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Soft hands pressed warmly against Shane’s torso from behind, wet lips gently kissing down his neck, stopping briefly to suck a love-mark just above his clavicle. Eyes still closed, Shane let out a quiet whimper, reaching back to grasp at Ilya’s head of curls.
“Good morning,” Shane yawned, shaking off the last bits of sleep as Ilya nipped at his earlobe. Ilya hummed in response, rogue hand slipping under the covers and wrapping firmly around Shane’s cock, rough in just the right way. Shane gasped as Ilya jerked his hips forward, hard dick rubbing against Shane’s hole.
“Morning,” Ilya’s voice was gravelly, still tinged with sleep (and perhaps from last night's activities). Ilya leaned over and stole Shane’s lips in an awkward kiss, Shane tearing away as Ilya’s tongue attempts to breach his mouth. “Your breath, Ilya,” Shane complained, but he didn’t care enough to follow through as Ilya surged forward once more, teeth clacking together messily. Ilya reached further down, below Shane’s balls and circled a curious finger around his rim. The lack of lubricant made Shane whimper, a pathetic little noise that Ilya swallowed hungrily. He withdrew his hand from between Shane’s legs, trailing upwards, tweaking his nipple as he went. Ilya was about to place two fingers into Shane’s mouth– a shitty lubricant, but they were both too weighed down from pleasure and sleep to be bothered with the actual bottle of lube in their nightstand– before Ilya sat up suddenly. Shane whined at the loss, trying to pull him back down, but Ilya’s eyes twinkled, body unmoving.
“You know, solnychko, what day it is, yes?”
Shane balked at the statement. “... It’s fucking Wednesday, Ilya.”
Ilya considered this. “Mm, no. Well, yes, but it is something else too, Shanya. You should know this better than me. I am bad Canadian, you are good. We can agree on this.”
Shane still had no fucking clue what Ilya was on about, irritated with the loss of stimulation on his cock, now sitting red and angry and untouched under the covers.
Seeing he was fed up with the guessing game, Ilya jostled Shane’s thighs as he huffed, “Canada Day, Shanya! It is your day!”
This did nothing to ease Shane’s confusion, still clueless on why Ilya had brought it up in the first place.
“Since it is Canada Day, and you are Canadian… I think you get treat, no?” Shane’s eyes sparkled as Ilya waggled his eyebrows, “And I have great treat for you. It solves bad breath, too. I get it now.” Ilya jumped off of the bed suddenly, racing out of the room and clattering down the hall. Shane flopped back against the sheets, excited but very, very confused about Ilya’s plan. Ilya tumbled back into the room with a bright smile on his face and a hand hidden behind his back.
“Is it… A Canadian Fleece for you to fuck me in?” Shane wondered hopefully. He’d been wishing for that fleece for months, but Ilya shook his head, golden curls flying through the air. He removed the hand from behind his back, presenting it proudly to Shane.
It was maple syrup.
The maple syrup that Shane planned to put on his sugar-free, dairy-free, gluten-free pancakes later that week as an off-season treat. But Ilya had it in his hands now, a glowing smile on his face, a treat, something that would solve his bad breath… Comprehension dawned on Shane’s face.
“No,” Shane stated abruptly, “You are not putting that on my dick.” Ilya’s face dropped at the statement, clearly heartbroken.
“I think you will love this very much, moy blinchik.”
“You did not just call me your fucking pancake!”
Ilya smiled menacingly as he took the cap off of the bottle, lifting the sheets and pulling them away from Shane’s body, uncovering his aching cock. Shane grabbed for the sheets just a moment too late as Ilya threw them to the ground. Ilya sat on his knees on the edge of the bed, scooting closer as Shane looked at him with reproach.
“Ilya…” Shane sucked in a breath, eyes glued to the expensive bottle in his lover’s hand, condensation gathering at the bottom.
“Do you trust me, Shane?” Ilya’s eyes glittered and fuck. Shane could never say no to that, so very cautiously, he nodded. “I know you do not like stickiness. I will not make you feel this, okay?” Shane nodded again, more confidently this time.
Ilya held the syrup at least two feet from Shane’s dick, tipping the bottle dangerously low. A bead of sticky liquid gathered on the rim, it would fall if Ilya leaned it just a little– Ilya smiled smugly as he suddenly flipped the bottle, a thick wad of syrup falling through the air and punching a gasp out of Shane as the cold liquid landed on the tip of his dick, trailing down his shaft toward his heavy balls. “Asshole,” Shane sucked in a breath, not daring to reach towards his dick for fear of getting the syrup on his fingers– he hated the feeling– but almost overcome with a desperate need for stimulation. “Please, Ilya,” Shane begged, a wretched noise escaping his throat, “Please fucking touch me,”
“Oh?” Ilya sat the bottle on the nightstand, placing the cap on carefully. “I thought you did not want?”
“Of course I fucking want–” Shane’s voice broke as Ilya dropped suddenly to his stomach on the bed, thick hand wrapping roughly around the base of his cock. His tongue dipped low, tracing a vein on the underside of Shane’s cock, the same path that held the syrup. Ilya gathered the syrup in his mouth, but he didn’t swallow, he spit it back out on the head of Shane’s cock, adding to the glob of syrup that already sat there. Ilya let it drip down the sides of Shane’s dick for a moment, then wrapped his mouth around the head, engulfing him in warmth. The sudden temperature shift made Shane moan lewdly, shoving his hand in Ilya’s curls as he sucked him down hungrily. It was like Ilya hadn’t eaten for days, cleaning the syrup off of Shane’s cock diligently, just to spit it back on the tip. It was a crude yet sexually maddening cycle, fat tears brimming in Shane’s eyes, threatening to spill over.
“Fuck– I’m close–” Ilya popped off quickly, ensuring that Shane’s torture wasn’t over yet. With less pressure, Ilya once again cleaned off the syrup, but this time, he propelled himself forward and spit in Shane’s mouth. The sweet maple taste mixed with the taste of Ilya made his cock jump. He wanted to savour the taste forever.
“Swallow.” Ilya demanded, watching as Shane swallowed, whining at the loss of the taste while Ilya’s eyes tracked the movement of his throat hungrily. “Good boy.”
Shane moaned at the praise as Ilya grabbed the syrup once more, pushing back Shane’s thighs and pouring copious amounts of the golden-brown liquid directly on his hole. A debauched moan ripped itself from Shane’s throat, the sudden cold once again shocking his system. Ilya quickly pressed his tongue against Shane’s hole, fucking the syrup into him messily. He littered Shane’s thighs with sticky kisses that he licked clean as he slid two fingers into Shane’s hole, a pleasurable stretch that tore yet another moan from Shane’s lips.
“Ilya, fuck, please fuck me, please,” Shane cried out, a tear falling from the corner of his eye. Ilya slipped in a third finger, thrusting for a moment before removing his fingers entirely. He knew Shane liked the burn.
“Mm, okay moy blinchik, but only because you have been such a good Canadian all year.” Ilya actually did grab lube this time, not more syrup as Shane kicked harmlessly at his stomach for the use of the pet name.
“Fuck you,” Shane choked out, no bite in his words, to desperate for Ilya’s cock to fill him up.
“I think you want other way around, Shanya.” And really, Shane couldn’t argue with that. Ilya grinned stupidly as he coated his dick in lube, fisting it a couple of times before lining up with Shane’s hole. He rubbed his cock through the crease of Shane’s ass, the head catching just briefly against Shane’s hole.
“Ilya, just put it–” Shane was cut off by Ilya suddenly thrusting in, immediately setting a brutal pace that only allowed Shane to cry and beg for more.
“You wanted me to put it in, baby, so I put it in.” Ilya had the audacity to laugh as he was jackhammering into Shane, one hand next to Shane’s head and the other wandering over his chest, teasing his nipples and eliciting pathetic whimpers. Ilya bent down to bite one nipple, rolling it between his teeth before pulling sharply, causing Shane to arch his back even further off of the bed. Ilya kissed the puffy nipple softly, like an apology before turning his lips to the other one and biting once more. Fat tears trailed down Shane’s cheeks, a beautiful, fucked out mess. Ilya admired his face before kissed him harshly, and oh fuck he tasted like the most delicious mix of maple syrup and Shane’s precum, perfectly salty and sweet.
“I wanna– I’m gonna–” Shane moaned into Ilya’s mouth, hands tangled in his gorgeous golden hair.
“Do your trick, baby.” Ilya pinched both of Shane’s nipples as he arched fully off of the bed as he came, Ilya’s cock so deeply embedded in his ass that he swore he could feel it in his throat. Ilya licked the tears off of Shane’s cheeks as he fucked him through his orgasm, grunting as he chased his own release. Shane’s cock twitched as the last bits of cum dribbled out, the sight of it pushing Ilya over the edge. Warmth spread through Shane’s insides as Ilya fucked him, cum leaking from his hole messily. A punched out moan left Ilya’s lips as he dropped on top of Shane, the weight comforting in the aftermath.
Shane kissed Ilya’s neck, a sign that the cum was drying on his stomach, and Ilya pushed himself off of Shane, cock slipping out softly. He stepped into the bathroom, clattering around quietly as Shane closed his eyes.
Ilya came back with a warm washcloth, cleaning any remnants of spit, cum, or, worst of all, syrup from Shane’s body. He hissed at the sensation of the fabric against his sensitive hole, but Ilya shushed him gently, then cleaned himself. Ilya threw the cloth in their hamper, settling down behind Shane and wrapping a strong arm around his waist. The same position as when Ilya woke up, Shane noted, but now happily sated.
“Happy Canadian Day, my Shanya. The best Canadian I know.”