Chapter Text
“Shane, where are you moy kotenek?” Ilya’s voice rang out down the hallway to where Shane was standing in the bedroom, carefully folding clean laundry and arranging it in his meticulously organized dresser.
“I’m in the bedroom,” he called back, listening for the soft thuds of Ilya’s footsteps as he approached. They had been tucked away in the cottage for two weeks since their public coming out, riding the wave of public attention, mostly positive, although there were still the people who were upset about it. Shane was trying not to think about them too much, trying to focus on the little time they still had alone together before the season started. He was comforted somewhat by the knowledge that Ilya would be only a couple of hours away this time, instead of a plane ride and a border crossing away.
Although he did have to admit to himself that the thought of Ilya stepping back onto the ice, zipping through bodies moving at a dangerously fast pace, made his heart beat so hard he thought it was about to crawl up his throat. That was something to talk about in therapy next week, definitely.
He was pulled from his musing by a kiss on the back of his neck and a pair of strong arms wrapping around his body, giving him a tight squeeze. He grunted slightly as the embrace compressed his chest, Ilya had clearly regained all of the muscle he lost following his injury, but Shane was no weakling himself, so he wiggled, leaning forward and puffing his shoulders out, breaking free of his boyfriend’s grip. He heard Ilya huff amusedly behind him, and he gave a tiny swat over his shoulder with the t-shirt he had been folding before he was distracted.
“Knock it off,” he grumbled, “Why are you trying to crush me?”
“Mmm, you are just so crushable,” Ilya hummed, leaning back in to press another kiss against the back of his neck, sending a shiver down Shane’s spine.
“You’re distracting me,” Shane huffed, although his lips quirked upwards slightly, betraying him, “I need to get this laundry folded.”
“If I really wanted to distract you, I would have tried different approach,” Ilya protested, moving around him to lean against the dresser, a dangerous smirk on his face.
Shane rolled his eyes, giving him a gentle slap on the chest as he went back to folding the t-shirt.
“Just a few more minutes,” he said, attempting to continue his task as Ilya persisted in distracting him.
“Why are you folding laundry anyways?” he whined, “Is almost 11 at night, you are neurotic man.”
“I’m doing it now because someone distracted me when I was supposed to be doing it earlier,” Shane said pointedly, tilting his head in his boyfriend’s direction. Ilya had been incessant when he tried to fold laundry that afternoon, whining that they were supposed to be relaxing, insisting that Shane come and lay with him out by the lake. Reluctantly, Shane had given in and followed him out to the chairs they had set up along the shore, rolling his eyes halfheartedly when Ilya pulled him down onto his lap, tucking the back of his head into his chest.
“Now we relax,” he had murmured, and started rubbing Shane’s neck gently, relaxing him to the point that he had forgotten all about the laundry until it was time for dinner, and then Ilya had insisted that he needed to eat, dragging him into the kitchen and depositing him on a stool while he cooked for them. After dinner they had sat on the couch and watched a movie, and by the time Shane had actually gotten around to folding the laundry, it was almost his scheduled bedtime.
“I could distract you again this time,” Ilya smirked, standing up from where he was leant against the dress and grabbing Shane by the hips, tugging him towards him.
“No,” Shane grumbled, placing a hand firmly against his chest, “Please let me finish, I only have a couple of shirts left.”
With a dramatic huff, Ilya leaned back, gesturing with his hands for Shane to continue, “Go on,” he replied, “I know you will not be able to relax at all tonight unless you do.”
“Thank you,” Shane sighed, and returned to folding, Ilya keeping his promise and patiently holding his hands at his sides until he finished, sliding the drawer shut with a satisfied exhale.
“There,” he said, stepping back from the dresser and looking at his boyfriend, “Now you can distract me as much as you want.”
With a grin, Ilya straightened up and stepped towards him, placing his hands firmly beneath his chin and pulling him in for a searing kiss. Shane gasped as their lips met, raising his arms to grasp at the other man’s waist, closing his eyes and letting him take the lead. When he felt Ilya’s tongue poke forward, he opened his mouth, letting their tongues slide against each other, the kiss quickly turning heated and desperate. Ilya’s hands slid underneath his thighs, gripping tightly and lifting upwards. Shane gave a tiny hop, wrapping his arms around Ilya’s neck and allowing himself to be hefted up into the other man’s arms.
They stumbled towards the bed, mouths working desperately against each other, tongues struggling for purchase in the other’s mouth. Shane felt himself tumbling down as Ilya let go of him, collapsing into the mound of soft, white luxury bedding that covered the king size bed. Ilya was back on top of him before he had even fully landed, clamoring over him and pressing their bodies together, muscles rolling against each other as they tumbled down. Shane moaned as Ilya’s tongue thrust its way into his mouth again, his hands sliding up his body to grip at his hips. He bucked upwards into the touch, trying desperately to gain as much sensation as possible. Ilya let out a low groan, reverberating against his lips, and his mouth turned up into a smile.
“Enjoying yourself there Hollander?” he murmured, smiling down at him with an infuriatingly smug grin.
“Shut up,” Shane grumbled, recapturing Ilya’s lips in a searing kiss.
He lost himself in it, letting himself float away on a cloud of contentment and pleasure. His hands slowly slid up under Ilya’s shirt, the hot skin of his palms burning against the flexing muscles. He groaned, rolling his body upwards into the sensation, his boyfriend letting out a small gasp against his lips.
“Enjoying yourself there Rozanov?” he smirked, throwing the other man’s words back at him.
Ilya rolled his eyes, not bothering to justify with a response, he just kissed him harder, sliding his tongue into Shane’s mouth to hear him moan. He could feel Ilya’s hands squeezing at his hips; the tight press of his fingertips was almost painful, and he hoped that there would be marks in the morning to remember this by.
Ilya pulled back, panting, his mouth slick and shiny with spit. Shane stared back at him, taking in the scene that filled his vision. His boyfriend’s curls were ruffled and messy, sticking up in awkward directions. His pale skin was flushed, cheeks glowing a gorgeous pink that Shane was resisting the urge to tease him over. Seemingly growing uncomfortable under his intense gaze, Ilya leaned forward again. Shane felt hands scrabbling at his shirt, and he lifted his arms, helping the process along as Ilya wrenched the fabric over his head, folding it carefully and dropping it onto the bed before leaning back down to recapture his lips, running both of his hands firmly up his toned stomach, fingers ghosting over his sides as his palms slid up towards his pecs, grabbing and squeezing. Shane let out a gasp against his lips and he pulled back, looking down at him smugly.
“Ilya,” he panted, grabbing a fistful of curls and tugging, attempting to lower his boyfriend’s mouth back to his own. The taller man resisted, leaning down to press kisses to his jaw, sliding down his neck and across his collarbones, working his way down the other man’s chest. With a smirk, he pressed an open mouthed kiss over one pec, and then the other, stopping to drag his tongue across the bud of each nipple as he worked his way across the expanse of skin.
“Fuck,” Shane gasped, tilting his head up into the touch, “Ilya.”
The taller man hummed, sounding pleased with himself as he continued trailing his mouth down his boyfriend’s body, Shane bending up into the touch with each press of his lips. He groaned as Ilya traced his tongue down the line of faint hair that ran down from his bellybutton and into his jeans, dipping softly underneath the fabric of his waistband.
“Ilya, wait,” Shane protested, tugging gently on his boyfriend’s hair to tug him backwards.
“What?” Ilya muttered, looking up at him confused, huffing when he noticed the concerned look on his face. “Shane, is fine,” he assured him, “Doctor said it was, remember?”
Shane groaned in embarrassment, covering his face at the memory. He still couldn’t believe that Ilya had actually asked his doctor if he was cleared to give blowjobs yet. The serious look on his face would have been funny if Shane wasn’t so humiliated.
The doctor hadn’t even seemed phased, responding to the question like it wasn’t at all an unusual one.
“That should be fine,” she had said, nodding professionally, “Just be careful, take things slow.”
Ilya’s devious grin could have lit up an entire city block, as could Shane’s beet red face.
“Is okay Shane,” Ilya said again, “I will be careful, okay?” he fixed his boyfriend with the most pleading face he could manage, “Please?” he begged, “Has been so long, you know I will make you feel good.”
Shane swallowed, trying not to let his nerves overtake him. He knew that the doctor had said it was okay, but the thought of hurting Ilya was absolutely unbearable. The throbbing between his legs was also starting to grow unbearable, and he was torn between the two, finally letting his body win out over his anxious mind.
“Just be careful,” he whispered, reaching down to rub a thumb over Ilya’s cheek, “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”
His boyfriend gave him a massive, toothy grin, “I will be careful,” he said when he saw the look on his face, “Promise.”
Shane nodded, letting his head fall back on the pillow as Ilya reached to grasp the buckle of his belt, sliding it over the thick leather and letting it fall open. Shane groaned, letting his head sink further into the pillow and Ilya smirked up at him.
“Gonna make it there?” he teased.
Shane didn’t answer, just panted up at the ceiling, which only made Ilya’s smug smile grow wider.
“Words, Shane,” he purred, “I need to hear your words.”
“I’m good,” Shane croaked, still staring up at the ceiling, “Please don’t stop.”
With a cheshire grin, Ilya leaned forward, dropping a quick kiss onto Shane’s lips before making quick work of ridding him of his pants and boxer shorts, leaving him fully exposed. He heard the fabric rustling as Ilya folded the material, placing it neatly on top of the shirt that he had placed on the bed earlier.
Bending down, he pressed a kiss to the Shane’s thigh, sticking his tongue out and trailing it along the skin, tracing upwards until he paused to suck one of his balls into his mouth, swirling his tongue as Shane arched upwards at the sudden suction, hand flying down to tug at the mop of golden curls that was nestled between his legs.
Chest heaving, Shane tried not to make too much noise, not to sound so desperate, but he was starting to lose the battle. It had been months since he had had Ilya’s mouth wrapped around him, and now that it was within reach, he had to bite his tongue to stop himself from begging. He let out a whimper as Ilya opened his mouth, pulling away with a ‘pop’, and grinning down at him.
“You going to beg for me, Hollander?” he teased.
“Fuck you,” Shane panted, but his mouth curled up into a small smile, “I’m not going to beg for shit.”
“Mmm, I think you will,” Ilya hummed, leaning down to lick a stripe up his cock, Shane gasping and thrusting upwards into the sensation, chasing more. The other man just pulled back, smirking, clearly amused with himself, “Well?” he purred, lowering his hand to wrap around Shane’s erection, pumping it slowly.
“If I remember correctly, you were the one begging just a minute ago,” Shane gasped, rolling his hips into his boyfriend’s grip, groaning when he felt a strong hand grab him by the hip, pinning him to the bed and restricting his movement.
“Ah, ah, ah,” Ilya scolded, ignoring the pleading look that Shane was shooting towards him, “Hold still,” he tightened his grip, resuming a slow pace, lowering his head to drop gentle kisses onto the hip that he wasn’t pressing into the mattress.
“Ilya,” Shane moaned, eyes screwing shut, mouth falling open.
“Words,” Ilya murmured, leaning down to lathe his tongue across Shane’s hipbone, licking a strip towards his cock, where his hand was still slowly jerking him off.
“I’m using words,” Shane panted, reaching down to grasp at the sheets, bunching the fabric into his fist. He opened his eyes, looking down at his boyfriend pleadingly.
“Hm, not the right words,” Ilya whispered, meeting Shane’s eyes as he leaned forwards, wrapping his mouth around the head of Shane’s dick, rolling his tongue across the skin before quickly pulling away, ignoring the tortured whine that erupted from his boyfriend’s throat.
“Ilya,” Shane gasped, hips bucking upwards despite the grip that the other man was still holding on his hip, “Please.”
“Closer,” Ilya smirked, leaning down to tongue at Shane’s erection again, sliding his arm across his stomach, pressing him more firmly into the mattress.
“I don’t know what you want,” Shane whined, throwing his head deeper into the pillow in frustration.
“I already told you,” the other man practically purred, “I want you to beg for me.”
“I am,” Shane groaned, opening his eyes to stare at the ceiling, “I said please.”
“Not good enough,” he could hear the smirk in Ilya’s voice even without looking at him, “Close, but not quite.”
Shane gasped when he felt a warm mouth wrap itself around the head of his cock again, tongue darting out to tease at the slit.
“Fuck, Ilya,” he moaned, hands flying down to tangle in his boyfriend’s hair, desperately trying to prevent him from pulling away again. He cried out when he felt the warmth retreating as Ilya pulled back yet again, leaving him panting and pleading on the mattress. “Please,” he groaned, tugging on the taller man’s curls, “I’m begging you.”
“Shane, Shane,” Ilya tutted, “Not very creative.”
“Oh, fuck you,” Shane gasped, head shooting off of the pillow to glare at the man lying between his legs, “Now you want creative?”
Ilya just smirked back at him, shrugging playfully as he reached down to wrap his fingers around his dick again.
“I know you know how,” he hummed, tongue darting out to tease at the slit again.
“God,” Shane groaned, eyes sliding shut, head falling back against the pillow. He swallowed hard, shoving his pride aside before he opened his mouth again.
“Please, Ilya,” he whined, rolling his hips as best he could, “Please suck my dick, I want your mouth so bad.”
“There we go,” Ilya smirked, sounding annoyingly pleased with himself, “Such a good boy.” He bent down, rolling his tongue across the head of Shane’s dick, fist pumping slowly at the base as the other man gasped and keened on the mattress. He pulled away in what felt like less than a second, a half sob tearing its way out of Shane’s throat as he thrust his hips forward, chasing his boyfriend’s mouth.
“Ilya,” he cried, lifting his head up to glare at him, “Why?”
“I want more,” Ilya hummed, still stroking his cock gently, fingers barely pressing against the skin, “You beg so prettily and I am greedy man.”
“You are greedy,” Shane agreed, groaning, “You’re unbelievable.”
“Yes, you’ve said this before,” Ilya grinned up at him, “I am unbelievable at sucking your dick,” he punctuated his remark with a gentle squeeze of his hand, ignoring the gasp that Shane let out at the sensation, “So beg me nicely, and I will give to you.”
Shane was starting to lose any remaining grip on his pride, panting and grinding his hips against the bed. He almost forgot to be embarrassed when he opened his mouth and said,
“Please baby, I need your mouth so bad. Give it to me, please, I’m begging you,” he could hear the pathetic whine in his voice, he almost sounded like he was close to tears.
He was expecting another snarky remark, so the strangled gasp that tore out of him when Ilya’s mouth wrapped around him again, immediately sinking all the way down, was completely out of his control. He groaned, fighting desperately to hold still, to stop himself from thrusting forward into the warm embrace of his boyfriend’s mouth, tongue flattened against the base of his cock, looking up at him with watery blue eyes.
“Holy shit,” he gasped, fingers tightening in golden curls, “Fuck, Ilya.”
His boyfriend hummed softly, eyes popping open to look up at him, hollowing his cheeks and sucking hard, watching Shane’s mouth fall open further still, a strangled moan tearing its way out of his throat.
“Fuck,” he cried again, tugging harder the hair tangled between his fingers, “Be careful.”
Ilya rolled his eyes, huffing annoyedly, but Shane just looked down at him, pleading with his eyes and he relented, giving him a nod of assurance.
“Okay,” Shane panted, leaning back and brushing his hand across his boyfriend’s forehead gently, “Just go slow.”
Ilya nodded again, letting his eyes flutter and resuming his task with obvious enthusiasm. Shane yelped, both hands fisting in Ilya’s hair as his head bobbed up and down, nearly gagging himself each time he swallowed him down to the base. He could feel his climax building up on him with embarrassing speed, months of nothing more than jerking off in the shower and a few handjobs when Ilya was feeling good had lowered his stamina to the point that he felt like a desperate teenager again.
“Fuck, Ilya,” he groaned, tugging on his curls in an attempt to pull him off, “You’re gonna make me cum.”
His boyfriend’s eyes popped open, quirking an eyebrow up at him as if to say, “Isn’t that the point?” He continued sucking and rolling his tongue, ignoring Shane as he tried to fight off the rising tide of his orgasm.
“Ilya,” he whined again, “Please, I don’t want to cum yet.”
The other man slowed, but didn’t pull off, continuing to suckle gently on the head of his cock, making Shane gasp, eyes rolling back in his head, the change in sensation almost sending him off the edge.
“I want to cum with you inside of me,” he whimpered, flushing red at the admission.
Ilya pulled off of him, the sudden lack of warmth leaving him gasping as the other man surged upwards, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Shane moaned into it, the firm press of Ilya’s stomach against his erection was dizzying, and he could feel the line of his boyfriend’s cock hard and solid against his thigh, still contained behind denim fabric. Running his hands down broad shoulders and over the line of Ilya’s waist, Shane tucked his fingers into the waistband of the taller man’s pants, slipping beneath his boxers and tugging, pulling forward until their hips collided. He groaned at the contact, Ilya taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into his mouth, flicking around possessively before pulling back to stare down at him, eyes hungry.
“That what you want?” he rasped, lips swollen and shiny with spit, “Want to feel me inside of you when you cum?”
“Please,” Shane gasped, rolling his hips upwards, pleased by the way Ilya’s breath stuttered at the contact. With a groan, the taller man reached down, taking a hold of him by the waist, preventing his body from continuing to gyrate against him. “Please,” he gasped again, tipping his head back.
“I will give you anything you want solnyshko,” Ilya murmured, bending down to press a kiss to his exposed throat, “Anything.”
With a whimper, Shane wriggled to free his arms, reaching down to fumble at his boyfriend’s belt, attempting to free him from his denim prison. Ilya chuckled against his neck, pulling back and shifting onto his knees to undo the belt himself, tutting softly at the whine Shane let out when they disconnected.
“One second,” he cooed, reaching a hand down to pat at one of Shane’s thighs, “So impatient.”
Unable to respond, Shane just rolled his eyes, ignoring the grin that Ilya shot in his direction. He swallowed as his boyfriend wiggled his hips, tugging the fabric of his jeans down over his thighs, his erection more obvious through the thin fabric of his boxers. Before he could stop himself, Shane leaned forward, sitting up and reaching for Ilya, pressing an open mouthed kiss right above where the tip of his dick was leaking, forming a small damp patch on the fabric.
“Shane,” Ilya growled, hands lowering to tangle into his hair, “Fuck,” he let out a low groan as Shane mouthed down the length of his cock, tonguing at the skin through his boxer shorts.
Shane’s mind was drifting away into a pleasant hum, thoughts growing thick and clumsy as he slipped deeper, the room disappearing, leaving him surrounded by nothing but Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.
Sliding his fingers underneath the waistband of his boyfriend’s underwear, he tugged the fabric down, Ilya’s erection bouncing free of the fabric and bumping against his lips. Without a second thought, he leaned forward, wrapping the head into his mouth and swallowing as deep as he could manage, nearly gagging himself and having to blink hard to clear the tears that sprung to his eyes.
“Blyat,” Ilya hissed, fingers tightening in the short strands of hair at the base Shane’s neck, “Fuck, Shane.”
His eyes slipped closed, his mouth dropping open, soft Russian curses falling from his lips as he rocked forward slowly, clearly trying to hold himself back. Reaching out and taking a hold of Ilya’s hips, Shane tugged forward, forcing his cock further down his throat, a muffled moan springing out of his mouth at the feeling. Ilya’s eyes shot open, staring down at him as if he were something precious, gaze completely awed.
“So good for me,” he groaned, rocking his hips forward with more force, Shane letting out another strangled moan, spit starting to slip out of the corners of his mouth.
“So good,” he groaned again, still staring, eyebrows furrowing together. With a pleased hum, Shane let himself sink into the feeling, forgetting his original goal as he met the slow thrust of Ilya’s hips, swallowing hard to push him deeper into his throat.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned, tugging at the dark strands of hair tangled between his fingers, “Stop, stop.”
He pulled off with a gasp, air whooshing into his lungs as the obstruction in his throat suddenly disappeared.
“Are you okay?” Shane croaked, looking up at his boyfriend with concern, panic starting to build in his chest, “Did I hurt you?”
“Nyet, moya lyobuv,” Ilya reassured him, taking in a deep shaky breath and rubbing soothingly at the back of his head, “You just need to stop if you still want me to fuck you.”
Shane grinned, fear slipping away and being replaced with a warm glow of pride.
“On your back,” Ilya murmured, leaning forward to give him a gentle push.
Shane collapsed onto the bed with a huff, letting his arms splay out by his sides, tangling his fingers into the sheets beneath him. He closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the pleasant buzz that vibrated under his skin, anticipation coiling in his stomach. The sounds of Ilya rifling around in the bedside table quieted as he found what he was looking for, sliding the drawer closed with a muted slam that made Shane jump slightly.
“Sorry,” Ilya murmured as he made his way back across the bed, dropping a quick kiss onto Shane’s forehead.
“It’s okay,” Shane hummed, letting his legs fall apart, Ilya settling between them comfortably, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at him, the intensity in his gaze making Shane’s heart rate kick up a notch.
“Ready?” Ilya murmured, bending down to kiss along his chin and jawline, stopping to nibble gently at the skin where his jaw blended into his ear.
“Please,” Shane gasped, arching his back into the sensation, hearing Ilya chuckle softly.
“Okay, lybumiyy,” he whispered, dropping a kiss onto his lips before leaning back and reaching for the items he had dropped on the bed beside them. Shane heard the cap of the lube bottle snap open and he settled himself back against the pillows, drawing his legs up so that his knees were bent, feet resting against the mattress. Ilya settled between his thighs again, lower this time, so that his face was level with Shane’s belly button, wrapping one arm beneath his thigh, the other hand sliding back between his legs.
“Okay?” Ilya whispered, and Shane nodded enthusiastically, unable to form a verbal response. He felt a slick finger probing against his entrance and he bit back a gasp, letting his muscles relax against the gentle intrusion. His head rolled back as the finger slid forward, pressing inside of him carefully but insistently, a firm, constant pressure that calmed the buzzing beneath his skin.
“Okay?” Ilya asked again, his warm breath ghosting over the skin of Shane’s toned stomach.
“Yeah,” he croaked, nodding eagerly, “So good.” He focused on breathing, trying to keep his muscles as relaxed as possible as Ilya slowly pressed his finger into him. It was good, but it wasn’t enough.
“I can take more,” he groaned, rocking his hips down, gasping as Ilya’s finger crooked against a new angle, a small jolt of pleasure shooting up his spine, “There,” he gasped, “Please.”
With a smirk, Ilya straightened his finger, ignoring the whine that Shane let out.
“Shh,” he soothed, “I’ll give you more.”
Shane felt a second finger pressing against his entrance and he blew out a breath, rolling his hips again, and groaning when it forced Ilya’s second finger up to the first knuckle.
“So impatient,” Ilya chuckled, pressing a kiss to his stomach, Shane only nodding frantically.
“Yes,” he groaned, “I am. So hurry up.”
Ilya chuckled again, but he obeyed, spreading his fingers apart slightly as he pressed deeper, Shane gasping lightly at the stretch.
“Still okay?” Ilya asked again, looking up at him with hooded lids.
“Yeah,” he croaked, “Please, more.”
He floated away on a wave of pleasure as his boyfriend continued to press his fingers in and out of him, the sensation scratching an itch deep beneath his skin that he hadn’t been able to satisfy in months. When Ilya crooked his fingers forward again, Shane gasped, back arching off of the mattress as he felt his climax suddenly approaching.
“Ilya,” he moaned, “I’m ready, come on.”
“Okay,” Ilya hummed, stretching his fingers apart a few more times before withdrawing them, reaching for the small foil packet that he had left lying on the mattress.
Shane let his head fall back against the pillow as Ilya tore it open, rolling the condom on and reaching for the bottle again, squirting some onto his fingers. Shuffling forward on his knees, he reached for his cock with a glistening hand, groaning softly as he ran his hand over himself, coating his erection in lube.
Shane swallowed as Ilya settled on top of him again, pressing a kiss against his collarbone before sliding up to press their foreheads together.
“Ready?” he asked, voice sounding strained.
“Yes,” Shane gasped, nodding enthusiastically, “C’mon, please,” reaching down, he grabbed hold of Ilya’s ass with both hands, tugging him forwards, groaning as he felt the tip of his cock pressing against his entrance.
Chuckling, Ilya pressed a kiss to his lips, swallowing the moan that fell from his mouth as he finally pressed into him.
“Fuck,” Shane gasped, muffled against his boyfriend’s lips, “Mmfm.”
Ilya surged forwards, deepening their kiss and drowning out any of the sounds that were leaving his lips. Shane could feel Ilya’s hands gripping his hips tightly, tugging him forward as he slowly slid into him, inch by inch. Impatient still, Shane rolled his hips, groaning happily when he felt Ilya’s pelvis collide with his, arching his back against the stretch of taking him all the way to the base.
“Shane,” Ilya moaned against his lips, mouth falling open slightly.
“Fuck me,” Shane insisted, rolling his hips again, “Please.”
With a groan, Ilya began to rock his hips forward slowly, head sliding down to rest against the mattress beside Shane’s, allowing his gasps and moans to fully fill the room. Shane felt his eyes rolling back in his head as Ilya tilted upwards, changing the angle and nailing his prostate in a firm thrust.
“Ilya!” he gasped, fingers scrabbling against his boyfriend’s shoulders, seeking purchase, no doubt leaving bright red streaks behind.
“That’s it, moya lyobuv,” Ilya groaned, turning his head to press messy kisses to the side of his face, sliding down to rest his head against the crook of Shane’s neck, “Let me hear you.”
“Ilya,” Shane moaned again, boneless as the taller man picked up his pace, grinding against his prostate with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through his limbs, a breathless gasp pressed out of his body every time he was rocked forwards.
Ilya was still moaning softly against the skin of his neck, pressing his face more firmly into the soft expanse. His grip on Shane’s hips was tightening, pulling him down to meet each thrust, the hard muscles of his abs rubbing across Shane’s cock where it was trapped between them, the feeling adding to the pleasure that was coursing through his veins. He wanted it to last forever, wanted to stay in this moment, with Ilya pressed against him, breathing heavily into his ear, pressing increasingly sloppy kisses to the skin of his neck as his thrusts became more and more desperate.
Each snap of Ilya’s hips sent a jolt of pleasure through his body, ricochetting up Shane’s spine and spilling out down his limbs, a frantic pace that he could hardly keep up with, taking in a gasping breath to fill his lungs before the air was quickly punched out with the next precise thrust, hammering directly into his prostate
“God,” he groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, “Fuck, you’re so deep.” With a whine, he buried his head deeper into the pillow, letting Ilya continue to pound him into the mattress. He couldn’t remember the last time he had been so desperate, so eager to feel every inch of his boyfriend’s cock buried inside of him, driving him more insane with every thrust.
“Fuck, Shane,” he heard his boyfriend groan, his tongue flicking out to lap up a trail of sweat that was tracing it’s way down his neck, “Are you close?”
Belatedly, he realized that he was. He was well on his way to tipping over the edge by the time Ilya’s words reached his brain, and all he could do was nod frantically, another strangled moan tearing out of his mouth as Ilya’s hips thrust forwards again, grinding deep inside of him and sparking showers of stars behind his eyelids.
“Cum for me,” Ilya gasped against his neck, mouthing desperately at the skin.
Shane felt his boyfriend’s teeth scrape gently across the side of his neck, tracing over his pulse point and he snapped, back arching as he came with a loud moan, coating both of their stomachs in his release.
“Fuck,” Ilya gasped, rolling his hips as Shane shook through the aftershocks of his orgasm. He moved like he was going to pull out, but Shane wrapped his legs around his back, locking his ankles together and tugging him forwards, the taller man nearly collapsing on top of him.
“Shane,” Ilya groaned, opening his mouth to continue, but Shane just shook his head, tightening his grip with his legs and leaning forward to press their lips together.
“Inside,” he moaned as the new angle pressed Ilya’s cock even deeper, “I want you to cum inside of me.”
Groaning, Ilya leaned forward into the kiss, resuming the frantic thrust of his hips as he chased his climax, lips parting until the kiss became sloppy, just panting desperately against Shane’s lips.
Gasping, Shane let his head fall back, his overstimulated body quivering with each thrust, the pleasure sharp, almost bordering on painful. It was excruciating, and it was incredible.
He could feel Ilya growing more desperate, burying his face back into his neck as he moaned against the skin, chanting softly in Russian as he tipped over the edge. Shane could feel his cock twitch inside of him as he released, collapsing on top of him with a last, strangled moan, hips still rolling softly, as he gasped for air, coming down from his climax.
“Bozhe, Shane,” Ilya groaned as his breathing started to return to normal, turning to press a messy kiss against his lips, “You kill me.”
Shane snorted, bringing a hand up to tangle through his boyfriend’s curls, damp from the exertion.
“You killed me,” he whispered back, tilting his head to press his lips to Ilya’s sweaty forehead, “I don’t think I can move.”
“Me either,” Ilya sighed, leaning into the kiss, “Legs don’t work anymore I think.”
Shane snorted again, tugging gently at his curls, “You have to get up,” he grumbled, “I’m all sticky.”
Ilya rolled his eyes but acquiesced, slowly pulling back, both of them wincing as he slid out, oversensitive and tender.
“I’ll be right back,” Ilya murmured, pressing a kiss to his lips and rolling over, standing up on slightly wobbly legs and making his way towards the bathroom.
Shane heard the sound of the water running, and he lay back, letting his breathing even out as Ilya worked. In a few moments he heard footsteps returning from the bathroom, and he saw Ilya returning, a washcloth in his hand. He had removed the condom and cleaned himself before he returned, his cock starting to soften slightly between his legs.
With a huff, he dropped back onto the bed, leaning forward to drop another kiss onto Shane’s lips before leaning down, rubbing the washcloth gently across his softening dick, the shorter man letting out a gasp at the sensation.
“Sorry,” Ilya hummed, swiping the cloth backwards to clean between his legs, “I tried to use warm water.”
“Is okay,” Shane slurred, his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth, “Just sensitive.”
“Going to fall asleep?” Ilya murmured, bending down to press a kiss to his clean stomach, the sensation sending a shiver up Shane’s spine.
“Mhm,” he hummed, eyes already starting to drift shut. He heard Ilya chuckle next to him before the mattress creaked as he stood up, walking back to the bathroom to deposit the wet washcloth into the laundry hamper.
Shane shivered at the sudden lack of warmth next to him, one hand stretching out in the direction of the bathroom, craving the press of Ilya’s skin against his. The sudden emptiness felt like a cold chill, and he found himself shaking by the time Ilya made his way back into the room.
“Oh, lybumiyy,” he heard his boyfriend murmur as he returned, bare feet padding gently across the hard floorboards, “I’m here.”
Shane felt a warm hand slide into his own, fingers curling protectively around his palm as Ilya slid back into the bed next to him, tucking him under one arm, letting Shane’s head rest on his chest.
“You are okay?” he asked quietly, sounding worried.
“I’m okay,” Shane croaked, “Just cold.”
With a hum, Ilya reached down to pull a blanket over both of them, making sure to tuck it carefully around Shane’s body, cocooning him in warmth, the shivers starting to die down.
“You were so good for me,” Ilya whispered, dropping a gentle kiss onto his forehead, “So beautiful.”
Shane hummed, the warmth spreading into his chest, thawing out the last bit of lingering chill inside of his body. They lay together for a few minutes in silence, Ilya’s hand brushing softly through his hair before the soft rumble of his voice broke through the quiet room.
“Feeling okay?” he asked quietly, tilting Shane’s head up to face him.
“So good,” Shane whispered, “You wore me out,” he let out a yawn, eyes scrunching shut at his mouth dropped open.
“Sleep,” he heard Ilya mutter, as one of the hands in his hand slid down his neck and settled between his shoulders, rubbing soft circles against his skin.
“I love you,” he whispered back, eyes already starting to drift closed.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” the soft reply drifted through his ears as he faded away into sleep.
----
When the soft morning light started to break in through the large picture windows of the cottage, Shane stirred beneath the sheets, blinking dazedly at the beams of light spilling over the bed. A glance at the clock told him that it was already 8:30, over two hours later than he normally liked to wake up.
At this moment though, he could hardly bring himself to care. Not when he had woken up with Ilya still curled against his side, mouth still soft and slack with sleep, curls mussed and falling over his closed eyes, his pale eyelashes fluttering gently above the sharp line of his cheekbones.
Before he could stop himself, Shane reached out, sliding his fingers gently through the curls obstructing the taller man’s face. He ran his hands softly through his boyfriend’s hair, gliding their way down his face, sliding past his chin, brushing over the scar on his throat.
His fingers ran over the cool metal chain hanging around his neck, and he traced it gently, one hand coming up to cradle the pendant in his palm. He stared down at the cross for a moment, lost in thought. He still couldn’t quite believe that he got to have this, that they got to have this. These mornings together, waking up in their bed, just the two of them, no coaches, no teammates, no media to bother them. He couldn’t believe that he got to call Ilya his boyfriend, and that it wasn’t a secret to hide from the world anymore.
Most of all, he couldn’t believe that Ilya was still there, still warm and breathing next to him, a pink flush of exertion still marking his cheeks. Mere months before Shane had sat curled in the back of an ambulance, holding his severed artery between his fingers, praying desperately to his boyfriend’s long-dead mother to spare her son’s life.
The memory brought tears to his eyes, the reminder of his helplessness, his fear, the way that Ilya had looked on the stretcher beneath him, pale and cold, jersey stained from the massive rush of blood that had spilled out of his body and onto the ice.
Pressing the cross more tightly into his palm, Shane closed his eyes, attempting to halt the tears attempting to fall past his lashes.
Thank you, he thought, Thank you for bringing him back to me. Thank you for trusting me with him. I will take care of him for you Irina, I promise.
Feeling Ilya stirring next to him, he released his grip on the necklace and opened his eyes, the pendant falling back against his boyfriend’s skin, resting above his heart, where it always sat. Ilya let out a soft hum, his eyes flickering slightly before they opened, irises still bleary with sleep.
When he saw Shane looking down at him, his mouth turned up in a small smile, which fell when he took note of the teary eyes staring back at him.
“Shane?” he croaked, “What is wrong?”
Shaking his head quickly, Shane blinked to clear the tears from his eyes, “I’m okay,” he assured him, “I was just thinking. Sorry.”
“Is okay kotenok,” Ilya murmured, “Don’t apologize. What has you thinking so hard?”
“You,” Shane whispered, nuzzling into his boyfriend’s chest, trying to bury himself in the warmth beneath him.
“And that makes you cry?” Ilya frowned, looking displeased with the answer.
“It’s not a bad cry,” Shane rushed to assure him, “I was just feeling a little extra emotional this morning.”
“Not a bad cry,” Ilya repeated, running a hand lazily through Shane’s short, dark hair, “Like when I make you cry in bed?” his eyebrows quirked up, a mischievous smirk taking over his features.
Shane snorted, slapping him lightly on the stomach, “No, you asshole,” he laughed, “I was actually being very romantic.”
Ilya’s face softened, smile growing less teasing and more gentle, “Oh?” he asked, “Tell me.”
Groaning, Shane buried his face deeper into the soft flesh of Ilya’s pecs, trying to avoid his face.
“Shanneee,” Ilya called, attempting to tug him up from his chest with a gentle pull on his hair, “Don’t be shy, moya lyubov, tell me.”
Reaching up to cradle the pendant that hung around Ilya’s neck again, Shane stared down at it, trying to formulate his thoughts. When he looked up, his boyfriend was gazing down at him, eyes soft and loving, taking in the scene in front of him.
“Tell me,” he whispered again, “Please.”
“It’s not a big deal,” Shane whispered back, but Ilya just frowned down at him.
“Please,” he begged, “It worries me when you cry, I need to know that you’re okay.”
“I’m okay,” Shane promised, “I was just thinking about the accident.”
Ilya’s frown deepened, looking up at Shane, “That does not sound like good crying,” he replied hesitantly, looking a bit confused.
“It was,” Shane insisted, reaching down to rub a hand across his cheek gently, “I was saying thank you.”
“To who?” Ilya asked, looking even more confused. Shane swallowed, hesitating before he answered.
“Irina,” he whispered, taking notice of the way Ilya’s eyes widened when he said her name, and he swallowed, worried that he was saying too much.
“My mama?” Ilya whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek softly, Shane leaning into the touch immediately, “Why my mama?”
He didn’t sound angry, he didn’t sound sad, he just sounded amazed, and Shane continued talking before he could stop himself.
“I prayed to her, your mother, in the ambulance after you got hurt,” he said, sniffing slightly.
“You did?” Ilya asked, looking almost awed, “What did you say?”
“I begged her to let you stay,” he whispered, gazing up at his boyfriend with glassy eyes, “I promised her that I would take care of you, keep you safe and happy if she gave you back to me. And she did. She kept you safe for me and then gave you back to me. So I was saying thank you.”
Ilya didn’t respond for a second, staring back at him wide-eyed with his mouth hanging slightly open. Shane shifted nervously, afraid that he was crossing a line.
“Sorry,” he muttered, averting his eyes before quickly flicking them back in the other man’s direction, “I wasn’t trying to be disrespectful to her, I was just so scared, and she was the only person I could think of that I could ask to protect you for me…”
Before he could continue rambling, Ilya’s mouth smashed into his, kissing him desperately, like he was trying to swallow him whole.
“Shane,” he whispered reverently when they pulled apart, “My Shane.”
“Yours,” Shane promised, leaning forward and wrapping his arms around his boyfriend’s neck, burying his face in the soft expanse of his skin and breathing in his comforting scent, “All yours.”
With a sniff, Ilya pressed a kiss to his forehead, hands coming up to cradle the back of his head, fingers tangling gently through his hair, whispering softly in Russian. After a few moments, he cleared his throat, looking down at Shane with tears in his eyes, blinking rapidly.
“She came to me,” Ilya whispered, “While I was knocked out, in hospital. I could not see her, but I knew that she was there. Could hear her, smell her, felt that she was near.”
Shane swallowed hard, letting himself process the words. He stayed quiet, sensing that the other man wasn’t finished speaking yet, but he slid one hand gently through the tight curls that curled across the back of his neck.
“Was so nice to hear her voice,” Ilya murmured, his eyes sliding shut, “Had been so long.”
He sounded wistful, impossibly young, and Shane felt a surge of emotion flooding his body. Leaning up to press a kiss to Ilya’s chin, he stroked softly at the curls tangled between his fingers, letting the wave wash over him, waiting for the other man to continue. Questions swirled through his mind, but he bit his tongue, not wanting to trample on the emotional vulnerability his boyfriend was allowing him to bear witness to.
“Thought it was a dream,” Ilya whispered, eyes still closed, voice still soft and open, “But it felt so real.”
“Do you still think it was a dream?” Shane murmured, pressing another kiss to his chin.
“Nyet,” Ilya murmured, eyes opening slowly, sparkling with unshed tears, “I think she heard you. She told me I could not go yet, it was not time. I had to stay, I was still needed here.”
Shane took in a sharp inhale, blinking back tears of his own. He wanted to believe it was true. He wasn’t usually someone who spent a lot of time thinking about death and the afterlife. He didn’t even know if he believed in a life after death, it had never been something that took up much space in his mind until the accident. When he had suddenly found himself praying to a woman who had been dead for nearly fifteen years.
For Ilya though, Shane knew things were different. Ever since he was twelve years old, he had a reason to hope and dream for an afterlife. He had someone waiting for him, someone he needed to believe he would see again.
They hadn’t spoken much about Ilya’s spiritual beliefs, and Shane didn’t know him to be a very spiritual person, despite the cross he wore around his neck. The cross’s significance to him did not fall in Orthodoxy, or in Christianity, but in his mother, in his love and commitment to her and her memory. In a way, his own religion, his own belief, his own form of spirituality that he had carried over so many years, tucked right beside his heart, pressed against with every beat and pulse.
“I think she did too,” Shane whispered, voice thick with emotion, “I think she answered me.” He leaned in, pressing a firm kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, salty with the tears that spilled from both of their eyes.
When they finally broke apart, they didn’t move far, just rested their foreheads together, breathing each other in, not speaking. After a few moments of silence, Ilya pulled back slightly, tilting his head up to drop a kiss onto each of Shane’s cheeks, smoothing away his tears with the soft press of his lips.
“Sometimes I think she brought you to me,” Ilya whispered, fresh tears springing up in his eyes, “She knew how much I needed you.”
A sudden sob broke out of Shane’s chest, and he buried his face into his boyfriend’s chest, as if hiding his face would somehow prevent the other man from seeing his emotions breaking loose. He opened his mouth to try and respond, but found that he couldn’t, so he settled for pressing wet, frantic kisses to Ilya’s neck, trailing up to his jaw before recapturing his lips, pulling him back in, another sob spilling free, swallowed up by Ilya’s mouth against his.
He let his body sink into the bed, feeling Ilya roll over to hover more closely over him, raising his hands to cup gently at Shane’s chin, thumbs brushing soft circles against the skin. They lay there for several minutes, pressed together, lost in the kiss for several moments before Ilya leaned back.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” Ilya whispered as he pulled away, nuzzling his head into Shane’s shoulder, pressing his lips gently across his collarbone as he intertwined their hands, wrapping their fingers tightly together.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he replied, sure that his pronunciation was still terrible and half convinced that Ilya was about to make fun of him for it, but he didn’t. He just buried himself deeper into his shoulder, taking in a deep, shaky exhale, before tugging his head back suddenly and kissing Shane again, the intensity nearly tearing the air from his lungs. Gasping, he sunk into it, allowing himself to be taken away in the surge of love that he felt pouring over him.
“Ya tebya lyublyu,” he heard Ilya whispering again, pulling back slightly to murmur against his lips, “Ya tebya lyublyu. Bozhe, ya tak sil'no tebya lyublyu.”
“Ilya,” Shane whispered back, “Ilya, Ilya. I love you. I love you.”
They fell quiet, arms still wrapped tightly around each other, exhales mingling together as they lay intertwined under the sheets.
Thank you, Shane found himself thinking again, I won’t take this for granted. I swear. I’ll love him until my dying breath.