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The first time it happens, Shane’s sucking Ilya’s cock down to the root. He’s got one hand on Ilya’s chest, groping blindly at his pec, because it always feels good when Ilya does it to him. His fingers catch on Ilya’s nipples and Ilya’s cock jerks in his mouth.
Shane doesn’t quite connect the dots at that moment. He’s too busy trying to suck Ilya’s brain out through his dick, and to be fair to himself, he’s doing a pretty good job, based on the sounds Ilya’s making.
The second time is a little more obvious, but Shane is, again, too distracted to notice. He’s kissing his way down Ilya’s neck down to his chest. When he places a delicate kiss on Ilya’s nipple, Ilya shudders, but Shane doesn’t think much of it. He just continues to kiss his way down Ilya’s stomach and down his thighs, and then they’re both lost in the heat of the moment.
The third time is undeniable. They’re arguing in bed about something stupid — “Are there more wheels or doors in the world?” — and Ilya says something snarky, so Shane reaches out and pinches his nipple.
He expects Ilya to jerk away and say “Quit it, Hollander” or to laugh it off, but instead what he gets is a moan. A loud one, too unexpected to be stifled in time.
Suddenly Shane’s attention is laser-focused on Ilya.
“What was that?” He asks intently.
Ilya, quickly turning a shade of red that looks quite beautiful on him, tries to play it off. “Was nothing. Just a joke.”
Shane’s brow furrows. “A joke? Then I didn’t get it.”
Ilya looks lost for words. “I, uh…I thought it’d be funny?”
His voice trails off at the end, like he’s not sure of the words coming out of his own mouth.
Shane doesn’t believe it was a joke, not least because he doesn’t understand what the joke was. The moan didn’t sound fake or exaggerated for laughs. It just sounded like…Ilya, enjoying himself for a moment.
He looks down and confirms that yes, Ilya is beginning to harden. Ilya looks down at the evidence too and says nothing about his burgeoning erection.
“Can I try it again?” Shane asks cautiously. Ilya is being uncharacteristically…shy. He’s not doing a great job of deflecting either. Shane’s not entirely sure why Ilya’s being shy, but he doesn’t want to cross any boundaries.
Ilya makes a sound that is somewhere between a grunt and a groan, which could be construed as a yes. Slowly, as if trying not to spook a startled animal, Shane reaches out and lightly pinches Ilya’s left nipple.
Ilya gasps and then bites his lip to stifle whatever else might come out of his mouth.
“Woah,” Shane breathes out, “You’re really sensitive.”
Ilya turns even redder and scowls at him. “Don’t say it like that.”
Shane frowns. “Why not? It’s not a bad thing. It’s hot,” he says honestly. It’s pretty straightforward to him.
Ilya brings a hand to his face, looking half as though he’s exasperated and half as though he’s trying to hide. Then he sighs loudly, sounding very put upon.
“It’s embarrassing,” he finally mumbles.
Shane is confused. “What part about it is embarrassing?”
Ilya looks at him and now Shane can really see the exasperation in his eyes. “You heard the noise I made. Was loud.”
Shane understands that, at least. He’s always aware of how loud he gets in bed, especially when they’re in hotel rooms and there’s people like Scott Hunter next door. It’s always a challenge to suppress his moans or hide his face in the pillows to avoid getting a noise complaint.
But now that he thinks about it, he’s not sure Ilya ever has this problem. It seems like Shane is the only one who has to try hard to stay quiet, though maybe it’s because Shane has to focus so hard on his own volume that he doesn’t notice any struggle on Ilya’s end.
Either way, there’s no need to worry about noise tonight. They’re safely in Shane’s apartment. Nobody is going to find out how loud Ilya can get except Shane.
And suddenly Shane wants more than anything to find out exactly how loud Ilya can get. It’s not like Ilya never moans or makes noises in bed, but there was something special about hearing him moan when Shane pinched his nipple, like he’d had no control over the sound he made.
Shane would very much like that kind of control. Or rather, to take away that control from Ilya.
He’s already growing hard just thinking about it. But at the same time, he knows he has to be respectful of Ilya’s boundaries. It seems like he’s just embarrassed, but maybe it does genuinely make him uncomfortable? Shane has to know, urgently.
“Nobody can hear us here, you know that,” Shane says gently. “Is it…Does it feel bad?”
Ilya scowls at him again, though the effect is ruined by the fact that his face is still a pretty shade of pink. “No, Hollander. Feels terrible. That’s why I moaned like a girl.”
Like a girl.
Shane hadn’t thought Ilya had sounded particularly high-pitched or girly, but…is Ilya saying he could make that kind of noise? Is that how he sounds to himself?
His mouth goes dry. “Have you ever…played with them? Like, by yourself?”
“So many questions, Hollander,” Ilya grumbles, still partially hiding behind his hand. “No, not really. Are you happy now?”
Not really means he did try at some point, though. For a little bit. The thought of Ilya alone in bed, pinching his own nipple and — and maybe finding it was too sensitive to continue, or being frightened of how good it made him feel, or maybe thinking of Shane, or —
Is Shane satisfied with that answer?
“No, not really,” Shane parrots back, moving a little closer so he can prop himself up on his arms and get a good look at Ilya. He’s still red-faced, and it’s very cute, and Shane very much wants to cherish this side of Ilya — the hidden part of him that still knows how to be shy. But he also wants to find out exactly how sensitive Ilya is and cherish that, too.
“I want to play with them,” Shane says boldly, blushing even as he says it, but then he remembers himself. “If you’re okay with it, obviously. I don’t wanna cross any boundaries —“
“Okay,” Ilya mumbles.
“Okay?” Shane repeats, a little stunned that Ilya agreed so quickly. He expected more resistance given that this is something Ilya is clearly embarrassed about.
“Yes, okay,” Ilya says, a little frustrated this time. “Just…do whatever you want.”
He says it so dismissively, but Shane knows by now he’s just trying to pretend not to care. Still, it’s the permission Shane was looking for. His cock twitches just thinking about the possibilities. Whatever you want. And suddenly, Shane realizes that there is actually quite a bit that he wants.
He starts by cautiously reaching out a hand to lightly stroke the pad of his thumb over the bud of Ilya’s nipple. Ilya shivers and refuses to make eye contact with Shane, staring intently at some spot on the far wall. Shane wants his attention, so he tries again with a hand on both nipples, and this time he earns a full-body shudder and a gasp from Ilya.
He swipes over them again with a little more pressure, and out of the corner of his eye sees Ilya’s cock jerk violently.
“Oh, fuck,” Ilya breathes out.
This is already going better than Shane could have ever expected. He’s never reacted this strongly to his own nipples being played with, and it’s never occurred to him that Ilya might have a strong reaction. Until now, he’s managed to keep this sensitivity well hidden.
Shane wants to experiment so badly. Luckily, Ilya gave him blanket permission to do whatever he wants, so…until Ilya tells him to stop, Shane is going to play with him until his curiosity is satisfied.
First, he lightens the pressure he uses for the next swipe, until his fingers are just barely brushing the nubs. Ilya’s nipples have hardened to stiff peaks, and it seems he’s only getting more sensitive with time. The sensation of Shane’s fingers lightly grazing the peaks makes Ilya push up his chest with a huff, seeking more stimulation.
Shane knows what Ilya wants, but he refuses to give him what he’s looking for right away. Instead, he gently swirls his fingertips around the peaks and circles his areolas, which seem to be just as receptive as the buds. Then he switches to just barely whispering the edges of his blunt fingernails around Ilya’s erect nipple, and that earns him a gasp.
The teasing makes Ilya squirm, the sensations nowhere near enough to make him finish but so torturously sweet that he’s rock hard the entire time. His hands are gripping the sheets so tightly Shane is half-worried they’ll rip. His hips even start to move, seemingly of their own accord, until he’s slowly rocking his hips into the air to the timing of Shane’s movements.
“Fuck, Hollander, do something else,” Ilya groans after what feels like an hour but must only be a minute or two. Shane’s completely lost track of time, too engrossed in his task of teasing Ilya out of his mind.
Still, Shane forces his hands to stop moving. “Stop?” He asks.
Ilya shakes his head roughly. He’s got an air of desperation about him that Shane finds hopelessly sexy. “Don’t you dare stop. Just…give me more, fuck.”
Shane’s pretty sure he just wants more pressure, wants Shane to stop teasing him with such light touches, even though it’s so fun teasing a guy like Ilya Rozanov. But he’s kind at heart, and more than that he’s still curious, so he experiments with adding more pressure and presses down directly on Ilya’s nipples.
Ilya moans like the sound was punched out of him, and damn if it isn’t hot. Shane’s cock is throbbing between his legs but he pays it no attention, laser-focused on Ilya. His own pleasure doesn’t matter, not when he’s got a very sensitive Ilya served to him on a silver platter. This is his pleasure — making Ilya moan and feel good.
Still, this is Shane, so he smirks and says, “What was that about sounding like a girl?”
“Fuck you,” Ilya shoots back immediately, his glare super-heated from all the teasing Shane’s been doing. “I don’t — Ahh!”
Shane interrupts him by tugging on his pert pink nipples, and the moan he gets is satisfyingly higher-pitched than the last. If Shane had neighbors, he wonders if they’d think he finally brought a girl home, and it makes him snicker under his breath.
Ilya, panting, only glares at him harder. “Don’t tease me,” he snaps.
He’s blushing all the way down to his chest, and it only makes Shane bolder.
Shane leans down to whisper playfully in Ilya’s ear, gently stroking his nipples with both hands. “But you like it when I tease you.”
“Fuck you, no I don’t,” Ilya says, then shudders when Shane starts rolling the bud of his left nipple between his fingers.
Something seems to come over Ilya then. A new kind of desperation, though Shane isn’t sure what for. Ilya lifts himself up with his arms and begins kissing Shane right at that sensitive spot where his shoulder meets his neck.
Shane gasps and without thinking about it, tilts his neck to give Ilya more access. His hands forget their task as they shift to Ilya’s hair, softly gripping the golden curls there.
This is more familiar territory for the both of them. Ilya, taking what he wants. Shane, giving it to him freely. For a long moment, as Ilya kisses up and down his neck, Shane loses sight of his original goal of getting Ilya to open up to him more, of hearing the sounds that Ilya would gladly hide from him. He lets out a breathy whimper as Ilya nips at his sensitive earlobe.
He feels Ilya grin against his skin. “Who’s the girl now?”
That wakes Shane up as if from a trance. He narrows his eyes and brings his hands to Ilya’s chest again, unwilling to be deterred from his original goal.
“Still you,” Shane retorts.
He twists both nipples meanly and Ilya responds with a keening wail that echoes off the walls, even as he lifts his chest up into Shane’s touch. “Fuck!”
The reaction is even better than Shane could have imagined. He kind of did sound like a girl. Ilya must be so, so sensitive to respond so viscerally. Shane feels bad for a moment, but then he sees Ilya’s pupils blown wide and remembers that Ilya likes when Shane is a little bit mean to him.
Somewhat apologetically, he tries to rub away the sting with the flat of his thumbs and it makes Ilya moan brokenly, his hips bucking up into the air, rutting against nothing.
Shane’s absolutely mesmerized. He’s never heard Ilya be so loud, and he’s never heard half of these sounds come out of his mouth before. He’s fascinated. He feels like a scientist making a groundbreaking, life-changing discovery. He feels like he’s learning how to score a goal for the first time.
“What do you like more, gentle or rough?” He asks intently, keen on knowing exactly what makes Ilya tick.
“Both,” Ilya croaks, his eyes glazed over with lust. He seems to have forgotten or given up his attempt to regain control of the situation. “Both are good. Fuck, do that again.”
“This?” Shane says, and twists his nipples in the opposite direction. This time Ilya’s back arches off the bed and his cock shoots a trickle of pre-cum in response.
“Yes, fuck!” Ilya gasps, his voice sounding an octave or two higher than usual.
Again, Shane tries to soothe the sting away with the pads of his thumbs, but a callus catches on the bud of his nipple and Ilya’s voice breaks on a dry sob.
“How did I not notice this before?” Shane mumbles, mostly to himself. It’s actually fucked up that it’s taken him years to find out how sensitive Ilya is to this. He’s missed so many opportunities to make Ilya feel this good. God, he needs to make up for so much lost time.
The little pink nubs are starting to turn a little red with the twisting, so instead of twisting again, Shane leans down and sucks one into his mouth. Ilya cries out and lifts his head to stare down incredulously at Shane like he can’t believe how good it feels.
Shane presses the flat of his tongue against the bud and swirls it around his areola. His hand comes up to fiddle with the other nipple so it doesn’t feel left out, and now the noises Ilya is making are downright obscene, and thank god nobody can hear them in Shane’s apartment because he doesn’t want anyone else in the world to know how Ilya sounds right now. Shane’s the only one who knows.
That thought makes him feel so grateful all of a sudden, so pleased to be worthy of Ilya’s trust like this, that he takes his mouth off Ilya’s nipple and kisses him on the lips instead. His hands take over the job for him, teasing and flicking and circling while Shane tries to convey his affection through his kiss.
Ilya whimpers into his mouth and it’s probably the hottest sound Shane’s ever heard, except he tugs on Ilya’s right nipple hard enough that the next sound Ilya makes is the new hottest sound he’s ever heard, and fuck, how could he have missed out on this for so many years? Fuck. He needs to — he has to —
Ilya pulls away from his kiss long enough to gasp out “Shane” in an urgent tone and instantly, Shane is all ears, because Ilya so rarely uses his first name except for when it’s important. Then Ilya’s hands come up to grasp Shane’s wrists — not moving them, just…holding onto them, like he needs something to anchor himself. Shane’s hands stop moving immediately as he waits for Ilya to catch his breath and speak.
“If you don’t stop,” Ilya pants, and Shane’s never seen his face any redder than this, “I might….”
Oh.
The idea that Ilya might finish just from this is so…
“Hot,” Shane blurts out. Then his brain catches up to what Ilya said, and what he said, and he immediately backtracks. This isn’t about Shane. “Wait, shit, sorry. We can stop if you want to stop.”
Ilya groans and covers his face with both hands, muttering something in Russian. Shane doesn’t understand a lick of what he’s saying, but he’s doubly confused because Ilya doesn’t…sound like he wants to stop? But he also did make it sound like Shane should stop? So?
“Rozanov?” Shane prompts, because he’s getting nervous waiting for a response. Then he starts to ramble a little bit. “We don’t have to — we can do other things, obviously — Do you not want to…?”
Ilya takes his hands from his face and sighs. He’s still flushed up to the tips of his ears. Mostly he just looks exasperated again, but Shane senses it’s also aimed at himself. Shane’s not great at sensing stuff though, so he really needs Ilya to open his mouth and communicate before Shane starts to overthink this whole encounter.
Luckily for him, Ilya chooses that moment to speak.
“No, Shane, I don’t want to have an orgasm, that’s why I am moaning like whore,” Ilya deadpans. “Obviously I want. Is just…embarrassing.”
“It’s hot,” Shane says again, more firmly this time. It’s cute that Ilya’s embarrassed, but there’s really nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s not his fault he’s so sensitive. And, of course, it really is hot. “Can I…?”
After a moment, Ilya nods and covers his face with his hand again. It’s a shame that Shane can’t see all of his pretty face, but at least Ilya’s not covering his mouth. Shane wants to hear every sound he makes.
With Ilya’s permission, Shane sucks the neglected nipple into his mouth and uses his hand to play with the other, still wet from Shane’s tongue. Ilya moans loudly and then curses something in Russian when Shane experimentally scrapes his teeth against the stiff bud. He follows up by gently tugging the bud between his teeth, which is enough to make Ilya swear again and buck his hips. His hands fly from his face back to the sheets, gripping for some kind of lifeline as Shane carefully, meticulously reduces him to a whimpering mess.
He uses his hand to squeeze Ilya’s pecs, wondering how much of his chest is sensitive, and the groan he gets in response is encouraging. But his nipples are clearly where he’s most responsive, especially at the very tip, so that’s where Shane focuses his attention. Diligently, with the focus he normally saves for the ice, he wrings every increasingly-desperate noise he can out of Ilya’s pretty mouth.
“Hollander, fuck, I’m gonna —“ Ilya pants, then he whimpers brokenly as Shane rolls the bud of his nipple between his fingers and sucks on the other one. His hips are still rutting against nothing, and Shane’s determined to push him over the edge. So he places a delicate kiss on each nipple, pulling a wounded noise from Ilya, and then he twists both nipples as meanly as he had before.
Ilya finishes with a shout, painting long white stripes across his stomach, nearly splattering Shane. Shane lightly rubs circles around Ilya’s nipples, helping him ride out the waves of his orgasm. Ilya moans so freely and unabashedly that Shane feels electric with power — the power to make Ilya Rozanov forget his pride long enough to just feel good.
Shane reaches down to jerk himself off, taking in the beauty of Ilya Rozanov lying in his bed, blushing down to his chest and his nipples a rosy red from Shane’s abuse. There are unshed tears in his eyes and tear trails running down his cheeks — had he shed tears when Shane wasn’t looking? — and the look on his face — so embarrassed, but too blissed out to be angry about it — he’s so beautiful and so precious — and, Shane thinks greedily, he’s all mine —
With a final tug on his cock, Shane cums all over Ilya’s heaving chest and marks him as Shane’s.
“How come you didn’t tell me about this earlier?” Shane murmurs, his head resting over Ilya’s beating heart. He can hear Ilya’s heart rate pick up a little bit. It’s a very intimate feeling.
“Because I knew you’d be obsessed,” Ilya grumbles, still sounding like he’s embarrassed and trying to deflect it like it’s a puck. “You can be intense, Hollander.”
Shane blinks. He’s used to being too intense, although frankly it’s ironic hearing that from the most intense person he knows. But Ilya didn’t say it like it was a bad thing, just a statement of fact.
Then Shane remembers the noises Ilya had made just a few moments ago, and realizes that yes, he is now very much obsessed with trying to get more of those noises out of the Russian.
“Can you blame me?” Shane replies, pressing a kiss to the nearest skin he can reach.
“Yes, actually,” Ilya deadpans. “If I can’t wear a shirt tomorrow, I blame you.”
Shane’s brow furrows. “Why wouldn’t you be able to wear a shirt?”
Ilya’s face pinkens. “Too sensitive,” he mumbles.
Oh. The concept of Ilya being so overly-sensitized that he can’t even bear to feel his nipples rub against the fabric of his shirt….
Shane suddenly wants to do terrible things to the man he’s currently using as a pillow. He wants to do things he’s never even considered before, things he’s only read about (briefly!) while researching safe BDSM practices. He definitely has to go back and reread some articles now that they’re suddenly relevant. Shane’s never considered himself the adventurous type, but this is for Ilya, who inspires him to explore different sides of himself. And speaking of exploring —
“We should get…clamps…” Shane mumbles, blushing even as he says it, but the idea of Ilya in nipple clamps makes his soft cock twitch.
Ilya gapes at him for a moment and then starts laughing.
“Shane — Shane Hollander is a pervert!” Ilya sputters with shocked laughter. “You are going to kill me.”
Shane hides his burning face in Ilya’s chest and listens to the deep rumble of his laughter. “Shut up,” he mumbles, but there’s no heat in his tone. Ilya can laugh all he wants; he knows it must be a shock hearing that come out of “boring” Shane Hollander’s mouth.
He also knows Ilya is just as interested in the clamps as he is. He certainly hadn’t said no.
It’s an idea for later, though. Shane has plenty of research to do between now and his next meeting with Ilya. But in the meantime, he just snuggles closer to Ilya and places a kiss on his chest, right above his overly-sensitive nipple. He smiles when he feels Ilya press a kiss to the top of his head in return.