Ilya’s bottle comes down in his hand, as he swallows his sip, the cold bottom of the glass bottom fresh and icey on the soft hot flesh of Shane’s inner thigh rather than coming back to its resting place between his own.

“Mm, very nice. Very hot Canadian boy asked me out on a date, good food, good drinks, nice weather- I am spoilt” Ilya’s smile makes his face smug, and he drags the bottoms of the bottle down to the inside of Shane’s knee, it makes him shiver, thighs push in.

“Good date?” Shane repeats, because that sounds awfully nice, a date- something they’ve never really had before, but Shane supposes that’s what this is. It’s what he did with rose those handful of times, sat across from her with drinks and food, easy conversation. But this- this was better, Shane didn’t want to be anywhere else, had no part of his mind anywhere but in Ilya’s orbit, to be a hopeful thing, hopeful to be under Ilya’s hands, for him to be closer, to feel more of him, know more of him.

A date with Ilya Rozanov. How about that.

Shane smiles at the thought, reaches his hand up to tuck the curls messy, long by Ilya’s flushed ears, an excuse to touch. Ilya hums, leans into his touch and his exhale smells like beer. Shane’s cock throbs, stomach turns. Ilya keeps his hands off Shane, even as Shane leans in, just keeps rubbing that beer bottle in a teasing drag against his skin.

“Best” Ilya says after a moment with a small smile, leans in closer to nudge his nose against Shane’s, kisses the high of his cheekbone, then drags his mouth to Shane’s ear.

“But, mmm, there is just one thing that could make it better” Ilya mumbles, his accent thicker, looser like it was when he had called from home, low and round. “Oh?” Shane asks, happy to part of Ilya’s game, delighted, really. Always. He blinks heavily and the breath he pulls in feels slow and distant. Being drunk is actually really nice, Shane thinks- nice with Ilya, here, in the open high sky quiet, pressed close, able to let the alcohol soften his barriers rather than make him feel anxious, out of control. He was safe here, in the cottage, with Ilya. It felt nice, for once, to feel some of heaviness roll off his back where he loved to be most.

“Mmhm, the best way to end such a date is a good kiss, and I’m hoping my hot date wants to kiss me, cause I really wanna kiss him, I think he will kiss very nicely” Ilya draws the bottle back up, towards the heat of Shane’s thighs, leaving drops of condensation behind on his skin.

Shane smirks, turns his face in toward closer to Ilya’s, legs his nose nudge Ilya’s cheek. He feels the flicker of Ilya’s smile, before he corrects it- to play proper.

“How do you think I should get this pretty boy to kiss me?” He asks, and the base of the beer bottle is a few centimetres from the heat between his legs that is hardening. He can feel the coldness rushing off it. His skin goosebumps.

“I think you should ask nicely” Shane replies, listens to the water lap the dock and he swallows, waits, doesn’t reach out to touch- waits, waits instead because it’s always so much better with Ilya when he waits. Gets what Ilya wants him to have.

Ilya hums low, nods, as if considering, and Ilya pulls back, pushes their foreheads together and Shane’s vision fuzzes at the sudden closeness, then the hazel of Ilya’s eyes. Home.

“Hi” Shane whispers, unable to help the word slip out, delights in the way it makes Ilya grin, flush.

“Hi” Ilya replies, waits for a breath and then

“I would really like to kiss you, can I?” He asks, all soft eyes and false innocence and Shane loves him so much it feels like it might choke him.

“Okay” Shane exhales, tilts his chin up slightly, parts his lips and waits for Ilya’s kiss, like it’s the first, like he hadn’t been well kissed and kissed well all night, all day, all week, for fucking years by this man.

And then Ilya is kissing him, a rough palm catching his face, a familiar slot of their lips and then a hot lick of Ilya’s tongue into his mouth, a very much not end of first date first kiss. Shane kissed back, hot and heavy, matched ilya like he always would, slung his arms around Ilya’s neck and pulled him in, in, in. Shane ends up in Ilya’s lap, the bottle of beer dropped to the deck, foaming and fizzing out from the neck, going warm.

It’s a haze, between the dock and the outdoor couch by the fire pit, but seemingly between blinks Shane is being pressed down down into the couch with Ilya up over his body, hands grasping at his hips, pushing up his sides to pin him down into the softness.

Ilya pulls back from a slick kiss and Shane feels like he’s made of water, like he’s all part of a greater thing, that he bows to the moon, that he draws back only to crash into the sand over and over- to close again and again and again. All Shane feels, sees, it hot flushes of Ilya’s teeth- his lips, his hair, his hands. Shane needs him closer so fucking badly he feels like something else entirely, this much need couldn’t be human. It’s making his stomach ache. They strip off in dirty grasps of clothing, Ilya giggles loud and open into the warmth of Shane’s throat as Shane’s shorts get stuck around his knees, and Ilya ends up half slugging himself in the chest at the force to pull them off in the end.

Shane’s hands are mean in Ilya’s hair, handfuls of curls and tugs, pulling Ilya into the next hot kiss, next drag of tongues. Ilya kisses him achingly as he fingers Shane open, two rushed fingers because he’d fucked Shane before dinner and this morning. He didn’t need much more. Shane is slick with too much lube, Ilya’s tipsy brain too generous with the bottle, a mess of if between his thighs and Shane wants and wants and fucking needs and he kicks at Ilya’s side as he tells him to “fucking, fill me please” and Ilya tuts, calls him impatient bunny and bites at his knee as he folds up and positions Shane to push into him. It’s not till Ilya’s inside him that Shane realises they’ve never done it like this, both of them drunk, and it explains the amount of giggling- Shane thinks and then his mind washes out when Ilya’s cock gets all the way deep and he throws back his head and “fuck yessss” Shane sighs, mumbles “thank you” and reaches to pull Ilya down over him as he starts to fuck him, slow hot rolls.

It’s uncoordinated, a little messy, Ilya’s cock slips out twice, once due to the excess lube and once because Ilya’s knee shifts half off the couch with the jolt of his thrust. Shane bitches and wines at Ilya till he fits it back in and Ilya bites and kisses as Shane’s mouth as he calls him needy and bitchy with a voice so soft it makes Shane’s heart pinch.

Then it’s good- it’s so good, Shane’s legs wrapped tight around Ilyas waist, heels pressed into his lower back, Ilya down over him, pressed in, covering him, so close they are one brilliant ache, Shane’s arms around Ilya’s neck, nails down his back. The couch starts to shift with the force of their fucking and Shane gets jolted then took his head knocks the metal arm of the outdoor couch and Shane doesn’t even care because “fuck Ilya it’s so fucking good, harder, please, you feel so big” and then Ilya’s hand is cupping the top of Shane’s head, fingers scratching gentle against his scalp and Ilya is kissing sweet over his forehead and face and breathing out fondly “too needy for your own good” his voice full of love, full of all the years they’ve had and Shane forces his eyes open to catch Ilya’s.

Ilya’s face is close, and Shane reaches a hand up to push Ilya’s face back a little, so they can make eye contact. A brazen moan slips from Ilya’s mouth, brow crumbled and Shane loves the face Ilya makes when he fucks him. He loves that it lives behind his eyelids. He loves that it’s his.

“Okay?” Ilya asks then, still fucking him so hard his body is shifting up the couch, Ilya’s hand taking the jolts Shane’s head would be taking- just so he doesn’t have to change the angle that was making Shane’s spine fucking melt.

“Love you” Shane whispers, the room soft and shivering- Ilya the only real thing and his hand slides up to trace his feather light fingertips to the shape of Ilya’s brow, strong and handsome. So strong, so much there right inside Ilya’s brain, so much Shane loves and so much that loves Shane.

“Love you” Shane says again, holds Ilya’s face to make sure he watches him say it, and he watches Ilya’s eye wet, cling to his lashes.

“Ilya” he says again, tongue heavy and something unlatches in his chest.

“I know” Ilya replies, and he’s knocking their noses together, fucking Shane deep and it’s all sparks it’s a clicking lighter in a parking lot in Saskatchewan.

“Ilya” Shane whines again, fingers fumble up into his hair, down his back, leaves red angry nail marks on his waist.

“I love you” Ilya replies, then echoes it in Russian, again and again. They come with tears messed into each others skin, grasping hands and moans loud in the dark summer night, clinging so close, so tight they could snap apart.

They lay sprawled, drunk and naked, stared and so in love it’s seeping into the floor until Ilya convinces Shane to wash off with him in the lake, soft touches of his hole with prying fingers, kisses all over his neck and jaw, hungry.