Ilya is so lucky that Shane proposed. Ilya would have been a nervous fucking wreck for the entire day beforehand. Wake up in the morning. Look in the mirror. Today's the day. Sob. Breathe. Okay I'm good! Turn around and Shane's hair is all in his face, still asleep on Ilya's pillow. I am NOT good. Cold shower. Breakfast that Ilya does not eat. Morning jog wherein Ilya runs like someone is chasing him. Lunch that Ilya does not eat. Drive out to the cottage. Make Shane pull over because Ilya needs to dry heave on the side of the road. "Baby we don't have to drive out today if you're not feeling well." "NO WE HAVE TO." Get to the cottage. Immediately send Shane on some kind of extended fool's errand. Shane wants to stay because Ilya is SHAKING and he is so worried. "No my love I'm fine it's just the breeze off the lake haha." It's thirty fuckig degrees Celsius. Shane finally gtfo's. Yuna, David, Rose FUCKING Landry all descend to help Ilya set up. Well. Ilya is supposed to be helping but he is standing on the deck fully dissociating. Yuna brings him tea. "Are you going to throw up the tea?" "Yes probably." Yuna takes away the tea. 800 electronic tea lights on the deck. In a parallel Ilya has no way of understanding, he both puts on and takes off a suit. Yuna fixes his curls into the hockey boy quasi-mullet that magnetizes Shane's fingers to Ilya's hair and says, "Oh, you're so handsome!" Ilya cries big fat tears. David tells a story about how his proposal to Yuna almost didn't happen because David went to the hospital for heart palpitations that morning. Thank You David That Does Not Help Even Remotely. Ilya slav squats on the lawn for twenty minutes. Shane's car pulls up in the driveway and everyone hides while Ilya vibrates in the entryway. Shane has no less than thirty grocery bags hanging from his arms, still complaining about why the grocery service cancelled their delivery last minute. Ilya leads Shane and all thirty of his grocery bags onto the deck. Shane is doing his favorite thing (bitching) and his second favorite thing (Follow Ilya) so he doesn't notice his own mother tiptoing behind him collecting the grocery bags he drops like breadcrumbs. There is an Oscar-winning actress hiding under his sofa and Shane does not notice because Ilya takes him on the deck and drops to his knees and Shane is like, "Haha, right now?" and then he sees that Ilya has a look on his face like he's just been told the sun is never coming up again and he has his hands on Shane's knees and he is saying, "Shane. Please?" and Shane puts his hands on his head and says "Oh my God baby what's happening to you" as Ilya melts and melts and then from the depths of the cottage someone who sounds a lot like Shane's very own father is whispering "The ring the ring" and when he looks back down Ilya is fumbling a ring box out of his pocket. The first picture of their proposal is Shane glaring into the middle distance with a hand cradling Ilya's curls like a baby while Ilya ugly sobs into his knee.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Taking a break from watching Shane Hollander getting his ass eaten to look at tumblr to read posts about Shane Hollander getting his ass eaten. As God intended.
got myself thinking about how Shane will have bottom growth and changes to his vagina across the many years of the hookup era....like there was that two year gap after the failed penetrative sex attempt and when they get together next maybe Ilya really enjoys taking his time to learn about the things that have changed since they last fucked like maybe Shane's cock is bigger and it takes him a little longer to get wet..... but when Ilya is deep in his ass that first time he still gets so wet he drips....idk just thinkin pondering etc
no joke this is my Favorite thing about trans shane for real. every time they get together in hookup years Ilya is remapping and relearning and getting so intimately familiar with the story of shane's body and its sooooo SOOOOOO hot
laughing because i KNOW shane was so precise and textbook perfect when he assembled that campfire.
he set up the most beautiful teepee of sticks that anyone has ever seen and brought out the big guns by also setting up a log cabin arrangement of the thicker logs to make sure they'd have a good burn time on this fire. the mathematical precision in the angles and choice of thickness? gorgeous. stunning. he even shaved off wood shavings for tinder instead of using paper or pre-bought firestarter. if he wasn't afraid of fumbling it and ruining it, he would have used flint. as it is, he got it with one match, and he KNOWS how good this fire creation he just did is.
and yet it is spent on an audience that simply does NOT appreciate any aspect of it because his city kid ass truly might be experiencing a firepit for the first time. ilya has no frame of reference for how sexy shane's firestarting skills display just was.
man just performed a perfect outdoorsy person mating dance and the audience of his performance doesn't have the experience to understand how impressive and sexy and "you should fuck me about it" it was 😔.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i think it would heal shane to have some of the centaurs flirt with him. i think it would do him some good for them to slap his ass. i think it'd be nice if someone jumped on his back and he gave them a piggyback ride. i think he would secretly enjoy having the rookies use him as their pillow while waiting at the airport
i just think it'd be good for him to get to experience the parts of locker room culture that are playful and affectionate when he never got them because montreal operated under the logic of you like guys which means you MUST like me and that's a personal threat to my masculinity
A friend of a friend used to live next door to an NHL player and said that they tended to pass the house to fellow players when they got traded or left the area, so she just lived next to a rotating cast of professional hockey players and I can't get this out of my head:
Cliff buys Ilya's house off him when Ilya moves to Ottawa -- mostly furnished, because Cliff needs pretty much everything (bad breakup, she kicked him out and somehow got his condo out of it) and what is money to Ilya Fucking Rozanov? As he settles in, Cliff starts to notice little...curiosities. The smart TV is still logged into Roz's YouTube account and the guy watches a LOT of Shane Hollander highlight compilations? And interviews? And shirtless ads? But whatever maybe it's chirping material. But also there's a ton of ginger ale in the fridge and Cliff has literally never seen Roz -- or, like, anyone -- drink the stuff. Well, he's heard Hollander does. He keeps finding more and more random but extremely telling clues like a fucking Hollanov scavenger hunt and by the time Ilya and Shane get outed, Cliff isn't even surprised, he's just glad his best friend isn't a stalker.
I might have written two paragraphs and that might be all there will ever be.
If we’re talking about Ilya’s bisexuality I love that Rachel Reid specifically stated in the books that he’s mostly attracted to women & I love that Shane is never weird or jealous about that. I love that in The Long Game Ilya has fond memories of hooking up with people & getting to know them for the night & that he isn’t made to feel bad about that phase of his life. I love that Ilya felt “evolved” when he realized he experienced attraction to both men & women. He’s so awesome
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
following on from other discussions on my dash today (thank you @ilyarizzanov and @ilyasmole I hope you don’t mind being shouted out for being correct as always!), but I think another point to be made is that Ilya’s bisexuality is also super important as a metaphor within the story. As in, it symbolises his fluidity and ability to code switch in contrast to shane’s more rigid characterisation (think about that line from svetlana where they’re talking about how Shane can’t play wing but Ilya can, the whole ‘me? you would have him center me??’ bit that Ilya plays up) That difference between them, Ilya’s more go-with-the-flow nature and Shane’s need-for-structure-and-rules informs how they both show up in their relationship, is part of why their feelings for one another go unspoken about for so long.
Shane even brings it up when he comes out to Ilya ‘shut up you’re not gay’ ‘no, not completely’ ‘well I think I am, completely’…like, Shane’s fears about how Ilya doesn’t have to choose him like he has to choose Ilya are what holds him back from saying how he feels. The fact that Ilya has a real chance to make a f/m relationship work in a way that Shane does not is where a lot of his insecurity in admitting to himself how deeply he’s fallen for him stems from. And we can argue the finer points on whether that fear is problematic or rooted in some level of biphobia or not, I’m not trying to erase that, but I don’t think we can argue that it doesn’t play a role in the story.
To me, I think the fact that there is that fear there, that chance that Ilya could end up with a woman For Real, is part of what drives Shane into going for it in admitting his feelings. It’s narratively super important - even at the cottage, when Ilya’s talking about marrying svetlana for a green card, their discussion on how Ilya could find some woman he loves and marry her for real is the catalyst for Ilya being honest about how much he thinks about Shane, which in turn is the catalyst for Shane coming up with the Ottawa plan and the boys telling each other they love each other. That plot falls apart without the reality that Ilya could end up with a woman. Additionally, I think that the fact Ilya does have other options actually makes his choice to pick Shane anyway more meaningful. It deepens their love, rather than weakens it. Just as Shane’s struggle to accept himself and admit his sexuality deepens how meaningful it is for him to admit his love for Ilya.
To erase Ilya’s identity as a bi man erases a core part of the story.
this is set after their arrangement is largely dissolved, and they're just a regular couple with some added benefits!
based on this absolutely insane post from wifey @grabmyboner
Ilya runs into a former client while he and Shane are celebrating a win. Shane reacts totally normally.
“Will you even eat any of this?”
“Sure. Look, salmon and rice. Easy.”
“Boo, Hollander. Why bring me if you won’t have any fun?”
Ilya is pouting. Shane doesn’t even need to look up from the menu to be able to tell, the lilt of his voice and the way the word fun drips from his mouth like honey. He’s ridiculous. It’s the middle of the season, and Shane didn’t make to forty-one while staying at the top of the league by eating whatever he wanted.
He squeezes Ilya’s thigh once, half apology and half placation.
“You can have whatever you want,” Shane reminds him, “No-one is forcing you to eat like a grown up.”
“I would say $500 truffle fries are very grown up.” Ilya says, which makes Shane snort. Yes, he supposes the prices at this place do elevate the choice of a burger and fries a little.
The restaurant is a good one. One of Shane's favourites, even. And tonight is special, because as of last Thursday Ilya is a newly minted U-Cup winning captain; he took McGill all the way, as a senior, and Shane watched every game he could. Incredible hockey. The man he loves. The promise of more stupid, bright, remarkable moments to come. What more could he ask for?
He has something a little more special planned for Ilya’s graduation, of course, but for tonight dinner is enough. They’re sitting side by side at one of the sleek, lifted tables, thighs pressed together. It’s no surprise that Ilya looks good, because he always looks good; curls gelled just so, the nice silk shirt that Shane likes so much. It’s unbuttoned just low enough to show off the smattering of hair and the gold of his chain. God, he needs to figure out the right way to propose. He needs to—
“Oh,” Shane says, shaken back to reality with the reminder, “Rose wants to know if we can do dinner next week.”
Ilya shrugs. “I am probably busy.”
“Ilya.”
“What? If she wants to do dinner you can do dinner, I do not need to be there.” He grouses, glaring at Shane from the corner of his eye. It’s a reaction that Shane is very used to, now, and is more endearing than it is annoying. Rose loves Ilya, and Shane loves them both, and Ilya will come around. Rose has that effect on people. “Is fucking weird, Shane. Dinner with my boyfriend and his ex-wife, yay.”
“I’m gay, Ilya. And Rose isn’t my ex-wife— I mean, she is, but. She’s my friend. She wants to be your friend. And, again, I’m gay.”
“Not too gay to marry her.”
“She just wants to get to know you.”
“I am handsome, I am Russian, I give up a life of luxury and being spoiled by old men to be monogamous with one single boring old man. There.”
It’s a tough job to keep the smile off his face, but Shane just about manages. He really needs to figure out how to propose. Instead of submitting to his baser wills and dropping to his knees right there in the hospital, begging to marry him with a strategically placed $100 onion ring, Shane just squeezes Ilya’s thick thigh again.
They have time, after all.
He’s about to try harder at cajoling a date or time for dinner for him, but the second Shane opens his mouth he’s interrupted by a string of long, loud Russian. Ilya tenses up beside him so fast that Shane can’t help but whip his head around, his arm immediately curling around the back of Ilya’s chair.
Shane’s gaze lands on a gaudily dressed man, older than him; maybe in his late fifties or early sixties. Grey hair slicked back, thick, gold watch on his wrist. He’s in good shape, but not as good as Shane is, and he’s certainly nothing to look twice at. Maybe Shane’s assessment would be a little kinder, if Ilya’s smile didn’t seem so forced. It makes something in Shane’s stomach drop; he moves his hand up from the chair to Ilya’s shoulder.
“Ilya!” The man says; “Look at you, sweetheart. You look good.”
“I always look good,” Ilya shrugs, all charisma. “Your accent is still shit, Spencer. I think stick to English.”
Ilya is still smiling, the words playful, but there’s a harder edge underneath that makes Shane shift slightly in his seat.
“I’ve been trying,” The other man, Spencer, says; his accent is American, Shane thinks, maybe somewhere in the south. Had he learned Russian for Ilya? What had he said to make Ilya tense up so fast? “But there’s just something about Russian that pulls me back in. Don’t keep me waiting here, honey.”
Spencer takes a step forward, arms open; there’s something in his features, so smug, so entitled, that Shane has to bite down hard on his bottom lip to keep his mouth shut. Ilya is a grown man. They’re equal partners, now, and he’d just invited him to dinner with his ex-wife. He has no right to go caveman over one of Ilya’s ex… Somethings. No matter how much he want to, no matter how much the wire of tension across Ilya’s shoulders and in his jaw and in his usually glowing smile makes Shane want to be sick, or break something, or maybe do both.
But then Ilya shifts slightly, as if to stand up, and Shane tightens his grip on his shoulder immediately, all but forcing him back down onto the chair. It’s a subconscious movement, not something he intended to, an ugly showing of the possessiveness he can’t quite shake. But Ilya isn’t comfortable with this Spencer, and Shane isn’t going to let the man he loves suffer through an awkward hug with some old, ugly, has-been.
Men like this can smell fear. Shane knows it, too, but realises a second too late; the other man can already smell blood in the water. His eyes, piercing blue, snap to Shane.
“Oh,” Spencer drops his arms, a smug sneer twisting his features. “Ilya, forgive me, I didn’t realise you were working.”
The way he says it— Drawing out the word working, as if Ilya had ever been any less-than for the way he made his money, as if the man in front of them hadn’t clearly benefitted from it, too— It’s the last straw for Shane. He stands up, adjusting his glasses, and plasters the familiar media-scrum smile over his features.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” He says, forcing something level into his tone, pretending he’s at a table in front of a crowd of reporters. “Shane Hollander.”
“Oh, I know who you are. Helluva season you boys have been having. Spencer Craig,” The other man replies. He takes Shane’s hand when he offers it, palm clammy, shaking with too much force. Blood in the water. Shane smiles wider, baring his teeth. “Ilya and I are— Well, we’re old friends, aren’t we?”
“Sure,” Ilya shrugs, easy, nonchalant. Shane is standing directly behind his chair, the sleeve of his suit jacket brushing against Ilya’s curls. “Friends.”
“I’m sure you understand how special Ilya’s friendship can be,” Spencer says. He still has Shane’s hand in his grip, and Shane takes the opportunity to apply a little more pressure. “He’s a great kid, with the right motivation.”
“Ilya’s an incredible hockey player, if that’s what you mean.” Shane says, cooly. There’s no way on earth that this stupid, sleazy man can pull him into a dick-measuring contest built on innuendo when Ilya is sitting right beside him. “We’re actually out celebrating. He just won the U-Cup.”
“It was a team effort,” Ilya protests, “Hazey is a beast in the net, a brick wall.”
Shane finally tears his gaze away from Spencer, dropping his hand and casually looping his other arm over Ilya’s shoulder.
“Are you serious?” Shane frowns down at him, “Game-winning goal in overtime? Captain of the team? MVP?”
“Da, the goal was set up by Haas.”
“Which is why he got his assist, but—“
“Team effort,” Ilya interrupts, and then, because his boy is so brave, and so perfect, he lifts Shane’s hand and presses a quick kiss to his knuckles. “Now sit down and order before I starve to death.”
Shane had, honestly, almost forgotten that Spencer is there. It’s that easy, with Ilya. Talking hockey, arguing over it, touching him in any way he can.
“I gotta ask,” Spencer says, leaning over to Ilya conspiratorially, like Shane isn’t even there. “Have you raised your rates, or are you still whoring out for a—”
“That’s enough.” Shane cuts him off, planting a hand square in the centre of Spencer’s chest. “I have no fucking clue who you are. You are so insignificant to the both of us that Ilya has never mentioned you once. Less than a bug on my fucking windshield. You don’t have any influence here, and you don't talk to him or anyone like that in front of me.”
Spencer blinks at him, clearly caught off guard. “Oh, please, it was a fucking joke—“
“Do I look like I’m fucking laughing?” Shane asks, tone flat. Professional, even. He’s not in the business of losing his temper. Rarely on the ice, never off it. But it’s close. “Get the fuck out. Make another reservation.”
“I’m not going anywh—“
“I will lay you out right fucking here,” Shane warns, voice low. He has at least three inches of height on Spencer, and a lot more muscle. “And my lawyers will clean it up so fast it’ll be less than a fucking parking ticket to me. So. Take your pick, Spencer. Leave, or lose your teeth.”
“Jesus Christ,” Spencer mutters, shaking his head. “Leash your dog if you’re taking him out in public, Ilya.”
That, at least, makes Ilya grin, wide and toothy; he waves mockingly at Spencer, shooing him away. “Bye-bye.”
*.✧*.✧*.✧
“I am so sorry, Ilya,” Shane says, the second the bathroom door closes behind them. It’s too nice a place for stalls, and they’re crowded instead into a little individual suite-like room with all the amenities; toilet, sink, backlit mirror. A little vanity with a stool. The lighting is low and atmospheric, matching the restaurant outside.
As soon as Spencer had left the restaurant, Ilya had practically dragged him around the corner towards the restrooms, one hand tight around his wrist. Which Shane understands, he does, because it was a stupid move on Shane’s part to start a dick-measuring contest, and it was rude and objectifying and—
“That was so fucking hot,” Ilya growls, pushing Shane back against the closed door and kissing him so hard his head knocks against the varnished wood. “You were so jealous.”
“What— I wasn’t jealous,” Shane mutters, but the words are lost in the heat of Ilya’s mouth. Maybe he was a little jealous. Maybe he hates thinking about any other man or woman touching Ilya, using him, paying for him. Maybe it’s hypocritical. It doesn’t fucking matter. “I was just— Oh, fuck, Ilya.”
All thoughts of Spencer and Ilya’s past are knocked out of Shane’s head when Ilya drops to his knees, dragging his hands down Shane’s ribs before settling on his hips. He nuzzles at Shane’s half-hard cock through the fabric of his dress slacks.
“Always so happy to see me,” Ilya coos, and Shane flushes. Fuck. “Even in a restaurant bathroom. Dirty old man, Hollander.”
“Shut up.”
“No, I don’t think I will,” Ilya grins up at him, wide like a shark, even wider when Shane tangles one hand in his curls. “You are hard thinking about it? Other men fucking me? Me getting on my knees for them?”
Shane shakes his head. The thought is laughable. “No. Fuck no. I’m just— You.”
“You’re me?” Ilya mocks, “I don’t think so.”
“I’m hard because of you.” Shane grits out, tugging a little at Ilya’s hair. “Kissing me. Fuck, Ilya, just—“
“I’m hard too, you know,” Ilya says, almost conversational. He unbuckles Shane’s belt deftly, leaning forward to take down his fly with his teeth, the same way he did the first time. It never gets old, and Shane can feel his dick swelling even more in his briefs. “I was hard at the fucking table. The way you handled him.”
He yanks his slacks down, just enough to be able to free his aching cock from his briefs. Ilya hums at the sight, before licking a thick, wet stripe up the shaft as Shane shudders against the door. He lets the heavy tip of Shane’s cock rest against his bottom lip for a second, looking up at Shane through his thick lashes before pulling back.
“I am not doing this because you are buying me dinner,” Ilya says, suddenly serious. Shane blinks. “Or because you buy me nice clothes and nice cars. I am doing this because I love you, and I love your cock. Okay?”
“Okay,” Shane breathes. He runs his thumb in small circles against Ilya’s scalp, this talented, beautiful man on his knees.
“I do not believe you,” Ilya tuts, but he still leans into the touch. His breath is so warm, so sweet on Shane’s achingly hard dick; he’s already fucking leaking for him. “Say it.”
“Ilya.”
“Say it, or you will not come again until next Friday.”
It would be embarrassing, the way Shane whines and tilts his head back, like he isn’t in his forties, like he isn’t one of the richest men in the country. But it’s not embarrassing, and the rest of that shit doesn’t matter. Not his age or the money or the threat of retirement looming like a shadow in the window; not when he has Ilya on his knees, telling him he loves him. It still throws him for a loop, still makes him feel like he’s hearing it for the first time.
Ilya gathers up some of the pre-come leaking from Shane’s cock and spreads it around the head with his thumb, pressing down a little when he decides Shane is taking too long to answer. It does little to help him form a coherent thought, instead causing him to arch his back against the bathroom door, hissing.
“Fuck. Ilya. You— You love me, and you love my— My—“
Shane dissolves into groans again as Ilya starts working his hand up and down his shaft, twisting at the head to spread his wetness even further. It’s obscene, the slick sound of his hand moving against the bland muzak of the bathroom.
“Say it properly, Hollander.”
“Fuck,” Shane whines, his head hitting the door again, “You love me. You love my cock. I love you, Ilya, fuck—“
“Good boy,” Ilya grins, and finally has mercy.
He takes Shane to the root, until his thick cock is stretching his pretty lips, his nose buried in the small patch of neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair. Shane has no clue what he looks like sucking dick, but he knows it’s nothing like, who somehow makes it look good and feel good. His eyes roll back in his head when Ilya swallows, his throat constricting around Shane’s length before pulling back, letting the head catch on his lip, and sinking back down again.
The pace is relentless, a constant push-and-pull of Ily’s throat, the flat of his tongue and back again. Shane’s hand in his hair is little more than set-dressing, grip weak as his shudders and sighs, biting down on his own fist to keep from moaning. They’re in a fucking restaurant. Shane’s favourite restaurant. He’s not getting banned.
It doesn’t take long; Ilya takes his entire length down to the root, throat working around the intrusion, and Shane can do little more than tug his curls in warning before he’s coming. Ilya holds him there, hands on Shane’s hips, as his cock twitches and spurts the last of his release. It could be seconds, or minutes, or hours; Shane doesn’t know. He doesn’t care. All he can see is Ilya, perfect Ilya, finally pulling back from his spent cock.
He opens his mouth, sticking out his white-painted tongue for Shane to inspect, before swallowing it down with the rest. Fuck.
“Clean yourself up, lyubov,” Ilya says, getting to his feet easily, all the mobility of a twenty-something. “Really. We are in public. Is not a good look, hm?”
“Wh— Fuck you,” Shane laughs, breathless. He pulls Ilya in for one last kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, before finally pushing off the door and heading to the sink. “You didn’t leave me much to clean up in the first place.”
“Yes, well, I’m fucking starving. I want my fries, come on.”
hollanov is batshit crazy about each other and the centaurs are mildly concerned about it but they seem well-adjusted regardless and it helps them win games so whatever. they do have a bit of an existential crisis about it though. like are they supposed to be that obsessed with their partner too? to which their partner say if they were that clingy the partner would be very scared.
Ilya’s body feels heavy. Weighted from the inside, like his bones are made of concrete and his organs are rocks that are working in tandem to stop him from getting out of bed.
It’s Sunday. His clock on the bedside table reads 9:00 A.M. He doesn’t have to be anywhere, but Shane says it’s good to get out of bed everyday. But Shane is in Montreal and what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him—and anyways, Shane does not know what it feels like to be made of concrete and rocks.
Even though it is 9 o’clock in the morning, it’s dark in his room, no sun shining through his window.
Ilya rolls his head to the side to look out the window, and finds the suburban Ottawa sky is overcast and there’s rain spitting from the dark clouds. His body feels heavier looking at the dreary sight.
His phone vibrates on the bedside table. He doesn’t move, he’s made of concrete and rocks and he used all his strength to look out the window which just made everything worse.
It stops vibrating and Ilya finds himself letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. His head feels like it’s filled with cotton, and his eye lids are drooping every so often as he stares at the gloomy day.
Ilya thinks that his mama would stay in bed on days like this too.
Sometimes Ilya would sneak into her room, careful not to make too much noise and alert papa or Alexei, and he would wiggle behind her as she lay staring out the window watching the sad Moscow sky. He would press his tiny little nose to her back and breathe in her smell, and wrap one slender arm over her torso. Sometimes she would grab his hand to hold, but sometimes she didn’t. Ilya now knows it was because she was made of concrete and rocks too.
Ilya does not feel sad. He feels numb. Indifferent. So what if he sleeps all day? It’s Sunday. He has no practice, no game, no plans, no nothing. His boyfriend is in Montreal. His best friend is in Russia. His mother is dead. Everyone is busy, or away, and they do not need Ilya bothering them.
shane is actually the best boyfriend that ever boyfriend’d. he’s opening doors, pulling out chairs, having his arm over back rests, holding hands while he drives, standing on the road side of the sidewalk. he’s so boyfriend coded. and ilya eats it all up! he loves being dotted on! he loves having a boyfriend!
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality
Anya is LIVE right now
FREE
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
i knowwwwww in my heart ilya would love taking shanes last name and after they have kids referring to their family unit as hollanders. ilya turning around to the backseat like okey hollanders here is plan. we are going to be in and out of costco in thirty minutes. you may choose ONE item each. if we get separated we meet at optometrist. we will get ice creams on the way out as long as everyone is cool and nobody tells dad. hollanders on three.
This is a blag. @capncarol - Tumblr Blog | Tumlook
