Per The Url

Shane Hollander routinely uses sunscreen(for safety against skin cancer) and washes his face with a sensitive skin friendly soap in the shower. He uses the same bar for his entire body.

Beyond that his smooth skin is entirely coincidental. Ilya is very jealous of this. Ilya wears hair products, styles himself meticulously and has tried multiple skincare routines. None of which are giving him the supple skin he desires.

The first time Ilya goes to Shane's real apartment and not the sex condo he is outraged by the number of unused samples of skincare products, mostly because these brands are choosing to work with Shane when he knows for a fact that Shane does nothing to properly take care of his skin.

Shane's bathroom sink is barren.

Shane *enters Ilya's bathroom*: why do you have so much clutter in here

Ilya *outraged*: is not clutter Hollander we did not all climb out of womb and become world's prettiest man by accident

Shane *having no filter*: why do you bother with it if it doesn't work?

"So, how did you two meet?" That was fine, safe territory.

They both answered the same way, "a parking lot in Saskatchewan when we were 17."

But, the question, "so who made the first move?" Unsafe territory, turn back now.

"You introduced yourself to me!"

"That wasn't making a move! You organized a whole photoshoot."

"You shook my hand, twice! You looked me up and down!"

"I did not!"

"You had a crush on me."

"You had a crush on me!"

"You called me a hot player to watch."

"I did not and you know that, Rozanov."

"My English wasn't good."

"You - okay, draft night?"

"What about it? Oh, when you kept staring at my cock?"

"No! When you kept touching my hand and had your legs all spread in front of me!"

"You were staring at me."

"You winked at me."

"You took water bottle."

"Because you told me to!"

"Well, you were blushing on photoshoot."

"You called me pretty, twice!"

"You were laughing!"

"So were you!"

"Because you kept looking at me like - like that!"

"You told me you organized the shoot!"

"You agreed to it! You wanted to see me again."

"You starting jerking off at me in the shower!"

"Only because you were checking out my ass!"

"I was not!"

"Yes, you were! I would not do that if you were not checking me out!"

"You asked for my room number!"

"You waited for me to come out of the shower - I gave you time to leave!"

"I was drying my hair."

"You were waiting for me."

"I was not, I just wanted to talk!"

"Talk! You wanted to talk to hot Russian you invited to your room at night?"

"Yes!"

"You were on your knees in five seconds!"

english fans went to a random baseball game together, picked a player at random and treated him like he was jesus. random baseball player in question (michael harris) is apparently good, and we chose well by accident

the first time shane tells ilya he wants to ride him, he’s a blushing, eye contact avoiding, mess.

they’re making out hard, clothes half off as they lay on the couch, ilya on top of him when shane pulls back, lips swollen, voice barely a whisper. “i want… um.”

ilya leans down and runs his lips along shane’s jaw, “you want… what?”

shane huffs a little and ilya looks up to see his eyes trained on the ceiling now. ilya moves up into his line of sight and before shane can turn his head to avoid his eye contact ilya reaches a hand up and grips his chin making him stay put and look at him, “you want what, hmm?”

shane takes a steadying breath, looking into ilya’s eyes, he normally hates eye contact, but with ilya it feels different.

“i want to… ride you. i mean, like try to at least.”

ilya’s mouth drops open a little at the statement, his pulse thuds in his neck and he finds himself without speech imagining shane hollander rolling his hips on his lap. he nods slow and long, his tongue peeking out his open mouth to lick his bottom lip.

“yeah? you want to bounce on my cock, hollander?” he hears his raspy voice say.

shane swallows and nods, ears scarlet, trying to turn to hide his face but ilya keeps holding him by the chin.

ilya works him open for so long, making sure he’s nice and ready but once shane’s sinking down—slow, hot, gasping—something flips. his hips roll experimentally, then harder, chasing that perfect angle until he’s bouncing like he’s starving for it, hands bracing on the back of the couch for leverage, little desperate sounds spilling out of his pink wet lips.

“da—yes—hollander, jus’ like that,” ilya groans, gripping his waist, eyes wild. “look at you, hmm? doing so fucking good.“

shane’s initial embarrassment has burnt away. he rides ilya like he owns him, like his strong sculpted thighs were made to do just this. it’s messy and wild and perfect.