Welcome to my safe gayven

“Haas, where are you right now?”

“The club by the hotel.”

“And he’s not in the bathroom?”

“No.”

“Not on the roof?”

“No.”

“Not trying to access any of the dancers poles?”

“What? Why would- Oh, Troy says no.”

“Is he hanging out with drunk girls in the women’s bathroom?”

“Umm, one sec. Harris, can you ask her if Ilya is in there? … Harris says no.”

“Ok. What were you talking about before he disappeared?”

“We were trying to figure out where to eat.”

“Did anyone bring up sushi?”

“He didn’t say he wanted-“

“Just answer the question.”

“Uh yeah, someone suggested it, but he said he wanted-“

“He’s at the pier.”

“What?”

“He got bored, sushi put fish on his brain, which made him think about water, and he likes going to piers, and the hotel is walking distance from a boardwalk by the water. He’s there, most likely trying to look at fish going under the dock.”

“… How do you know that?”

It’s not really noticeable, not to anyone else, not even Shane. It’s just something that pings in Ilya’s brain when he’s in the gym strength training, that it’s just a teeny little bit easier to lift on his lift. He knows this isn’t exactly unusual, even — most people are slightly uneven, most people are a little bit stronger on their dominant side

… except Ilya is a rightie.

He puzzles over this for a while, wondering if he ought to be doing a few extra reps with his right arm, wondering if he ought to try to even it out, wondering how the fuck this even happened when he’s literally always favors his right arm/hand. He uses it to pull Shane close, to open doors for Shane, to hold himself up while he fucks into Shane……

And meanwhile, he’s using his left hand to jack Shane off.

Ilya puts the pieces together mid-hand job, when Shane is settled between his legs, back to chest. He’s got his right hand on Shane’s leg, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin on his inner thigh, while his left hand strokes Shane hard and fast until he’s whining and begging for release.

Ilya hides his reaction by biting into the sensitive skin on Shane’s neck and lets him come before rolling them both over so he can laugh into a pillow.

“What?” Shane says, scowling as he wriggles underneath Ilya, sensitive and sated. “God, you’re such an asshole. I didn’t come that fast.”

“No,” Ilya eventually manages to say through tears of mirth. He’s still hard, but he’s pretty sure he’s accidentally killed the mood. “No, no, you were perfect.”

“Then what the fuck is wrong with you?” Shane twists around so they’re face to face, and Ilya can bury his face into the crook of his shoulder.

“You know,” he says after he’s calmed himself down with the scent of his boyfriend’s sweat, that musky, salty smell he’s grown accustomed to having in his bed. “You know how my left arm is stronger than my right?”

“Yeah, so?” Shane says. He’s got this adorable, frustrated look on his face, all scrunched up and angry. “What does that have to do with — oh.” His eyes flick down to Ilya’s left hand, coated in his cum. “Oh my god, Ilya, are you serious? Is this why your right backshot is weaker than your left?”

Of course that’s what Shane worries about. God, Ilya loves him.

“It’s ok!” he says, grinning wickedly as he pushes himself up onto his left elbow. “I will even it out. Only rightie handjobs this summer.”

Shane’s smile grows slowly. “I bet your right hand isn’t as good at it,” he says, and his words reek of a challenge. “Bet you’ll need lots of practice.”

Huh. Mood not killed at all, then.

Ilya kisses Shane deeply and runs his hands — including the cum covered one — through his hair, ignoring the squeak of protest in lieu of the twitch of interest in both of their dicks.

“Good thing I have a great personal trainer,” he says and winks.

send one to have our muses meet for the first time.

“Sorry, were you just talking to me?”

“I think you dropped this.”

“You look lost. Need some help?”

“I don’t usually talk to strangers, but…”

“You’re sitting in my spot.”

“Whoa! Careful!”

“We’ve never met, right? You seem familiar.”

“Is that seat taken?”

“Sorry, I think I just spilled something on you.”

“You’re blocking the doorway.”

“Were you just staring at me?”

“Excuse me, do you know the time?”

“Wait — are you the person I’m supposed to meet?”

“I’ve been sent to find you.”

“Please don’t be alarmed, but I think we have the same bag.”

“Do you work here?”

“I’m fairly certain that’s mine.”

“You’ve got something on your face.”

“Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

“Do you know the way to ___?”

“You’re hurt. Do you need help?”

“That’s a fine ___ (cloak/hat/book/etc.). Where did you get it?”

“This might sound strange, but can I hide behind you for a moment?”

“You look like you could use a friend.”

“I think your dog just stole my lunch.”

“Hey, you dropped your coin purse.”

“I think we’re stuck in here together.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overhear, but…”

“Are you the new neighbor?”

“First time in town?”

“I’m not sure if this belongs to you, but…”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’ve been hearing a lot about you.”

“Do you mind if I join you?”

“I think you’re in the wrong place.”

“You seem… out of place.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but are you following me?”

“That was a close call.”

“Not to alarm you, but someone’s watching you.”

“Mind if I walk with you?”

“You look like you’re in trouble.”

“Was that your doing back there?”

“You don’t look like you’re from around here.”

“That was impressive. How’d you manage it?”

“I’m guessing you’re not here by accident.”

“Do I want to know what just happened?”

“You might want to keep your voice down.”

“Is it always this strange around here?”

“I have a feeling we’re about to become acquainted whether we like it or not.”

Shane snorted as quietly as he could so that he didn’t wake up Arthur. The young child had once again decided to cling onto Shane like a barnacle. Shane didn’t mind it at all.

It wasn’t entirely a lie. If they had met under different circumstances he could maybe see himself dating Hayden.

“It’s really not that complicated.”

“Close the door.”

“It’s three in the morning.”

“I should have told you a long time ago.”

“Why are you helping me?”

“You have to leave right now.”

“Just trust me.”

“I’ve been waiting a long time.”

“You’re in love with her.”

“Come here.”

“We could get arrested for this.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“I thought you were dead.”

“You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Was that supposed to hurt?”

“I can explain.”

“Love is overrated.”

“Watch me.”

“I’ve missed this.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Sometimes, being a complete nerd comes in handy.”

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

“We have to be quiet.”

“You’re trembling.”

“I want an answer, goddammit!”

“It was you the whole time.”

“Tell me again.”

“This is why we can’t have nice things.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t see me.”

“I can’t keep kissing strangers and pretending that they’re you.”

“You could have died.”

“Prove it.”

“I might never get another chance to say this.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Lie to me then.”

“You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?”

“We need to talk about what happened last night.”

“I never stood a chance, did I?”

“I feel like I can’t breathe.”

“I’m only here to establish an alibi.”

“Are you drunk?”

“I still remember the way you taste.”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“What happens if I do this?”

“Why are you whispering?”

“You make me want things I can’t have.”

“I don’t want to screw this up.”

“Oh.”

Kip had been laying on their bed scrolling through social media on his phone. He didn’t even hear his boyfriend come home. He set his phone down on the nightstand and started rubbing his hands up and down the broad expanse of Scott’s back.

He paused and took a deep breath.

“I don’t ever want to tell you what to do. You’re your own person and I would never want to change most things about you. You could stand to wash your socks a little bit more during playoffs.”

He hopes his joke lightened the mood just a little bit.

Ilya’s chuckles stopped as he took the photo. His breath caught. The picture: a round-cheeked Shane, a shy grin as he leaned into the side of a woman. A woman who Ilya had not seen since he was twelve, her wild hair and strong nose, her dimpled smile and shiny coat, her fingers behind Shane’s head—bunny ears. It wasn’t possible. But there she was, in all her glory: Irina.

read the fic Small Serendipity by @himbotheninth which made me cry Real Human Tears where a young shane is found in the airport by irina and i just had to draw some of it :3

bonus irina+shane without text under the cut

5 years is a long time