cassie's insanity

Men and women alike have approached Shane tonight. Some fans, some interested in more than a friendly hello or an autograph or a photo. Ilya isn’t going to pretend he doesn’t get a fucking thrill watching Shane hold up his hand, flashing his wedding ring and then pointing over his shoulder or to his side as he says husband. 

Ilya presses his hips forward a bit, being able to read Shane’s body like an open book, even in a place as dark and loud as this one. There’s a hitch of his breath that Ilya can feel because his chest is against Shane’s spine, there’s a keening as his body leans back into the touch, his head almost resting on Ilya’s shoulder. 

“Don’t,” Shane turns a little then, brushing a kiss along his jawline. 

“Don’t what?” Ilya asks innocently, raising his eyebrows. 

“You know.” 

And Ilya hums, because he does know. He’s hard too. It’s taking everything in him not to slide his hand from where it’s resting on Shane’s hip down against the front of him. He shifts lightly, brushing his fingers along the waistband of his jeans and presses a kiss underneath his ear. 

“I’m not sure I do.” 

Shane shakes his head, moving his body in a slow circle to lean his side against the bar to see Ilya more clearly. He reaches up and cups his cheek, thumb brushing over the mole there, “Stop,” But it’s definitely half-hearted, especially with how his hip juts out to press into the bulge in Ilya’s jeans. “It’s just one more round.” 

“Net,” He replies, making a decision. He leans closer to kiss him, slow and intimate and not enough, “I can’t stand here anymore without touching you.”

Shane shivers, “And ditch our friends?” 

Ilya does one glance around, just in case, “Rose and Svet have been missing for at least ten minutes, they have found something more interesting to do,” He raises his eyebrows, “Just like us.” 

Shane smiles a little, nuzzling their noses in a ridiculous manner that shouldn’t make Ilya’s cock twitch, and yet. “Okay,” He relents, “But I’m texting them to make sure they’re okay before leaving.” 

Ilya hums in agreement, hooks his fingers with Shane’s and begins to tug him towards the exit. 

—

It feels like they make it home in record time, even with having a driver take them. The moment Shane unlocks the door and they cross that threshold, Ilya is grabbing at him. His hands cup his face, kissing him, sliding his tongue between his teeth. Shane moans, causing molten heat to travel down Ilya’s spine as he encourages them towards the living room. He can’t formulate walking up steps, can barely pull back from kissing Shane so he can make sure the front door is closed. His hands move to squeeze Shane’s hips, dragging them into his own, a groan sliding from his own throat as their cocks grind together. 

“Sit,” He whispers, nipping at Shane’s lower lip. 

Shane does. He plants himself on the couch, panting slightly, lips a soft and wet pink color. Fuck. Ilya leans down, pressing a few kisses on his cheeks where his freckles are, 

“Touch yourself.” 

Shane raises his eyebrows, a soft sound leaving his chest when Ilya helps him take his shirt off, “I thought you wanted to touch me.” 

Ilya smiles, “I decided I’d rather watch you touch yourself. Is that going to be a problem?” 

Shane shudders, shaking his head, his hand already traveling down his chest and squeezing himself through his pants. Ilya isn’t going to last long at all. He takes a few steps back, unzipping his jeans, eyes glued to Shane standing up and taking his clothes off. He folds them on the coffee table, moving to take something out of a small drawer to his right and—

“Is that—”

Shane answers by turning it on. It fucking is. It’s a small vibrator. Ilya feels like he’s about to black out because all his blood shoots to his dick. “Where the fuck did that come from?” 

Shane smiles, his cheeks a little pink as he sits down on the couch again. “I put it there. I just thought…I dunno. Might come in handy one day.” 

“Jesus Hollander,” Ilya runs a hand over his face, “What else is in there?” 

The response to this question doesn’t even matter, Shane says something and Ilya doesn’t even hear him, because he’s too busy staring at his husband sliding the vibrator along his cock. Ilya’s mouth falls open, his hand slipping into his jeans and squeezing the base of his own dick because he’s about to lose it. He quickly slides the fabric down and out of his way, groaning as he gets in a few good strokes, watching as Shane tips his head back and follows his own pleasure. 

He guides the vibrator up and down his shaft, pausing sometimes on his balls, his legs opening up wider. Ilya chews on his lower lip, humming as Shane’s eyes flutter open and meet his gaze. Ilya motions with his chin, 

“Keep going, malysh,” He flicks his thumb over his own head, hips jerking, “Slide it down—just like that. Keep it there.” 

Shane squirms when the tip of the vibrator hovers against his asshole, rolling his hips forward, wanting more friction. Ilya isn’t going to make him press it in even though he can tell Shane is teasing himself with it, wanting to, no matter that he’s not prepped enough. 

“You close?” 

“Ilya,” Shane moans in response, and really, that’s all he needs to hear. 

Ilya moves in two strides, straddling Shane’s hips. He wraps his hand around Shane’s cock while he keeps the vibrator in place, gliding his thumb over his head. There’s a sharp gasp, Shane’s head tipping back, exposing his neck. Ilya peppers kisses there as he cums, working him through his orgasm. He barely has time to get his own hand back to his dick, stroking just once before he’s losing it all over Shane’s belly. 

A soft whimper leaves Shane’s lips and Ilya tilts his head down, helping him turn the vibrator off. He plants kisses along his shoulders, murmuring affectionate Russian into his skin. 

It takes a moment for Ilya’s heartbeat to return to normal, but when it does, he pulls back a little to cup both sides of Shane’s face. He runs his thumbs over his freckles, pressing a kiss to the bridge of his nose. 

“C’mon, let’s shower.” He whispers, to which Shane groans. He knows how much he needs to rinse off, despite not wanting to.  A small smirk pulls at his mouth, slowly climbing off Shane’s body, “I know, it’ll be quick.” 

Ilya guides Shane off the couch, walking them towards the bathroom connected to the bedroom. He starts the shower, letting the water warm up, tugging open the glass door and allowing Shane to get in before him. Ilya lets him under the stream first, leaning back against the tile, eyes gliding over the lean lines of his body as he quickly washes himself with soap. 

Shane catches his eye, a small sleepy smile, “You gonna watch me do this too?” 

Ilya hums, “Haven’t you learned?” He leans forward, nipping at his lower lip with his own, “Can’t take my eyes off you, Hollander.”