He wants to tell Rozanov to get overhimself, shut up and fuck off. In that order. What he does say is, “I—I want to, uh…to try something.”
Their noses bump because Rozanov is still so close, and Shane can feel his smile against his lips; sees the way his eyes light up with anticipation, with delight, and Shane’s heart lurches.
“Tell me,” Rozanov says, drawing back a little. His hands are back on Shane’s body and he slips his fingers under the hem of his shirt to draw his fingertips over Shane’s abs.
Shane closes his eyes for a moment, licks his lips. “I want to suck your dick—”
“Wow,” Rozanov says flatly. “Again? Have you not had enough?”
Shane shoves him. “Fuck off, you asked. And I wasn’t done.”
Rozanov perks up again. “No?”
When Shane looks at him, Rozanov gazes back with terrifying scrutiny, as if he’s scared to miss a single thing that may cross Shane’s face. It’s mortifying and humiliating, and Shane can’t back out of it now; he’s already started it. He wishes Rozanov would just get it, that he didn’t have to say it out loud.
Shane takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing. “I want to suck you off upside down.”
“Upside down,” Rozanov repeats and looks as if he’s trying to make sense of it. “You want to, ah, stand on your hands?”
“No! No. Jesus. Fuck.” Oh god, Shane has to elaborate. The flush that shoots up his face is scorching. He squeezes his eyes shut. “No, I mean like this.”
Shane braces his palms on the counter top of the kitchen island Rozanov has trapped him against and hoists himself up, then spins and lies down on his back, shuffling a little until he feels the edge of the counter hit the back of his neck. He looks up at Rozanov towering over him like this, and the zing of arousal that zips through him is so strong it makes his skin tingle and heat pour through his veins, pooling between his legs. OR; Shane sees porn he wants to try with Rozanov.
we go heavy harder (7.8k words)
aka my contribution to suck him off sunday
