Archive of Our Own ^beta

Shane can't remember the last time he felt contentment like this. He's filled to the brim, sunken back onto the couch with the weight of it. The day was quiet, interspersed with crashing together in the daylight because they simply can't get enough of it, making up for lost time in different ways to be together. One more week of peace stretches out before them, and they get to fill that time with each other. He feels love-drunk, fucked up on it when he sits with it and lets the feelings overtake him.

Ilya is sitting close enough for him to feel his body heat, just an added layer of comfort. Shane stares out ahead, his relaxed gaze fixed through the wall of windows, his phone forgotten in his hand. The sun is just finishing its descent, the lights inside the cottage are low, and the newfound darkness feels especially cozy. Sounds from the lake and the surrounding forest filter in, amplifying the dreamy atmosphere inside.

There's a little puff of breath against him when Ilya leans closer, planting a kiss on Shane's shoulder through his t-shirt.

“Shane,” he says softly, shifting so he's pressed right up against him. “I want to see it.”

“Hmm?” He turns to find Ilya watching him, his eyes dark and coaxing before he’s plucking Shane’s phone out of his hand and climbing over him. Strong arms bracket him in against the couch.

Shane smiles when Ilya presses a blissfully lingering kiss to the side of his neck, just below his ear. “When are you going to show me?” he breathes against him.

“Mm. Show you what?” Shane mumbles, simply enjoying the sensation of having Ilya over him.

“Your dildo.” Ilya lowers his head and kisses his chest.

Ah, of course. Shane’s cheeks heat over with nervous energy, and he huffs a laugh. The mere thought of Ilya even just seeing it is enough to make him lightheaded, and Shane knows that’s not all he’ll want to do with it.

“What if I left it at home?”

Ilya rises from where he’s trailing kisses over Shane’s clothed chest, toying with the hem of his shirt, and he levels him with a heavy-lidded look. He looms above, beautiful and so close and Shane stares up, lips parted, mouth going dry.

“You didn’t.” Ilya states it as fact. Shane swallows.

And…

That’s true.

Shane could have left it, but he didn’t. He wouldn’t, because Ilya told him to bring it.

And Ilya knows that he listens.

“How do you know?” he presses, just to tease.

“Because I do. Now we are here and I have waited a whole week and I want you to show me. Come.”

It might be that soft contentment that fills him so thoroughly, or simply the release that comes with being given a task to complete to make Ilya happy, but he joyfully lets himself be pulled off the couch and led to the bedroom by the hand. He couldn’t pretend to fight it. It’s hard to imagine turning down any of Ilya’s ideas, especially when they scare him a little like this.

The bedroom feels private and perfect right now. Enclosed and inviting, even being surrounded by windows, the dark forest somehow provides an even safer atmosphere. It makes it feel impossibly remote, and the sense of being so entirely alone together is a heady one. They’ve fucked in basically every room of the cottage, but for this, Shane is happy to stay right here and feel the safety of this room around him.

He finds himself unsure of what to do here as Ilya turns on a lamp and dim, warm light spills over the bed. Shane wonders, is he just supposed to go get it? Or simply tell Ilya where it is? Does he strip naked first, or…?

In such moments, Ilya is a natural guide. Right now as Shane turns to him, he’s met with that cocked smile. Grounding eye contact reaches down and threads through every part of him, a reassurance.

“Shane.” It’s firm. “Get it. Let me see it.”

There’s something about the directness and simplicity in Ilya’s shameless demands that always fucks Shane up. Get on your knees. Suck my cock. Spread your legs. Touch yourself. Always, he sounds like this, and always, it gets Shane melting down and following through like it’s nothing. How he loves being given the next step in such simple language.

There’s a duffle bag that’s been mostly unpacked and left discarded under the bed. Shane kneels down and reaches inside until he finds it.

A slow, steadying breath. Just to gather himself. Just enough to remind himself that he gets to feel good about what he’s doing here. What they get to do together.

He rises and presents the dildo to Ilya without fanfare, finding himself feeling slightly ridiculous and blushing furiously.

He half expects Ilya to grin and giggle when he takes it from him. He doesn’t know why. Instead, he looks at it in his hand thoughtfully.

“Blue?”

Shane shrugs. “Yeah. What’s wrong with blue?”

“Hm, I suppose nothing,” Ilya notes, and Shane shifts from foot to foot, tamping down the urge to be defensive about it when he knows Ilya’s just lightly fucking with him. Then, “Take off your clothes. Get on the bed.”

The breath that Shane blows out is expressed like he’s been hit, profoundly and disgustingly affected already, his cock twitching and filling steadily. Like always, without fail. It takes so little from Ilya, but it feels like everything.

He wordlessly strips off his shirt and his shorts. He climbs naked onto the bed, laying back and settling in to watch Ilya knee onto the bed, dildo still in hand.

His heart is pounding so hard, he would swear he could see it trying to escape out of his chest. It’s the notion of what he’s probably about to make him do, it’s the fact that he’s naked and Ilya isn’t, it's that he's already imminently overwhelmed by his own desperation. He draws his knees up, spreading his legs on instinct and giving Ilya room to settle in close over him. So close, Shane can feel his warmth, but not touching.

Ilya considers the dildo again, like he’s inspecting it now. It’s hard for Shane to not feel like he’s the one being examined so carefully, and the almost humiliating sensation of being laid out like this while Ilya is still dressed has him so aroused he's dizzy with it.

“Why’d you want to see it so bad?” he asks, doing his best to alleviate some of the embarrassment and let the heavy atmosphere cradle him. Play into it.

He smiles when Ilya drops down close, welcoming it when he crowds him in and drops a sweet, lingering kiss to his mouth. “You wouldn’t tell me what it looks like.” Another gentle kiss. Shane feels like he’s floating. “Wanted to see how big it is.” Ilya's nose brushes Shane's, his lips hovering close as he breathes, “Wanted to see if it looks as good going inside you as my cock does.”

The words knock into him hard, his pulse quickening helplessly. It all settles heavilyy in him and makes his voice shaky when he says, “I think you know it doesn’t.”

“Still want to see.”

Ilya pulls back then, sitting up to strip his shirt off. When he lowers his shorts, his cock springs free in a way that would be almost comical if Shane wasn’t so obsessed with it. He's completely hard already – he teases Shane about being hard around him all the time, but Ilya is just the same when they're together – and naked now, he's aligning the dildo beside his own dick, because of course he is.

Ilya's got nine impressive inches, which Shane thanks the fucking universe for. And he thought that seven inches was perfectly respectable for a dildo, but Ilya seems to be looking at it pityingly next to his own length.

“You know you can take something bigger but still you use this?”

“Shut up, it’s fine.”

“Only fine?”

“Yeah,” Shane says honestly. “Does the job.”

“Show me how. I don’t believe you.”

He’s touched himself for Ilya before. He’s fingered himself and jerked off for him in person and over FaceTime. This feels different, impossibly intimate. This is something that has only ever been reserved for himself, a private way for him to pleasure himself when he has the time to be indulgent with it. He knew it was coming to this, but how could he possibly show this to anyone?

But it’s not anyone. It’s Ilya, who loves him. Who looks at him like he’s starving for him, and Shane loves nothing more than to be devoured by this man.

Shane nods. He looks to the bedside table, and Ilya leans over and retrieves the lube for him. For now, the dildo is set aside, resting on the mattress against his hip, and Shane reaches down with coated fingers.

Oh, he does love this part. He watches Ilya, enrapt and so pleased to get to take in the shift in his expression when Shane touches two fingertips to his hole.

“Yes, Shane…”

It feels…god, he's barely doing anything yet and just watching Ilya's face as he starts getting himself slick and warmed up has thick, hot pleasure coiling through him. He loves this, feeling like Ilya is studying him.

He pets himself gently for him. So delicate and soft, it almost tickles, and he feels himself involuntarily clenching at it.

“More,” Ilya breathes, fully locked in.

So Shane delightedly shifts to fully swiping over his rim. Slick and hot, massaging. Coaxing. Until finally he lets a fingertip slip inside. Just for Ilya. Just to show him more.

But, god, he gasps at the intrusion, so slight, barely anything, but everything is amplified like this. The weight of Ilya’s fiery gaze is draping over him like a physical sensation, and Ilya makes a pleased little sound like he’s the one being touched. He loves it so much, it drives Shane insane.

In one smooth motion, he sinks a finger all the way inside.

It feels so good, but the sensation is eclipsed by Ilya’s reaction – his harsh exhale through his nose, the way he falls in closer like he’s been weakened, the way his untouched cock pulses once, hard, and then again.

It’s easy for Shane to press another finger in immediately following the first. Ilya has kept him thoroughly fucked since arriving, and it makes this remarkably easy for him. It’s a novel sensation, one he indulges in by getting his fingers deep, deeper, pressing up, making his dick pulse and gasping at the heady, throbbing pleasure he’s already giving himself. This is fun, this is easy, especially getting to see the look of unadulterated admiration on Ilya’s face.

“Enough,” Ilya eventually says. He might as well have grabbed Shane’s hands and pulled his fingers out of his body himself, with how quickly Shane obeys. He does it almost unthinkingly, following along like he simply has no choice. There are times when Ilya is like this where it feels almost like he reaches inside of him and moves his body for him, effortlessly bending him to his will.

Bleary-eyed and empty, he watches as Ilya drizzles lube all over the dildo, careless in how it drips all over the bed.

“Should’ve put a towel down,” Shane sighs.

Ilya ignores him and holds it out for him to take, looking at him expectantly.

Shane’s blood sings in his ears, pounding with his rapid pulse, his limbs weak with excitement as Ilya places it in his hand. Now, the delicious thrill of it falls over him like a weight that he cradles eagerly with his body, taking it into himself, sweat prickling at the back of his neck, behind his knees. He gets to show him now. He wants to show him this.

Legs fall further open. Knees draw up. He wants to be open for him. He reaches down with both hands, gliding one hand over his heated skin, holding and spreading himself, the other guiding the dildo into place.

Ilya's gaze flicks between Shane's face and where he's touching himself, and Shane writhes under it. The attention is an anchor pinning Shane in all the most perfect places on his body. Doesn't need to touch him to hold him here. Ilya stays carefully distant, just above him, waiting for Shane to show him. He wants to show him so bad…

“Put it in,” Ilya says coolly. “Let me see.”

A slight nod, a shaky exhale, and Shane watches Ilya’s face. Ilya watches between Shane’s splayed legs. Shane presses, and it just begins to slip inside him, guided by his own trembling hand.

Both of them let out these little shocked breaths at it, at Shane opening up around the head of the dildo, at how good it feels, how his tender hole looks taking it inside.

Feels split wide open already. His cock leaks. His chest heaves. Shane pushes the tiniest bit further, and he feels buried under Ilya’s control. It covers him so wholly, guiding his unsteady movements. Doing this because Ilya wants it, which in turn makes Shane ache for it.

“Deeper,” comes the rumbling command. “More. Fuck yourself.”

He complies, because of course he does, he’s helpless to it. He pushes. He fits more of it inside himself. It’s gentle pressure by his own hand, but there’s that deep, delicious stretch inside. Ilya stays locked onto it, watching the dildo open him up as he draws it back, twists his wrist and thrusts it back in. Slow, careful.

“Ohh, fuck…” Shane sighs, because it feels so good, making him throb, his body melting, melting. It makes him squirm a little to ask it, but he has to hear the answer: “Do you – do you like it?”

Ilya keeps his gaze between Shane’s legs, nodding slightly, his breaths coming a little harsher, a little less controlled. “Da. Yes.” Transfixed, lips parted in astonishment, hard as granite, still not touching himself.

God. Shane lights up at that, writhing under the careful attention. The instinct to open up even more and draw his legs impossibly further apart sweeps through him, and it has his muscles twinging when he attempts it, rolling his hips up more, showing, giving him more, more. He keeps up the steady thrusting, his hand no longer trembling. Nice and even and deliberate, feeling himself clutching it tightly inside, like he can’t help it. Trying to relax, but clenching. Tightening. Twitching.

“Come on, Hollander,” Ilya breathes. He brings his gaze up to meet Shane’s, locking onto him and holding him there. “You always fuck yourself like you are afraid it's going to feel good?”

It makes Shane’s hand pause, his stomach swooping. It’s intense, and he’s so hard he could die.

“Fuck yourself. Come on, like you mean it. How you like it.”

Fuck.

Shane squeezes his eyes closed, embarrassing heat in his cheeks and between his legs amped up to impossible levels.

“Why are you stopping?” The mattress shifts. Shane keeps his hand still, the dildo pressed deep inside. His head is swimming – at the attention, at the exposure, at the mere fact that this is happening because Ilya commanded it.

He hasn’t answered Ilya.

“Shane. Look at me.”

He opens his eyes to the hazy room – when did it get so hazy? – and Ilya comes into focus. Sat so close, his knees spread wide, his cock stands at attention. Enormous and hard and wet at the tip, and Shane wants it.

“Is okay?” Ilya asks. “You want to keep going?”

Oh, he does, it's just…

“Yeah,” Shane breathes, digging deep through that cottony haze, finding the words. “Just a lot.”

“Mhm,” Ilya agrees. “Yes, I know. And you look… so fucking sexy. So good.”

The praise washes over him, filling him up and getting his hand flexing, like it’s instinct to push the dildo up just like this so it presses hard into his prostate. He gasps, and Ilya hums, pleased.

“Yes. Now faster. Fuck yourself.”

Shane’s lips part on an embarrassing whimper. He’s helpless to it. He draws it back, feeling the entirety of it as he slides it out, further, almost all the way out, then works it back in in one smooth motion. Feeling it drag and plunge deeper inside is so good, and so he does it again. And again. Harder. Harder.

Ilya finally touches himself, gentle at first, his cock jumping like it’s so sensitive, like any touch at all could make him go off. But then he wraps a hand around the base and squeezes, watching Shane with that intensity that reaches deep in him and turns him completely inside out. Entirely exposed under him. Blood boiling, Shane reaches overhead and clutches the pillow with his free hand and works himself harder. He watches Ilya take it all in hungrily.

He fucks himself in earnest, gasping, blushing at the wet sounds that fill the room. And Ilya is so close to him, giving him just enough room to work, still not touching him. He wants him to touch him. He wants him to be the one inside of him. He wants his cock fucking him open and keeping him full.

“Want you to fuck me,” Shane mumbles, delirious, craving the snap of Ilya’s hips against his ass, the enticing ways in which his body moves and shifts, the look he gets on his face when he’s lost in Shane. He grips himself behind one knee and keeps himself held open, as if to say Here, inside, don’t you want to be here? Doesn’t this look inviting? Don’t you love this? This could be you instead.

“Shane…” Ilya pants, and a hand finally, finally reaches out and grasps his thigh, landing full and heavy. The warm, almost desperate contact is like a shock, and he feels himself leak so suddenly and so much all over his stomach, like a hand on his thigh is the most erotic thing he's ever felt.

“Please,” he hears himself gasping out, his hand speeding up, fucking the dildo in and out of himself so fast he wonders if he’ll make his forearm cramp. It feels so good, Ilya is loving it so much, but there’s so much more to be had…he could be so much more full, and he’s so close…

“You're going to cum,” Ilya observes, his voice low and ragged like his control is slipping, the hand around his own cock moving loosely up and down his length now. “Look at you.”

Shane slows to a stop, panting, twitching. He’s right there, but… “Don't want to yet.”

“I know. I know,” Ilya soothes. “But don’t stop.” Ilya flicks his gaze from where he’s watching between his legs up to Shane’s face, and Shane squeezes his eyes shut at the intensity of it.

“Ilya, please…wanna cum while you’re fucking me.” His face feels impossibly hot at the admission, but he knows Ilya loves that shit. Lives for hearing him unravel like this.

“Mm, you will. Just keep going for me, yes? Little more.”

“Can't.” He stays steady, balanced right on the edge. The dildo is still pushed all the way inside him, which actually isn’t helping, but he’s afraid if he pulls it out or moves at all, it’ll all be over. He grasps the base of his cock tightly for good measure. He lets out a breath through pursed lips, pulling himself away from what feels at this point like an inevitable finish.

Suddenly, there’s a hand touching his own. He opens his eyes and watches as Ilya grips the base of the dildo, nudging Shane's hand away.

“You can,” Ilya says, so sure, so serious. And Shane could melt, could completely dissolve into the air around them at the feeling of Ilya slowly, so slowly drawing the dildo out. Slow. Feeling every millimeter of it drag against his rim. He tosses his head back, squeezes his eyes shut, squeezes the base of his cock, and nearly dies at the thought of Ilya’s gaze still being so focused there, seeing all of this happen to his body in such slow motion.

“Fuck…” It's long and low and so drawn out, Shane’s voice breaks with it.

Ilya starts pushing it back in. Inch by inch. Feeling every bit of it stretch him open. “See? Can keep going. Just have to go slow now.” Oh, fuck. “Slow.” He breathes it out so quiet, Shane can barely hear it. “Slow…”

“Holy shit…” He has to open his eyes, has to see how Ilya watches him. “Holy fucking shit…”

He does, and it’s too much, the way Ilya’s attention is so fixed and focused on his task like this. His parted lips, his hard cock, the muscles of his arm shifting slowly as he fucks him with his dildo, all of it is enough of a boost to drag him right there again, heat pounding through him, teetering and just about to fall off…

“Please stop, I'm gonna cum,” he begs, panicked. “I’m gonna…”

Blessedly, Ilya helps him grasp the base of his cock hard, stopping his orgasm from ripping through him, always with the impeccable timing. Shane’s heart beats hard against his ribcage as they take a moment, Ilya letting him breathe and come back from the edge.

Shane flinches when Ilya carefully pulls the dildo completely out in a steady drag. He clenches around nothing, whimpering desperately at being so empty. There's no shame in it, even when Ilya lets out a low chuckle at him.

“Oh, so good,” Ilya soothes, adoring and amused. “Did it so good.” He moves in closer, finally falling over him, finally going to sink inside and fill him, going to give him what he needs. Shane could cry, his heart singing at the praise and Ilya’s touch. Hands roam over him, cock brushing his hole, steady pressure on his body, hips connecting, lips on his neck, and a breathy, deep voice: “Going to fuck you.”

It sends a shiver through him, his hands coming up to Ilya’s shoulders, weakly gripping him and feeling his muscles shift.

“Please.”

“Ready?”

“Ilya…yes, fuck.”

“Mhm.” He looks down as he takes himself in hand, guiding himself carefully. He’s met with little resistance when he begins to push inside Shane’s tender body. It’s so easy, so fucking wet, and he slides in like nothing. The dildo felt good, but Ilya was right. Shane can take more, and he likes taking more, and Ilya’s cock give him this unmatched sense of completion and satisfaction, and it feels so good, Shane moans weakly with it. This is what he needs. This is exactly it.

“Hmm,” Ilya ponders, pushing in, watching their bodies connect and shifting carefully. “Does look better.”

“Huh…?” Shane sighs before he realizes what Ilya means.

“Looks better when it's me fucking you,” he states, then falls over him fully to kiss him.

Christ, Shane can only hang on and try to kiss him back when Ilya starts moving inside him with gentle pumps of his hips. Gentle, just for a moment. Then snapping them hard, shifting Shane up the mattress each time they collide.

“Take me so easily,” Ilya pants. “You could take both, yes?”

Shane is on fire, filled and so pleased, and it takes a moment for his addled mind to catch up and realize that Ilya is referring to himself and the dildo, and the thought of being filled by both at the same time…fuck, it has Shane involuntarily bearing down with how hard his body shudders, moaning embarrassingly loud through clenched teeth.

“You would like that?” Ilya teases, lips moving against Shane's mouth with each syllable. And Shane would, he thinks. At least right now, in the throes of being fucked so thoroughly, the half-formed thought of Ilya splitting him open like that is unimaginably hot. In fact, it’s right there beside them, they could just reach over and grab it and Shane would take it all so good for Ilya, he would…

It’s an enticing thought. But in this moment, this is all he needs. All he fucking wants. Just Ilya, just his perfect cock pounding into him, just his perfect body holding him, his perfect control keeping him steady and good and feeling so adored.

It’s right there again, sudden and overwhelming, his orgasm ready to tear through him. And really, it’s miraculous that he’s lasted this long after everything else. After showing off for him. Being opened up and watched so closely, so intimately, and now taking it so hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” It pours out of him in a stuttering chant, lost to how good it feels to be getting this, to be kept so full.

“Yes, come on,” Ilya groans, pressing his lips to his neck, his jaw, his cheek. “Cum.”

“Fuck, fu- ahh…”

“Shane.” Firm but awed and breathy, washing over his skin. “Cum on my cock.”

The command reaches deep inside of him, pulling it out, and it ushers in the pounding, thunderous heat in his core. The waves of it overtake him entirely and suck him under as he splatters onto his stomach. He clings to Ilya's body, clenching inside wildly, helplessly, as his vision whites out, euphoric.

Ilya’s moaning, watching closely, admiring him and soothing him, and Shane can hardly hear it through the blood pounding in his ears. “Yes…yes, Shane, fuck yes, so good…” He holds him tight, fucking him through it, not letting up. Oh fuck, he's not letting up –

Shane’s climax is ebbing away, receding slowly, heat flashing inside him with each pulse. Ebbs, fades.

But the relentless pounding inside of him continues. And the sensation of it is crossing into something agonizing. So sensitive inside, it's almost painful. It almost hurts.

Almost. Not quite.

Ilya holds himself over him, and Shane looks up at him desperately, wrecked. “What – please…”

“I should stop?” Ilya asks, slowing and shifting his hips inside. He doesn't stop. Not completely.

Almost hurts.

White-hot pleasure exists there, in that space around the agony of it, and he can’t lose that. He claws it close to himself, clinging and knowing that they’re not done here.

Shane shakes his head. “No, please.”

Ilya grins, so pleased with him. So proud. And he keeps going.

Shane lets himself slacken. It’s all he can do. Goosebumps break out across his arms and the back of his neck, his scalp tingling, his eyes watering. He watches Ilya devotedly, raw and cracked open under his heavy gaze.

He lets himself be lost to it, the exquisite sensations burning up inside him, Ilya keeping him steady through it all. He holds his body, keeps his legs up and open for him, kisses his face and whispers to him how good he feels inside.

All the while, Shane feels something happening, stirring deep where it kind of hurts and it tingles and he’s twitching, and…fuck.

Ilya’s hips speed up impossibly. He pants against Shane’s neck, those beautiful moans tearing out of him changing pitch because he’s about to cum, about to fill him up so good, and something is happening, keeps happening, these little flashes of something inside of Shane that have him weakly squeezing Ilya’s cock.

“Fuck, Hollander, fuck…” And as Ilya presses deep, holds it and spills inside of him, the muscles in Shane’s ass, between his legs, his inner thighs, everything twitches hard. It’s liquid heat seeping through him, pouring low in him and pulsing there, leaving him gasping nonsense. He wonders if he’s coming again or if this is something else, he doesn’t know, he doesn’t know anything, but it’s a peak, something huge and overwhelming and existing in every bit of his body. There’s this sound rending out of him and filling the entirety of this cozy, dark, safe bedroom, hitting the glass, spilling out into the forest. Falling over them. Drifting, drifting.

Lips find his face in gentle presses all over his cheeks and chin. Ilya is saying something, muttering against his skin. It’s Russian, and Shane doesn’t know what he's saying, but he finds himself smiling all the same, stroking his fingers over Ilya’s back.

Holding him close, so much moisture smearing between them and Shane only flinching at it a little bit, Ilya helps Shane draw his shaky legs down before falling to rest beside him and over him, wrapping him up tight.

Quiet. Just their breath. Just the silent forest closing in tight and safe around them, and Shane’s heart slowing down. The moment hums around them blissfully.

“You liked that,” Ilya rumbles after catching his breath.

“Obviously,” Shane slurs out at the understatement of the century, and it comes out so quiet it’s practically a whisper. He didn’t realize he’d been so loud, he’s made himself a little hoarse. He clears his throat. “Was fucking hot.”

“You came twice,” Ilya states. He kisses his chest.

“I guess so,” Shane admits, still a little lost over how that could happen so quickly. “Didn’t know I could do that.”

Ilya props himself up and looks down at him, smug as ever, so pleased with himself. “Maybe we go for record next time.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Three times in…twenty minutes?” he ponders.

“Sure.” Shane rolls his eyes, but the thought of Ilya trying to get that out of him does have its appeal. “Come here.”

Ilya hums, falling back down against him and giving him a satisfying squeeze.

“I love you.” It’s muffled against his chest. Shane’s heart swells, thrumming with affection. He already knows he’ll never grow tired of hearing it.

“I love you. So much.”

They have one more week here together before re-entering reality. And there’s no telling what other kinds of depravity they’ll be engaging in in that time. Well, Shane considers what they’ve just done here a little depraved, at least. He’s not sure what Ilya would consider it.

Any amount of time wouldn’t be enough. For said depravity, for more intimacy and honesty. For more closeness. For more play. More peace. But there will be next time, too.

How remarkable, that this place has so quickly become in his mind a refuge for both of them, together.

His heart clenching, Shane squeezes Ilya back, hoping he can get him to somehow sense every achingly tender feeling that’s stirring almost violently inside of him, and lets himself drift off in his arms.