingers driving deep inside of him clouded Shane’s mind with nothing but pleasure. Ilya remembered how prettily Shane flushed when he was embarrassed or shy, and he always held back the urge to take him right then and there and find out how far down it really went. And now that he had Shane under him, exactly where he wanted, Ilya was in awe. 

“Answer me.”

“Yes, fuck, Ilya. You’re the first, Noah didn’t—didn’t know how to touch me, holy shit,”

Ilya hummed in approval and lowered his mouth, his teeth grazing over the brown nub before he took it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, hot and wet, and Shane’s hands flew to Ilya’s hair, tangling themselves in his curls with little thought. 

Shane was absolutely soaked. Pre cum leaked from his tip, seeping through the fabric and dripping down onto Ilya’s fingers. The panties were ruined—he’d have to buy new ones, definitely, this time for Ilya. Bows, more lace, high-waisted, maybe even a thong or two; Ilya liked pretty things, and Shane was one of them, if not his favorite.

“You’re close,” Ilya said, lifting his head and pulling off Shane’s nipple to press a kiss to his sternum. “Wanna see you cum just like this, just from my fingers, yes?”

“Ilya,” Shane whined, tugging at Ilya’s curls. It hurt, and Ilya cursed under his breath, the suddenness of it all causing him to press his fingers deeper inside Shane. “Fuck, I can’t, it’s too much,”

“You can.” Ilya sped up, and he took Shane’s nipple in between his thumb and index finger again, pinching and tugging and rolling the bud between his fingers, till the sensation bordered on too much. “You’ve been so good, Shane. Taking my fingers so well, don’t you want to be good for me?” 

“Uh huh,” Shane nodded clumsily. He forced his eyes open, and Ilya took in the image of him—warm brown eyes gone dark with want, the slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“Then cum, let me see you,” he grinned, crooking his fingers up once again.

Shane barely registered that he was coming until he felt wave after wave of pleasure rip through his body, his hips jerking forward as hot spurts of cum soaked the front of his panties, the fabric turning even more wet and sticky against his cock as he pulsed again and again. His thighs trembled around Ilya’s hand, his breath coming in short gasps as Ilya continued fucking him through it, until Shane’s fingers were weakly curling around his wrist, tugging it away. Only then did he pull his hand free. 

Shane was still catching his breath when he heard the sound of foil tearing, and he lifted his head to see Ilya rolling a condom down his thick cock, and the sight made Shane’s spent cock give another weak twitch inside his ruined underwear. Ilya hooked his fingers into the waistband, dragging them down just far enough to expose his ass, leaving the cum soaked front still pressed against his cock. Ilya lined himself up with Shane’s entrance, pressing his tip past his rim. 

He glanced up, his eyes meeting Shane’s, dazed and purely gone. “Do you want this?”

“I want you,” Shane slurred, nodding. “I want this, please,”

“Oh,” Ilya cooed, bringing one of his hands up to flick Shane’s nipple, laughing when he jolted. “You want what? You have to be specific,”  

“Want you to fuck me, please, want you inside of me,” Shane felt hot all over, and his pulse was ringing in his ears. 

Ilya nodded—his fingers alone were thick, but nothing could have prepared Shane for the feeling of Ilya’s cock pressing into him. 

Shane’s eyes rolled back, a gasp slipping past his lips when Ilya pushed inside, the thick head of his cock hollowing him out in the best way possible. Inch after inch Ilya sank into him, and Shane could feel every ridge, every vein as Ilya’s cock carved out space inside of him. He was so much bigger than Noah—thicker, longer—and Shane’s hole fluttered around the intrusion, struggling to adjust while Ilya pressed forward. 

“Fuck,” Shane choked out, his fingers coming up to curl into Ilya’s t-shirt, tugging him closer. It felt like he was being split open, like Ilya was reaching places Shane himself didn’t know existed inside of him. Fullness—it was overwhelming, nearly too much, but Ilya’s hips pressed flush against Shane’s ass, bottoming out and giving him time to adjust.

“Is okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, please, you can move now. Don’t stop,” 

Ilya pulled back, almost all the way out, then thrusted back in hard enough to make Shane cry out.

“Fu-uck,” Shane groaned, his voice cracking. “S’good, Ilya, keep going. Love how you feel inside of me, oh my god,” 

“Yeah? This is what you wanted? Someone who actually knows how to fuck?”

Shane could only nod, his thoughts melting into a warm, cloudy haze. The world outside of Ilya simply ceased to exist. Shane felt as if his mind had been dunked in syrup, slow and heavy, unable to catch or make a full sentence. His eyelids fluttered, too heavy to keep fully open, and a thin trail of drool slipped from the corner of his lips, dampening the pillow beneath his cheek. He’d probably complain about the mess later, but he didn’t care, couldn’t bring himself to care about anything but the feeling of Ilya’s cock driving into him.

“Look at you,” Ilya cooed. “Drooling and making a mess all over your couch, stupid boy cannot even talk properly anymore.” He laughed, wiping a thumb across Shane’s slack lower lip. “Nobody’s ever given it to you right, have they, Shane?” 

“Yes, Ilya, fuck,” Shane nodded frantically—his mind felt like cotton at the edges, blank and void of everything, and all he could do was zero in on the feeling of Ilya’s cock dragging in and out, in and out of him. Whatever Ilya said was instantly met with a variation of a yes, he would’ve agreed to anything. 

“Yeah? Did he ever make you cum twice in one night? Is that why you stayed with him?”

“Yes, yes, he—”

“Mm, well, I think you’re lying. I don’t think he did. But, I don’t really care about what he did, because you know this is better, and that he could never compare, yes?” 

Shane tried to answer, but only a whine left his lips. Spit trailed from the corner of his mouth down his chin, his eyes rolling back again as Ilya’s cock hit his prostate over and over again, each thrust punching air from his lungs and shooting sparks of pleasure up his body. 

“I would video call that asshole and make him watch my dick slide in and out of you, but, mm, I’m greedy. I don’t think he deserves to see you, Shane. Never deserved you in the first place,”

Shane’s legs wrapped around Ilya’s waist, his hands finding their way under Ilya’s t-shirt to claw at his back. There’d be long scratches left behind afterwards—Ilya would proudly show them off, preening when his teammates whistled and asked if whoever he’d fucked last night really had it good. Yes, he’d reply proudly in his head, Shane did. 

“Close?”

“Mmhm, yes—please, Ilya, please, gonna cum again,” Shane nodded frantically, dragging his nails down Ilya’s back. Dull pain lingered; he didn’t mind it at all, would take whatever, as long as it came from Shane. 

“One more,” Ilya said softly, giving him another rough thrust. “Go ahead, you can give me one more.”

Ilya rested one hand on Shane’s waist and trailed the other down, tugging the lace near Shane’s rim aside, giving himself a better view of where they were joined. Then, the lace ripped—the sound was soft, and it shouldn’t have been erotic but somehow it was, the threads of the fabric giving way as Ilya pushed them aside for easy access. 

Shane’s second orgasm was quieter than the first, a full body shudder that left him clawing uselessly at Ilya’s back, his chest heaving as Ilya fucked into him relentlessly. It was the hardest Shane had ever come before compared to Noah—his vision whited out and his thighs shook while wave after wave crashed through him, each one stronger than the last until he was sobbing from the intensity of it all. His cock kept twitching, thick ropes of cum seeping out of his panties, onto Ilya’s dick, and the couch beneath him. 

Ilya fucked him through it, burying himself deep inside as Shane’s hole squeezed and fluttered around his length. His hips stuttered before he leaned down, groaning into Shane’s shoulder and pulsing inside of him. By the time Shane finally went limp, he was a mess—drool on his chin, his hair messy, tears in the corners of his eyes. Ilya slumped on top of him, breathing heavily. They laid there for a bit, tangled together, their hearts pounding. 

After a few minutes, Ilya lifted his head—his curls were sticking up in different directions as a result of Shane’s hands in his hair, and his lips were swollen.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shane nodded. His voice was wrecked. “Yeah, I’m.. that was fucking amazing,” 

Ilya smiled, laughing softly. “I am glad, was good for me too.”

He sat up and shifted to slowly pull out, and Shane hissed at the newfound feeling of emptiness, his hole clenching around nothing. Ilya pressed a kiss to Shane’s chest and rolled onto his back beside Shane again, one arm immediately curling around his waist. 

“So,” Ilya said, staring at the ceiling. “Mario Kart?”

Shane’s laugh was hoarse. “You just fucked me stupid and now you want to play Mario Kart?”

Ilya shrugged and turned his head to look at Shane. “Is good aftercare. And, I want to do a lot of things,” he said, his eyes serious now. “Starting with telling you that this was not a one time thing. Not for me, at least.”

Shane’s heart fluttered a bit. “It wasn’t?”

“Shane,” Ilya groaned, smacking a palm against his forehead, “I have been gone on you since we were seventeen, or—maybe earlier than that. I don’t know, it took me a while to accept that. But, yes, and I am being serious. I’m not going anywhere.”

Slowly, a smile broke across Shane’s face, and he nodded. “Okay. I want you to know that I feel the same,” he affirmed with a kiss to Ilya’s forehead, “and.. I don’t regret this at all, alright? Jesus, I could’ve had this sooner if I just took off the rose colored glasses and stopped trying to fix things all of the time.. You were right, I do deserve better. And I have that now.”

If Ilya didn’t know better, he would’ve yelled something about Shane Hollander officially being his boyfriend out of pure happiness. And, well, he had to make sure someone knew that, at least.

“I am glad you’re aware now, even though it took you one million years. Anyways, give me your phone,” Ilya said, holding his hand out.

“Why? Are you gonna call him?” But Shane was already sitting up and grabbing his phone, leaning to drop it in Ilya’s palm. “If you are, I don’t care, as long as he ends up blocked. I’m tired,” he rested his head on Ilya’s chest again, nuzzling into it. 

“Mm, you will see.”

As expected, when Shane’s phone screen lit up, a bunch of missed calls from Noah were there. Then it buzzed in his hold, and Noah was calling again. Ilya smiled to himself and shook his head before he pressed the green “accept” button, and put it on speaker phone. 

“Shane! Finally! Look, I know you’re pissed, but you’re being dramatic, can we please just talk this out like adults?”

Ilya didn’t interrupt. His smile widened, and he sat there, letting Noah make his own bed—he’d have to lie in sooner than he thought.

“If this is about what you heard earlier, she’s just a friend, I swear. We were hanging out, and things just.. happened. I cut her off, okay? You know how it is when you’re stressed, you make bad decisions, and I figured you’d understand because you’re always so patient. Baby? Hello?”

Shane physically recoiled at the pet name, his nose scrunching up. Ilya glanced at Shane and held a finger up to his lips, and cleared his throat before speaking. 

“Hi, Noah.”

Dead silence. 

Then: “Who the fuck is this? Where’s Shane?”

“Shane is right here,” he replied calmly, his free hand finding Shane’s thigh and giving it a light squeeze. “He’s just a bit busy at the moment. You know, recovering. I kind of wore him out a bit, you know?”

The line went quiet, and Ilya could practically hear the gears turning in Noah’s head, realization slowly dawning on him. 

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, no, don’t worry. I do not think you’d be able to understand what I’m talking about, so,” he shrugged, “is not your problem.”

“Is this—Ilya? Oh, fuck you. You’ve been waiting for this, haven’t you?” Noah laughed into the phone, harsh and disbelieving. “I bet you’ve been waiting for any chance you got to swoop in when me and Shane are having a tiny misunderstanding, you’re crazy.”

“Ah, yes! You finally realized, after so long!” Ilya made a show of tapping on his chin, as if he was thinking. “Oh, I have even been counting down the days until Shane realized what he was truly worth. Thank you for fucking up once again, Noah,”

Shane’s throat went tight. He reached for Ilya’s hand, the one on his thigh, and threaded their fingers together. 

“You don’t know anything about our relationship,” Noah snapped. “Shane and I—”

“—Are done, yes, I know. You don’t have a boyfriend anymore, but is your fault, I think you understand that? It really sucks that you don’t get to call him that or fuck him anymore, I get it. I would be mad too if I fumbled him,” Ilya said simply.

“Give Shane the phone. You don’t have a say in anything that happens, this is between me and him, you piece of—”

“Actually,” Shane said, making a grabbing motion for the phone. Everyone went quiet. He pushed himself up, ignoring the pleasant ache in his body, and held the phone close to his mouth. “There’s nothing between us anymore. And I knew it, I just didn’t want to believe you would do.. that.”

“Do what?”

“Cheat on me. You think I didn’t notice? You’d angle your phone away from me or turn it off super fast all the time when I was around, and when you kept lying about hanging out with her because of one of your classes, I found out that her schedule was completely different, so. I’m not stupid. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

Noah started to say something, but Shane kept going. The words had been buried deep inside of his chest for so long, and now Shane couldn’t stop himself from letting them spill out.

“You never cared to introduce me to your friends, you made me feel as if the things I liked were weird, and you made me hide parts of myself because I knew you’d laugh if you found out. Do you know how isolated you made me feel? Pretending to be someone I’m not because the person who claimed to love me made me feel like a freak?”

“Baby, I never meant to—”

“Don’t call me that,” Shane spat. “Don’t ever call me that again, Noah.”

Noah was breathing hard on the other end. Shane could picture him—probably pacing, running a hand through his hair, trying to find a way to spin this so he could look like the victim. 

“I’m sorry,” he said finally. “Okay? Is that what you want to hear? I’m sorry.”

Shane sighed. “It’s not about what I want to hear anymore. It’s about what’s true, and the truth is that we’re done.”

“You can’t be fucking serious, Shane. You’re really going to throw away what we had for what? Some rebound?”

Ilya took the phone back. “I’m not a rebound. But if that is what makes you feel better, then so be it,” he shrugged. “Have fun thinking of everything you lost tonight, I hope you can get at least two hours of sleep in? Maybe three if you are lucky?”

Noah’s voice rose to a yell. “Oh my god, you don’t get to—”

Ilya hung up, and the room went quiet. Then, he laughed, bright and surprised as he leaned back against the pillows, his hand still intertwined in Shane’s, and shook his head. “I have been wanting to say something like that to him for so long, Shane. So fucking long.”

It was Shane’s turn to laugh, and he squeezed Ilya’s hand. “Me too,” he said, yawning. “I’m tired, Ilya. We can deal with the rest of this in the morning,”

“Ah, you out of all people are saying that? I thought you’d say, oh, Ilya, we have to clean up now, this is gross,”

“I would, if I could stand right now. Give me like, five minutes, then we’ll get up.”

“Yes, okay.”

“Did you block him?”

“Oh,” Ilya realized he hadn’t. “No, I should now?”

“Yeah, go ahead. Do whatever, I don’t care anymore, I’m really tired,”

Ilya paused, going quiet before speaking again. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So.. no Mario Kart?”

Shane lifted his head to glance up at Ilya, one of his brows raised. “I thought I just said I was tired?”

“Ugh,” Ilya groaned playfully, and laughed when Shane rewarded him with a pinch on his arm. He picked up Shane’s phone again, and for the last time, typed out a message: