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'you're listening to ènergie rouge fm, up next we have the latest single from taylor swift'

ilya is nodding his head along, not really paying much attention to the lyrics, but he likes the sort of retro vibe the music has, like he's at a dance hall in the 60s. he consults the recipe pulled up on his phone to see what spices he needs to pull out of the cabinet.

'...can i go where you go? can we always be this close?'

he grabs what he needs and sets them out on the counter in front of him. he grabs a carrot and starts to carefully chop it up.

'...you're my, my, my, my; lover...'

ilya immediately stills. a wide grin spreads across his face as he processes the words. it's at that moment that shane walks in.

"hey." he murmurs, smiling sweetly as he leans in to kiss ilya's cheek. "what's so funny?"

ilya turns to face him, still grinning like an idiot. "you know shane, taylor swift thinks it is okay to call your boyfriend your lover. i think everyone would agree with her over you."

shane rolls his eyes. "oh my god ilya, what're you even talking about?"

"the song right now, she says 'you're myyyy loverrrrr." he sing songs. shane stops and listens.

'...i take this magnetic force of a man to be my... lover...'

shane shakes his head, though can't help but smile stupidly back at his boyfriend, at his own magnetic force of a man. he raises his brows in surprise as ilya holds his hand out.

"dance with me, lyubimyy."

shane lets out what could only be described as a giggle. "really?"

"yes, sweetheart. come here."

shane takes ilya's hand and presses close; laying his head on ilya's shoulder as his other arm wraps tightly around the other man's neck.

neither of them really knew how to dance, but they slowly swayed along to the melody anyway.

'...and at every table i'll save you a seat, lover...'

"ya tebya lyublyu, shanya." ilya whispered into his ear, his fingers gently running through his hair. shane nuzzled in closer to ilya's throat.

"i love you too, ilya."

'...darling you're my, my, my, my... lover'

But this year he's not in Russia, and he slips into this warm syrupy slumber while Shane pets through his hair (incidentally making a disastrous mess of his curls) and reads his book. When Ilya eventually rouses, with a happy grumble of contentment, nuzzling closer into Shane's stomach, he can feels Shane laughing gently at him almost before he hears it.

"Did you sleep well?" Shane asks, and that sounds warm and syrupy too, and Ilya rolls over so he can smile at Shane and revel in the smile he gets in return.

And then Shane says, "Are you hungry? It's almost dinnertime," and Ilya realises he's been lying here, napping and pinning Shane to the couch and wasting both of their time, for hours, and he jackknifes upright so suddenly that Shane startles back.

"Fuck!" Ilya spits out. "I was--fuck, has been so long. Why didn't you wake me up?" already guilty because Shane had wanted to make some pasta thing that he was weirdly excited about and they'd talked about maybe playing more Chel but now the whole day's been napped away and--Ilya sneaks a look---Shane's book is lying closed on the couch, bookmark set neatly aside, so Shane had finished his book and not even been able to get up to go do something else.

And he's just smiling at Ilya, completely unconcerned that Ilya's been idle and asleep and... and... lazy, all afternoon, just glad Ilya had a good nap.

Shane's frowning in mild confusion at him. "Why?" he says, genuinely not seeing the problem. "You were napping, it was nice. I mean, if I'd needed to pee or something I'd have got up but I was fine." He reaches out and smoothes some of Ilya's hair down. "Oh, the pasta. We can do that tomorrow, we have all that salad from lunch and rolls and there's peaches if we want dessert."

Ilya must have responded somehow because Shane beams at him and says, "Cool, I'll go set the table if you want to go wash your face." He smirks and pokes at Ilya's cheek. "Got a little drool there." And then he smacks a kiss on Ilya's head, gets up, and trots over to the kitchen while Ilya just sits there reeling.

Shane is someone who loves to live in routine; every part of his day has patterns. Like in the morning, he always wakes up to an early alarm. Depending on whether he has a game that day or practice shifts what kind of work-out he does and what kind of food he’ll eat. Even today, a lazy Saturday, has an early wake-up call. His alarm goes off at six-thirty and he’s quick to turn it off, feeling Ilya shift to lie on his stomach in bed, still asleep. Shane inches closer and spends five minutes lying there, waking up, trailing his hand lazily up Ilya’s back and through his curls. He does this just to settle himself, to ground himself into waking up, to feel the warmth of his boyfriend’s body and to press kisses on wherever he can reach. Today, it’s his shoulder. He noses at a mole, closes his eyes, and breathes him in. 

how close can we get….

Not that Shane or Ilya had noticed, curled up on the couch in a mess of limbs heavy and warm, half asleep, half talking, half fooling around. They’d fucked as the afternoon sun dipped into the evening, Shane bent over the back of the couch with Ilya laid over top of him, fingers curled together. They’d cleaned up and eaten with shirt damp hair and flushed happy faces, sat on opposite ends of the couch as they finished their bowls of pasta.

The dishes sat abandoned on the coffee table even now, the sun long gone and the warm yellow of a few lamps lighting the room. The evening had stretched on after dinner, tangled limbs and sleepy kisses and lazy conversation, scrolling phones together, dozing in and out of heavy limbed naps.

They’d been in their new home together for a month or so now, no more time apart, no more goodbyes. Just them, husbands, one room over at most. A hands reach away. Ilya wasn’t sure he’d be able to make it through the sticky hot joy of it. It was overwhelming at times, how happy he felt.

Shane had pulled himself out of their tangle with a grunt, almost half flipping himself face first because of Ilya’s grabby hands and insistent wines of not leaving him. But Shane’s bladder had won and he’d escaped to the bathroom, body still warm from Ilya’s.

Shane walks back into the living room now, raises his hands above his head and arches his spine in a slow open that stretches the muscles. He drops his arms with a heavy exhale and eyes the empty couch. His Ilya is missing.

Last Updated: 6/14/26

I genuinely can't stop thinking about these two. Help

They’d raced each other out to the long tree to the left of the dock, swimming hard and fast, competitive here too, in the water- anywhere they could be. Shane had won by half a second and Ilya had argued he cheated and when Shane had asked how on earth he could have cheated Ilya wined about how short his swim trunks were and that they were an obvious distraction. Very dirty play from Shane, as per Ilya.

Ilya and Shane hadn’t gone inside until the sun was slowly starting to dip and go orange warm, the air still thick with heat and Ilya complaining about his pruny fingers, while simultaneously trying to shove said wrinkly fingers down Shane’s swim trunks.

They’d showered and eaten, salad and chicken breast because it was too hot to face anything heavier or what required more than just the grill to cook. They’d packed away and cleaned, Ilya asking for a kiss every time Shane passed him a dish to dry. He explained it was payment for his labour. Shane thought it was a pretty good deal, considering how well he likes to be kissed; and how well Ilya kisses.

Shane had been tucking yawns into his elbow by the time they walked to the couch but it was Ilya’s choice for movie night tonight and he was very excited to watch Die Hard and Shane does like Die Hard. He can make it through a movie he’s sure. They make themselves a nest on the couch, the aircon on to make the room nice and cool so they can get cosy, because Shane doesn’t want to let a heatwave stop him from getting to cuddle with Ilya. There are enough things that keep them apart already.

They have just one blanket, a waffle knit that isn’t as warm as the others, but still lovely and heavy like Shane likes and Shane is leant back against the arm of the couch, fucking around on his phone- clearing out some emails and texting his dad back as he waits for Ilya to come back from the bathroom. Shane isn’t paying attention really as he waits so suddenly he just has a big lapfull of Ilya.

Ilya draws the blanket up as he lays on top of Shane, his head on Shane’s chest turned to face the tv, lying between Shane’s legs. Shane just scoffs a laugh and tucks his phone down the side of the couch and reaches to fix at the blanket where Ilya had just half heartedly pulled it over him.

Shane clicks play on the movie and his next yawn makes his eyes go wet with the depth of it and he turns his head away to muddle the sound. He tilts his chin down and rubs his mouth over Ilya’s soft curls. Eyes half on the tv and half drooping. Ilya’s hair is half damp from the shower and he smells like his body wash and hair products and he’s such a nice weight on Shane. Shane takes a greedy deep inhale through his nose again. The smell of Ilya is home. His baby. He hums under his breath as he continued to nuzzle his lips over Ilya’s soft half dry curls, the comfort of it enough to make his limbs all heavy.

Ilya rubs his cheek against Shane’s chest, over and over until Shane grunts out a “what?” and grabs at the back of Ilya’s neck. “You are going to put yourself to sleep like that my Shane” Ilya groans and Shane huffs out a laugh. Ilya knows him well. Fucker.

Shane tightens his hand on the back of Ilya’s neck and turns his head to his cheek is resting on top of Ilya’s head, facing the tv. “I’m watching” Shane sighs and he feels Ilya’s smile against his chest.

“Good boy” Ilya mumbles and Shane smacks the back of his head gently with a cupped palm.

Ilya nips at his chest through his tshirt and it makes Shane squirm but then they settle for a while. A few minutes. Then Ilya is shifting against Shane again, wriggling and Shane just lets him, assuming he’s getting comfy, but then Ilya grunts and says “scratches” and Shane smirks, ah of course. Shane puts his hand under the blanket, and sets his nails between Ilya’s shoulder blades, over the thin fabric of his tshirt. He starts slow long scratches of his nails gently up and down Ilya’s toned tall back.

Shane feels Ilya go heavy with the pleasure of it, the extra weight of him on his body, the way he groans soft and content on every few exhales. Affection bleeds heavy through Shane’s chest. There’s nothing he enjoys more than making Ilya feel good, feel safe, settled. He loves seeing Ilya relaxed, feeling him relaxed. Shane can’t believe he gets to be the one to give him that. Boyfriends. His boyfriend. His love. Shane’s.

“You can’t fall sleep either” Shane says after a few moments of slow heavy breathing from Ilya.

“I am so awake” Ilya says after a thick swallow voice rumbly.

“You better be” Shane gruffs and he feels Ilya’s belly shift against his lower body, moving with his sleepy laugh.

“Yes boss” Ilya nods

“We will both stay awake” Ilya confirms

“Definitely” Shane agrees and his next yawn cracks his jaw a little.

Shane keeps the slow tickle of Ilya’s back, and lets his head lean back against the arm of couch, watching John Mclane on the screen. His blinks are heavy but he’s got this, he can keep himself up and then he and his big sleepy log of a boy can crawl into bed for the night, they have fresh sheets on the bed. It’ll be so good.

The next thing Shane knows, he can hear the soft rustle of fabric, his body is heavy in the wrap of sleep and he feels movement around him, he frowns, only very a little bit awake as he tries to orientate where he is.

“Shane” Ilyas voice is low and warm, and Shane turns his face towards it. Ilya. He’s too tired to make his tongue work but he hums, draws in a deep breath as he tries to draw himself up into consciousness. Closer to Ilya.

“Ah. Sonnyy zaychik” Shane frowns, too half asleep to even try translate and he gets his eyes a tiny half blink open, heavy arms moving, tugging the heat on his chest closer, tighter, Ilya.

“Come on, we need to move, you’ll be very mad zaychik if I let you sleep on couch. Neck will be sore and back will be sore, too sore for yoga. This is not good” Ilya’s voice is warping around him and sleep is so nice and heavy and he’s so warm. Why would they move? Ilya is crazy and sleep is here.

Shane whines and shakes his head. “Sleep” Shane mutters, tilting his head down to rub his face into Ilya’s hair. Soft.

“Soft” Shane exhales, and squeezes his arms firm around Ilya, pinning him to his body, tight.

Ilya grunts and Shane turns his face down more, burrowing, trying to find Ilya’s face with his, he wants to be closer.

“Super human strength to crush poor boyfriend” Ilya grits and Shane whines again when heavy warm is pulled away from him, squirms and blinks hard to get his eyes open.

“Nooooooo” Shane looks in the low light, the room dark besides a light shining in from the kitchen down the hall and the dark light of the tv screen running credits.

“Ilya” he asks, and Ilya’s heart pinches.

He’s stood at the end of the couch and Shane is a fussy little mess, tangled in his sweat pants and the blanket, face pink with sleep eyes heavy and bleary and a deeep frown on his face. His grumpy grumpy boy.

Shane repeats his name and holds a sleepy arm out toward him. “Cuddle. Sleep” his boyfriend/caveman requests monosyllabically, mouth mostly closed still.

Oh god. What is Ilya going to do with him. Do with himself. Shane might kill him, really. The picture he makes and Ilya feels mean for pulling back from their cuddle but he know how annoyed Shane would be if he woke up with a crick in his neck and couldn’t do his usual yoga flow.

“Yes zaychik, cuddle, sleep” and Shane lets out a low tired “yessssss” and Ilya pushes his smile into his mouth with a press of his lips and leans down over the couch, gets an arm under the back of Shane’s head, thread under his knees and Shane is trying to turn into the warmth of his body already, squirming toward Ilya’s chest with a sleep drunk determination.

“But in our bed” Ilya whispers and Shane’s sad little “noooo” is smushed against Ilya’s chest as he lifts him up off the couch. That seems to wake Shane more, he flinches and his hand comes to grip at the front of Ilya’s shirt. His eyes blink all the way open and Ilya thinks this has to be what newborn kittens look like. Must be. No other way. His nose is wrinkled hard, and brows set in and his pretty cheeks are all pink. Ilya needs to bite his face. As soon as feasible. And maybe find a safe place for Shane to exist, like behind his ribs or between his fingers. Where Ilya can keep him safe and warm and fussy like this always.

“What” Shane manages to get out and he’s blearily looking around and Ilya has to look away from his sweet handsome face before he trips and kills them on the stairs from the way his heart is squeeze squeeze squeezing.

“We are going to bed, I am carrying you because your legs broke in your sleep, this is very sad” Ilya sighs, holds Shane tighter to his chest as he rounds the corner, watches carefully to make sure his head is clear of the wall.

Shane just sighs, like Ilya is torturing him, and the Ilya feels his face smush into his chest, warm and no doubt just as grumpy as before.

“I know. I am very evil man” Ilya laughs under his breath and then he’s stepping into their room, he manages to get the covers down on Shane’s side before he deposits him on the bed. Shane, in all his sleep haze rolls tighter into Ilya’s chest when he tries to pull back. “Cuddle. You said” Shane’s voice is pleading, young. Just for Ilya. Ilya’s heart surely can take much more.

“Yes, my Shane, cuddle” Ilya whispered and can’t help but to lean his head down to kiss over Shane’s soft warm cheeks. Tiny little pecks of his lips that he can feel Shane following, tilting his face up into each of them, nuzzling their faces together like those videos he’s seen of kittens cleaning each other with licks.

“Let me get us to bed yes?” Ilya whispers, lips on the corner of Shane’s pretty mouth.

“Okay?” Ilya asks and Shane nods, loosens his viper grip on Ilya. “Quick” he mutters and Ilya can feel something so horribly beautiful in the back of his throat his chest. This gorgeous boy misses him for a few seconds apart, Shane asks for him so shamelessly, in the way that Shane rarely openly asks for anything at all, he asks for Ilya. He wants.

Ilya makes good on his earlier wish and parts his mouth to drag his teeth in a gentle light scrape over the apple of Shane’s cheek, taking the meat of is gently in a feather soft bite, pressing his teeth once, twice before letting go.

Shane has a huge dopey smile and Ilya’s saliva on his cheek when Ilya pulls back. Ilya feels like he might of left his heart pressed to Shane’s chest somewhere back on the couch, the two of them beating together. It would explain the way his chest feels bruised.

“Top off?” Ilya asks, his hands already pushing at the bottom of Shane’s shirt because he knows Shane doesn’t like sleeping with a top on, sometimes he wants boxers or sweats or soft shorts but never ever a top.

Shane nods and Ilya eases the fabric up off his body, says a soft “arms up” that for some stupid second makes him miss home (home to him is still just only one room in his first home in Russia, his bedroom, the smell of mamas perfume, the weight of care). Shane flops his arms heavily over his head and Ilya folds the fabric once it’s off, places it on Shane’s beside table.

“Pants on?” Ilya asks and Shane nods, his hand moving back out trying to find Ilya again.

“Okie Okie hang on” Ilya says, stripping off till he is just in his boxers and then he’s peeling back the other side of the covers and climbing in next to Shane. The little leech beside takes all of two seconds to roll over into Ilya’s space with a whine under his breath.

“Sheets cold” Shane mutters and Ilya shushes him, strokes a hand down the back of his head, thumb rubbing at the base of his neck.

“I’m warm yes?” Ilya asks, pulls Shane up onto his chest and Shane sighs out heavy and happily, rubbing his face all over Ilya’s chest, like a sleepy milk drunk kitten looking for something soft to snuggle into. This vicious kitten deems him acceptable, his arm reaching up, hand laying over his pec, cheek pressed to the other one and his small frown finally smoothes out.

“Mmhm” Shane confirms on an exhale.

“Love your warm” Shane slurs and Ilya’s hand massages steady at the back of his neck, can feel how close his Shane is to dropping off to sleep.

“Love you” Ilya replies, leans down to kiss kiss kiss at Shane’s head, over his hairline, thinks into his kisses ‘rest rest rest’ his thoughts aimed at that gorgeous brain of Shane’s that he knows can tick on and on and on even in his sleep.