Chapter Text
Shane made an involuntary noise, somewhere between a whine and a squeak, as heady arousal washed over him again. It was making his head spin, being this turned on without getting hard. His dick still throbbed with sensitivity where it was pinned beneath him, and his balls felt heavy between his thighs. Even still, a warm, pleasant pressure had settled once again in his lower belly.
Fingers brushed Shane’s ass when Ilya took himself in hand, while Ilya’s other hand stayed firm on the back of Shane’s neck. Flat on his stomach, he could hardly manage to crane his neck around to see what Ilya was doing. He was vulnerable in a way that necessitated he trust that Ilya knew exactly where his limits were, and when to push them.
Another slide of Ilya’s dick against Shane’s entrance made them both gasp. Ilya, Shane imagined, at the visual of his cock nudging the swollen opening, and himself at the realization that Ilya’s statement was true; normally they would be pretty evenly matched, but with how fucked out and boneless Shane was, there really wasn’t much he could do other than lay here and take whatever Ilya chose to give him.
Ilya’s dick dragged through the cleft of Shane’s ass again and again, smearing spit and precum around, bumping against his hole, and making Shane squirm. Just the pressure of Ilya rutting against him had Shane losing his mind. How did it feel like Ilya was fucking him when he wasn’t even inside?
Shane’s body stilled, tensing, when Ilya’s cockhead caught against his rim. The blunt, hard pressure was nothing at all like the slick velvet of Ilya’s tongue; it pressed demandingly into swollen, sore flesh. Shane whimpered. He felt and heard Ilya stroking himself as he nudged at Shane’s hole. He was so open, his body ready and receptive for Ilya to use. The very tip of Ilya’s dick nestled into Shane’s opening, barely any stretch with how much he was still gaping. Shane moaned at the thought.
Ilya kept sliding his dick back and forth over Shane’s entrance, making Shane jump each time Ilya angled slightly downwards, so that the ridge along the crown caught against Shane’s rim. This sort of teasing would normally drive Shane up the fucking wall, until he couldn’t help but demand (read: beg) Ilya to fuck him properly. Tonight, though, Shane didn’t have to worry about the urgency of his own pleasure. He tried to relax into Ilya’s motions, even as they made his breath hitch. It was kind of nice, not having to worry about anything other than being a warm, wet hole for Ilya to fuck. Shane’s dick gave a confused throb, smushed against the bed under his and Ilya’s combined weight. Useless; even if Shane could get hard right now, there was no way he was getting at his dick unless Ilya wanted him to.
Fucking hell.
Each drag of Ilya’s cock against Shane grew more intentional. The press of Ilya’s erection lingered more at Shane’s entrance, the tip rubbing gently and then more firmly at the swollen rim.
Ilya pulled the thong to the side, far out of the way. Shane couldn’t stop trembling.
“Too much?” Ilya asked. It was a fair question, but something about the tinge of concern in his voice made Shane want to cry.
“Shut up and fuck me, Rozanov,” Shane groaned, rocking his hips back to meet Ilya’s.
“Most toys are not so demanding,” Ilya teased, and when Shane’s hole twitched in response, Ilya saw a moment of weakness and took the opportunity to press down and in.
“Oh, fuck,” Shane gasped as the tip of Ilya’s dick popped inside. Shane scrambled a little against the bed, up and away from the burning pressure, but Ilya pressed firm between his shoulders, keeping him pinned down. In place. “Fuck,” Shane shuddered, his body adjusting to the slight stretch. He was already so open, it really wasn’t that much of a stretch but was still a lot in combination with the shocks of overstimulation. The unyielding hardness of Ilya’s dick pressed into Shane from the inside, squishing the swollen tissue. It definitely stung, but in the way that it hurt to massage a sore muscle or rub at a bruise. It was a lot, but it wasn’t bad.
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned. He shifted against Shane, slipping in further. It felt like Ilya’s whole cock was inside him already, but Shane had a terrible feeling that it was more like the tip. “Feels so good.”
Shane worked to control his breathing, but Ilya wasn’t interested in giving him a moment to adjust, apparently, because he wrapped both hands around Shane’s waist and started fucking into Shane with short, shallow thrusts.
“Fuck, fuck,” Shane moaned. It was so much, the dragging friction against his abused entrance was relentless, and Ilya’s thrusts never drove deep enough to reach Shane’s prostate, leaving him writhing against the mattress. It burned and it was making Shane’s balls ache.
Ilya pressed into Shane over and over, each thrust in marked by a whine at the sharp pain as Ilya pushed through the swollen ring of twitching muscle. Shane’s nails scraped the sheets.
“You’re softer than before,” Ilya grunted out, rocking against Shane from behind. “Inside.”
“Swollen—” Shane bit out, his voice strained; it was getting difficult to focus on the distant, warm throb of pleasure when every rub of Ilya’s dick against his asshole sent a prickly shock of pain up his spine.
Just as Shane started to consider that perhaps he had been a bit too ambitious in going down this path, Ilya shifted forward; more of Ilya’s weight pressed through Shane’s waist, keeping him pinned, and Ilya slid in deep enough to hit Shane’s prostate dead on.
“Fuck,” Shane groaned; the stimulation felt ridiculously good. It was still overwhelming, but a bit less painful than when Ilya focused entirely on his entrance. Ilya’s hands gave Shane’s waist a squeeze before Ilya ground his hips against the spot again. “Fuck, oh,” Shane shuddered under his boyfriend’s weight.
Ilya swore as he pulled out all the way, and Shane had to use a pillow to muffle a hiss at the stinging drag. Because Ilya was the world’s most gigantic asshole, he resumed fucking Shane in shallow thrusts, stretching the aching opening with rough, jerking thrusts while completely avoiding the spot that would make Shane feel good.
“Fuck—” Shane ground out. His eyes burned with unshed tears. “You fucking, fucking bastard—ah—” Shane gasped when Ilya shoved in at an angle that made his erection jam against Shane’s rim before sliding in with a particularly harsh pop. It knocked the wind out of him, but not so much that he couldn’t hear Ilya’s strangled sound. Or feel Ilya’s dick jump inside him.
“Sorry,” Ilya’s voice was rough. But he was already drawing back to do it again. Shane nearly jerked out of Ilya’s grasp when he poked against him, rough and sloppy thrusts stabbing into swollen tissue.
Shane whined, squirming against the bed. Ilya gripped his waist more firmly, holding Shane in place while he rocked the head of his dick in and out of Shane’s gaping hole. Wet, slick popping sounds, Ilya’s groans, and Shane’s growing whimpers filled the room.
Shane wasn’t sure when it started, but he was shaking. His body was beyond confused; painfully overstimulated and fucked out, yet also somehow insanely turned on by the way that Ilya was taking his pleasure without a care. Everything was way too much and nowhere near enough at the same time.
Finally, Ilya’s thrusts slipped deeper, no longer pulling out completely every time. Shane nearly groaned with relief, and his whole body relaxed. Ilya shoved in, hard, and a tear rolled down Shane’s cheek when Ilya’s dick ground against his prostate.
‘Yes,” Shane gasped wetly.
“What, here?” Ilya asked like he didn’t fucking know exactly what he was doing when he snapped his hips, driving into the spot again. Shane shuddered as pleasure bloomed deep in his belly. Shane could practically picture the shit-eating grin on Ilya’s face as he angled his hips and set up a rhythm that drove his cock straight into the swollen gland over and over. Shane cried out, high and whining, at every sharp burst of pleasure that washed through him with each blow to his prostate.
“Ah, fuck, fuck,” Shane cried, rutting against the mattress. His dick dragged against the lace panties, still sensitive and a little raw, and it made him hiss.
“Fuck, you like it?” Ilya surprised Shane by not drawing back at all this time but instead staying pressed against Shane’s sweet spot and rocking back and forth, nudging into it mercilessly.
“I—” Shane gasped. It was becoming increasingly difficult to focus on stringing letters into words and words into sentences. Ilya was relentlessly massaging Shane’s prostate with his dick; it wasn’t fair. “Does it matter?” Shane squeaked out. His hips were rocking up to meet Ilya’s, to fuck himself harder on his boyfriend’s dick.
“Yes, of course it matters,” Ilya sounded annoyed, like it should be obvious. “You get tighter, when you are close. And squeeze around me, like this,” Ilya’s hands squeezed around Shane’s waist in a fluttering, erratic rhythm. “Feels good. Even better when you make pretty sounds and stupid faces.”
Ilya resumed thrusting into Shane at the perfect angle to batter against his prostate some more. It was becoming unbearable. The urge to defy Ilya, deprive him of Shane’s sounds and reactions, was strong, but Shane couldn’t help the sounds he was making or the way his body shuddered and clenched around Ilya at the words.
“Fuck yeah, just like that,” Ilya groaned. “I want to feel you come on my cock.”
Shane whined, pressing his face into the pillow. His knuckles ached from gripping the sheets so tightly, twisting the fabric around his fingers. This was turning him on like he couldn’t believe.
“You’re a fucking asshole,” Shane gasped, “I’m not even – I’m not even hard.” Shane groaned, and it was true, but he couldn’t deny the waves of pleasure rolling through him every time Ilya drove home.
“That sounds like a challenge,” Ilya growled, shifting his hips so that gravity pulled him deep, shoving into Shane hard.
“Ah, fuck, oh my god,” Shane choked out, bucking against Ilya’s hands at his waist. Ilya’s dick was digging into Shane’s prostate hard enough to sting, hard enough to make his eyes water. “Fuck,” he whined when Ilya rocked against him, hard cock kneading the swollen area. It was unbelievably intense. It felt like Ilya was rubbing against the inside of his fucking dick, smushing his prostate like a wet sponge –
Maybe – maybe Shane could come again. But he wasn’t hard? That hadn’t happened before, and he wasn’t sure it was actually possible, but he would either prove Ilya wrong or have an orgasm, which seemed like a win-win.
“Yeah?” Ilya teased breathlessly. His thrusts grew pointed, purposeful, no longer roughly stabbing at the spot that made Shane’s eyes roll back in his head, but rather dragging across it, massaging it, kneading it, working it over until Shane was shaking with need for release.
“Oh god,” Shane groaned. The pressure between his thighs had grown unbearable, and he couldn’t stop shaking. It was too good, and there was no way that he could come like this, not soft, and not with nothing other than a cock in his ass. “I – I need more, please,” he begged, but he had no idea what he was even asking for.
“No, you don’t,” Ilya said, firm and authoritative as he continued fucking broken noises out of Shane.
“Fuck, oh – Jesus fucking Christ,” Shane gasped. “Ilya, seriously, I can’t—”
A hard, deliberate stroke across Shane’s prostate made him cry out, his hips twitching where they were pinned to the bed. It was so fucking intense, and Ilya wasn’t letting up. Every thrust punched straight down towards Shane’s low belly, heavy pleasure building and building until he felt full enough to burst. His balls ached.
“You can,” Ilya encouraged, never pausing his thrusts. “You will.”
“Nn – no,” Shane whined. His breathing grew rapid and labored, wet gasps and moans pouring from his mouth. For a split second, the pressure on his bladder made him scared he might piss himself. One hand reached back, pushing weakly at Ilya’s grip on his waist. “Please – ah – I can’t—”
“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groaned. “Show me how good you can make me feel – is what you’re made for, right?”
Shane couldn’t hold back the wrung out, desperate sounds he was making with each stroke. He felt like he was losing any semblance of control.
“Come on, be a good toy,” Ilya encouraged, rocking into Shane’s prostate like he could push through it, pressing deep and grinding.
“Ilya,” Shane choked, urgent and scrambling against the bed when his balls grew tight and suddenly, he was coming. His voice cracked on a wordless cry, and his balls pulsed heavily, come shooting out of his limp dick in weak little bursts, dribbling into his panties.
It was unlike any orgasm he’d had before; it felt kind of muted, like his dick was having an out of body experience. It also went on for fucking ever, and Ilya fucked him through it, practically wringing each spurt of come out with his thrusts. Shane was shaking again, and he was making high-pitched sounds with each blow to his prostate. The oversensitivity came on rapidly, and Ilya’s thrusts slipped from pleasure into pain.
“Ngh” Shane sputtered, the overstimulation was making his stomach do flips. He tried to haul in some air but couldn’t seem to catch his breath. It was like the air was being sucked out of his lungs. “Stop, please,” he gasped when he finally had the air to speak.
“I can’t, fuck, I’m sorry,” Ilya moaned, sliding his hands up to cradle Shane’s ribs as he kept fucking him through the aftershocks.
Shane whimpered, another broken sound among the punched-out noises he made with each thrust. His ass ached, the bundle of nerves thoroughly abused and overstimulated, his hole aching and twitchy. But Ilya still wanted him, still wasn’t done using him – fuck – so Shane couldn’t be done either.
Ilya’s nails dragged over the sensitive skin that stretched across Shane’s ribs, digging in just enough to sting. It made Shane gasp, finally catching a decent breath of air. Ilya shifted back slightly, finally angling away from Shane’s prostate, and Shane shuddered with relief. Shivery aftershocks of pleasure rocked up his spine, and he clenched a little around Ilya, feeling him twitch in response.
“Fuck, you just feel so good like this,” Ilya groaned. He adjusted his position over Shane’s legs, stroking Shane’s back soothingly even as he started fucking into Shane again, hard and much deeper than before. Shane whimpered at the stretch as Ilya pried him open. “I can’t help myself,” Ilya was practically whining. “I’m sorry.”
Shane was pretty sure the feeling he was experiencing right now was fear, or at least that was what it was supposed to be.
So why was he getting hard?