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There was nothing monumental or noteworthy about the evening, or the day that had preceded it.
All of the days that Ilya spent with Cliff had been incredible - in the liminal space where their teams were out of the playoffs but the off-season hadn’t officially started yet.
Ilya had flown down from Ottawa to spend the week with Cliff back in Boston, and he couldn’t be happier to have him there.
After having to cope with nearly two years of Ilya long distance and out of his day-to-day life, Cliff was suddenly suffused in the man’s undivided attention.
They got to work out together, eat together.
Suck eachother off in the shower and fuck themselves blind and stupid.
It was great.
Cliff and Ilya had spent a good chunk of the day at an exclusive car dealership out of town.
There was some fuckoff rich-boy car that Ilya was thinking about buying.
He wasn’t making as much money on the Centaurs as he had been with Boston, so he had to be a bit more particular with his choices.
The car dealership was more than happy to entertain Ilya hemming and hawing over the different models of cars. In fact they seemed more interested in indulging it than trying to lock down any sort of sale too quickly - getting as many videos as they could for their Instagram page of Ilya Rozanov tearing through the streets on the different cars they had on offer. Over the years, the name Ilya Rozanov in the New England area had become almost as well-associated with luxury sport cars as some racecar drivers.
They finished the day with some takeaway from a nice little Italian place owned by a family friend of the Marlow family - and a bottle of red wine that the owner had insisted that they take as well. The first one had been free, so Cliff insisted on paying for a second.
Ilya didn’t often drink wine, though he had admitted it was nice. There was a lovely flush to his cheeks and neck that Marlow found himself aching to taste.
So he did.
Because he could.
And that was far more intoxicating than the wine.
Ilya purred and arched under Cliff’s lips on his neck.
His hands slipped up the back of Cliff’s shirt, pressed against hot skin as they shifted and moved against and into one another.
A long, lazy makeout session eventually progressed from the sofa to the bedroom. A scattered trail of clothing had followed in their wake. Cliff was sprawled out on his back in bed, Ilya straddling his hips.
-
Ilya shifted, moving to position himself behind Cliff.
There was a brief moment of hesitation. One where their eyes locked. Neither of them were particularly challenging, or alarmed.
Just a space of a breath or two where they locked eyes.
Ilya braced his hand on the small of Marlow’s back.
“Ilya…”
“Cliff.” He said back, plaintively.
Marlow considered him for a long moment.
“Ugh, fine.” He rolled over onto his back, an arm slung an arm over his head. “If you’re sure.”
It was a dumb thing to say, he knew.
Ilya Rozanov had been pestering him for literal years about letting him do this.
They had been steadfast and professionally casual for so long - only using their mouths or hands on lonely roadie nights when they didn’t find anyone who suited them at whatever bar or nightclub the team ventured out to. It was a way to keep a distance, to indulge in a plausible deniability that something real wasn’t cultivating under the surface.
Ilya had finally let Cliff have all of him when he was in a low place.
Cliff hadn’t been entirely sure what was going on at the time. Just that seeing Shane Hollander in a nightclub dancing with Rose Landry had him on the verge of some kind of breakdown. He had pushed past his barriers then - in a way he had never let himself do before.
They kept pushing against each other. Until they fit together like a single piece.
But they had never done this.
Ilya’s hands were on either side of Cliff’s face, looming over him.
“Don’t worry,” He said, eyes gleaming. “I know what I’m doing.”
Of course he did.
Sometimes Cliff forgot that this was Ilya in his element. That the thing that the two of them ha was Ilya forcing himself like a square peg into a round hole. Ilya had casually confided in him that Cliff was the only guy - the only person - who Ilya had ever allowed to top him. It was a mark of trust that Cliff took extremely seriously.
It was especially hard to remember when Ilya was looking at him like that.
The long shadows of the evening cut over the sharp features of his face. It left his eyes pale and bright and - fuck. This man was beautiful.
How did everyone else just live their lives around this guy and not lose their minds?
The two pulled out of their remaining clothes. Every part of Cliff itched to pull Ilya close. To pin him down. Worship him with his hands and his mouth and his body until he comes undone.
He and Ilya were alike, in that way.
They both preferred to give pleasure than to receive it.
It felt odd and awkward, lying back and letting Ilya lave hot kisses down his chest. Cliff stretched his arms over his head, clutching at a pillow for want of something to do with his hands.
When he heard the telltale ‘click’ of the lube, Cliff found himself tensing up, to his surprise.
“C’mon, Marly.” Ilya soothed. He ran his hand across the inside of Cliff’s upper thigh. “You trust me, don’t you?”
“Of - hah - of course I do-” Cliff groaned. Ilya’s mouth, hot and wet had wrapped itself around his semi-hard cock, sucking him down.
His hand found the back of Ilya’s head, twisted up in the soft curls of his hair.
The taut muscles of his thighs flexed, his abdomen working in a tight, restrained roll of motion as he fought not to thrust up into Ilya’s mouth.
Marlow had gotten head plenty of times from various women.
But they were nothing compared to Ilya’s mouth. To his tongue - it knew what to do. How to drive him crazy. Maybe it was a guy thing - you knew how to suck a cock best when you had one.
Maybe Cliff was just so far gone.
A slick finger rubbed against Cliff’s perineum, sending shocks of pleasure directly up his cock. Cliff forced himself to breathe, to focus on the sensation of Ilya’s mouth on his body as a warm finger rubbed against his entrance before slipping inside.
Cliff was glad he had spared no expense with the lube he had stocked in his apartment. It warmed under the touch, and allowed the digit to move frictionlessly inside of him.
He was still a bundle of nerves. And it was embarrassing.
Cliff had literally had his tongue inside Ilya Rozanov’s ass before. Not to mention his cock and his fingers and he had revelled in it.
But here he was, stressing over Ilya stretching him open.
Shit, I should have done this myself. I should have offered to- what if he-
Ilya’s finger twisted and a bloom of warmth uncurled deep in his gut.
“What are you doing, lost up in your head?” Ilya wondered, slipping another finger in. “I don’t want you there. I want you here.”
He prodded the same spot again. This time it punched a soft gasp out of the back of Cliff’s throat.
“Fuck, Roz - just fuck me already, I don’t care-”
It was a lie. He knew it, so did Ilya.
He just cared too much, in that moment. And he couldn’t get away from it, spread open and vulnerable. Cliff Marlow didn’t do vulnerable.
“That will come.” Ilya promised. He withdrew briefly to slick up his fingers with more lube, working another finger inside. They curled inward, stroking sensitive nerved that had pleasure building up hot and scattering pleasure up his spine. Ilya’s eyes were hooded as he worked, careful and intent.
Cliff’s cock was heavy and full now, throbbing thick and heavy and useless against his stomach. He wanted to touch himself, he would have to. He wasn’t sure how he’d survive it if he came untouched on Ilya’s fingers alone.
“I know how you feel.” Ilya said huskily. He was slicking himself up now, his own dick fat and glistening at the head from anticipation.
“Yeah?” Cliff rasped out.
“I don’t like being the pillow princess either.”
Ilya’s knowledge of the term surprised and delighted Cliff so much he barked out a laugh - cut off and ragged as it was, as Ilya chose that same moment to press his thick cockhead against Cliff’s slick, puckered entrance and began to push inside.
“You feel like sex is something you can only enjoy after you have made the other person feel good.”
Cliff groaned softly, wondering where Ilya was going with this.
Wondering how the hell he pulled that thought straight out of Cliff’s mind.
Why the hell Ilya was saying it like it was something to chastise Cliff over. What was wrong with wanting your partner to enjoy sex?
He never could figure out some of the guys in the locker room. Who talked about the women they got with like they were an afterthought to the spectacle of them getting their rocks off.
Ilya was somehow - impossibly - still pushing inside of him.
He was working his way in with shallow thrusts, working more of the lube in as he went. Whenever Cliff flinched or stiffened, Ilya slowed, letting his body acclimate.
“Fuck - it’s so big. How the hell do you do this?”
Ilya couldn’t possibly have a bigger dick than him.
He didn’t - did he?
How the hell had they gone so many years without measuring them up?
Ilya laughed, pressing a kiss to Cliff’s kneecap.
“Because you are a very good lover.”
The air gusted out of Cliff’s chest. He looked up, arrested at once by the heavy expression on Ilya’s face.
“And so am I.”
With a final push, Ilya’s hips sat flush with Marlow’s thighs.
“Oh, FUCK!”
It burst unbidden out of him. A hot stab of pleasure that arced on the edge of pain.
“Yes, that is your prostate.” Ilya said, with a wolfish gleam in his eyes. “Keep breathing for me. Nice and deep.” Ilya purred.
He started to move, a low grind of his hips. He was keeping his body deliberately at just the right angle, pinning Cliff in place and massaging his body in a way that was rapidly driving any coherent thought out of his mind.
“Ohmygod - fuck, Ilya-!”
Ilya’s fingers found Cliff’s palm. Their fingers slid together and tangled up in one another as Iya continued to move.
Ilya hovered over him, his eyes bright and blue and-
“Fuck, Ilya - you can’t look at me like that when we’re doing this-” Marlow gasped out. He threw an arm over his eyes, schooling his breathing carefully.
“What, why?” Ilya laughed. He shifted his hips carefully, beginning to pick up the pace now. “Since when is Cliff Marlow shy?”
It was too much. Ilya was thick and hard and hot inside him. His back arched and his body clenched around him.
“I just - I need you to go harder, please-” Marlow gasped.
Ilya’s hand gripped Marlow’s wrist tight, pinning him to the bed.
“No.” Ilya’s breath plumed hot and went across Marlow’s chest. “Tonight, you are mine.”
Ilya made good on his word.
He made the most of the long hours of the evening, pushing Marlow relentlessly to the brink again and again.
He knew what he was doing, and Ilya was determined to send the point home. He read every tense and quiver of Marlow’s body, working him up to the dizzying height of climax - only to draw back at the last moment. Leaving him begging, snarling, frustrated before steadying his nerves and drawing him even higher.
When Marlow did finally come, with his hand twisted tight on an angry, purple swollen cock - he felt his soul briefly leave his body. He doubled over and roared, hot ropes of cum streaked across his thighs and chest, shooting up to his clavicle. It was - fuck it was everywhere. Cliff realized it belatedly as he drifted back down to earth.
Ilya was braced over him, beautiful and flush and panting. There was sweat beading over his neck. His expression was soft and spent in the early morning light - in a way that Cliff knew meant that Ilya had come as well.
“Fuck, Roz. You look so good.”
His skin was flush and warm to the touch. The two collapsed in to one another, kissing open-mouthed and messy.
“Mn, yes. You feel good?”
“Yeah.” He rasped, a smile playing on his lips.
He was going to be sore tomorrow, he knew.
Maybe less so if he got ahead of it and got some hot water on his muscles.
“I’m going to shower.” Marlow groaned, rolling over onto his side. As he did, Ilya wrapped his arm around his middle, pulling him back down.
“Wait.”
“You want to go first?”
“No. Maybe, I don’t care. But first we do this.” Ilya said assuredly, settling down against the warm flank of Cliff’s side, careful to avoid the mess.
“Do what?”
“This.”
“You want to cuddle?” Marlow delighted.
“Yes. Aftercare is very important.”
Marlow laughed, but held Ilya close to him all the same.
“Aftercare? We just fucked, man. We didn’t like - get tied up and spank eachother.”
Ilya hummed.
“No, but… it was intense, yes? For you.”
Marlow was taken aback. He carded his hand through the soft, damp curls of Ilya’s hair - he was suddenly in need of something to do with his hands. He let the pad of his thumb trace across Ilya’s cheekbone with a soft sort of reverence.
“I mean, I guess. Yeah. It was… new.”
He wasn’t sure how to feel about it. Was Ilya… condescending to him, or something?
Thinking back across the years, Marlow remembered how Ilya was when he pushed past that final boundary. Ilya had been skittish, angry. His pride and ego railing against his desperate need to be touched. He probably had the same worries back then that Cliff did now.
“Me and Shane… we were not good at this, at the start of things.” Ilya tucked his head onto the crook of his arm that was folded across Marlow’s broad chest. With his free hand, he braced the back of Cliff’s neck, stroking the flush skin with his fingertips.
“We were very stupid children. We hurt eachother, even though we didn’t mean to. I spoke with Galina - my counsellor on this. A bit. She says it is important to be there for eachother, after. Talk about how you feel. Shane and I talk much more now. It has been good.”
Marlow smiled. He shifted down in the bed a little bit, his arms comfortably wrapped around Ilya’s lower back.
“Okay. What do you want to talk about?”
“This was good for you?”
There was a brief flicker of uncertainty that made Ilya’s expression go soft and wide - and made Cliff’s heart do an unexpected swoop.
He smiled, guiding Ilya in for a deep kiss. Ilya moved easily under his direction, eyes closed, head tipped a bit to the side. Marlow took the opportunity to suck on his tongue when it was offered to him, and bit down gently on his lower lip as they pulled away.
“It’s always good, when it’s with you.” He said duskily.
I love you so much, I think it’s going to kill me.
“Hm, then we do this more often?”
“Don’t get your hopes up.” Marlow grinned, stealing another sweet kiss off his lips. “You look too good sitting on my cock.”
Ilya frowned spectacularly, a rosy fluster furious on his cheeks. He gripped Marlow by the back of the hair, pulling himself up against his body so their eyes were level.
“You wait and see. You will end up dreaming about me fucking you and come back to beg me for it.”
“Oh yeah?” Marlow laughed, alight and breathless. “As if you’d deny me long enough for me to have to beg.”
He said it with far more confidence than he felt, but it was worth it to see the way Ilya flared with beautiful indignation.
“I am going to take a shower. Your aftercare is finished.”
“No- wait, come back. I’m still feeling vulnerable!” The two tussled out of the bed in broken fits of laughter.