Work Text:
"Babe. Wake up."
Ilya sounds sleep-rough and quiet under the white noise machine, but his voice always manages to rouse Shane regardless. Especially now.
"What?" Shane asks, blinking himself awake and scrambling back against the headboard. There hadn't been anything in Ilya's tone to signify any sort of urgency, but Shane can't stop worst-case scenarios from flooding through his head regardless, sending an uneasy wave from his chest down to his shins. "Is it the baby?" he asks, leaning over to flick on a lamp.
"Turn that off," Ilya says, throwing an arm over his eyes not answering the question at all. When Shane looks over, he's yawning and frowning, pushing Shane away. "What the fuck?"
"You woke me up," Shane says, annoyed now. He's barely been getting enough sleep as it is ever since Ilya came downstairs one morning with a pregnancy test in hand, a cheerful little plus sign blinking on the screen as he yelled, yes, Shane, now you can go back to bottoming! "So the baby's okay?"
"Yes?" Ilya says. "I mean, probably, yes. As far as I can tell. Don't freak out."
"Then what's the problem?" Shane asks sharply before he can think the better of it. Then, softer: "Nightmare?"
"No," Ilya says, rolling over. The sheets fall with the movement and pool around his hips, exposing his belly. Shane can't help but smile at the sight of it. After the twenty week mark two weeks ago, Ilya had finally popped. They'd both been worried but the OB-GYN had insisted that late showing was normal for an athlete as active as Ilya. Apparently, there was a chance someone like him might not even show until nearly seven months, something Ilya had seemed intensely sad about.
Turned out there hadn't been any reason to worry. His stomach had expanded outward, soft silvery stretch marks framing his belly button like a big arrow saying: Baby Hollander Here. At least that's what Ilya kept saying. Shane's cheeks kept flooding with embarrassment every time he did, but his dick seemed to have other opinions about it.
"Then what?" Shane questions. "Kicks wake you up?"
Ilya had started feeling them around two weeks ago, his face impossibly soft and full of wonder as he'd run his hand over his stomach, pressing curiously. Shane's still waiting for his turn.
"Could be, but not my concern," Ilya says, snapping Shane back to reality. "I had sex dream."
"Oh?" Shane asks. The last vestiges of sleep and worry float out of his brain with that, and he lets his body deflate back into a more reclined position. Rolling over with a grin, he puts his hand on Ilya's bump, letting a finger trail up toward his chest. His tits haven't really grown much yet, but they've softened, no longer just hard, smooth pectoral muscles.
"Yes," Ilya says, voice firm. "Very good sex dream."
"And what were we doing in this sex dream?" Shane asks, thumb swirling over one of Ilya's darkened, enlarged nipples. He presses a kiss to it, and hums lightly to the sound it tears from Ilya's throat.
It's been a while since they've fucked, and it's been hard on both of them, even if they're both unwilling to admit it. Shane's heard plenty of horror stories from Jacki, and luckily Ilya's pregnancy has been on the less-intense side, but it hasn't been easy either. A couple weeks of consistent vomiting, and now steady acid reflux and exhaustion. Ilya hasn't complained about any of it beyond restlessness and boredom from being on parental leave from hockey, which makes Shane swell with pride and also relief. He can't imagine being the one choosing to carry, even if he did prefer to receive.
"In dream, you were riding me," Ilya says lowly, pushing Shane off of him until he's flat on his back. "I am not too big for this yet, yes?"
"Shouldn't be," Shane breathes out, mouth going dry. He's already half-hard, and Ilya's barely described anything. Embarrassing. "Um," he follows up, "I mean, it's safe for the baby. Dr. Kim said."
"Yes, I know," Ilya says, walking his fingers down to Shane's waistband. "Please don't bring him into this right now."
"Right, 'course not." Shane places his hands on top of Ilya's, taking over and tugging his briefs further down to free his cock, which springs up eagerly.
"I'm so sexy I already get you going?" Ilya waggles his eyebrows, eyes pointed to Shane's growing boner. Shane blushes. "Oh you're embarrassed, you're so cute."
"I'm not embarrassed, you're just—yeah, you're really hot," Shane says. Watching Ilya grow over the last few months has unlocked new things in Shane. He hadn't ever really thought much about pregnancy outside of a clinical sense, or ever even gotten hard thinking about pregnancy, but now that Ilya was…
He'd jacked off in the shower thinking about Ilya's stretched skin. He'd been taking every chance he could to feel and squeeze Ilya's slowly growing chest. They'd even talked about knocking him up again right after this one just so Shane can watch his body grow for a second time.
Ilya's hand is on Shane's cock now, massaging back and forth in what feels like to Shane, the slowest speed known to mankind. He groans and pulls Ilya's hand off of him.
"What, you don't like hands now?"
Shane grins and sits himself up in a swift motion, then leaning and placing a gentle kiss on Ilya's lips. "We can use our hands anytime—you said I was riding you." Ilya grins back.
Shane maneuvers himself carefully on top of Ilya, taking care to lean back a bit so he's not putting pressure on Ilya's belly. Ilya reaches for Shane's hand, dragging it toward him and kissing his palm gently, then dragging his tongue from the bottom of his palm to his middle and pointed finger, which he opens his mouth wide to swallow down.
"Fuck," Shane mutters, closing his eyes for a brief moment. Ilya releases his hand as quickly as he's taken it and Shane places it on Ilya's cock, using Ilya's saliva and the drizzle of precum leaking out to slick Ilya up as he positions his hips to slide down.
"Come on, you can't tease a pregnant person. It's not fair," Ilya whines with a pout that's too cute for Shane to resist, even after all these years.
"You're right, you're right, fuck," Shane says, removing his hand.
He eases down slowly though, so carefully on Ilya's cock, and it elicits another protestation from his husband. Shane grins big as he feels himself stretch around him.
"Hey now, it's been a minute for both of us. I need to go slow."
"Yeah—fuck—I can fucking tell, you're so fucking tight. What, no time for dildo?" Shane reaches a hand behind him and gives him a playful smack on the inside of his thigh before squeezing it, pulling a short gasp out of Ilya.
"Hey, I can," Shane stops midsentence, groans as he rocks down, feeling Ilya enter him completely, "I can stop if that's how it's going to be, asshole." Ilya grabs onto Shane's hips in reply, firm, holding him in place and smiling in a way that Shane knows means trouble.
"Not if I say anything about it." Shane smiles at how Ilya stumbles over the idiom, late nights and sex always leaving him searching for certain English words that he normally has command over.
"You relax," Shane says, sliding his hands across Ilya's stomach, fingers dancing along the stretch marks and moles and following his dark trail of hair up to his chest. He rubs one of his nipples between his thumb and forefinger, feels it harden as Ilya thrusts up just so, matching Shane's slow, delicious pace. Ilya moans underneath him, and just the sound is enough to make Shane's cock respond, twitching with want.
God, it feels good to do this again. He loves feeling the heat of Ilya's body under his, watching him squeeze his eyes shut as he mutters Shane's name again and again. He rocks forward, savoring the feeling of Ilya's cock moving inside him.
"So, what else were we doing in this dream of yours?"
"Mmm, so eager, aren't you?" Ilya asks, a smile painting his face. Shane can't help the way he blushes, half-heartedly slapping Ilya's shoulder. "You can't get enough of me."
"Asshole. What were we doing?"
"Well…" Ilya starts, dragging out the word so he can fuck up into Shane once, twice, three times. Shane automatically leans forward to steady himself on Ilya's shoulders, and as he does, their bare stomachs touch. His cock twitches at the feeling, and Ilya latches onto that like a dog and a raw steak. "Oh, what, I don't even have to say anything? Wow. So easy."
"Shut up," Shane grunts, lifting himself up only to release his muscles without ceremony, and delights in the moan he manages to pull out of Ilya's throat. "You know that…you know that it's really turning me on. To see you like this."
"Yes, I know, you want to give me many babies, see me get big and fat. Is so you can finally be number one hockey player, no?"
"Shut up," Shane says again. "Why won't you tell me what we were doing in the dream?"
"You distract me," Ilya says, getting his hands around Shane's hips. He knows that Shane loves looking at them in the mirror the next day, checking for bruises that have hung around. He's so busy watching the way Ilya presses his thumbs in, the way he thrusts into Shane and makes him feel so full that he almost misses that Ilya's face has flushed a red too deep to just be from sex.
"Ilya," Shane says slowly, "what aren't you telling me?"
"Nosy," Ilya says, slowing down his movement. Shane can't have that, so he picks up his own pace, biting back a grunt. "Fine. I tell you."
But instead of doing that, Ilya grabs Shane's hand and pulls him down for a sloppy kiss.
"The baby!" Shane mumbles against his mouth. "I'm squishing it."
"You are not," Ilya says, sucking at Shane's neck. "I tell you. Okay, happy? In dream, my uh…" He trails off, and Shane has the sudden realization that maybe he's embarrassed. Ilya keeps his face buried against Shane's skin as he says: "My milk was here."
"Oh!" Shane says, sitting up straight, ignoring Ilya's sound of protest. "Well, uh. Colostrum, maybe, but you shouldn't actually be lactating yet."
"Shane." Ilya rolls his eyes in that way he does sometimes: fond, but disbelieving. "You can roleplay bellboy with me, but not milkmaid?"
"That was like seven years ago!"
"Okay, and?" Ilya asks. "We are married now and I want you to suck my milk. I am pregnant one, indulge me. You want to carry baby next time?"
Shane slides his eyes down over Ilya's stomach, caresses it and leans down to plant kisses along its curves. "No," he says softly but matter-of-factly. He sits up again, but keeps his hands resting gently on his husband's belly. "But um. How would… Do I just…?"
Ilya raises an eyebrow. "Oh my god. You have kissed my chest before, no? It's the same."
Shane folds himself back down over Ilya, careful not to put too much weight on him. He traces his tongue lazily up his happy trail, up to his chest. Looks up, and judging by Ilya's expression—closed eyes, lower lip caught in between his teeth—he's doing the right thing. He smiles as he circles his tongue around Ilya's nipple, swollen and puffy from the pregnancy, feels his husband's breath get shaky underneath him and it spurs him further. He sucks at it while he thinks of what to say. Roleplay, milkmaid, Ilya had said.
"Mm, Ilya," Shane murmurs, "your milk tastes so…" He pauses, searching for the right word. "Fresh?" Okay, yeah. "You have the best milk in the whole village, Ilya, so good—" He continues, but Ilya cuts him off.
"Village?"
"Uh, well, yeah, you said—"
"What am I in scenario? Prized cow?"
"No, no no no! Um, I mean, unless that sounds appealing?"
Ilya props himself up on his elbows, stares at Shane in a way that tells him he's missed a crucial detail from his husband.
"I feel like cow every day, Shane; no, I do not want my husband to tell me I am also cow in bed."
Shane ducks his head to hide his smile. He brings his eyes up to meet Ilya's and cups his face with his hand. "I'm very sorry I made you feel like a cow."
Ilya turns his face into Shane's palm to press a soft kiss there. "Is okay." Shane slides up further to meet his lips, smile still playing on his face.
"What about a prized sheep?"
Ilya feigns a groan and cracks a wide smile. "You are going to pay for this, Hollander."
"I know, I know," Shane grins back and turns his attention back to Ilya's chest, lips swiftly locking around his nipple again. Ilya hisses at the sudden intensity, bucking his hips deeper into Shane and causing Shane to release his nipple with a loud moan.
"Fuck," Ilya groans.
"Feel good?" Shane breathes, trying to concentrate on the task at hand while Ilya is still rocking back and forth into him.
"Feels good. Relieves me."
"They're uh—fuck, they're heavy. Full of milk, yeah?" He laps at Ilya's nipple and gives a firm squeeze, opening his mouth like he's waiting for a drink. He knows he must be on the right track because he can feel the immediate response from Ilya, his pace beginning to quicken. Ilya nods.
"Yeah, 'm fucking full. Need to let some out."
"I'm not—I'm not gonna last," Shane admits, his own cock in pain with how hard he is, the throbs building in a familiar way.
"Me either," Ilya says between breaths. "Fuck, it's good."
Shane's sucking now in earnest and it doesn't take long before Ilya lets out a familiar grunt.
"Fuck, it's—ah shit it's coming—"
Shane too can feel the first waves beginning to crash and he pulls his lips off Ilya's chest, frantically putting his mouth on Ilya's and kissing him like a man at his last supper as the first spurts of come decorate the sheets.
He's trying not to lean down on Ilya's chest as the last of Ilya's climax runs through, still wary of squishing the baby no matter what Ilya or Dr. Kim say. Instead, he pulls off of Ilya slowly, aching at the emptiness as he flops down next to him. Ilya groans and rolls over to his side, pressing a kiss to Shane's shoulder.
"Was that — was that okay? What you wanted?" he asks, gently running his hand along Ilya's round belly. Fuck, he still can't get enough of it. Isn't sure if he ever will.
"Mm. Yes, you did good job, even though you thought me village farm animal," Ilya replies with a grin. He brings his hand down to meet Shane's, intertwining their fingers. "We can work on roleplay. And you? Your dick says you liked."
Shane chuckles. "Yeah, yeah, I admit, I liked it. And uh…I'm going to want to do that for real, later. When we can."
"I thought you might. Pervert."
"Hey! It was your subconscious that thought of it first."
"Yes, yes, everyone is critic, I know this," Ilya says, shaking his head tiredly, but he can't keep the fondness out of his voice.
"Really though," Shane says, egged on by the sound of it. "I like seeing you turned on. Happy."
"Yes, I know," Ilya says. He brings their hands to his lips and gently kisses Shane's knuckles. "You make me that way."