FireflyMoonWitch

They continue on in relative silence, the chaos of the rest of the house plus the steady exertion filling most of the potential space conversation may have taken up, though it doesn’t stop the playful bumps or the unspoken race up the stairs. Shane assumes once he’s all moved in Ilya will be off to help another person, but instead he lingers in the doorway, watching Shane meticulously organize his belongings. “So particular, may be only clean room in house.” Ilya grins as Shane refolds a few clothes that got rumpled in the move. “It’s literally filled with boxes how is this clean?” “Cleaner than mine.” “I don’t think I wanna know.” “You sure?” And Shane goes a little flush but before he can retort Ilya is getting yelled at from down the hall and gives a dramatic groan before wiggling his finger in a goodbye and rolling off Shane’s door frame.

They don’t cross paths again until later that night, loud music filling the house with an even louder group of sorority girls thrown into the mix. Shane’s been trying to have fun but after a full day of moving and socializing he’s more than a little beat, but there’s no way he could sleep like this, so he tries his best to smile and keep people from seeing his cup is full of just straight water. A familiar bump on his shoulder settles something inside, smiling before he even turns his head, it feeling a little less forced with Ilya standing next to him now. Conversation is a little hard over the music but they manage an easy back and forth about hockey (both on a similar scholarship), cars (“-but they’re not even fuel efficient” “they’re sexy” “…it’s a car.” “you are so boring”), girls kinda (“you do not have type?” “no? Just… hot, I guess?” “hmm… blond?” “…sure.”), and a few things in between. They don’t comment on the bumps that linger or the way Shane copies Ilya’s lean into each other’s space.

It’s when Ilya asks him if he’s ready though that gives Shane pause. It’s fairly innocuous, and he feels more than ready to start the semester and get to know his new fraternity, but it’s the fact he’s been asked this question six times tonight that really makes him think he’s missing something. Ilya picks up on his growing confusion, and Shane thinks he hears the word hell(?) drowned out by the deafening base, but before he can ask any questions their conversation is cut short by an overzealous keg stand that ends with a guy slamming through the thin pine coffee table next to them, Shane jumping back into hands that pull securely over his waist, separating slowly with the fading shock. Most things get derailed after that and the party winds down as people are forced back into being at least responsible enough to make sure the dude can walk and get the splintered mess out of the center of the living room.

Cleanup surprisingly goes pretty quickly, and with the music finally turned off Shane feels the exhaustion seep deep into his bones and takes the first opportunity he can to get back to his room.

Shane lays down and finally gets to go to sleep.

Only to be suddenly awoken a few hours later by a masked man covering his mouth with duct tape and binding his hands together. Panic floods his system and he tries to fight the guy off but he’s at a disadvantage laying down and the man is pining him with his full body weight. He tries screaming but the hand is back again pushing hard and muffling the noise to almost nothing. He shakes his head back and forth, eyes shut tight but that doesn’t stop the tears from rolling down his cheeks, terror gripping his core. His distantly aware he’s hyperventilating.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it softens. The hand pulls back, replaced by two gently cupping the sides of his face. It takes a moment to realize words are being said and Shane opens his eyes to see the blurry image of the intruder still straddled above him, but now unmasked, a halo of messy blond curls framing his face. The familiarity is enough to dampen the horror of the situation into a confused panic, which thankfully dulls the rushing sounds in his ears to finally hear what Ilya is saying.

It’s a combination of shushing and apologizes and begging Shane not to scream as he gingerly pulls the tape from his mouth. Shane takes a heaving breath, then another, and realize he can’t stop. Ilya takes his hands and struggles to get the twisted tape to come free, all while trying to get Shane to follow his breathing. But Shane can’t, he’s so confused and scared and needs something to hold onto. His questions only come out in one word gasps. “What?” “Why?” “You?” “Happening?” “Why?” “You?” “Why?”

Ilya gives up on the tape and presses hard on Shane’s chest then lets up, only to repeat the movement a few seconds later. “Breathe Hollander, please. Breathe.” There’s a loud shuffling outside his door but Shane does his best to follow, especially after the room starts to spin a little. “Sorry. I am sorry. Is supposed to be scary but not… not that much.” Shane looks up at him like he’s insane. “What- what are you talking about?! Why did you do this?!” he gets out, only needing to interrupt himself twice to clear the spots from his vision. Another loud scuffle from outside the door. Ilya lessens the pressure on his chest and sits back on Shane’s thighs, his turn to be confused. “Initiation. Hazing ritual.” Ilya supplies bluntly, as if it explains everything. Shane just stares. “You did not know?”

This time the outside banging hits the door directly with two loud knock. “Two minutes!” a voice yells and Ilya is quickly turning back to Shane, a pained expression on his features. “We have to go. Now.” “Go? Go where!?” “I can not tell you, is secret, but is only first day, will not be too bad.” “First day? Ilya please what is happening!” And Shane thinks he might start crying again. “Hazing ritual. You have to if you want to be in fraternity. We all have done it, I did it, it is…” Ilya waves his hand in the air, looking up then snapping. “Tradition! You will be okay.” “Wait so if I don’t let you kidnap me I get kicked out?” “Yes but it is fine, you are strong, I will be with you and make sure you succeed, but plan will not work if we do not leave now.”

Shane doesn’t think much before the tape is being placed back over his mouth, marginally less sticky and when Ilya pulls his bound wrist Shane only resists for a second before following. As they reach the door Ilya looks back at Shane in only his briefs and quickly drops his hands to move over to his dresser. Shane stares as Ilya open the drawer he watched Shane put his sweat pants into earlier and pulls out a thick grey pair. He rushes back, kneeling to get Shane’s legs in the proper holes and pulls them up. Shane wishes he could bash his head into the wall to disperse the flood of thoughts that just entered his mind from seeing Ilya kneeling in front of him, too mortified by his own reaction to catch a similar blush mirror his own.

Ilya stands with a now clenched jaw, gives Shane a nod, and twists the door handle open. And then immediately shuts it after two inches of hall light enters the room. “Blyat. Okay. One more thing.” Ilya grabs at something tucked into his back pocket. It’s a bag. Shane gives him his most incredulous look. “Yes yes, I know. But is mandatory. Think of it as sexy game.” Ilya wiggles his eyebrows and Shane kinda wants to strangle him. He’s grateful for the return to seriousness a moment later. “Is okay, I will be with you, protect you from anything bad, okay?” And Shane hated that he was being asked, like he had any real options, but still he nodded and the dark hood was placed over his head. Before he even had a moment to stress the strong grip was back on his arm, giving two squeezes and staying put.

Shane could hear the door opening, felt the rush of cooler air on his skin, grateful to be at least half clothed. He walked slowly, following Ilya’s lead and gentle guidance down the stairs. The voices got louder until they were at the bottom and someone shouted from outside the open front door. “Rozanov! What took you so long?” Shane tensed, worried what would happen when they knew Shane had a panic attack and needed to be calmed down in order to not pass out. Would that disqualify him? Logically, probably not, but it would make these people that he hoped to connect with look at him differently. Weirdly. Wrong. Maybe he should’ve just quit, save himself from being the the freak again. Fuck, this sucked, and just when he started to feel like maybe he could belong- “He is strong hockey player, put up one hell of a fight.” Two squeezes, Shane let out an almost painful breath. “And whose fault is that? Should’ve picked one of the smaller guys.” “Shut your face, he would’ve killed you.”

Something complicated happens in Shane’s chest again but he pushes it to the wayside as he’s guided out the front door by whispers only he can hear. “Three steps. Slight left. Curb. Five steps. Car door to your right. I will be in passenger seat in front of you, fifteen minutes.” Ilya gently guides Shane’s head as he’s lowered into a car, his opposite thigh pressing against another person as a seat belt is awkwardly buckled across his still bound arms. This cannot be safe. The car door shuts and a moment later another door in front opens and slams closed quickly. A conversation in front begins, something about having fun with the new meat, but Shane is focused on the fingers that’ve slid between the side of the seat and door to brush against his knee. After a few minutes Shane realizes the taps give a silent countdown, and after each one Shane starts pressing back, two nudges.

Three taps, two taps, one tap, then a circular o and the car comes to a stop. Ilya’s is out of the car almost before it stops moving and a second later Shane’s door opens, arm reaching around to unbuckle him and pull him out. Shane stumbles as he misses the step, suddenly landing onto wet dirt, not quite mud yet, under his feet. Ilya catches him easily, holding him tightly for a few second. “Still okay?” he whispers and Shane nods against his shoulder, leaning in a little further than necessary before straightening back up.

The whispered instructions are harder to follow now and Shane finds that Ilya is much closer as he tells him to step over a root or avoid a pointed rock. Shane can hear the fire before he feels its heat, and at this distance can make out its light bleeding through threads of the bag. He’s stopped facing the light and gets one last whisper, “right behind you”, with two squeezes and then he’s alone with nothing but the sounds of people being pushed into some sort of arrangement and the ever present sounds of collage boys making animal (ape?) sounds all around him.

Shane takes the moment to reevaluate his choices up to this point and wonder if this, whatever the hell this was, was worth it. Was he seriously so lonely he was gonna put up with multiple days of This. Was he seriously so horny he was gonna put up with multiple days of This. Shane didn’t love that his body answered by planting his feet more firmly.

He must’ve been having his silent identity crisis too loudly though because he feels a small rock hit his back, then another when his breath hitches. He wishes he could glare at that smug face he knew was behind him right now. Instead he kicks back his heel against a small rock sending it flying somewhere behind him and bites his cheek when the action earns him a light chuckle.

Shane thinks about doing it again when all of a sudden the bag is ripped from his head and he’s momentarily blinded, wincing from the light of the bonfire in front of him. He takes a second to look around at what seems to be a large campsite. A scattering of trees, a fire pit filled with way too much wood, and a few collapsible tables that Shane was certain were the ones used for beer pong a few hours prior. The fraternity president is standing on a large bolder wearing some sort of hooded robe and wielding… a staff? Honestly Shane was starting to feel a little ridiculous for ever being scared. The president started on his dramatic monologue and Shane took one last look around to see that out of all the other pledges circled around the fire he was one of the only ones wearing pants.

Shane turned his head back a bit and saw Ilya still stood behind him, smirking when they made eye contact. He couldn’t help smiling in return as he turned back around, though he wasn’t really listening to the rambling of a twenty something year old on a power trip. The fire did its job of warming his bare chest, though his back felt uniquely cold, lacking pressure. If Ilya was really in charge of him, shane thought, it would only make sence if he was closer. For saftey, of course. It was the woods after all, anything could happen. Like righ now, with the president pulling out a gun.

Never mind Shane is fully terrified again. Adrenalin whips his head around and sees the entire outer cicle similarly armed. Holy shit he’s going to die in the woods surrounded by insane college boys who somehow have access to a frightening large arsenal of… oh those are paintball guns. Okay, not going to die, crisis averted. Holy shit Shane does NOT want to get shot with a paintball gun.

The energy has definitely shifted and Shane is listening intensely to the words being spoken now. Something about a hunt, endurance and survival, ancestral instincts (whatever the fuck that means) but it really sounds like the ramblings of someone trying to justify shooting at a bunch of defenseless half naked barely adults with paintball guns in the woods at night. Awesome. Breathing is getting hard again.

There’s some sort of ranking in place depending on how long you last without being bruised to shit and back, but Shane is more worried about the fact that everything is going blurry. Again. Maybe he won’t even need to decide on whether or not he stays because he’s pretty sure his heart is about to choose for him.

Two squeezes on his shoulder. His heart slows. “Run straight back until ditch. Stay there.” Shane nods just barely, then almost chokes as a knife comes into view, carefully worked between his wrists and sliced up to free his arms. It’s a miracle he’s still standing.

Ilya swivels him around at the same time as the others, a sturdy hand on each shoulder, pointing him off into the dark. “Straight ahead.” The president lets out a booming countdown, and if Shane compartmentalizes it as the seconds before a puck drops, that's between him and a future therapist. At zero a shot rings out into the air half a second late, but Shane's already running.

It goes immediately dark, trees swallowing up the limited firelight, meaning Shane's arms are already raised defensivly against the twigs and branches whipping by, clawing at his body. Some pads would've been fucking nice, especially when a cracked piece of bark catches his sholder. It's enough of a sting to slow his movements, reminding him to wait for his eyes to adjust to the moonlight before continuing to barrel blindly forward. Though it’s nowhere near enough to stop him completley as the distant echoes of a second countdown reaches zero once again and scattered yells and pops fill the night. Oh this really sucks.

Shane turns back, determined to give Usain Bolt a literal run for his money when the universe cuts his aspirations short as he eats shit on a sudden drop. The soft grasses are a welcome relief but he doesn’t have time. He’s being hunted for actually sport while stuck climbing out of a stupid hole and he only has one possible point of safety in this whole big mess so he’s just gotta get up and get to the- oh. Oh thank god he’s in the ditch.

Shane maybe relaxes too much in relief as his hold goes loose and he sinks down harder than he meant into the pit, chuckling in strained disbelief between heaving breaths. This is insane. HE’S insane for not immediately dropping this whole frat thing and going back to the original plan of living in the campus dorms, with randomly assigned roommates who’d probably ignore him and a mess hall that would up charge him to maintain his diet and the continuation of his perfectly planned schedule with no room for surprises or adventures or… fun… Shane wrapped his arms around himself with a huff, feeling the thin lines of already dried blood from the shallow scratches on his arms. This better be over soon.

Luckily, Shane doesn’t have to worry about exposure for long as a body suddenly slides over the lip of the ditch and lands practically on top of him. He can’t help the yelp that’s pulled from his lungs, and if he heart wasn’t pounding so hard he’d groan as a hand presses over his mouth and he once again finds himself in unfortunately familiar position. This time he’s not being threatened with a suffocating panic attack, but that may be preferable to the now level headed view he has of Ilya straddling his hips, strong arms pinning Shane down as he scans the path behind him, moonlight catching wild curls and defined angles and shifting muscles and-

Shane rolls slightly under the guise of trying to free himself, suddenly much less cold. Ilya looks down, as if suddenly realizing Shane is Right There, and fucking smiles. Wide and cocky and full of mischievous glee. Shane can’t help but stare, then snorts in response as Ilya starts to giggle. It’s so absurd. Ilya drops his head to Shane’s shoulder, slightly shaking before letting out a heavy breath, both slightly panicked and relieved. Shane lets his head fall back into the grasses and jerks when he hits a rock. They both start giggling again.

Ilya turns his head to the side, Shane tilting his to meet his gaze. The smiles slowly fade, seeing just how close they are. It’s painfully obvious when eyes dart down to parted lips, the distance so much greater when they’re only a breath apart.

A series of pops ring out follow by a yell then laughter. They both instinctively reach for each other. Momentary tension giving way to more soft chuckles. The moment isn’t gone, just shifted, and Ilya stretches to lay down, resting his head only a little further away, still on Shane’s arm. Shane twists to his side, keeping Ilya in view.

It’s there they stay, among the soft grasses and clear night sky dotted with stars. Shane says something about hoping it doesn’t get much colder and Ilya presses their hips together. Ilya points out a faint constellation above and Shane moves his head to sit in line, matching their exact view. They both settle perhaps a bit too much into the closeness, Shane playing with the hoodie fabric laid over Ilya’s ribs while Ilya works the edges of Shane’s waistband between his fingers.

“Thanks for… ya know, all that.”

“Hmm? Ah, is nothing.”

“Well, it means something to me, you being here and helping me out. Keeping me from… ya know. So, just… thanks.”

Ilya stares at Shane for a moment, gaze full and searching, before quickly shifting into a wide grin. “I think maybe you are too good Canadian boy, thinking I am so nice for your sake. Maybe I am selfish hmm? Doing all this for a reward.” Ilya rolls up slightly, hand suddenly planted on the other side of Shane, looking down at him.

“Oh a reward huh?” Shane quirks an eyebrow, feeling his back settle deeper into the earth. “And what kind of reward do you want?”

“Ah, well…” Ilya takes an exaggerated moment to think, looking up and around as if searching for the answers. “Oh, how about,” and Ilya lets his head drop, hovering dangerously close to Shane’s mouth, “you have to let me win a hockey game?”

The absurdity of the Ilya’s words in that moment chokes a breath from Shane’s lungs, and the beginnings of a confused anger grows before dying completely under Ilya smug and cocky expression. Shane turns his head and palms Ilya’s entire face, pushing it away as he rolls his eyes, fighting off a laugh. “Fuck off.”

Ilya catches Shane’s wrist, guiding it back to pin over his head, chuckling at his own joke. “Mmm, no, you are right. Will be much more fun to beat you fair square.”

“Fair and square.”

“дурацкий язык. Okie, new reward then, one that includes keeping mouth busy so it cannot correct me.”

“Hmm… and what reward would that be?”

And it’s painfully obvious the kiss is coming, but even still they lock eyes and breathe each other’s breath for a moment, Ilya moving slowly closer as if waiting for Shane to pull away. The touch of lips against each other is soft, hesitant, fleeting after only a chaste connection. They both look at each other a beat longer, wide eyed and flushed cheeks, heats beating rapidly, before crashing into each other with an unleashed desperation.

Ilya tightens his hold against Shane’s wrist, pressing harder as he pushes into the kiss with equal pressure. His other hand grasps onto Shane’s hip, half tucked under the waistband to press his finger into the swell of his ass. Shane mirrors the hold, using his free hand to push under Ilya’s own sweats and pull his hips down to connect with his own, slightly grinding together with every breathless twitch of their bodies. Ilya licks deeper while sliding his hand down to fully cup Shane’s ass, pulling him up and closer by a fraction of an inch.

There’s no telling how much further they would’ve gone if not for the distant pop of a few more shots ringing out. They don’t separate immediately, but it is a reminder that they are in fact in the middle of a frat initiation. With guns. Ilya groans, dropping his head beside Shane’s who also lets out a huff.

“Somehow I completely forgot about that.”

“Forgot being hunted in woods by crazy college boys?”

“Fuck off. Someone was being distracting.”

“Oh. So is my fault?”

“Think the evidence might be stacked against you on this one.”

“Hmm. You will arrest me for my crimes?” Ilya hovered close, lips parted above Shane’s.

“I don’t know. Didn’t feel very criminal to me.”

They stay a breath away for a beat, watching the other’s lips while their bodies fight to stay separate. The echoing shots have died off, but it only stands as stronger evidence they can’t let anything continue or there would be nothing to break the spell a second time.

“We should probably get back, yeah?” Ilya huffs against Shane’s mouth, consigning himself to the truth of the matter and letting his head fall to Shane’s collarbone, grunting in resignation.

“Okay you baby. Now let me up, before they start wondering where-” Shane’s words get cut short as he yelps from a sudden bite to his upper pec.

“Ilya! What are doing?! You’re gonna-”

“Leave mark? Yes, that is point.”

“Wha-! No! Do not!”

Ilya levels a stare from Shane’s chest, pulling off only just. “You need battle wound. Cannot return unharmed or everyone will know I did not hunt you.”

Shane hates loves hates his logic. “Yeah but… a hickey?”

“Trust me, will look the same. Besides, you rather I shoot you with paintball?”

Shane stares for a long moment at Ilya, still hovering over that spot, now shiny with spit. He lets his head fall back with a rush of air, throwing his freed arm over his eyes. “Fuck. No. Just, go… go ahead.”

Ilya smirks, dropping back down and working the spot over. Shane only lasts half a minute before moving his hand to his mouth to stifle the moans, a task made exponentially more difficult when Ilya decides to take it a step further by stroking his thumb over Shane’s nipples while he works. Horny bastard, Shane thinks, and pointedly doesn’t linger on that fact that he could be talking about either one of them especially as he lets Ilya continue.

Thankfully Ilya eventually relents, pulling away with a satisfied huff, finishing off his work by popping a paintball with his knife and letting the bright orange drip onto the forming bruise and down Shane’s chest. They don’t talk about how long they just stare after that, before moving again.

It only takes a few more minutes of situating themselves to climb from the ditch, focusing less on fixing their hair and rumpled clothes, which could easily be explained by the woods of it all, and instead shifting clothes to (mostly) hide their boners. Ilya gives Shane a Look when he lets out a half moan while bunching his pants, earning himself a shove to the side. Not that he’s complaining much though, as he’s then graced by Shane walking off in front of him, hips swaying with every step. (This is also short lived as Ilya immediately takes the opportunity to smack Shane’s ass which earns him a lethal glare and a mandated side by side walking position. With more glares. Worth it.)

They both make it back to the fire to uproarious applause, praise showered on them both, though mostly to Shane as it’s quickly revealed he was the last pledge to return by A While. Definitely a good thing they didn’t fuck in the woods then, seeing as the frat was about five minutes out from sending everyone to track the two of them down (something offhandedly referred to as a “group hunt” which causes Shane to take a half step closer to Ilya).

Unfortunately, being the winner means being dragged into the second rager of the night. Drinks are being pushed onto Shane whenever he’s empty and rough hands keep shaking him around in drunken excitement. It doesn’t take long though for the pair of rough hands Shane actually wants to feel to land on him, not yet able to steal him away from the crowd, but there to steady him, cleaning up the paint (while only briefly pressing deep against the hickey bruise) and wrapping Shane in Ilya’s own sweatshirt, warm and scented against chilled skin.

Fortunately, everyone’s still already buzzed from earlier and eventually focus shifts from Shane and his apparently legendary run, to doing stupid drunk stuff in the woods at night with paintball guns, leaving no one to pay attention to where said winner is sneaking off to and with whom.

Once they’re out of sight Ilya pulls Shane into his side, leaning close to whisper in his ear, “I think I have better prize for the winner tonight.” Shane shutters, but not from the cold.

“And I believe I still owe you your reward.” Ilya tightens his grip almost painfully.

No one hears one of the parked cars rev obscenely, then quickly peal out and speed down the back road.

It’s the quietest the frat house has been as the two bust through the front door, barely taking time to orient themselves as they press against walls and furniture, yanking clothes and parting only when the stairs become an issue. Ilya pushes them through Shane’s door, following the swing of the hinges to pin Shane against it, though finds his hands suddenly empty as Shane drops to his knees in the still open doorway. Ilya curses as he hits his head to the wood, grasping Shane’s hair tightly. His perfect reward.

It all becomes a blur of desperation after that. Lost clothes, hot tounges, biting grips. Ilya picks Shane up to throw him on the bed. Shane pulls Ilya down right after. Lube and condoms and gentle praise mixed with pleading demands. It’s everything and still not enough, and they take and give and have each other until the sun breaks and exhaustion finally pulls them to stillness.

The house remains empty, though time is running short. Still, they lay together, tangled up in each other, only half awake and fighting the warm sleep that threatens to surround them.

“I have class in a few hours.”

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not.”

“Guilty.” Ilya plants a kiss on Shane’s chest, right over the bruise. “Though I do not think you will be getting much sleep tonight either.”

“…we are not pulling another all nighter for sex.”

“Boo. But no. I meant next frat thing, is suppose to be long. But maybe if you ask nicely I can sneak you away for beauty sleep. Will even tire you out myself.”

Ilya wiggles his eyebrows a bit at his words but quickly goes stone faced as Shane shoots up, panicked look on his face as he stares Ilya down, at if waiting for a punchline that isn’t coming.

“Wait what? What do you mean there’s another thing tonight? Like, tonight tonight?”

“Yes,” Ilya starts, slow and confused. “Tonight tonight. It’s entire point, yes? Would not be much of hell week without everyday ‘hell’.”

“Wh- what the fuck is hell week!?”

Ilya’s sitting up now too, staring at Shane with that stupid look too many people give him, one Shane has grown to absolutely loathe. The look that tells him he’s missing something big, something he definitely should’ve known about before.

“Initiation.”

“Yeah, what we just did.” Shane hates how his voice is slightly pitched up, nervous in a way he didn’t allow.

“Yes, first day. Of hell week. Which is entire week. That is initiation.” Ilya isn’t sure when he started holding Shane’s arm, rubbing his thumb slowly along the skin, but he’s figures it’s probably a good idea to keep it going as Shane flexes his jaw and takes obvious measured breaths.

“Why,” Shane starts, strained, “is it a whole ass week?”

“Is always a week.” Ilya pauses as Shane’s eyebrows raise. “Is in the name.”

Shane flops down with far more force than necessary and covers his face, making a strained noise into his closed mouth. “Why didn’t anyone say anything?! What kind of fraternity tortures its new recruits every day for the entire first week of university?!!?”

Ilya can’t help the way his eyes widen, brows climbing up his forehead as he presses his lips flat. Thankfully Shane has his eyes still covered, and Ilya quickly schools his expression, feeling like a lesson in campus culture wouldn’t be especially appreciated right now. “Shane. Hey, listen, okay. I wasn’t just making joke about sneaking you away. I am very charming, will be easy to pull you away without anyone knowing, and you do not even have to have to suck my dick again if you don’t want to.” Ilya pouts at the last sentence and Shane rolls his eyes.

“But serious, it is some sort of game show in the backyard with special punishments. I can make up punishment to do inside and we go up to my room and lock door. Simple.”

“Simple.”

“Yes. Simple.” Shane is at least looking at Ilya again, a level of skepticism clearly expressed, though broken by a faint smile he can’t quite hide. Ilya lays back down next to Shane, tucked to his side at he holds himself up to look at Shane. “I will not let you get kicked out. Promise.”

“You really mean it.” Shane intended for it to be a question but he can’t help how easily it became a statement.

“Obviously. Where else will I find another perfect ass like this?”

Shane rolls his head, looking away as a traitorous smile creeps onto his face. Ilya takes the opportunity to duck lower, kissing up along Shane’s neck.

“You’re impossible.”

“Do you trust me?”

And Shane doesn’t want to say his first thought, already feeling more than a bit vulnerable. “I don’t know, should I?”

“Of course, I am knight in shiny armor, here to save the day.”

“Shining armor.”

“…never mind I will let you get eaten by wolves.”

“Shut up. There’s no wolves here.”

“So confident, but no, you are wrong Hollander. All that time out in woods and you didn’t even notice constant howling.”

“What do you mean constant howl- Ilya are you talking about the loons.”

“Loons is type of wolf?”

“It’s a bird.”

“Then no, I am not talking about loons.”

Shane is giving A Look. “Ilya.”

Ilya is giving a far less convincing Look. “Shane.”

“Did you think we were all running around the woods about to be killed by wolves the whole night?”

Ilya rolls his eyes. “Of course not. I am big strong Russian, could easily fight off a pack of wolves for you.”

Shane wanted to tease him. Wanted to pull up a video of a loon call and watch Ilya struggle through a comeback. Maybe even wanted to wrestle to see how equipped he really was at taking on a literal wolf. But everything felt so meaningless when compared to those two little words. For you. It didn’t really have to mean anything, and it probably didn’t, but then why did it feel like it carried the weight of their world? Why did it lodge itself so deep in Shane’s mind, looping the words over and over?

“You asked if I trusted you.”

Ilya’s smile slips, momentary confusion at the sudden change, searching over Shane’s relaxed features. Warm fingers reach up, tracing Ilya’s bottom lip then sliding up to cheek, stilling all movement.

And they’re back in the ditch locking eyes with spit wet lips parted just so. Back at the party bumping shoulders even when the music faded out. Back on the front curb surrounding by boxes and the need to touch.

They’re back on that first day, only catching a fleeting glance from across the room and yet never wanting to look away again.