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It started, as most things between them did, with a competition.
“What's the most you've come in one hour?" Shane asked, breaking away from their kiss.
Ilya raised his eyebrows, because they both knew the answer. Shane had been there for it, making him come four times in fifty-eight minutes, with his soft hands and talented fucking mouth.
"Why, want to beat my record?”
Shane rolled his eyes. "Fuck off.”
"Don't sell yourself short. I think you have good chances.” He punctuated his taunt with a roll of his hips that rocked them both, to remind Shane that they were in the middle of heatedly making out on the couch.
“I'm not-" Shane moaned into Ilya’s mouth. "I'm not that easy.”
Ilya couldn't help but laugh, and also couldn't tell which made him more turned on, Shane slapping his chest or grinding back on his cock. Instead of asking for him to do either of them again, he said breathlessly. "It's okay, I understand. Is hard to have as much stamina as me.”
Shane pulled his head back by the hair to glare at him. “Stamina, huh?" Ilya was panting and they hadn't really done much. He choked back a pathetic whimper when Shane adjusted his grip but didn't let go. He had that challenging look in his eyes that drove Ilya wild. “You wouldn't last an hour.”
“Fuck." Ilya pawed at his thighs, his hips, his chest, any part of Shane he could just to ground himself, if this was going where he thought it would. "I'm very good at this, you know. I can last. Easy. You, however…”
Shane scoffed, and pulled Ilya's hard cock out of his sweats in a manner that can only be described as retaliatory. "You're going to regret those words,” he said, and began pumping him fast and brutal.
Without lube, the friction of his hand was hot and a little painful. It was also, unfortunately, exactly how to get him to come the fastest. Shane let Ilya's hair go, shoving two of his fingers into his mouth. He tried to suck them, but Shane curled his palm over Ilya's chin and held his jaw still. Fuck, but it made his dick twitch harder, something Shane didn't fail to notice.
“Already about to come, right?"
Ilya shook his head as best he could around the fingers in his mouth, but it was true. For all that he bragged about skills and stamina, he's helpless against Shane putting all that intense focus and effort into making him shoot off as fast as humanly possible. He moaned low at a good stroke that twisted at the top just right, and suddenly all that building tension and heat that was just about to spill over stopped. The fingers left his mouth. Shane's weight pinning him to the couch lifted.
Gasping, Ilya looked down to his abandoned cock, red and weeping and so fucking hard. The change made him lightheaded.
"What,” he said faintly, still catching his breath.
Shane, already walking down the hallway to their room, clapped twice like he did when getting Anya’s attention. "C’mon, Ilya.”
And he leapt off the couch faster than he could process the command. Sweats halfway down his ass, cock out, stumbling into the bedroom to see Shane sitting on the edge of the bed, taking his pants off and shirt already gone.
He pointed to the carpet between his spread legs. “Sit."
Ilya sat as if a leash was wrapped around his throat. Sometimes, he felt like a tamed animal. Like Shane's dog. The great Ilya Rozanov at this man's feet, domesticated. He nuzzled into his warm thigh and wondered if Shane was aware of what he was doing. If it was obvious how Ilya felt, or if Shane just knew him so well that he was acting on instinct with no thought.
He wondered if Shane would think it's ridiculous, too.
With a flourish, Shane checked his boring, sexy Rolex on his wrist. "Better hurry it up, Rozanov, if you want to make me come five times.”
Ilya immediately got to work swallowing him down. This was something he practiced almost as much as hockey. Through the years, with diligence, he learned how to play Shane like a fucking fiddle.
"Oh, god, Ilya.” Shane was bent over his head, face scrunched in pleasure, as Ilya bobbed as fast as he could without choking. He tongued under the head at every upswing, and squeezed his hands firm at the base on every downswing. Each little ah ah ah Shane let out settled under his skin like a caress.
His rhythm was interrupted by Shane kicking him in the side, making him moan, in turn making Shane cuss and rip him off his dick.
“Fuck, Ilya. Stroke yourself. You-you can't come. Don't you dare come."
Ilya bit Shane's thigh to contain his loud groan as he put a hand on himself. It was torture, but he could do it. He could be good for Shane.
Shane guided his cock back into his mouth. "There you go. That's it. So good.”
He was less coordinated now, but determined. He sucked Shane off sloppy, and jerked off slowly and with a light hand. Even then, he had to let go and claw at his knees several times to keep himself from coming, and each time something lit up in his chest. By the time Shane came, Ilya's head was so full of air he didn't notice it was about to happen until it was too late. He tried to swallow as much as he could, but most of it got on Shane's chest and legs.
He collapsed back on the bed panting. Ilya was still on the floor, painfully hard and wishing Shane would move his leg a little in, so that he could rub himself against it. Feel the hair tickle his sensitive skin. Maybe Shane would pet his hair, call him a good boy. Fuck.
The only thing he could do to contain this… this visceral feeling was to start cleaning up the mess he made with his inattention. He started near Shane's groin, where a lot of cum pooled, and then with a lapping, flat tongue, he moved to lick up every last trace on his stomach.
Normally, Shane luxuriated in the post orgasm bliss for a while, but the time limit seemed to make him eager to continue. He sat up on his elbows and gestured to the nightstand. “Go get the lube."
Ilya stripped off the last of his clothes on the way, and when he turned around, Shane was making himself comfortable at the head of the bed. Like a king. He so thoroughly owned Ilya it made him shake, or maybe it was the way he patted the bed slowly, intentionally, like Ilya was his dog, following orders and fetching anything Shane wanted.
It was second nature to slot between Shane's legs. He was tight and warm like always, body yielding beautifully to his fingers. Ilya found it harder than normal to get his rhythm, because he really was shaking all over, some kind of shivering anticipation radiating out from his heart, uncontainable. “Please," he said, though he didn't know what he was begging for.
He almost forgot the other half of their competition, in his mission to make Shane come on his fingers, but was reminded when his plea was answered by Shane wrapping his hand around Ilya's cock. They both moaned at the same time.
Ilya buried his head in Shane's shoulder, grunting and moaning with each stroke, trying his hardest to focus only on getting Shane off again so that he didn't come instantly. It was a close thing.
"Ilya, Ilya… Right there. Yes. Oh, god, fuck—” Shane's body rolled and danced on his hand. The sounds he made were unearthly. In his ecstasy, he let go of Ilya's cock and clutched tight to the bedsheets, the pillows, Ilya's own body. He was beautiful as he panted in the after glow.
"Was good?”
Did Ilya slur his words? Was he even speaking English? God, but he didn't know. Everything was sharp and muffled at once. His whole being was on fire with desire and love and joy.
"Yes.” Shane opened his eyes, and whatever he saw in Ilya's face made him kiss him senseless. "So good. You're so good. My good boy.”
"Oh, fuck.” He grabbed his dick at the base and squeezed. He'd been on the precipice of coming for what felt like this whole time, but he'd never come just from praise, from silly words that should mean nothing. “Yours. I'm yours."
Shane looked at him for a moment. “Yeah," he said slowly, as if coming to a realization. Of what, Ilya was too far gone to even try to figure out. “You're mine, and your cock's mine, too, right?"
Ilya could only nod. Speaking was beyond him now. The only thing holding him up was Shane's steady hand on his face.
“I bet I could just leave you here, and you'd stay hard and waiting just for me. You've done so well so far. Think you can go a little longer?"
He slicked up Ilya's cock with the excess lube, and guided it to his entrance, leaving it there like a tease. The noises Ilya was making were out of his control now, whimpers and moans and half formed words that only Shane could wring from him.
“I think you can,” Shane murmured in his ear. “Fuck me. Make me come again, and maybe then I'll let you come, too."
Ilya was sliding deep before Shane was even done talking. It was a miracle he was coordinated enough to do even that, since he was shaking so hard he could barely hold himself up, or even know which way was up. He started with slow strokes that punched the air out of his lungs with how good it felt. It took a while for Shane to get hard again, and when he did, Ilya started stroking his cock faster than he was fucking him, desperate for Shane to come so that maybe this sweet torture could end.
"Ah, harder. Shit, Ilya, I know you can fuck me harder than this.”
“No. Please, please, I'll come. I don't- I will come—"
Shane pulled his hair again, which was not helping the situation. “You won't."
And he didn't have to say any more. It was an affirmation and a command at once.
He picked up his pace and held on to his sanity by a knife's edge. He might have screamed if he wasn't busy biting down hard on Shane's shoulder, if he wasn't pumping Shane in time with his out of control thrusts. The only shining clarity in his world was the moans and praises spilling out of Shane's mouth without pause, washing over him in hot waves.
When Shane cried out and came again, holy fuck, finally, Ilya had to still his hips. The tight pulsing of Shane's body was overwhelming. They breathed together, chests rising and falling as one, connected as closely as two people possibly could.
“Ilya," Shane said, over and over. Ilya. Ilya. He pet through his hair and down his sweaty back, occasionally squeezing his shoulders, his ribs, his ass. He rolled their hips minutely. "You're still hard for me.”
Ilya huffed into the hinge of Shane's jaw, breathing in sweat, tasting the salty combination of cum and Shane on his lips.
“Keep moving. I-I don't think I can come again anytime soon, but I want to feel you."
For all his languages, Ilya would never be able to describe what he felt in that moment. Meditative, or squeezed empty and clean. Fucking wasn't what he was doing now. Shane said keep going, but he had also said don't come, so Ilya started grinding his hips shallowly and so, so slowly. He was made of pure bliss.
“You want it so bad, huh? Doing everything I say. Eager, like a little puppy."
The words were a shock to his system, electrifying every limb past the point of awareness.
He moaned and shook and, as it was happening, as he was jerking his hips sloppy and off kilter, as Shane was saying, yes, Ilya, fuck yes, good boy, he realized that he was coming.
That electricity just kept going and going and going, until it settled down to a buzz he swore he could feel in his teeth. Shane kept talking, but it was gibberish for all Ilya could make sense of the words. Hands grabbed his face. The low lamplight haloed Shane as he pulled and shoved at Ilya's limbs until they were cuddling. He didn't know how long they stayed that way, messy and panting, but it was so peaceful it almost scared him. Only, that bad feeling couldn't take hold when Shane was petting through his curls so softly.
Like stepping into the locker room, Ilya's awareness came back to him in little pieces, until the high-res clarity and adrenaline was stripped off with each bit of his gear.
Shane took a deep breath, and Ilya matched it.
With an audibly smug tilt to his words that should not be as attractive as it was, Shane said, “So, what part of that did it for you?"
"Ugh.” Ilya dug his forehead into Shane's collarbone and tried to will the earth to swallow him up.
“No, don't be embarrassed," he said, but he was laughing as he said it.
Ilya slapped around until he found Shane's wrist and held up his stupid watch face. "It is you who should be embarrassed. Could not even come four times, let alone five.”
The hand Ilya was holding up grabbed his face firmly and forced him to meet Shane's eyes. Shane smiled, but something behind it was calculating every slight movement Ilya made, like the moment just before Shane won a face off.
“I was a little busy at the end taking care of my… puppy.”
And fuck, he couldn't hide his reaction to that, and of course nothing got past Shane fucking Hollander. But even as he was embarrassed and mortified and all those other words, he also knew that if anyone was going to love all the parts of him, it would be this man.
"I am more like a pit bull. Big and scary. Warning, will bite.”
"Pit bulls have such a bad reputation, but they're actually one of the most friendly and gentle breeds if they're treated right. Really good with kids.”
“You're impossible, Hollander."
Ilya collapsed back onto the bed in a huff, but snuggled deeper into Shane's arms, thinking only one thought as they drifted off to sleep.
He wanted to be good. He wanted to be Shane's puppy, his dog, his pit bull. He wanted Shane to keep treating him right. It didn't seem so ridiculous now.