shane's cock, standing at full attention and bobbing with every thrust, drooling beautiful syrupy precum profusely from the tip onto the floor. it's unfuckingreal to ilya, he can't stop fucking staring at it. he knows shane gets wet but this is ridiculous. is it like this every time? does he leak this much whenever they fuck? has ilya just never noticed before? it's like a fucking faucet the way it just steadily drips down onto the hardwood. and ilya feels fucking insane. he keeps fucking shane slow like that, eyes hooded and fixated on that fat and leaky cock, and shane's making little noises that go right to his own cock which is still hitting shane's prostate with every slow thrust. shane's hand comes up behind him to cradle the back of ilya's head, fingers digging into his curls, his scalp, and ilya knows he's close, can see it plain as day in his blissed out expression.

ilya's own fingers dig into the soft flesh of shane's waist and he tugs him impossibly closer, murmurs, "are you gonna come for me, hollander?" all low and sensual, and shane can barely speak, can only give a desperate nod as his eyes squeeze shut and his cock bobs in the mirror. "yeah? you gonna show me how you come from just this?" and he punctuates the words with the slow pounding of his hips, burying his nose in the side of shane's face and keeping his eyes fixated on where shane continues to leak. it only takes a couple more hard thrusts and then shane is keening with a rough and guttural edge to his voice, and at this exact moment ilya stills inside of him, stops moving, just grips shane's hips tight and remains seated fully inside of him while he watches shane's cock work its magic.

and oh, what a fucking sight. completely untouched, shane's cock stutters and bobs of its own accord, and then he's erupting in steady bursts, whimpers and moans flying past his lips as his balls tighten and twitch. and ilya can barely fucking believe his eyes, flummoxed that shane's cock has just been doing this all the time they've been hooking up and he's been missing it. he's truly never seen anything like it, the way it moves like it's its own entity, the way it pulses and throbs under the low light, the way it spits cum in long, thick strings, the way it makes shane all pink and warm in the face. and when the cum finally tapers off and switches to a slow and leaky dribble, any restraint ilya had been holding onto goes out the window. a practically inhuman sound falls from his mouth and his jaw drops, chin resting on shane's shoulder as he feels himself be pushed off the edge.

he manages to get out a slurred "i'm coming" but he sounds drunk, and he feels drunk too. shane's eyes open and they both make eye contact in the mirror as ilya empties himself, vein in his forehead throbbing, eyes rolling a little bit. shane's grip in his hair tightens, an encouraging gesture, and ilya moans again when he sees shane's spent cock, going soft now, twitch a little bit in the mirror, one last small dribble of cum oozing from the tip.