Feminist criticism of men's behavior comes from the idea that gender is a social construct, that men are not inherently evil and their behavior can change. If men couldn't change, the criticism would be pointless.
It is not necessary for every feminist statement to include a 'not all men do this' disclaimer. The criticism itself already expresses the possibility that men could choose not to behave in this way.
Unless someone states that men's behavior can't change or that there is inherent evil in being a man, accusing a feminist of 'manhating' because she criticizes men is usually nothing but an attempt to distract from the content of the criticism itself.
We should recognize such an obvious attempt at derailment for what it is and move on.
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i’m so fucking tired of shitty articles getting published that reduce the success of heated rivalry to ‘the monolith known as “WOMEN” are OBSESSED with GAY SMUT’
as soon as something centres queerness and is enjoyed by women it gets devalued and made fun of and stripped of all its artistry. ‘only straight women like this. and they only like it because it’s basically porn. so scandalous! haha silly women and their porn. anyway because it’s porn that means these women are fetishising and therefore homophobic (despite the fact that they’re the ones enjoying it as a series/story/piece of art and we’re the ones insisting it’s porn. despite the fact that they appreciate the actors as experts trained in a craft and we’re the ones depicting them as empty hot bodies)’
i just wish fandom wasn’t treated like a fucking zoo exhibit man like it’s fun and silly and self deprecating when people within fandom spaces talk to their friends about fujoing out or playing with dolls or whatever. it’s just patronising when it’s done by mainstream media
this also applies to “”””“content creators””””” outside of fandom who decide to make content out of lifting up our rock to yell that ‘this fandom is insane’ when what they actually mean is that some shit has been done by some guy who isn’t even part of this particular bug colony
‘this fandom is insane. look what insane shit they did that only 5 people would’ve ever known about if i hadn’t made my video lmao. get em boys’
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Once Ilya and Shane are well into their 60s, retired after building a hockey empire together and cementing their legacy together and their rivalry is just an entertaining prologue to their big, beautiful story, the league creates another player award. Not for an individual, but for a pair. Not a couple necessarily, but two players who work together both on and off the ice to make their corner of the world better.
The award, of course, is the Hollander-Rozanov Trophy, and is referred to as the Hollanov award. For as long as they are able, Shane and Ilya are on the committee that selects the winners and get to announce the winners at the MLH awards in the summer.
shane picking up the way ilya says "wow wow" and developing a habit of saying it FULLY to himself when he's doing things as a vocal stim.
like t GOD he's always aware enough to not do it when he's mic'd up during a game, but wow wow makes a very regular appearance in his daily routine. almost knocked his protein powder off of the counter? wow wow. set a new lifting pr at the gym? wow wow. finished putting his laundry away? wow wow. getting out of the shower after a long day? wow wow.
and he was already doing it before he and ilya got together and is also so used to living alone that he doesn't think about it anymore, but this does mean that ilya 100% hears shane wow wowing under his breath at the cottage and is just ??? is this??? a joke??? he doesn't even know i'm listening??? what the fuck is this next level chirping???
i think Carter Vaughn would react to being propositioned for a gay threesome by hollanov the same way he'd react to someone asking him to help them move, like "yeah sure no problem. you're buying the pizza and beer haha. what day?" and they're like, "do you actually want to?" and he shrugs and he's like "sure, why not? if i'm free." and they're like, "but like, are you attracted to us?" and he's like "of course man, you're a couple of fucking beauties" and they're like, "but are you gay..? or..bi?" and he's like, "OH! no. no i'm not, sadly. straight as an arrow ahaha but i'll still do the threesome if you want me to! i've done it before. it was a good time!" and hollanov would just blink at him like wtf do we do with that
also, crucially, i believe that if they did actually go through with it, the whole time he'd be like "fuck yeah bro! nice!" and really mean it (and the extreme straight jockbro-y-ness would probably really work for shane)
cackling about the idea of shane and ilya getting separated on the bench from time to time and the public thinks "oooh, trouble in paradise? the rivalry rearing its head again?? hollander getting fed up with rozanov??"
and the truth is that the team was playing against someone ilya and/or shane ESPECIALLY hates, which means shane was dropping the most vicious, lethal reads known to man and making ilya crack tf up to the point that they were attracting attention and the coach was just afraid of someone reading lips and getting them all in trouble
and signficantly, the three person buffer between them just keeps shane from SAYING his comments
he and ilya are still leaning forward and backward to look at each other and exchange "mhm" "mhm" looks that still make it clear they're still communicating their thoughts perfectly fine
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Once Shane and Ilya live together or live close enough to fuck on the reg his asshole would likely develop a permanent gape nothing enormous but something privately noticeable and very special to them because it's a change created by their love
I don’t think it happens until they’re living together but when it does it’s an endless feedback loop that neither of them particularly wants to escape.
Shane’s always felt a little too empty directly after sex, especially when Ilya’s taken his time carefully stretching him, opening him up with three, sometimes even four fingers, letting Shane become incoherent with desire, his begging eventually turning to small cries and whimpers before Ilya finally gives in and fucks him. It helps that Ilya hardly ever pulls out directly after sex, lingering within him, his softening cock gently letting his hole adjust. Sometimes that isn’t enough, though. Sometimes he needs a plug, usually their smallest one, just to push back the hollow emptiness that otherwise becomes the only thing he can focus on.
And, yes, the fact that Shane will quite often just be walking around the house with a plug in drives Ilya absolutely insane, leading to him needing to fuck him again over it, leading to Shane growing so used to the feeling of being full that having nothing within him feels fundimentally wrong, leading to wearing the plug for comfort, leading to more fucking. So, yes, there is a bit of a gape because he’s never really empty for long enough to let his body bounce completely back and they both fucking love it.
When Shane has to travel for photoshoots or other work opportunities and Ilya stays with Anya, he’s barely crossed the threshold by the time Ilya has him bent over the nearest available surface, fingers or tongue inside him, Shane complaining that he needs to shower after the plane ride and Ilya telling him this takes priority; that his body has forgotten what it was made for and he needs to get him back to his natural state of being ready to accommodate him at any moment.
Ilya's got Shane's on his knees. His thumb is hooked behind Shane's bottom teeth, holding his mouth open, and his fingers are curled under Shane's chin. And Shane's whimpering for Ilya's cock, but every time he leans forward to take it in his mouth, Ilya uses his hold on Shane's face to turn him away. He keeps teasing him with things like, "No, sweetheart, your mouth is full already," or "Can't let you choke, malysh." And Shane is whining and insistent, "Nonono, I can take it, I promise," and "Please, please, I won't choke, you know I won't, Ilya." It comes out garbled around Ilya's thumb, makes drool puddle in Ilya's cupped hand. And then Ilya taps his cock on Shane's cheek, says, "You're making quite a mess," and Shane tries to swallow, says, "Sorry, sorry, Ilya, please," as he struggles to turn his head, reaching for Ilya's cock with his mouth again. Ilya's laugh is low and quiet when he finally, finally drags his cock toward Shane's mouth, leaving a streak of pre-cum across his cheek. "Needy boy. You just want to be full, isn't that right, sweetheart?" he says as he slides his cock in alongside his thumb. And Shane would say yes, but his mouth is busy.
Thinking about the fact that Ilya and Shane probably kissed SO much that first day at the cottage like Shane’s jaw was achy and their mouths were puffy and swollen and deep pink at the end of the day
Like they definitely fucked like three times by like early afternoon, and Shane’s a bit achy, they’d been eager and rough with each other, mainly in their desperation for each other. It had been months for both of them, waiting for each other- and it’s the first time they have ever had time on their hands, time and no fucking interruptions, just endless soft surfaces and hard surfaces to press each other into, soft close clothing and no prying eyes.
But they also kinda can’t stop kissing. Shane almost feels overwhelmed by it, it’s like theirs magnets on their tongues, drawn to each other like gravity. After lunch they end up making out at the sink for an unknown stretch of time, at least till the water in the sink that the dishes had been soaking in, cooled. But it was soft pecks too, hot firey kisses when Ilya would interrupt him by grabbing his face and pulling him in, licking into his mouth. So not only does Shane’s ass and hips ache a bit, but so does his mouth.
It’s the evening, the sun dipping down past the line of the lake and Shane is sprawled on his back on the soft rug of the living room. Ilya is a shirtless warm wide weight over him, just in a pair of Shane’s sweatpants (yours are better Hollander I want these) between Shane’s legs, pressing into and over him. He smells like Shane’s body wash, and sun, tastes like sour patch kids (Shane had bought them just for Ilya, when he’d done his grocery shop for the summer. It was just a few things, inconspicuous packets- but ones that usually had no place in Shane Hollanders pantry).
Shane’s in his metros crew neck and a pair of soft shorts, socks on.
Ilya has an elbow on either side of Shane’s head, one hand fisted in the top of Shane’s hair, fingers scratching gentle circular motions against his scalp in a dizzying way that had goose bumps shivering up and down the back of his neck. His other hand cheeks drifting to Shane’s chin and cheek, the back of his knuckles rubbing, fingers grabbing.
They’re kissing, again, slow hot drags of their mouths that are making Shane’s stomach flip and squeeze in a low needy flutter. His legs are spread to either side, knees to Ilya’s hips. One calf is pressed to Ilya’s thigh, the other out further, his toes rubbing their happy rhythm against Ilya’s calf. A small fidget he did when he was content, to comfort, usually as he drifted to sleep- but apparently when Ilya Rozanov kissed him incoherent too.
Shanes hands have been roaming, from holding Ilya’s face between his palms, to through his curls, over the back of his neck. His nails gentle up and down the bare skin of Ilya’s back, occasionally finding stray droplet left over from the shower. His body is holding the heat from it, so fucking warm and solid between Shane’s legs. Shane can’t stop thinking about the fact Ilya’s going to sleep in bed with him tonight. They have all night.
The thought makes Shane shiver and Ilya presses down into Shane in response, hand slides from his hair and down, arm slides between Shane and the floor, hand clasped to Shane’s hip, strong forearm spanning his back and he pulls Shane up into him. Shane tightens his leg around Ilya’s body, hands rub over Ilya’s broad shoulders in a silent reply. Ilya pulls back for a breath, nuzzles his mouth against Shane’s skin as he knocks their noses together.
“Okie?” He asks in a soft low cadence, and his arms squeezes around Shane, hand wiggling to the under the fabric of his sweatshirt, against skin.
Shane nods and with a small motion of his head ilya is connecting their lips again, a tiny almost sweet peck before he’s licking into Shane’s mouth in a way that makes the back of his neck heat. Ilya sinks into him and kisses him like he’s starving, like this itself is sex, like he’s inside Shane. It feels like it, Shane can feel the ghost of that connection with how they are pressed tight, close.
Their sound of their lips is slick and loud, and Shane can hear the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears, the rustle of their clothes together. He’s not grinning on Ilya, and Ilya is pushing down into him, but there are these tiny presses of their hips, half hard- but not seeking anything further, not chasing, just content in the connection of their bodies in every place they can manage.
Ilya’s tongue draws back and Shane catches Ilya’s top lip with teeth and tongue, Ilya’s mouth tastes like his, their shared spit. Shane’s fingers find the shape of Ilya’s earlobe, thumb starts to rub over it softly, and it makes Ilya whine, like Shane knows it does, because he knows, knows very well how Ilya Rozanov kisses, how he likes to be kissed back. Ilya’s hand squeezes Shane’s hip, pulls him in tighter, drags his tongue over Shane’s, licks up over the roof of his mouth and Shane shivers. His jaw aches with the stretch of the kiss as Ilya licks into his mouth hungry.
Then the oven beeps, loud and jarring and Shane’s first thought is what the fuck? But then- oh- dinner. They had put the potatoes and vegetables to roast in the oven an hour ago and chicken legs half an hour ago. Shane had been going to find deck of cards he knew was in the living room because he had told Ilya he would to teach him how to play Cribbage. Ilya had already asked if they could play strip cribbage. Shane didn’t think it would be possible but he was sure Ilya would find a way.
He’d been leant over the coffee table, digging in a draw for the cards when Ilya had found him, a slap to his bent over ass, before his hands pulled Shane back into him. Shane had told him to fuck off and Ilya had said no and then Shane had jabbed at his side, Ilya had flicked Shane’s ear and then they were on the carpet slapping hands away. Then, as with the pace of the day it seemed, they were kissing again.
Shane pulls back with a gasp from the kiss. “Dinner. Ilya- we need to” Ilya’s mouth was already back on his own. Shane’s hands slid to Ilya hair, pulled, turned his head away from Ilya’s mouth. The alarm was still going off.
“It’ll burn” Shane sighs, shivers when Ilya’s mouth finds his jaw, kisses and licks at the warm skin.
“In a minute” Ilya rumbles back and drags his teeth over the light already fading hickey he left there this morning.
Shane sighs, heat rushes at the feeling and he swallows, wriggles under Ilya’s frame.
“You’ll be so” Shane’s voice is breathy and he clears his throat. “So annoying if I don’t feed you” and then Shane feels Ilya laugh against his throat.
“You have fed me plenty” Ilya grumbles back, hand sliding down to take a handful of Shane’s ass, voice heavy with innuendo.
“Shut up” Shane bitches and pinches Ilya’s side in the way he doesn’t like, and says “dinner Ilya dinner” and Ilya whines and pulls back. Shane bits back a whine at the loss of Ilya’s warmth, despite knowing Ilya getting up is how they will achieve making sure dinner isn’t burnt.
Shane’s hands, now with no Ilya to hold, lay by his sides and he looks up at Ilya up on his knees between Shane’s legs, looking down at him. His necklace swings and the light catches the glint of gold. He’s all tanned skin, corded muscle and moles in the low light. There’s a bruise from Shane’s mouth in his ribs. Shane licks his lips and he wants Ilya to fuck him again. The oven alarm beeps ever strong in the distance. Shane lets out a short breath through his nose.
“Come on then, up, mr dinner Ilya dinner, I thought this was urgent and you are just laying on floor” Ilya teases and Shane kicks his heel into Ilya’s ass.
“I will help with my big muscles don’t worry” Ilya smirks and then he’s pulling Shane up with the arm under his back, till Shane is sat over Ilya’s hips in his kneeling position.
Suddenly they are close again, breath mingling between the mouths. Ilya’s mouth is bitten dark, his thicker upper lip swollen. His mouth shines in the low light of the cottage with his and Shane’s spit. It makes Shane’s cock pulse. Something swells in his chest. Shane squirms in Ilya’s lap and Ilya’s arm tightens around him, a firm grip that anchors him closer. Shane’s eyes dart up Ilya’s and he can see Ilya’s eyes staring at his mouth, dark and lidded. Ilya’s hand is on his face then and his thumb is making circles over Shane’s mouth. It feels like an old bruise, a muscle that aches after training. His lips throb.
“Mm” Ilya’s hum is low and maybe involuntary and Shane feels it vibrate through his own, and oh- when did they get that close again.
Then Ilya is kissing him again, soft pecks all over Shane’s mouth, closed mouth kisses that make Shane’s toes start working their wriggle again.
Ilya’s licking into his mouth and Shane’s hands are catching Ilyas face, and he’s been kissing Ilya for a decade, but it’s that same stupid heavy rush it had been when he was a teenager and all he could think was oh, that’s what kissing is because any kiss before it had seemed like it must be something else entirely, it didn’t even live in the same universe.
Shane made a soft sound, head heavy with the thought of their first kiss, the thought of Ilya knowing how to kiss him so well, of knowing just what Shane likes, being just what Shane likes. The taste of Ilya’s mouth being a comfort, a home. Shane pushes his hips down, pulls at the back of Ilya’s neck, sucks Ilya’s tongue into his mouth and- and then Ilya is pulling his mouth away with a slick sound and Shane whimpers, frowns.
“Dinner Shane, dinner” Ilya whispers and Shane puts his have over Ilya’s face, before he clambers up.
Ilya’s footsteps are quick behind him.
The get the food out the oven, it goes half cold, Shane’s ass pressed against the oven, Ilya pressing into him, hands cupping his jaw open.
happy suck him off Sunday I’m thinking about the first time shane swallows which I believe has to be during the my moon my man montage. it’s a night where they have to be quick, the game ended in a shootout and Ilya has a very early flight but of course they make time for Something. And so there is no pretense when Ilya texts him, they’re bolting up the back stairs, on each other the second the door shuts and they don’t even make it into the apartment past the foyer before shane is on his knees and yanking Ilya out of his pants.
and Ilya is so enthused to just take it, to spot him on the back of the head and thrust lightly into his mouth until Shane pulls off for a precious second and says “don’t be gentle. I’m serious.” And that makes Ilya fucking feral. And suddenly Shane’s hair is being pulled at the root and Ilya is fucking his mouth as deep as he dare go, because shane has yet to cross into deep-throating territory, but he thinks he will soon.
And Ilya is so far gone, he’s not gonna last, and he groans out, “Hollander, pull off, I’m gonna come.” And shane just looks up at him with a look in his eye, and just keeps bobbing and sucking and twisting his hand at the base with his residual spit as if to say, “let me take it from you. Let me take all of it from you.” And Ilya reads the message loud and clear, and he is fighting for his life to keep his eyes open and his gaze down so he can watch shane take every drop of him. Which he does, he comes with a loud grunt, squeezing his hand in Shane’s hair and pulling a moan from him in kind as he shoots into his mouth with shane so determined to swallow him.
And as he twitches out the last of it, shane is smiling around his cock and slipping off carefully, just kind of holding it all in, unsure of what to do, unsure if Ilya wants to see it. But he answers that for him, pressing a thumb onto his chin and dragging down. He opens, and there Ilya sits, pearlescent on his tongue and so fucking hot.
“So good for me, Hollander. Do you want to swallow it?”
And shane nods with his tongue still sticking out, some of his spend dripping out of the corners of his mouth.
“Let me see,” Ilya prompts.
And Shane obediently swallows it all, licking at what spilled out, and swallowing that too.
“Fuck, Hollander. So fucking hot.”
And Shane is slightly bashful, but so fucking turned on, dragging his tongue across the roof of his mouth to maintain the taste of him.
“My turn now,” Ilya says, dropping to his knees and knocking Shane back onto his ass and his hands. He lays on his stomach right on the foyer, pulling Shane’s cock out as Shane balances back on his palms. Ilya glances up at him and says, right before swallowing him down, “Since you’re so hungry for come tonight, maybe this time I’ll let you see what you taste like in my mouth.”
i love for ilya to be super selfindulgent abt his own cock. he loves looking at it, he gets a head rush from looking at it go inside shane and he loves doing that (he does this a lot in canon WOHOOOO). he loves making shane talk abt it "you love that big cock huh? tell me" all demanding while fucking him or maybe sometimes in a slow grind and superduper sweetly too. "i love your big cock" shane slurs and HE DOESSS so much
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I was inspired by this post to write about how I think this would go...
****
It's 1:30am when Marleau calls. Ilya would have slept through it if Shane hadn't wacked him in the face with a pillow and mumbled "Dude, your phone is ringing, make it stop."
"Oh." Ilya rubs his eyes and picks up his phone. "It's Marly."
"Probably drunk calling you again." Shane says into his pillow.
"I will just make sure he is alright. Go back to sleep." Ilya says, running a hand through Shane's hair.
"Mmmm...kay.."
He heads out of the dark bedroom, tripping on a pair of disarded pants (his), closes the door behind him and switches on the hallway light. "Marly, are you calling me because you forgot your address to tell the Uber driver again..."
He stops, because it sounds like the person on the other end of the phone is crying. Ilya pauses, double checks. Yup, it's Marleau's name on the screen.
"Roz, I'm sorry, bro...."
"Are you okay? What's going on?"
His best friend hiccups. "I...I..."
"Marly, what is it? What did you do?"
"I'm straight!" Marleau almost wails.
Ilya sits down on the floor, his back against the bedroom door. If this is a dream it is a very weird one.
"Um.. okay... I know that. Why are you telling me this in the middle of the night?"
"Because I tried. I really tried, okay, I promise." Marly's voice is slurred, his words running into each other. Okay, so Shane was right about the drunk part...
"You tried what?"
"Guys, Roz, guys! Well, one guy. Figured I should just start with the one guy. And at first it was okay, kissing him was fine, and I liked it when he sucked my dick, that was really good, but then I went to suck his and it was just weird and gross! It tasted all sweaty and I didn't know what to do with my teeth and my tongue and then he told me to fuck him and I figured I could do that, cause he was like, turned around, so I thought it would be just like with a girl, but his balls were right there and I swear they were looking at me, and I... I couldn't do it! I made him leave..I'm sorry."
Marleau takes a breath for the first time and Ilya takes the oppertunity to jump in. "Marly, are you telling me you got drunk and hooked up with a guy?"
"What? No, the drunk part came later. I figured I had to be sober to see if I really liked it."
Ilya pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes. "Okay, yeah, good, that's... I guess that's good." He takes a deep breath. "What guy? Where did you find him?"
"On Grindr."
"What?!"
"Well yeah, it seemed like the quickest way."
"Since when are you on Grindr?"
"Um, since this afternoon. I made a profile saying I was curious. I got a lot of matches, and this one guy said he would show me what I was missing, so I just invited him over."
"Oh my god, Marly, you're lucky you didn't get murdered! Okay, so you tried it and it wasn't for you, that's fine." Ilya says. "I don't understand why you're so upset about it."
"Because..." Marleau sniffs. "I thought maybe I could be bisexual too. You know, like you. But I'm not, okay, I'm not and I'm sorry, and... and..." he hiccups. "Are we even still going to be best friends if we can't talk about sucking dick together?" he wails.
"Marly, what the hell do you mean?"
"Well you know, that's how we bond, you and me, we talk about the girls we like and hook up with, and all that, and now you're like, in a proper relationship with a dude, and that's totally great, I'm happy for you, you know that, but that means you're never gonna be interested in girls again, so like, what are we even going to talk about?"
Ilya puts the phone on his knee so he can rub both his eyes."Marly. Bro. Are you telling me you hooked up with a guy because you thought it make us stay friends?"
"Well, I don't know. I'm sure you have all these gay friends now who you can talk to about fucking guys, so maybe you don't need me anymore and..."
"Marleau, you beautiful idiot." Ilya interrupts. "I can't believe I have to actually say this, but I am not friends with you just so I have someone to talk to about my hookups."
"You're not?"
"No. I am friends with you because I like you as a person."
"Really?"
"Yes. I promise."
Marleau sniffs again. "Okay. So I'm still your best friend?"
"Yes."
"Cool, that's cool."
They are both quiet for a few seconds. Marleau blows his nose.
"I cannot believe you sucked a guy's dick just to try to stay friends with me." Ilya says.
"Shut up." Marleau sounds almost like himself again. Crisis averted.
"No seriously, I think that is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me..."
"Fuck you."
Ilya laughs, and he can hear Marleau laugh too. "I'm going back to bed now, okay? Will you be alright?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, don't worry about me."
"Okay, I love you, dude. Even if you are straight."
"Thanks Roz. I needed to hear that. Love you too."
Ilya hangs up, chuckles to himself. Then he gets up, goes back to the bedroom, switching on the big light. "Shane, wake up, you are going to freak when you hear what Marly just did!"
Shane waking up to a three am phone call from Ilya, his heart immediately beating out of his chest. Is Ilya okay? Is he hurt? Is he in trouble? He picks up the phone with his heart in his throat, barely able to speak around the lump of it but needing to know. "Baby, are you okay?"
The reply is immediate and loud, "Shaaane," he croons and, oh, okay, Ilya is drunk. Shane takes a moment to try and get his breathing under control. Ilya is not bleeding out in an alley somewhere in Boston, he's just drunk. He's so focused on regulating his breathing that he almost misses Ilya's next words, "I need to see her, cолнышко, I miss her so much." And, okay, what? Is Ilya calling him to talk about some fucking woman? Exactly how drunk is his boyfriend?
"What?" he asks, pinching the bridge of his nose and trying to keep his cool even as he struggles to wake up properly.
But Ilya just whines into the phone, "you need to send pictures so that I can see her."
"Ilya, I don't know who the fuck you're talking about," he says, a bit exasperated and more than a little annoyed about being woken up for this conversation, now that the panic has abated.
"Your pretty little hole, моя любовь, I need to see her so bad."
It takes a moment for the words to register and when they do he doesn't know whether to be annoyed about being woken up for this, angry about the personification and apparent feminisation of his asshole, or flattered that this is what Ilya is thinking about in this state. Without much thought the words, "my hole is sleeping right now," tumble from his lips.
"Nooooo," Ilya wails, "I have not seen her for so long, I know she misses me too."
It takes a bit longer for Ilya to convince him but he's not exactly wrong. It's been three weeks since he saw Ilya. Three long weeks since he got fucked. So eventually he lets him talk him around to switching the phone call to a video call and setting his phone up on the pillow, supported by his headboard, so that he can get on all fours and finger himself open for Ilya's viewing pleasure while he has a full on conversation with his hole through the screen, hardly even involving Shane in the conversation at all. Although sometimes he'll throw in phrases like "fuck, Shane, she's so pretty," and "have you been taking care of her for me?" And, yes, his boyfriend is ridiculous but Shane would be lying if he said he didn't love that Ilya's first instinct when coming home, drunk and horny, was to call Shane to watch him finger himself instead of taking the low-effort route of opening up some porn website.
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