Work Text:
There's a buzzing against his ears. Shane pulls the phone away to check.
Message from Lily:
- I'm here
Shane brings the phone back to his ear again, dropping the hoodie he was trying to fold one-handedly into the laundry basket. He walks over to the front door of his condominium, his slippers sliding noisily against the wooden floors as he hums absentmindedly to his mom's words. She's been on the same thing for several minutes now, and every time he said something she would go on for another several minutes so now he's stuck to making affirmative noises.
He opens the door and there stood Ilya. In a t-shirt and slightly baggy jeans, simple but he still looked handsome. He opens his mouth to speak but Shane beats him to it and presses a finger to his lips.
Mom, he mouths.
Ilya shuts his mouth and follows in after Shane. He toes off his sneakers, staring at Shane's back as he nods at his mother's words though she could not see him. He holds back a laugh at how he looked slightly stupid nodding at the air. He could hear Yuna's voice faintly from the phone.
"...And Shane, sweetheart, do not forget to tweet out to the fans and the people also, okay? Maybe something like: Thank you for all the birthday wishes everyone, I appreciate it. I cannot wait to see you all again next game, or something along the lines of that, yes?"
Shane nods again, eyebrows pinched and eyes shut, clearly exasperated and wanting to finish the call. "Yes mom, I understand, and I will so don't worry - no, I won't forget. I'll do it sometime tonight...Yes, okay, yes, yes, yes...okay. Love you, goodnight." the call ends and three subsequent beeps follow after it.
Shane places his phone onto the counter and turns towards Ilya. "Hi." he greets.
"Hi. Hello. Happy birthday, Shane." Ilya steps forward and presses a wet kiss to his cheek as he says it. The brunette hums in appreciation and flashes him a smile. Ilya could not stop the reciprocating smile that splitted across his own face. Shane was always so pretty when he smiled.
Ilya places a box onto kitchen counter and slides it towards the Metros captain. Shane looks up at him quizzically as if it were not obvious. Ilya rolls his eyes and says: "Birthday present for you."
Shane's eyebrows raise up and he looks at the box with slight surprise. He wasn't really expecting a gift from Ilya. plus he already had something in mind that he wanted from the man. The thought of Ilya pondering over a gift to give him made tickling warmth curl in his chest and further more in his abdomen.
"Oh! Thank you - you didn't have to, but thank you, Ilya."
Ilya. Ilya. He liked the way it rolled off his own tongue, and it seemed as though Ilya thought the same with the way he smiled afterwards.
"I know. But I wanted to, so open it. I even used, uhh," the man paused halfway, eyes flicking to the box "-colorful paper." he finished, gesturing to it. It was wrapped with matte striped red and blue paper, and nicely at that.
"Wrapping paper." Shane corrects gently before picking up the box to inspect it. It was light. "And wow, you wrapped it very well. Who would've thought that the Ilya Rozanov could wrap gifts this well? Thank you again, Ilya."
"No problem." then he clears his throat and nods towards it, "Open it. I thought very carefully what to get you."
Shane smiles again, amused by Ilya's sudden shyness. He didn't really want to ruin the perfect wrapping job but since Ilya said open, he would open. He picked at a clear tape carefully, ignoring Ilya's amused huff as he tears it off, then he unfolds the wrapping paper. With one section opened, he shook the box out and onto his hand. It was sleek and with black leather all around it, no logo or brand to label it. If he had to guess what was inside, it would most likely be some sort of jewelry or watch.
"Of course Shane Hollander would take so long to open a box."
Shane shoots him a look, as if saying be quiet and Ilya looks away indignantly. Shane's gaze returns back at the box in his hand and opens it. Inside, there was a silver necklace, and the pendant was a dog tag. He lifts the box closer to read at the engravings.
CANADA'S SHANE HOLLANDER #24
SECOND TO RUSSIA'S ILYA ROZANOV #81
He huffs with a smile and looks up disbelievingly, "Fuck you. Really? Second to Ilya Rozanov?" the way he said it was less of a question but more of like a are you serious tone. Ilya shrugs, then he lifts up a finger and twirls it in one quick motion. "There is more."
Shane listens and flips the dog tag to its other side. It was completely different.
IF LOST PLEASE RETURN
TO ILYA ROZANOV
TEL NO. XXX-XXX-XXX
If lost please return to Ilya Rozanov.
To Ilya Rozanov.
He feels something akin to giddiness, as if he were a kid all over again on Christmas. Did this mean what he thinks it means? Or was he just overthinking it. Please let it be what he thinks.
He feels a large hand wrap around his biceps and he looks up to find Ilya’s eyes on him, staring worriedly. "You don't like? I had it custom made. For you."
Shane really feels like a kid. He feels happy. Maybe like when he won the trophy. Maybe even slightly better.
"I like it a lot, Ilya. Thank you." Shane shifts on his feet and reaches up to press a chaste kiss to Ilya's cheek. He takes the necklace out under Ilya's doubtful eyes and reaches behind to clasp it on. It latches on with a small click and he feels oddly complete. Whole.
"Was it expensive?" he asks, twirling the dog tag between his fingers, rereading the words over and over. If lost please return to Ilya Rozanov.
The blonde shakes his head, watching as the dog tag reflected off the warm lights that Shane always had on. He had told him something a few weeks ago about how bright white lights overwhelmed the eyes and stressed the brain or something. "Mmn, nyet - no. It is good quality though. I would not give you something bad and cheap."
Shane tears his eyes away from the dog tag and drops it to his chest with a soft clink, eyes flickering back up to Ilya.
"Really?"
Ilya furrows his eyebrows, eyes narrowing. "Da. Yes, really. So, what. You don't like it?"
"No, I do like it. Like I said, I like it a lot."
Ilya stares at him dubiously. "Okay. Then why are you acting weird."
"I am?" he knows that he's smiling now and that it must be confusing Ilya, and that yes, it is weird. He really wants this one other thing now. Who knew that being labelled as someone's would turn him on this much?
Ilya barks out a sharp confused laugh. "Yes! You-" his hands gesture wildly to Shane and he makes a show of eyeing him to prove how oddly he was acting. His eyes flit from Shane's smiling face, down to his chest, his hips, his bulge, his thighs - what?
"Oh." Ilya says dumbly.
"Oh." Shane echoes, then he steps closer. Ilya steps back. Shane steps closer, and Ilya's backed to the counter now.
Shane doesn't really know what's making him act so boldly like right now, and he's sure to be embarrassed of it later but fuck it, it's his birthday. He's going to ask for what he wants, and he's 99% sure that Ilya would give it to him.
"I like the necklace a lot, I really do. But there's something I want for my birthday."
He steps closer, sliding a hand up from Ilya's hip to his chest and feels the man's breath stutter beneath. He leans in, brown eyes meeting blue as he makes eye contact with Ilya and whispers: "I want to suck your cock as my present. Then, you cum in my throat and I swallow, you kiss me, then we fuck and I cry some more. Can you do that for me? For my birthday?"
Ilya feels his dick stir in his pants, hardening in interest at the request, and fuck, the way Shane said it. So sweet, so nicely, brown eyes so wide and honest with a sweet easy smile on his lips as if he weren't asking for the kinkiest thing ever. His lips part to answer, but then they close, then they open. He's speechless.
"As your birthday present." he says after a few more seconds of silence. A question maybe, a statement maybe.
Shane steps back, a smile still painted on his face. "Yes. Only if you want to of course."
"Of course I fucking want to! You - you are sure of this right?"
"Yes. Very sure Ilya, so can we start now?" Shane asks, but he was already tugging his own shirt off of his head.
Ilya stares dazedly, eyes petting over the curve of his waist then to small blossoming hickey he sucked beside Shane's nipple a few nights ago.
"Okay."
Shane places his folded shirt beside Ilya and looks up at him. "Okay?" he repeats.
"Yes, okay. Get on your knees."
It was comical and endearing really, how fast Shane slid onto his knees. Ilya would have teased him if he could, but he was distracted by how right Shane looked on his knees for him. He belonged there. Though he's seen Shane on his knees many times, there's something about this Shane on his knees with a dog tag hanging from his neck that had Ilya's full name on it. Shane was inscribed as his. Even when they're gone decades later, the dog tag would remain and would still have his and Shane's name on it. He was Shane's and Shane's was his even beyond death.
He lifts a hand up and grabs ahold of Shane's face. Skin so soft and smooth, unblemished. Shane leans into the touch, his eyes closing briefly before opening and looking at Ilya. His lips part and Ilya dips his thumb in. Shane breathes hotly on Ilya's thumb before his lips enclose around the appendage, his tongue wrapping around wetly and cheeks hollowing slightly as he sucks on it.
"Blyat." Ilya curses, pupils dilated as he watches his thumb get slobbered.
Shane smiles around his thumb before parting his lips again. Ilya switches his thumb out for his index and middle fingers this time, and presses down onto his tongue. Shane leaves his mouth open and Ilya watches like a hawk as Shane drags his tongue up and down his fingers languidly, before sucking on it like he did with his thumb. He angles his fingers deeper, a little beyond his second knuckle before he hears Shane gagging.
His voice is barely whisper when he asks: "Do you want to gag around my cock like this?"
Shane hums around his fingers, fighting against his gag reflex as he moves his head downwards, working to get more of Ilya's fingers down his throat.
Ilya clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, the sound sharp and displeased as he suddenly pulls his fingers out, a string of saliva stretching thin between them. Shane whines at the loss and leans forward to follow his fingers, but then winces when Ilya's fingers find his hair and pulls.
"Speak, Shane. Do you want to gag around my cock like that? Have it deep in your throat like that?"
It never took long to get Shane in the headspace, but this was far quicker than usual, so imagine Ilya's surprise when he catches the familiar faraway look in his brown eyes. He was already on the brink of it from merely sucking on Ilya's fingers. This must be some sort of birthday effect, if not then Shane must have been worked up before Ilya even arrived.
He tugs on his hair again, fingers curling around the soft strands. "Answer me, Shane."
Shane jolts out of his daze and his hands find purchase at Ilya's jeans. "Yes, yes, yes." he murmurs breathlessly. "Yes. I want you in my throat. I want to cry. I want it so that I can't breathe so, please, Ilya. Give it to me."
Kinky. Ilya hums, his thumb finding Shane's bottom lip again. His mouth falls open but Ilya ignores it in favor of spreading Shane's saliva around his lips in a circular motion. "Hit my leg if it is too much or if you want to stop, and you remember the safe word, yes?"
Shane nods, but that wasn’t what Ilya wanted. His wet fingers grip at Shane's jaw. "Say it.”
"Ginger ale."
Pleased, Ilya lets go and works at unbuckling his belt. Shane lunges forward immediately, and Ilya hisses when Shane's hot mouth is on his bulge. Shane pulls himself closer by the pants, and nuzzles his nose into the stretched denim, his hot breaths and wet kisses dampening the fabric.
Ilya slides the leather belt off, then fiddles with his buttons before unlatching it, then his fingers tug down his zipper and he almost comes when Shane changes targets and mouths over the wet spot of Ilya's boxers.
He cradles Shane's head with a hand, the other finding support on the counter behind him before suddenly realizing that the front door and kitchen area was not a good place to deepthroat and have sex at. "Shane," he breathes, then he pulls him off. Shane whines again at the interruption, as if Ilya's cock were the only thing tethering him to the physical realm.
"Let's move to the bedroom, yes?" then he hauls Shane up and carries him into his arms. Their lips find one another easily, as if they were of the opposite poles and magnetized to one another. Shane makes the most debauched noises as they kiss, he moans and whines and whimpers, especially so when Ilya prods into his mouth with his tongue. Kissing was something Shane loved, second to sucking cock.
Ilya walks into the bedroom and sits on the bed, Shane readjusts himself as he continues to kiss Ilya desperately, all teeth and gum as he rolls his hips against Ilya's bulge. They both moan at the sensation, breaths stuttering.
"Shit - ah - Shane, fuck." Ilya pulls away, panting as Shane makes another displeased noise. "Didn't you want to suck my cock first? Let's do one at a time, Shane." he reminds him.
The reminder works like a charm and Shane immediately slides off of Ilya's lap and back onto the floor, his knees thudding dully
"We are starting now." Ilya says, then he kicks off his jeans and hooks his thumb beneath the elastic band of his boxer. Shane leans forward a bit, like a dog locked in on a treat and Ilya lifts his hips slightly and drag his boxers down to beneath his balls. He shaved, but kept his happy trail in consideration of Shane's preferences.
His cock springs up and was already very hard, red and beading at the tip. He places a firm hand on Shane's head and guides him forward, closer to his prize. His other hand grips the base of his cock and he squeezes slightly, breath hitching at the relieve it gave.
Shane parts his lips, brown eyes following Ilya's cock as he guides it to the side of Shanes face before slapping it onto his cheeks with a few heavy thwacks. Shane's head sways with each slap, and he sits obediently. Ilya felt his cock pulsate more at Shane's complete submission and obedience. Only he could make the Metros captain this willing, only he could see the faces he makes when he orgasms and only he could hear his moans. Only Ilya Rozanov could see Shane Hollander in such a debauched state. He thinks briefly, what would the media say if they saw their Stanley Champion and Olympic medalist like this?
Ilya redirects his cock to the middle of Shane's face, pressing it slightly onto his face and laughs when Shane's brown eyes cross over themselves slightly. "You look stupid. How cute," he murmurs, voice deep and accent thick.
Ilya calling him stupid was doing things to him, making him more dizzy with want and need. Shane closes his eyes, inhaling in the scent of Ilya and a full-body shiver wracks through him. He really wants this. He needs this. It's right in front of him and yet Ilya wouldn't let him.
"Are you going to cry, Hollander?" Ilya coos, pressing his cock down a little harder, causing breads of pre to transfer to Shane's hair. Shane really did feel like crying, and his eyes burned a little. He really might just cry for cock in his mouth. "Please, Ilya." he begs pitifully, weakly.
Ilya laughs again and it was so mean that it stabbed hotly through Shane. The blonde finally indulges by pressing the tip of his cock into his wet mouth. Shane latches on immediately and moans a mouthful at the taste of Ilya's cock: salty, heady and just Ilya (something not unpleasant, but not necessarily pleasant either - carefully curated from his diet of vodka and tuna melts).
Ilya watches breathlessly as Shane’s tongue darts out as it swirls dutifully at the tip before disappearing beneath his lips to tongue at the slit. Ilya moans, and Shane shuffles closer. He sucks mindlessly, savoring the taste of Ilya and letting himself slip further into the cloudy haze of submission that had been looming over him ever since the necklace. Ilya, Ilya, Ilya, Ilya, Ilya.
Ilya has both of his hands on Shane's head now, holding him back from taking his cock all in one go like he knows the Montreal captain wants to do. "Careful and slowly. Open your mouth a little more, baby." he guides, the nickname leaving him without care.
Shane obeys and opens his mouth wider and Ilya thumbs his cheek rewardingly. He inches his cock in slowly and when he hits the back of Shane's throat and has him gagging, he pulls Shane off him and repeats this process a few times. He's got the Montreal Metros captain on his cock, and he was using him like a toy.
Shane jostled whines after a little while, not satisfied and wanting more. Ilya gets the hint and tugs his head further back as he goes in in in deeper into his throat. Shane is amazingly still as he does so. "Breathe in through your nose and relax - Da, just like that - yessss, just like that, fuck." he groans.
He pulls Shane off slightly, then he slides back in, repeating the process from earlier but instead of breaching at the elasticity of his throat, he was in his throat and fucking it and god, was Shane's throat hot and tight. Ilya hunches over himself as he grips at Shane's head.
The sounds were obscene and dirty. The insistent squelch and wet gluck of Shane's throat when Ilya’s cock meets the back of it, paired along with Shane's occasional slurp around his cock. Ilya forces his eyes open and glances down at Shane. His pupils were blown, pretty eyes were already watering, his face flushed and lips stretched over his cock, fetchingly plump and red. He feels his heart skip a beat and clench a little. He is young so he cannot be having heart problems, is it Shane Hollander doing this to him?
Shane stares up at Ilya reverently and pauses for a second before forcing himself down even further. “You.." Ilya clenches his toes and jolts in shock, "...fuck, you like this? Gagging all over my cock? I have not even fucked your throat properly yet but you're already drooling all over me.”
Shane whines pathetically around his cock. "And here I am, wanting to take it slowly so that you do not hurt yourself but you want it to hurt, don't you, hm?" one of his hands travel from Shane's hair to his throat before squeezing it slightly and Shane gurgles around it, his body going limp and eyes rolling slightly to the back of his head.
Ilya starts thrusting Shane's head up and down his throat at a pace. Shane moans happily, tucking his teeth more and sticking his tongue out further. "Blyat - agh - uhhn," Ilya throws his head back and moans, his hips lifting slightly and bucking into the wet heat. Shane took it all, relaxing his throat and body completely and he took and took and took what Ilya gave him. He drools stupidly around Ilya's ridiculously large dick and feels the dam unleashing as hot tears drip down his face.
Ilya drops his head down and moans throatily. Shane was crying on his cock. Crying stupidly on his cock. He looked like a whore and he was so pretty. His eyes were glossy and his lashes were stuck together, adding more to the ruined look as a new fresh set of tears rolled down his freckles. "Fuuuuck, doing so good. Oh, oh - ah - mm, so pretty for me, yes? You look very pretty with my cock in your mouth, Shane."
Shane moans at the praise and Ilya's grip on his head is loose now, weak from Shane’s insistent effort of trying to suck the soul out of him. He pulls Shane off to let him breathe but then the Metros captain dives back down again and is doing most of the work this time, hands gripping onto Ilya's thighs as he went down down down, drooling all over Ilya. He would stay here forever if he could, with Ilya's cock down his throat forever and until the end of time. He breathes in heavily through his nose at the thought. That would be nice.
He wonders how he looks to Ilya. His face wet with tears and drool, and he feels a new addition of snot joining in and it's so filthy, so dirty and disgusting and he fucking loves it. He slurps noisily, mouth closing in on the tip and tongue darting out as a pathetic attempt to clean up his mess. His eyes dart up to watch Ilya throw his head back, moans along side with Russian curse words rapidly spilling out of his lips continuously. Shane can't help but smile proudly around Ilya's cock before pulling off, taking a deep breath. Ilya looks down dazedly, seemingly relieved to have a break from all the stimulation but jumps and groans when Shane jerks him off with quick practiced up and down motions before taking him into his mouth again.
If he didn't know who Shane Hollander was, he would have thought that this was just some common whore who loved cock and sucking cock. Shane sucked his cock so enthusiastically and looked so content and elated as he did so. His soft strands of hair would bounce with each up and down motion, his eyes were light and glossed over, a slight smile on his lips that were stretched out for a much too large intrusion.
"Good boy," he manages and Shane seems to preens under the praise. "Good fucking boy." Ilya grunts out before sitting upright and readjusting his grip on Shanes hair again. He has to take control, if not he would cum all over and that would cut Shane's birthday gift short. Shane gags at the change in position and breathes in quick through his nose, his nose flaring when he realizes what Ilya is about to do. Ilya starts thrusting into his mouth, pulling his head down to meet him halfway.
There was nothing gentle or loving with the way Ilya fucks into Shane's mouth and Shane just lets him. He stares dazedly, lovingly, up to Ilya and feels completely at his mercy. He's being used, and he loves it. It's what he wanted, what he wants and what he needed. To let go, to not think, to be consumed. Ilya Rozanov would be the one to give it all to him.
He jostles and gags on Ilya's cock as he feels a heavy pressure on his erection. Ilya grins meanly, grinding his foot down onto Shane's crotch. Shane's hips buck weakly after him and he looks nothing like a athlete and more of like a mindless whore chasing for his own pleasure.
"You look very pathetic. Some captain you are." he mocks wryly.
Shane wants to cum, he wants to cum, he wants Ilya to cum in his mouth. He looks up at the Russian pleadingly and he seems to get the message across as Ilya huffs at him. "Greedy." was all he said before his hand travels back down to Shane throat, and squeezes.
It's amazing, really, how Shane takes him so easily. It's like a magic trick, watching his dick disappear and appear, in and out of Shane's tight throat. It bulges slightly with each thrust and with his hands clasped around the flesh, he feels his cock prodding his palm. Ilya stands up and drags Shane with him by the throat, tipping his head further back and shoving his cock even deeper in. He readjusts his foot on Shane and presses harder, making the man mewl and moan as one of his hands fly up to Ilya's at his throat and another to his thigh. Ilya waits for the slap on his thigh to stop but Shane's hands only let go and fall to his sides as he shudders, his body shaking as his eyes roll back in pleasure.
Ilya blinks.
He just fucking came from Ilya throat fucking him and a foot to his dick.
Ilya stares at him in disbelief before a snarl takes over his features and he continues his ministrations, chasing for his own release. He had planned to come at the same time as Shane but it seemed he underestimated Shane as he went ahead and came first like a bitch. Drool hangs from Shane's mouth and spit bubbles around his jaw as he moans mindlessly around Ilya.
The blonde inhales in through his teeth, hissing, eyes pinched shut but then Shane fucking gulps around him and he comes instantaneously with a loud moan. "Oh, fuck, fuck fuck - hnng,"
His knees buckle and he falls back down to the mattress, pushing Shane down his cock as he comes, spurting load after load into his throat and Shane takes it all. He shivers with overstimulation and feels his brain turn into mush and melt hotly out of his ears as he feels Shane swallow around him. He faintly registers that he's being quite loud but he can't help the noises and words that come out of him. "Da, da, da, yes - fuck - yes, Shane."
His dick twitches weakly in Shane's mouth with the last spurt and he pulls Shane off of him and pants. Shane swallows and opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and what a sight that was. Ilya wishes he could take a photo. Shane with his pink freckled cheeks, pink nose, watery eyes, wet face with snot and drool, fresh and dry tear tracks overlapping each other, pink mouth and lips open to show his empty mouth. He swallowed everything.
What was it that Shane said earlier? I want to suck your cock as my present. Then, you cum in my throat and I swallow.
It went exactly as that. Ilya pulls himself out of his pleasured haze and redirects his attention to Shane who was still catching his breath with a limp hand to his throat. He has to take care of Shane.
He pets at his head and caresses his cheek, wiping his messy lower jaw with a clean swipe of his hand. "Good boy," he praises, leaning down to kiss him.
He pecks at his lips sweetly as if he weren't fucking into them a few seconds ago. "Good boy, you did so good." he breathes, then he hauls Shane up into his lap and presses kisses all over his face. He's careful to not have his softening cock come in contact with Shane. "The best boy, did so good for me. So so good for me, baby. I will take care of you, so don't worry, moy khoroshiy." he murmurs as he kisses Shane's cheek.
Shane suddenly gasps, fresh hot tears running down his face rapidly and Ilya’s heart drops as he pulls back worriedly. Fuck, he went too far. "Oh, fuck. Shane, baby. I'm sorry."
Shane shakes his head weakly. "No," he protests, his voice incredibly hoarse and weak and Ilya would bask in the results of his hard work but right now he couldn't bring himself to when Shane was crying on his lap. "No," he repeats again, "It was good. Beyond good. I liked it, loved it, Ilya." he manages.
Oh, well, that was great to hear but it still didn't take away his concerns of Shane crying.
"Then why are you crying?"
Shane chokes out a laugh and presses a wet kiss beneath Ilya's eye. "It was that fucking good, that's why. And I just feel emotional now, in a good way, so don't worry." he reassures, taking in a deep shaky breath afterwards.
Ilya reluctantly nods, searching Shane's face for any indication that he's lying but when he finds none, he relaxes slightly and thumbs at Shane's hips. "That good, huh?"
Shane's face breaks out into a smile and Ilya thinks that he would fight a thousand wars to see Shane smiling at him again and again.
"Fuck you," he retaliates weakly, then a little breathlessly, "Thank you."
Ilya smiles and leans in, pressing his forehead against Shane's as they both calm down from their high. "Do you still want to kiss? We got the cock sucking part done, now is just kissing, then fucking, then I make you cry some more, yes?"
He sees Shane eyeing his lips before his gaze filters up to make eye contact. He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "I don't mind, but do you?"
"Why would I? Is just me and you in there."
In there, he means Shane's mouth.
Shane rolls his eyes and huffs before leaning his lower face in and capturing Ilya's lips into a kiss. Ilya didn't think it was gross. He knew many guys who didn't kiss after being given a blow job, and he finds it hypocritical as it's literally their own dick. Ilya didn't care though, he knows he's clean and it's good to show appreciation for a job well done on sucking his soul out of the physical realm. If anything, he found it hot, tasting the remnants of everything.
He feels Shane's hands travel beneath his shirt, feeling over his abs and moans a little. Shane pulls aways and has a playful glint in his eye. "Isn't it unfair that I'm the one shirtless with cum in my pants but you're still in your shirt?"
Ilya hums in faux consideration, "We are both half naked. I'm pantless, and you are shirtless. Fifty-fifty, da?"
Shane rolls his eyes and shakes his head, "No da," then he unclasps his hands from around Ilya's neck and tugs at the blonde's shirt. "Take it off, Ilya."
Ilya's gaze flits over Shane's body. "Yes, sure. But only if you take off your pants first. I am feeling a little, what do you call it? Ah yes, self conscious, with my cock out and everything."
Shane huffs out a laugh. "You are unbelievable. You feel self conscious with that thing between your legs? Okay, man."
Ilya nods indulgently. "Yes man, I am. So take off your pants, man."
Shane really laughs at this and pushes himself off of Ilya. "You’re annoying. Fine! You take off your shirt also."
Ilya takes off his shirt and watches as Shane tugs his sweatpants and boxers down all at once before kicking them off to join Ilya's jeans. He was already half erect.
"Excited aren't we?"
Shane follows Ilya's gaze and rolls his eyes. "Yea, like you aren't too."
Ilya leans back on his elbows and stares up at Shane as he straddles him again, stroking Ilya's cock.
Ilya smirks, already feeling breathless. "Sooo, we fuck now?"
Shane laughs, letting go of Ilya's cock and reaches over to his bedside table for lube. He retrieves a small bottle and spurts lube all over his fingers and reaches behind him to stretch himself out. He spits in his other hand and strokes Ilya.
"Mmn, yea, we're fucking now. It's my birthday, remember?"
Ilya laughs without force, entranced and staring up at Shane as if he were a deity that would rewrite the stars for him.
"Yea, yea, yes. What birthday boy wants, birthday boy gets. But, who are you and what have you done with clean freak Shane Hollander?"
"My god, Ilya shut up. If not, I'll just fuck myself on my dildo and have you watch instead of coming in my ass."
"Ooh, that sounds good too."
"Shut up and help me."
”Mmn, okay.” Ilya pulls shane down by his dog tag and kisses him, his hand replacing Shane’s at his ass.
They do fuck. Shane gets fucked out of his mind and cums without a count, overstimulated to the point where it hurt but wow, did it hurt so good and wow, did he want some more. He did end up crying some more as well.
Isn't he just glad that he's bought off the other rooms and that there would be no noise complaint?