Chapter Text
Shane wakes to the sound of a zipper sliding shut.
At first it doesn’t register. The room is still dim, washed in the soft gray of early morning. The sheets are warm around him, the pillow cool against his cheek. For a few seconds he lies there blinking aimlessly.
Then the zipper slides again.
He looks towards the noise.
His husband is standing at the end of the bed.
His suitcase is open on the bench beneath the window, shirts folded into neat rectangles, a leather toiletry bag already tucked neatly into one corner. His husband moves through the room with calm efficiency, picking up his watch from the nightstand, looping the band around his wrist, smoothing the cuff of his sleeve.
Shane pushes himself up slowly on one elbow.
“What are you doing?”
His voice is rough with sleep.
His husband glances over briefly, like the question surprises him.
“Packing.”
Shane squints toward the window, trying to make sense of the light. It’s earlier than he expected to be awake.
“For what?”
“Tokyo.”
The word lands between them.
Shane’s brain takes a second to catch up.
“Today?”
His husband finishes folding a shirt and lays it carefully in the suitcase before answering.
“Yes.”
Shane sits up a little more, the sheet slipping down around his waist.
“You’re leaving now?”
“Yes.”
There’s a small pause after that. The room feels strangely neutral, awkward almost.
The argument from yesterday flickers through Shane’s mind — the driveway, the tension that had thickened the evening air, the way his husband’s voice had gone flat and controlled when Shane refused to drop the subject, and the silence that followed.
Now his husband moves around the bedroom like nothing happened at all.
Shane watches him close the suitcase.
“You were just going to leave while I was sleeping?” he asks.
His husband pauses with his hand on the handle.
“I might have woken you before I left.”
The answer is calm. Practical. Reasonable.
Shane stares at him for a moment.
“Okay…”
His husband straightens, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt.
“I moved some meetings around,” he says. “It makes more sense to go now instead of later in the week.”
The explanation floats in the air between them.
Shane nods once, slow.
“Right.”
His husband checks his watch.
The quiet stretches for a moment longer before he picks up the suitcase and wheels it toward the door.
“I’ll let you know when i’ll be back,” he says.
Shane follows him down the hallway without really deciding to.
The house feels cool and silent around them. Morning light spills through the windows in the foyer, the marble floor pale and reflective underfoot. Outside, the driver is already waiting in the circular driveway, the black car idling softly.
His husband pauses by the door.
“You’ll be fine here,” he says, almost absently.
“You always are.”
He leans down, pressing a quick kiss to Shane’s temple, then he opens the door.
The morning air slips into the house. A few birds chirp.
A moment later the door closes again.
Shane’s stood a bit stunned, he didn’t even walk his husband to the car or do the ‘i’ll miss you’ and ‘i’ll miss you more’ thing. His husband just closed the door in his face.
Shane stands there listening as the car pulls away down the drive, the quiet hum of the engine fading into the distance.
And then there’s nothing.
The silence that settles over the house feels enormous.
Shane doesn’t move right away. He stands there, half asleep, rubbing his eyes.
What?
He just left, literally just—
He left.
Wait he left. He’s gone.
Something in Shane perks up. He jumps to life, eyes focused and the last bit of sleep completely shaken off. He starts to reach into his pocket for his phone, but he stops before he can jump ahead.
Because somewhere in the back of his mind is the tiny, cautious voice reminding him that his husband sometimes comes back. Forgotten documents. A call that needs privacy. A sudden change of plans.
So he calms down and waits.
Five minutes pass.
He walks into the kitchen and pours himself a glass of water he doesn’t drink.
Ten minutes.
He glances toward the driveway through the tall windows.
Still empty.
Fifteen minutes.
His pulse starts to climb.
Twenty.
He finds himself pacing slowly across the kitchen floor, hands in his pockets.
Thirty minutes.
The realization spreads through him slowly at first, then all at once.
He’s gone.
Really gone.
The feeling hits Shane in the chest like a sudden rush of air after being underwater too long.
His lungs fill deeper.
His shoulders loosen.
The whole house feels different somehow, lighter, quieter, like something heavy just lifted off the roof.
“Oh my god,” he mutters to himself, half laughing under his breath.
He pulls his phone from his pocket.
For a second he just stares at the screen.
Then he types.
he’s gone
Three seconds later his phone buzzes.
really?
Shane grins.
to tokyo
The reply appears almost immediately.
should i come over?
Shane looks up instinctively.
The small black camera in the corner of the kitchen blinks its red light back at him.
He types back quickly.
no. cameras
A pause.
Then he adds,
give me your address
The response comes instantly.
Ten minutes later Shane is halfway across town.
Traffic moves around him in the steady rhythm of a normal morning, people heading to work, stopping at lights, sipping coffee behind the wheel.
His pulse hasn’t slowed since he left the house.
Every few minutes he catches himself smiling for no reason.
He feels ridiculous, and exhilarated. Like he just got away with murder.
The thought loops through his head the entire drive.
He’s gone.
The words feel unreal.
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel as he makes his way down the road, he feels like he’s just been set free from a cage.
Twenty minutes later he pulls into an apartment complex with a parking lot full of cars.
Shane can’t find a parking spot so he parks in the handicap spot.
His heart is pounding again by the time he climbs out of the car.
He makes his way down the sidewalk quickly, and takes the stairs two at a time, tripping halfway up because he’s moving too fast.
“Shit,” he mutters, grabbing the railing to steady himself.
Second floor.
Apartment 204.
He stops outside the door, breathing a little harder than he should be.
Then he knocks.
There’s a pause.
Then the door opens.
Ilya stands there in a black t-shirt and sweatpants, hair slightly damp like he just got out of the shower.
For a second neither of them moves.
Then Shane lunges forward and throws his arms around him, the force of it pushes them both back into the apartment.
Ilya swings the door shut behind them and Shane is already kissing him, face smushed against his own.
Ilya laughs softly against his mouth, surprised, pulling back a bit.
“Okay,” he murmurs. “Good morning to you too.”
Shane pulls back just long enough to look at him.
“I couldn’t wait.”
“I see.”
Shane kisses him again, arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer.
Ilya’s hands slide automatically around Shane’s waist, steady and warm. Then he pulls back again.
“You drive all the way here just to tackle me?”
“Yes.” Shane says breathlessly.
Ilya shakes his head slightly, amused, before leaning in to kiss him again.
This time slower.
Shane melts into it without even realizing he’s doing it.
Something in his chest finally loosens, the tight knot that had been sitting there all week, coiled under every conversation and every quiet moment in the house.
Being here feels like breathing again, and when Ilya’s arms tighten around him, Shane presses closer without hesitation, letting himself sink into the warmth of it.
For the first time all morning, his heart finally begins to slow.
Shane doesn’t realize he’s still smiling until Ilya’s mouth curves against his.
The kiss is soft, relieved, breathless. Shane’s hands slide up into Ilya’s hair, tugging slightly, pulling him closer like he’s trying to close the last inch of space between them.
Ilya hums quietly at the back of his throat and pulls Shane in by the waist.
Shane feels warm all over. The adrenaline from the drive over hasn’t worn off yet, if anything, it’s buzzing through him even harder now that he’s here, that this is real, that Ilya is standing in front of him and kissing him like he’s been thinking about it all week too.
His hands start roaming without permission.
Across Ilya’s shoulders. Down his back. Gripping the fabric of his t-shirt.
“Missed you,” Shane murmurs into the kiss, the words half lost against Ilya’s mouth.
“I missed you too—”
But Shane talks right over him, almost urgently, trying to climb onto him.
“Missed you so much.”
Ilya laughs softly against his lips at that, the sound warm and a little breathless, his hands slide along Shane’s sides, pressing against him as he slips his tongue into his mouth.
Shane’s jacket suddenly feels like too much.
Without really breaking the kiss, he shrugs it off his shoulders, tugging one arm free and then the other. It slides down his arms and drops somewhere on the floor behind them with a quiet thump neither of them pays any attention to.
Ilya’s hands find his waist again.
Shane presses forward instinctively, nudging Ilya backward a step.
Then another.
Ilya lets himself be pushed, smiling slightly into the kiss like he’s aware of exactly what’s happening and enjoying it.
“Someone is impatient,” he murmurs.
Shane just kisses him again instead of answering.
They move like that down the hallway, step by step, mouths still tangled together, hands sliding and adjusting and pulling each other closer whenever there’s a chance.
Shane bumps lightly into the wall once, barely noticing.
Ilya reaches back blindly with one hand, pushing open the door at the end of the hall.
The bedroom.
Shane barely registers the room itself, just the shift of space around them, the softer light from the window, the quiet of being somewhere more private.
He barely gives Ilya time to breathe before he pushes him back onto the bed.
Ilya bounces against the mattress with a surprised laugh, but his hands are already coming up to catch Shane as he climbs over him. Shane kicks his shoes off somewhere behind him without looking, settling himself right in Ilya’s lap like that’s exactly where he belongs.
Their mouths find each other again immediately.
The kiss is hungry now, the week of quiet tension finally burning off all at once. Shane leans into it fully, grinding down into him a bit.
Ilya’s hands are everywhere.
One slides up Shane’s back, the other settles firm at his waist, fingers gripping instinctively like he’s memorizing the shape of him again.
Shane feels light in a way he hasn’t in days. Maybe longer than that. There’s a quiet happiness blooming in his chest that he can’t quite hide, even between kisses.
He pulls back just long enough to trail his mouth down the side of Ilya’s neck.
Ilya exhales softly, head tilting back to give him space, his hands slipping beneath Shane’s shirt to roam over his warm skin.
Shane presses slow kisses along the warm skin there, breathing him in, his hands drifting across Ilya’s shoulders like he can’t stop touching him.
He feels safe here. Wanted. Alive.
His mouth grazes the curve of Ilya’s collarbone before he lifts his head again to look at Ilya, smiling slightly, in disbelief that Ilya is right here in front of him.
“Hi,” he murmurs, a little breathless, a smile stuck to his face, a sparkle in his eyes.
Ilya laughs softly.
“Hello Shane.”
Shane gives him another soft kiss, their lips breaking with a soft ‘chu’. Shane leans back, just enough to tug his shirt up and over his head, tossing it somewhere toward the floor. Ilya follows a second later, pulling his own shirt off and dropping it beside the bed.
The room suddenly feels warmer.
Shane doesn’t hesitate before leaning back in again, his mouth sliding against Ilya’s, his hands sliding over Ilya’s pecs as he presses himself closer into his chest and Ilya closer into the mattress.
He dips down again, kissing along his chest and settling on his neck where he licks and sucks softly.
Behind him, Ilya’s hands slide lower, settling over Shane’s hips before drifting further down.
One hand squeezes his ass.
The other lands a light slap there.
The sound is soft but sharp enough to surprise him.
Shane lets out a startled little moan before he can stop himself, then immediately breaks into a breathless giggle.
Ilya is smiling to himself now, clearly pleased.
“You like that?” Ilya asks, letting both of his hands run over his ass, squeezing, kneading.
Shane nods his head, still grinning, still sucking softly on Ilya’s neck, and Ilya lands another smack on Shane’s ass.
“So soft,” Ilya says absentmindedly, leaning up to kiss Shane’s shoulder, and Shane doesn’t stay at his neck for long after that.
He kisses his way downward slowly, letting his mouth linger along the warmth of Ilya’s chest, then his stomach. Each brush of his lips makes Ilya’s breathing shift just a little, deeper, slower, his hands grabbing wherever he can.
He glances up once through his lashes as he moves lower, clearly enjoying the way Ilya’s composure is starting to slip.
“Shane…” Ilya exhales quietly.
There’s a different edge in his voice now — a low warning, or maybe encouragement. His hand slides into Shane’s hair without thinking, fingers curling there in a loose grip. Shane likes it.
He presses another slow kiss to the warm skin of Ilya’s stomach before his hands find the waistband of the sweatpants.
Ilya’s expression has changed completely now. His jaw is tight, his eyes darker, watching Shane with a focus that sends a warm thrill straight through Shane’s chest.
“Missed you,” Shane murmurs again, softer this time, pressing a wet kiss right above his waistband, making Ilya tense a bit.
Then he tugs the sweatpants down.
The sight of Ilya already hard makes Shane’s breath catch in quiet satisfaction.
Shane grabs Ilya’s leaking cock loosely at the base, slapping it on his tongue a few times, the soft wet spank against his tongue making his own dick twitch.
Ilya exhales sharply as Shane presses his lips to the head in an open mouth kiss, before wrapping his lips around him completely, his fingers tightening slightly in Shane’s hair.
Ilya tips his head back against the pillows with a low groan that escapes before he can stop it.
“Fuck,” he mutters.
Shane smiles faintly, clearly enjoying himself. He loves giving Ilya head, he loved it the first time, the control of it, the way Ilya reacts to every small movement, every shift.
He takes his time.
Too much time, probably, because after a moment Ilya lets out a quiet impatient laugh.
“You’re fucking with me on purpose.”
Shane pulls back just enough to look up again, mouth curved in a playful grin.
“Maybe.”
Ilya shakes his head slightly, but his hand slides more firmly into Shane’s hair now, guiding him just a little closer again.
Shane stops teasing, he himself can’t wait much longer, he needs Ilya badly. He takes him into his mouth again, bobbing his head at a quicker pace, stroking what he can’t reach with his mouth.
“There you go,” Ilya grits out, “That’s it.”
Shane hums in response, his free hand sliding up Ilya’s stomach and chest while he moves, touching him everywhere he can reach.
The sound pulls another low groan out of Ilya’s throat.
“Oh—” he breathes. “Fuck yes.”
His hand tightens in Shane’s hair, guiding him slightly, his composure already starting to crack.
Shane challenges himself to take it deeper, enjoying the way Ilya’s voice keeps breaking, and the way his dick chokes him.
“Fuck,” Ilya groans, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re so fucking good at this.”
Shane can’t even hear Ilya over his own mind going wild. He’s thinking about the thick solid length in his mouth, how good Ilya is gonna feel inside him, how he wants to stay here forever.
he tastes so good.
want him to cum down my throat, cum inside of me.
wanna be full of his cum.
Ilya’s grip in Shane’s hair tightens. It stings a bit but he loves it.
yes, pull my hair
let me make you feel good.
He’s salivated and relaxed his throat so much that he’s worked his way down to deep throating Ilya, and he’s only pulled back into himself upon feeling the tremble of Ilya’s thighs next to his head, and Ilya tugging harder to pull him off.
“Fuck Shane stop, stop,” Ilya begs.
He finally pulls back, looking up as Ilya blinks down at him, breathing hard, completely thrown by the sudden pause.
“Jesus—”
But Shane is already moving again, leaning up between his legs, their mouths crash together again immediately.
The kiss is breathless now, desperate, Ilya thinks Shane might actually eat him. Shane drags his mouth against Ilya’s, catching his tongue in his mouth and sucking softly, moaning around it.
He reaches down to stroke Ilya slowly again, feeling his hand slip against the wet skin, Ilya’s hand immediately flying down to stop him.
“Wanna touch you,” Shane whines into the kiss.
“Don’t wanna cum yet,” Ilya explains, pulling back from the kiss and looking at Shane with dazed eyes. Shane is really taking Ilya for a loop right now.
Shane’s eyes are focused, predatory almost.
“You wanna cum inside me?” Shane asks, voice low, a smug smile creeping onto his face.
Ilya nods, and Shane kisses him again, before leaning back and tugging his own pants and boxers down his legs, kicking them off the side of the bed without even looking.
Ilya watches him for a second, clearly a little overwhelmed.
“You are acting like you’ve never been touched before.” he mutters with a laugh.
Shane climbs back in Ilya’s lap and kisses him again.
“I just need you,” he murmurs.
The words hit Ilya like a spark.
His hands slide up Shane’s thighs, gripping firmly as he exhales slowly.
“God,” he mutters. “You will kill me.”
Shane smiles against his mouth.
“Do you have lube?”
Ilya reaches toward the nightstand.
“Yes,” he says, voice low again.
Shane grabs the bottle from Ilya, popping it open and pouring some over Ilyas dick, then letting it pour over Ilya’s abs and rubbing it in, entranced by the slickness and the shine.
Ilya takes the lube from his overly eager hands and watches him, eyes dark now, breathing already uneven. There’s something almost amused in his expression too, like he’s enjoying the way Shane has completely taken over the moment.
“You are really in charge today, hm?” Ilya murmurs.
Shane doesn’t answer.
He just shifts closer, settling himself over Ilya again, one hand braced on his chest while the other moves between them, grabbing Ilya’s cock and lining it up with himself.
Shane adjusts himself, then lowers down.
Both of them let out a sound at the same time.
A sharp inhale from Shane.
A deep groan from Ilya.
Shane freezes for a second, eyes squeezing shut as he takes him in inch by inch, and settles fully against him.
“Fuck,” he breathes.
Ilya’s hands come up immediately, gripping Shane’s hips.
“So tight,” he murmurs, voice rough.
Shane laughs weakly, breath still shaky.
“You’re so big, Ilya.”
The smug look that spreads across Ilya’s face is immediate.
“Mhm,” he says, almost lazily.
His thumbs drag along Shane’s hips.
“Not used to this, hm?”
Shane shakes his head slightly, his eyes closed trying to catch his breath.
“No.”
Ilya tilts his head, watching him carefully now.
“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Nobody fucking you like I do,”
His hands slide lower along Shane’s waist.
“Nobody stretching you out like this?”
The question makes Shane feel like his skin is tingling.
“No,” he whines quietly.
Ilya’s smile widens slightly.
“That’s what I thought.”
Shane starts moving before he can overthink it.
Slow at first, a small shift of his hips.
Both of them inhale sharply.
“Fuck,” Ilya groans.
Shane keeps rocking, a little quicker this time, his hands braced against Ilya’s chest for balance.
Ilya’s head tips back against the pillows.
“Faster, Shane.”
Shane’s breathing is already getting heavier.
He moves again, the rhythm building naturally now, the tension between them turning into something warmer, rougher.
“God—” Ilya exhales.
His hands slide down Shane’s back until they settle firmly over his hips again, guiding him just slightly, pulling his hips against him as he fucks up into Shane.
“Yeah… like that.”
Shane leans forward, palms flat against Ilya’s chest now as he moves, little panting moans escaping him.
Their bodies press closer with every shift.
Heat building, breath growing louder, their stomachs brushing against each other with every roll of their hips, the slickness transferring from Ilya to Shane.
Ilya’s hands drift lower again, gripping Shane’s ass firmly.
A sharp smack lands there, and Ilya can feel the recoil against his hand.
Shane gasps, half laugh, half moan.
“Hmph fuck—“
Ilya grins up at him.
“You’re so fucking slutty,” he hums.
Shane just keeps rolling his hips against Ilya, fucking himself down on his cock harder.
“Ilya,” he groans. “You feel so good.”
Shane’s head tips back slightly, his mouth parted, words spewing out of him.
“Yes,” he whispers. “Oh my god—”
Sweat is already starting to gather along Shane’s neck.
“So good—”
His hands tighten against Ilya’s chest, the pleasure taking over. The warmth, the pressure, the way Ilya fills him so perfectly makes his head spin and his stomach twist.
“Oh my god, yes.”
Ilya laughs softly, breathless.
He’s cute.
“Yeah?”
Shane nods quickly, barely able to get the word out.
“Yes.”
Shane’s hands slide back until he’s gripping the headboard behind Ilya, leaning forward over him now. His body moves almost on instinct, chasing the feeling that keeps sparking through him every time their hips meet.
The sound of their moaning fills the room.
Sheets shifting. Skin brushing against skin.
Shane’s brows furrow as another wave of heat rolls through him.
“Unh, Ilya—”
Shane laughs breathlessly but it breaks into a moan before he can finish it.
The movement between them grows rougher, more desperate. Shane’s pace stutters for a moment.
He exhales sharply, leaning forward again.
“I—” he pants. “Hold on—”
Ilya notices immediately.
“Cant take it can you,” He teases.
“You want to switch?” he asks quietly, voice still low and steady despite the heat in his eyes.
Shane nods quickly.
“Yeah.”
They stop just long enough to shift.
The movement is quick and clumsy, both of them laughing breathlessly as they rearrange themselves across the bed.
Ilya guides him down gently face first into the pillow, one hand warm at the small of Shane’s back.
“Here,” he murmurs. “Come here.”
Shane settles forward against the mattress, still catching his breath, his pulse racing in his ears.
“Please,” Shane whimpers.
Ilya sinks himself back into Shane, watching his cock disappear into him, feeling him clench desperately around him.
“Shit,” Shane whispers, gripping the sheets beneath his hands.
Behind him, Ilya exhales slowly.
Shane’s breath stutters as Ilya starts thrusting into him, deep and long strokes, pulling all the way back out and pushing all the way back in.
“Please Ilya— faster—“ He whines out, pushing his ass back against Ilya.
Ilya’s hands tighten on Shane’s waist and he fucks into him a little quicker, his thumbs press deep into the small dimples at the base of Shane’s back, before one hands presses up more, pushing him down and arching his spine just a little more. The movement pulls a broken sound out of Shane almost immediately.
“Fuck— yes like that,” He babbles, his voice half buried in the pillows beneath him.
His fingers clutch at the sheets before one hand reaches back, searching blindly until it lands over Ilya’s hand resting at his waist. He squeezes there without thinking, grounding himself in the contact.
Ilya groans, his hips snapping harder, the headboard starting to knock against the wall. His neighbors can definitely hear that.
God he’s driving me insane. Ilya thinks.
“So needy for me,” he murmurs, breath warm and uneven. “Just for me.”
“Just for you,” Shane gasps out.
His grip tightens slightly, holding Shane steady as the pace deepens.
Shane’s head drops forward into the pillows again, squirming slightly against Ilya.
“Holy shit,” he pants. “You’re so deep—”
Ilya smiles softly behind him, the sound rough around the edges.
“Yeah, baby?” he murmurs.
He drops over Shane’s body, his hand tangling in his hair and tugging hard, pulling his head up off the mattress. Shane’s hands come down to hold himself up.
“Just like you wanted me,” He grits out into Shane’s ear.
Shane nods quickly, his voice loud and whiny and raw. Shane didn’t know he’d like having his hair pulled this much.
“Yes—” he breathes. “Yes, just like this.”
It’s overwhelming in the best way.
His body responds instinctively now, pushing back into the warmth behind him without thinking, chasing the feeling that keeps sparking through him with every movement.
“Oh my god,” he groans.
This dick is so fucking good.
“You missed this that much?” he murmurs.
Shane lets out a helpless sound.
“Yes—”
The word is barely coherent.
“Fuck yes.”
The sound of skin slapping and lube squelching runs them both wild.
“I know, baby,”
He keeps his grip tight on Shane’s hair.
“Been thinking about this all week, haven’t you?”
Shane tries to nod.
“Yes—“ He whines. “Been thinking about you,” He pants, barely able to get a full sentence out. “About your cock.”
Ilya’s voice softens, but the teasing edge is still there.
“You missed getting fucked like this?”
Shane’s response is immediate, desperate.
“Yes.”
The word comes out half-whine, half-groan.
“Missed you so much.”
Ilya kisses his neck, clearly enjoying the reaction.
“You’re making a mess of yourself,” he mutters against his skin.
Shane’s fingers tighten against the sheets.
“I— I’m gonna—”
He can barely get the words out.
“Ilya, I’m gonna cum—”
Ilya’s hand slides up Shane’s back again, steadying him.
“Cum for me,” he murmurs.
His voice is warm now, coaxing.
“Come on, Shane.”
Shane’s breathing stutters again.
“Ilya—”
The name tears out of him as he cums, his fingers clutch the sheets, his body locking hard for a moment before he shudders hard against Ilya, the sensation washing through him all at once.
“Oh my god—”
Behind him, Ilya groans low in his throat, his grip tightening instinctively around Shane’s waist as he feels him come apart, clenching and unclenching around him as he slows down his thrusts.
“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice thick now. “That’s it… there you go.”
Shane’s head drops forward into the pillows as Ilya lets go of his hair, breath heavily as the orgasm rolls through him.
But he doesn’t pull away, instead he presses back harder, desperate for more, his voice still shaky.
“Ilya—”
Ilya exhales sharply behind him, not expecting him to keep pushing for it.
“Shane—”
Shane’s hand reaches back again, fingers finding Ilya’s wrist and gripping tight.
“Don’t stop,” he pants.
The words tumble out of him without hesitation.
“Want you to cum—”
Ilya groans again, the sound deeper now, rough around the edges.
“Sweetheart…”
Shane turns his head slightly, his voice still breathless.
“Cum in me,” he begs quietly.
The words make Ilya’s stomach coil.
Ilya drops his forehead briefly against Shane’s shoulder.
“Yeah?” he mutters.
Shane nods immediately, still trembling from the aftershocks.
“Yes—”
Ilya lets out a broken laugh, half disbelief, half desire.
His hands tighten on Shane’s hips again, thrusting shallowly into him.
Shane squeezes his hand again, his voice soft but urgent.
“Please.”
Ilya groans low, the sound slipping out before he can stop it as he thrusts a few more times into Shane, the last of his control giving out.
“Shane—”
The name comes out like a confession.
His grip tightens, his breath hitching as he spills himself into Shane.
Ilya collapses briefly against Shane’s back.
The room is filled only with their breathing — heavy, uneven, both of them still catching up with the rush of sensation.
Shane laughs softly into the pillows, exhausted and giddy all at once.
Ilya’s hand slides up Shane’s spine again, slower now, gentle.
“Will you always be like this when you miss me?” he murmurs with a quiet laugh.
Shane exhales into the pillow, the corner of his mouth lifting even though he’s clearly exhausted.
“Maybe.”
Ilya hums, amused.
“Good to know.”
Shane turns his head slightly, glancing back at him over his shoulder.
“Shut up.”
Ilya’s grin spreads slowly.
“Never.”
Ilya shifts slightly behind him.
He pulls out carefully, his hands steady on Shane’s hips as he moves. Shane lets out a small, tired sound but doesn’t protest, his body still heavy against the mattress.
Ilya watches his cum leak out of Shane, tearing his sight away from it before he gets hard again.
Fuck.
Shane is still bent into the bed, hair a mess, ass sky high, breathing slow and deep.
A faint smile tugs at Ilya’s mouth.
He gives Shane’s ass a light smack.
“Stay there,” he murmurs.
Shane groans softly in response, his voice muffled against the pillow.
“M’not moving.”
Ilya chuckles and slips off the bed, disappearing briefly into the bathroom.
When he comes back, he’s holding a warm damp rag.
Shane barely lifts his head when the mattress dips again.
“Hey,” Ilya says quietly.
He brushes a hand over Shane’s back first, slow and gentle, checking in before anything else.
“You okay?”
Shane makes a soft sound, somewhere between a hum and a sigh.
“Yeah, just fuzzy.”
His voice is quiet and a little dazed.
Ilya smiles to himself.
“Okay.”
He cleans him up carefully, unhurried, the movements gentle and attentive. Every so often he presses a kiss against Shane’s shoulder or the back of his neck, little affectionate gestures that feel more instinctive than deliberate.
“You still okay?” he murmurs after a moment.
Shane nods slightly against the pillow.
“Mhm.”
His brain still feels pleasantly fuzzy, like everything inside him is humming softly.
Ilya brushes the rag aside once he’s finished and runs a hand slowly down Shane’s spine.
“You did really good,” he says quietly.
Shane lets out a breathy laugh.
“I did?”
“You did.”
Ilya leans down and presses another slow kiss to his skin, and he slowly drops to the mattress, stretching out and trying to fight the sleep he wants so badly.
Shane turns his head just enough to glance back at him, eyes a little heavy but warm.
“Missed you,” he murmurs again.
Ilya huffs a quiet laugh.
“I noticed.”
Shane reaches lazily until his fingers find Ilya’s wrist, holding there like he just wants to feel him.
“Seriously,” he adds softly. “I missed you.”
Ilya’s expression softens a little.
“I missed you too,” he murmurs.
Shane just hums in response, still half buzzing from everything, his mind drifting somewhere warm and quiet while Ilya’s hand continues moving slowly along his skin.
They go through the motions, getting redressed and changing sheets and flirting, and Shane gets to fall asleep in his favorite place, Ilya's arms.
When he wakes again, the room is warm with early afternoon light.
He blinks slowly, taking a second to remember where he is. The sheets are soft, unfamiliar. Then he feels the arm around him.
Ilya is awake.
Shane realizes it when fingers slide lazily through his hair.
He tilts his head up a little.
“Hi,” he murmurs, voice still sleepy.
“Hi,” Ilya answers.
His voice is quiet, rough from sleep.
Shane shifts closer automatically, one leg sliding between Ilya’s. Ilya’s arm tightens around him without thinking, pulling him in. Shane presses a slow kiss to his mouth.
It’s soft. Lazy.
Ilya hums into it.
“Good afternoon,” he mutters when they separate.
Shane squints toward the window.
“What time is it?”
“Almost two.”
Shane groans softly and buries his face against Ilya’s shoulder.
“Oh my god.”
Ilya laughs under his breath.
“You still tired?”
“Mhm.”
Shane kisses his shoulder lazily.
“You wore me out.”
“Wow,” Ilya says dryly. “Very dramatic.”
Shane lifts his head just enough to glare at him.
“You did.”
Ilya shrugs a little, smug.
“I think you like to be wore out.”
Shane rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. He settles back against him again, fingers tracing idle patterns across Ilya’s chest.
For a while they just lie there like that in a quiet, warm, peaceful silence.
Ilya’s fingers slow in Shane’s hair.
“Can I tell you something?” he asks.
The tone is different now.
Shane tilts his head back to look at him.
“Yeah.”
Ilya sighs.
“This week sucked,” he says.
Shane frowns slightly.
Ilya’s hand keeps moving through his hair, but his gaze drifts past Shane, floating around the room.
“I didn’t realize how much it would mess with my head,” he says. “Not hearing from you.”
Shane shifts a little closer.
“I tried to text when I could.”
“I know,” Ilya says quickly. “I’m not saying that you didn’t.”
He pauses.
“But there were long gaps.”
Shane nods quietly.
“I know.”
Ilya’s thumb brushes absently along Shane’s temple.
“Every time you didn’t answer,” he says, “my brain went somewhere stupid.”
Shane looks at him.
“Like what?”
Ilya shrugs.
“Like maybe something happened,” He sighed. “Or maybe you changed your mind.”
He gives a small, humorless laugh.
“Or maybe I’m just sitting like an idiot while you live your actual life.”
Shane winces a little.
“That’s not—”
“I know,” Ilya says.
His voice stays calm, but serious now.
“It’s just my brain.”
Shane is quiet.
Ilya looks back down at him.
“And the phone call.”
Shane’s stomach tightens slightly.
“You hanging up so fast.”
He exhales.
“I get why you did it. It just…”
He searches for the words for a second.
Then shakes his head slightly.
“I don’t know. English is leaving me right now.”
Shane gives a small, sympathetic smile.
Ilya huffs a quiet laugh.
“It didn’t feel good.”
The room goes quiet again.
Shane nods slowly.
“Yeah,” he says softly. “I get that.”
Ilya watches him for a moment.
“I am not trying to rush you,” he says. “Or tell you what to do.”
Shane nods again.
“I know your situation is complicated.”
Shane lets out a quiet breath.
“Complicated is one word.”
Ilya’s mouth twitches slightly.
“But I can’t keep doing it forever,” he says gently. “Like… this.”
Shane looks up at him.
Ilya holds his gaze.
“I don’t want to feel like someone you hide,” he says. “Or like I’m just waiting around.”
Shane’s chest tightens.
“I like you,” Ilya continues. “A lot.”
He squeezes lightly at the back of Shane’s neck.
“And I don’t want to feel like I’m in the background.”
The words sit between them.
Shane nods slowly.
“I understand.”
And he means it.
But inside, something else is happening entirely.
Because the second the words leave Ilya’s mouth, Shane’s mind starts racing.
He can feel it immediately.
The clock just started ticking.
The pressure.
Everything that felt warm and safe an hour ago suddenly feels fragile.
Because Ilya’s right, and Shane knows it.
He can’t keep this going the way it is, sneaking across town and texting under tables and pretending the rest of his life doesn’t exist.
Something has to change, and soon.
The realization hits him hard enough that his stomach flips.
He presses closer to Ilya anyway, resting his forehead against his chest like he’s trying to buy himself a few more minutes of peace.
But inside his head, the panic has already started.
I need to figure this out.
Before it explodes.
“But for now…” Ilya says, pulling Shane from his thoughts completely.
“…I want to take you on a date.”
Shane blinks.
“A what?”