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Shane gasped as Rozanov pulled out, both of them breathing hard as Rozanov collapsed onto the bed beside him.
It was so, so good this time, intense and hard, Rozanov pushing Shane onto the mattress and fucking into him while he was practically bent in half. Shane wasn’t complaining. It was too embarrassing to ask for it harder, rougher, so it was a rare treat when Rozanov gave it to him, when he bent him over and held him down and praised him for taking it so well.
Though, with the ache in his lower back and thighs, maybe it had been just a bit too much this time around, and Shane had overexerted himself in practice this morning too, not finishing up with stretching. Fuck, he was sore, but it felt nice.
Shane tried to get up to shower and it stopped feeling perfectly nice almost instantly. He collapsed back onto the bed with a gasp. Ouch. He had definitely overdid it. Nothing too bad, just overwhelming in his thighs and back. It felt kind of satisfying, like a good workout or an exhausting game.
“Hollander?” Rozanov scrambled across the bed, eyes wide. “What happened?”
“Just sore.” Shane winced, trying to flex his legs. “Give me a few minutes, I’ll be out soon.”
Rozanov scowled. “You’re hurt.”
“Sore,” Shane corrected him.
Rozanov poked a finger into Shane’s hip. Shane looked down, breath catching on a gasp at the sight of slowly fading handprint shaped red marks on his hips. Rozanov’s hands. Rozanov had held onto him so closely, fucked into him so hard, that he left marks on Shane’s skin.
Shane should have been pissed, but really, if he hadn’t just come three times, he’d be hard in an instant. Part of him wished Rozanov had held him even tighter, held him hard enough to bruise.
Rozanov looked at him with an inscrutable expression. “What hurts?”
Shane squirmed, face heating up. “My legs, and um, my back.”
“Inside you?” Rozanov grit out, cutting past Shane’s shyness.
“Just sore!” Shane rushed to placate him. “I’m okay, not hurt.”
They had fucked like this a few times, Shane bent in half, legs slung around Rozanov’s shoulders. He loved the position, loved the way Rozanov held onto his hips, loved the way Rozanov fucked into him so deep, loved the way he could just exist in Rozanov’s arms. The position was intense for sure, hard on his thighs and back, but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle.
Rozanov looked away, as if he was thinking. His entire body was a sharp line of tension, nothing like his usual slightly loose relaxation after their encounters. Fuck.
“Can I check?” Rozanov gritted out.
“What?”
“Inside you. Can I check? No blood?”
“I’m okay,” Shane insisted. Blood? What was he talking about? Rozanov looked…
Well. Maybe Shane was thinking too deeply about it, maybe he was being delusional, but Rozanov looked almost distressed. It was strange to see anything but unflappable calmness or burning lust or sharp amusement over his pretty face.
“Shane,” Rozanov whispered.
God.
It didn’t mean anything, Shane knew it didn’t mean anything. Rozanov didn’t have to feel any type of way about him to be concerned. As much as Shane thought Rozanov was an asshole, he wasn’t the type of asshole to ignore Shane being in pain. He knew Rozanov wouldn’t ever want to hurt him, but he got it. If the roles were reversed, if Shane had thought he had hurt Rozanov, Shane would be freaking out.
“You can check, but I promise, I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me inside, my legs just are sore. I’m okay.”
Shane opened his legs as Rozanov continued to stare at him. He really didn’t think there was any blood, it felt just like an ache, but Rozanov’s shoulders released a bit of that horrible tension. Rozanov slid down the bed next to him, eye level with Shane’s ass. Shane’s face burned red, and he wanted to close his legs and hide under the blankets. He felt so vulnerable and exposed – Rozanov was so close to him, but his touch was gentle, one hand resting carefully on Shane’s waist, his fingers stroking soothingly over the sensitive skin. “Going to touch you now.”
Shane nodded, closing his eyes as Rozanov’s fingers pressed against his hole, slipping inside. He gasped at the sensation, it was so much, not painful but just – a lot, sore and swollen and aching and needy. Part of him wanted to be fucked again, wanted Rozanov to push right into him and take it, hard and fast enough to distract Shane from the soft feelings in his throat. A larger part of him was grateful for the soothing hand on his waist, the careful way Rozanov was touching him, like he was something precious, like Rozanov really cared about him.
Rozanov started to slide his fingers out, and he was so – he didn’t want to be empty, he needed –
“Ah, Rozanov – Ilya – ”
“It hurts? Shane?”
Shane twisted, hiding his face in the pillow in embarrassment, it was just so much, how could he say it? “It doesn’t hurt, don’t worry. You won’t hurt me. It’s just a lot.”
“Sorry,” Rozanov – Ilya – whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Shane’s thigh. “I’m going to pull out, it’s okay?”
“Just a minute,” Shane asked.
“As long as you need,” Ilya reassured him. Shane felt his heart flip over.
It was stupid. Ilya was just concerned. It didn’t mean anything, they weren’t anything.
“I’m good now,” Shane whispered, and Ilya so, so gently slid his fingers out, rubbing over his thigh before getting up wordlessly. Shane took the moment to bury himself deeper into the pillows. He just needed another minute. Just one more to collect himself, to leave the warm apartment and walk back to the cold, empty hotel room with nothing but the memories to keep him company.
Ilya walked back in with a stack of towels, placing most of them on the bed but holding onto one damp one. “Turn over?”
Shane turned over, trying to catch his eyes, but Ilya was stubbornly looking away, jaw still set with tension. Ilya started wiping his stomach with the damp towel, slow and gentle and careful, over his thighs and the sensitive skin between his legs, before grabbing another clean towel and drying him off. “No blood,” he confirmed, putting both towels in a hamper and coming back to the bed, putting his hand below Shane’s knee. “Still hurts?”
Shane shifted around, feeling a twinge of protest in his lower back. “Ilya, you didn’t hurt me. I’m just sore from practice,” he admitted. “Please don’t worry. I’m okay.”
“You have a flight tomorrow?”
“In the evening,” Shane said.
Ilya gestured to the bed. “Rest.”
“Oh, I can go – ”
“Shane. Please.”
Shane swallowed. Ilya wasn’t really the type of guy to say please – usually, he just said something, and Shane would just do it. Something about the way he asked Shane to stay, the way he still wouldn’t meet Shane’s eyes, the way his voice was quiet and almost defeated, made Shane hesitate. It made him lie back down in Ilya’s bed, it made him want to stay for more than a minute.
It should have been hard to sleep with Ilya sitting on the foot of the bed, but Shane was so warm, and Ilya’s bed was comfortable and smelled so good, like woodsmoke and cologne, and he just couldn’t help but fall asleep.
He woke up to pure darkness outside, and a hunched-over figure at the foot of the bed.
Shane blinked the sleepy haze out of his eyes. Ilya. He hadn’t moved.
“Come here,” Shane whispered.
Ilya’s head shot up. “You okay?”
“Why are you so far away? Come here.”
It was hard to think, hard to remember that he should be embarrassed, hard to remember that they didn’t say those things. Hard to remember that Shane wasn’t anything to Ilya, that he couldn’t ask for anything from him.
But he did ask, and Ilya slowly moved forward to lie down next to him. He was cold, lightly shaking as Shane rested his head on his chest. As soon as they touched, Shane felt like something inside him had just slotted back into its rightful place.
“Sleep,” Ilya whispered, rubbing over his upper back, and Shane did what he did best and listened to that soft, low voice, and fell back asleep.
The next time he woke up, Ilya was still watching him, but closer this time, pressed right up against him. Shane didn’t have the capacity to be embarrassed anymore, so safely wrapped in Ilya’s arms. It was hard sometimes to separate what he wanted from what he could have, especially in moments like this, when Ilya’s eyes were focused on him like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.
“Feeling okay?” Ilya asked, quiet in the morning light.
Shane didn’t want to ever move, but he sat up and stretched. The soreness was still there, but a lot duller than yesterday, more in line with what was normal after getting fucked through the mattress. “I’m good,” Shane said, giving Ilya a little smile. “Thanks for letting me stay, sorry about intruding.”
Ilya looked at him incredulously. “Why are you sorry?”
“I mean, usually we don’t stay over.” As much as Shane would like to.
Ilya frowned, sitting up against the headboard, a horribly sad look crossing over his handsome face. “I don’t understand. I – you’re hurt. I hurt you. Why are you sorry?”
What?
“No, you didn’t – ” Shane scrambled back to the headboard, next to Ilya. He would say it as many times as Ilya needed, until Ilya understood. “I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.”
“You couldn’t walk,” Ilya said, teeth gritted, as he drew his knees up to his chest.
Ilya couldn’t possibly be blaming himself. It was Shane’s fault, if anything. Ilya always checked in, even when it was rough and intense, and Shane was the one who said it was okay, every time Ilya had asked. “I – that’s okay, sometimes it happens. It’s happened before, I’m fine now.”
Ilya’s face drained of colour. “Before? This happened before?”
Oh, shit. “Not with you!”
Ilya looked even more horrified. Fuck.
“I mean – just with myself. Sometimes if I’m too…if I go too hard with my … you know.” Surely Ilya understood that he was trying to say sometimes I ride my dildo so hard that I collapse and pass out for a couple hours.
Ilya sighed, looking a bit less stressed. “I – I know you don’t like fingers for too long, but I can’t be someone who hurts you.”
Shane felt his heart drop into his stomach. Ilya was blaming himself? Ilya was so good to him, checking in to make sure Shane felt good all the time. It wasn’t his fault Shane didn’t say anything. “I’m sorry. I should have – ” he sighed, trying to explain. “I didn’t think it would be too much. I just – I like it when you hold me tight. And when …” God, this was mortifying, but he couldn’t ever let Ilya feel guilty for something that wasn’t his fault. “I liked it when you said I was doing good. I really didn’t think I’d feel sore after, you made me feel so good during it. I promise it wasn’t pain, I really was sore from practice that morning. It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t hurt me, Ilya, I promise. I know you would never hurt me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Ilya took a minute to think, and Shane watched him anxiously. Finally, he nodded a bit more firmly. “Okay. Got it.”
Shane didn’t really know if he got it, but he nodded back. Ilya smiled, still a bit soft and thin. “You want any breakfast?”
“I’m good,” Shane scratched the top of his head. “I’m just going to shower, if that’s fine.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Shane showered as fast as he could. As much as he’d like to be stay, to press Ilya into the bed and kiss him and suck him off and get fucked, Ilya seemed almost fragile right now. It was crazy to say about the guy, he’d never known Ilya to be anything but strong and confident, but Shane felt like it wasn’t the time to push. He wanted to stay, wanted to make sure Ilya was okay, but it wasn’t his place. Not during the day, when the morning light was harsh enough that he couldn’t hide his face in the shadows.
God, he hoped he hadn’t fucked up enough that Ilya wouldn’t want to see him again.
Shit. Shane stepped out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed as quickly as he could.
“Hey,” he said. Ilya looked up from where he was still sitting in bed. “I’ll see you in LA next week? We have that commercial thing to shoot.”
Ilya nodded, “See you.”
He looked a little better, but Shane still felt that strange, strong urge to kiss his forehead. But they didn’t really kiss outside of sex, so Shane just waved goodbye and stepped outside. He knew the way out by now, and he knew the heartache of stepping away without a goodbye kiss all too well.
Shane gasped as Ilya pulled him into his fancy LA hotel room and kissed him.
Shane melted into him, slotting their hips together as Ilya kissed him, hard and sweet but somehow still careful, lifting Shane up into his arms and carrying him to bed. Shane would usually protest, but he was floating among the clouds. He loved kissing Ilya, especially like this – long, heated, drugging kisses that scrambled his brain, made him feel like he was flying.
It had only been a week since that night in Ilya’s apartment, but Shane needed him more than breathing, even at two in the morning. He needed it all the time, needed Ilya. The daydreams weren’t enough.
Ilya set him down gently on the bed, pulling his shirt off. He was so hot, golden skin and soft skin over hard muscles, big hands and a pretty mouth that Shane loved to have on his shoulders, on his thighs, stretched around his dick. Ilya shrugged Shane out of his shirt too, pressing kisses to Shane’s neck. It felt so good, soft lips and rough stubble, Shane letting his legs fall open so Ilya could slot between them, so close, heavy and settling.
Ilya kissed over his throat, over his chest, licking teasingly over his cock, then reaching to grab the lube from the bedside table and making his way back up Shane’s body to nip lightly at his neck as he rubbed his finger against his hole.
Fuck, Shane missed this. He ran his hands over Ilya’s back, over his chest, squeezing at his pecs. He was so pretty here, sighing his pleasure out against Shane’s neck as Shane teased his sensitive nipples, kissed the top of his head, over his soft hair.
Around the second finger, Shane felt that familiar rush of – it wasn’t quite shame, it was just – Ilya’s fingers felt good, he just wanted more. He missed that look in Ilya’s eyes when he was fucking him, missed that intensity, wanted Ilya closer. He squirmed, opening his legs wider.
“One more finger,” Ilya said, voice firm.
“Need you,” Shane protested. He wanted it, why wouldn’t Ilya give it to him?
“One more,” Ilya insisted, voice low. “Be good and take it, and I’ll give you my cock.”
Fuck.
Shane whined, shit. That was so – how could he just say that, so deep and firm –
He wanted to be good. He wanted Ilya to like him, to really like him, like him enough to keep fucking him. He wanted everything that Ilya would give him.
“One more,” Shane agreed. “Then fuck me.”
“I will,” Ilya promised. “I’ll fuck you how you need it.”
Shane nodded, sighing as Ilya kissed him again. Kissing him made it all better, soothed the aching raw vulnerability that came with being fingered open, made him clutch harder at Ilya’s back and gasp and moan into his mouth. Ilya never made him feel like he was in danger, no matter what, but something about this position, about Ilya on top of him, made him feel so safe, so cared for. It was a nice fantasy to have.
Ilya pulled out, kissing Shane’s whimper out of his mouth, slipping the condom on himself and slowly, slowly pressing in. “Feels okay?”
“Feels good,” Shane assured him. Ilya was going so slowly, so carefully, staring deep into his eyes as if trying to catch even a hint of discomfort. There wasn’t any, not even a little bit. Ilya had prepped him so well, stretched him out so nicely on his fingers, and was going so slowly, it was just a syrupy haze of pure pleasure. Fuck. Shane usually liked getting fucked hard and fast, but there was something to be said about the slow, sweet pleasure sliding up his spine. It was so good, so overwhelmingly good.
“Shane? Hurts?”
Shane opened his eyes to Ilya, blurry on top of him. Shit, was he crying?
“Shane? I – it hurts?” Ilya sounded terrified.
“I’m good,” Shane whispered. It was so good, he hadn’t ever felt this full, this blissed out and destroyed by pleasure. “Please. Don’t stop.”
“You’re crying.” Ilya’s mouth twisted, “I’m sorry, I can’t hurt you, please don’t ask me to.”
Fuck. Fuck, it was mortifying to say it, but Shane couldn’t let Ilya feel guilty even for a second. He swallowed and opened his mouth, “It doesn’t hurt, I promise. It just feels so good.”
Ilya titled his head. He looked cute like that, like a puppy. “Crying because it feels good?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
“Promise.”
“Fuck,” Ilya breathed out, eyes going dark. “Okay. Tell me if it hurts.”
“I will,” Shane nodded, blinking back tears. “Don’t stop.”
“So pretty even when you cry,” Ilya whispered. “Beautiful.”
Shane whined as Ilya pressed their chests together, skin on skin, warm and gorgeous as he fucked Shane so slowly, but deep. So deep, each thrust deliberate and sweet, Ilya brushing kisses over Shane’s face. “Feels okay?” he whispered.
Shane could barely breathe. Ilya always fucked him well, but never this slow and deep. “Ilya,” he moaned.
“Fuck,” Ilya gasped, looking even more wrecked, eyes wide. “You’re so perfect.”
“You feel perfect,” Shane whispered back.
Ilya kissed him hard, murmuring something in Russian against his lips as he continued that steady, pleasurably slow pace. It was a different type of intense, deeply intimate. Shane could feel every inch of Ilya’s body against his, every inch of Ilya’s cock inside him. Ilya ran one hand over his shivering thigh, smiling softly. Shane’s face burned, he couldn’t help it, but Ilya just pulled back slightly to look into his eyes. He was so beautiful, sweaty curls damp against his forehead, lips swollen and red from Shane’s mouth. His gold necklace was dangling from his throat, so close to Shane’s face, he wanted to –
He reached up and took the warm metal of the gold chain between his lips.
Ilya gasped and shuddered, eyes closing and mouth opening beautifully as he moaned – was he – did he just come?
He did, Shane noted in a haze, as Ilya made that sweet low pitched noise he always did after he came, nuzzling into Shane’s neck as Shane pressed his tongue to the pendant in his mouth, biting into it. Ilya yanked the necklace away, his eyes a burning flame, kissing Shane so hard and so deep. Shane whined, he was – he wanted to come, he wanted Ilya to kiss him and never stop, he wanted to be kept, he just wanted, why did he just keep wanting everything he couldn’t have?
“Shh, I’ve got you,” Ilya whispered, hitching Shane’s hips up a bit higher, sliding out of him as three fingers replaced his cock, filling up Shane’s needy hole, massaging right over that spot inside him that made his thighs shake, made his cock leak. Shane gasped, the intensity of Ilya’s eyes on him was almost too much, almost too good. Ilya’s other hand was firm on Shane’s waist, stably holding him, and Shane weakly dropped his own hand over Ilya’s. “Feels good? Still okay?” Ilya asked.
Was he serious? Of course it felt good. Ilya always made him feel good. Shane nodded weakly in response, another tear slipping down his cheek.
Ilya kissed his neck, biting down gently as his fingers pressed in just that little bit more firmly, and that was enough – Shane gasped through it, coming harder than he could remember, the way he only could with Ilya, hard enough to have him press even closer to the warm body beside him as his brain went hazy and his vision blurred. Fuck.
“Shane?” Ilya whispered.
“Hmm,” Shane whispered back. He was good. He was so good, Ilya was perfect, so good to him all the time.
Ilya curled up next to Shane, resting his head on Shane’s chest, slinging his arm over Shane’s stomach. “Good?”
“Good,” Shane said, dreamily. “You, um. It was really good.”
Ilya smiled, teeth shining white as his thumb gently brushed the tears off of Shane’s face. “Good.”
Shane hummed, thinking it through. He didn’t want to pretend like he didn’t love tonight, but it felt too…special. He didn’t want Ilya to have any guilt from the other night. “You don’t need to. Uh, if you wanted to go harder next time. You can. You don’t need to be so gentle.”
Ilya frowned. “You like being held close, and praised – ”
Shane’s face went hot. “I – fuck off, man.”
“It’s fine. I like it when you like it.”
Shane looked down. Ilya’s cheeks were glowing a pretty pale pink. Shane hadn’t ever seen that flush outside of sex. He was stunning, he was so heartbreakingly beautiful.
“I want you to like it too,” Shane whispered.
“I did,” Ilya chuckled. “Trust me, I liked it. Hard is good, sometimes slow is good too.”
“Okay,” Shane whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to Ilya’s smooth forehead. Ilya’s cheeks glowed even more pink. Cute.
Ilya sighed, getting up and sliding off the bed. Before Shane could blink, he was lifted off the bed and led to the bathroom.
“I can walk!”
“I know,” Ilya said, setting him down on the luxurious countertop. He went to go and turn on the shower, letting it fall onto his hand until it was steaming. Shane slid off the countertop, legs a bit unsteady. Ilya turned around like a hawk.
“I’m good,” Shane promised.
“Come,” Ilya wrapped an arm around his waist and led him to the shower.
It was burning hot, just the way that Shane liked it. They hadn’t ever shared a shower before (aside from that first time), but maybe Ilya noticed how hot Shane preferred his showers? Regardless, Shane closed his eyes in bliss as the sweat and come got rinsed off of his body, soaking his hair and soothing his sore muscles.
Shane blinked his eyes open when hands gently massaged over his hair. Ilya was standing right in front of him, eyes intensely concentrated. Ilya was washing his hair.
Shane couldn’t stop the red blush from racing over his face if he tried. This was a different type of sweet intimacy that was foreign to him, that made his heartbeat speed up double time. Wordlessly, he squeezed some shampoo onto his hands and reached up to scrub at Ilya’s curls too. Ilya huffed out a little laugh, covering Shane’s eyes as he rinsed his hair out. Shane copied the motions, making sure all the shampoo was washed out and nothing got into Ilya’s pretty eyes. His hair felt so good under Shane’s fingers, and the sweet expression on his face as Shane scratched lightly over his scalp made Shane glow with pride. He was making Ilya feel good.
The sex was always perfect, but this was almost better. Shane felt like he was dreaming – he didn't think this blissful softness was possible in real life.
Ilya’s pale skin was turning a slightly alarming shade of pink the longer they stood under the steaming hot water, so Shane turned off the showerhead as soon as they both rinsed off the soap from their bodies, sticking closely together in a way that was probably hazardous, but Shane wasn’t worried. He’d never let Ilya fall.
As they slowly put their clothes back on, Shane turned back to Ilya. He wanted to stay, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t be seen leaving Ilya’s hotel room, couldn’t be seen with him, not as anything more than rivals. “See you at the commercial shoot?”
Ilya nodded, running a hand over his still-damp curls, offering Shane a little grin. Ilya was always gorgeous, but with wet hair, barefoot and soft and smiling in the dull, early morning light, he looked unbearably, heartbreakingly cute. “See you.”
Shane didn’t know if he’d be able to give this up once he had it once. Selfishly, he hoped this wasn’t a one time thing – the soft touches, the sweet kisses, the gentle hands in his hair. It wasn’t something he ever thought he could ever have. A part of him hated Ilya for giving it to him, because now that he had it once, he would be addicted.
The other part of him, the selfish, stupid, needy part, knew that he’d be back for Ilya, and that Ilya would let him in with open arms. He turned back to look at Ilya one last time as he stepped out the door, he almost stopped dead at the sight of those shining eyes, tormented with an expression Shane couldn’t make out. It could only end one way. Shane knew Ilya knew it too, and they both knew they wouldn’t stop until it was over.
Shane smiled at Ilya, and Ilya grinned back. Shane closed the door behind him and stepped into the cold hallway, the smile dropping off his face as soon as Ilya was out of sight.