like a sledgehammer to a disco ball 🪩🔨

Except now, it’s been four hours of mixing and mingling and, tragically, not one of those hours has included keeping Shane tucked against his side. Tickets to the gala aren’t cheap, and Yuna’s reminder rings in Ilya’s ears. There will be a lot of money in the room tonight, Shane. If we work it right, we can get a few more donations before the night's over. He and Shane agree on a divide-and-conquer approach. For his part, Ilya is pretty successful. He’s just tucking a five-figure check into his pocket when he spots Shane seated at the bar, and oh, he’s laughing, really laughing, his eyes gone all crinkly. It makes Ilya’s stomach swoop. He can’t help but stare. If he saw Shane for the first time at this gala, he wouldn’t be able to resist going over to say hi, and can I get you a drink and are you here alone or did you bring a date? And Shane would shake his head and smile and say he came with a friend, not a date, and they would end the night making out in the coat-check closet. 

Ilya’s fantasy is rudely interrupted when the crowd parts enough to see who Shane is talking to, and it’s not some crusty old donor like Ilya just suffered through for the last 20 minutes. No, it’s young, handsome, apparently hilarious Carter Vaughn. And look, Ilya has no issue with Carter. Likes him, even. But Ilya has spent all night watching Shane charm the crowd in his perfect suit, and that feels like pressing on an old bruise. And now Carter has Shane all to himself, all of Shane’s attention and energy focused on him. He’s the one making Shane laugh. He’s the reason Shane’s eyes are sparkling, looking so beautiful and so at ease. It’s too much. Ilya maybe wants to rip Carter’s head off. 

The strength of Ilya’s gaze draws Shane’s attention. Their eyes lock, and of course he reads Ilya like one of his boring hockey books. Shane swallows hard. Before Ilya can stop himself, he’s stalking across the room. Four hours is more than enough mingling. 

“Ilya! Good to see you, man,” Carter says as Ilya slips in behind Shane, sliding a firm hand over the back of his neck. He can feel Shane’s pulse jumping against his fingers.

“We’re glad you could make it.” Ilya smiles and nods and makes small talk, embodying the role of the perfect host. The whole time, his thumb rubs over the nape of Shane’s neck. It’s barely anything, but Shane’s skin is warm and soft and turning pink under his touch. It makes Ilya’s teeth ache to sink into the skin under his fingers.

Eventually, he comes up with a polite excuse to extract himself from the conversation, but not before bending to whisper in Shane’s ear, “Bathroom. Five minutes.” He doesn’t question that Shane will obey.

It takes only three minutes for Ilya to hear a quiet knock. He hauls Shane inside and quickly locks the door.

“Been driving me fucking crazy all night,” he growls, crowding Shane against the door.

“I know. I know, please,” Shane gasps, just as affected.

Ilya gets a tight grip on Shane’s chin and pulls him into a bruising kiss. Shane’s already going boneless against him.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Shane whimpers, rolling his hips up against Ilya’s hard cock.

Ilya’s ears are ringing. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, sweetheart?” he says, his grip firm on Shane’s chin.

“Yes, oh please. I’m—I need it.” Shane’s eyes are wet and hazy. God, Ilya wants to wreck him.

“Put your arms up for me. Go on, above your head.”

The suit makes it awkward, but Shane follows orders. Ilya steps back and looks him over. Shane’s breath is coming quickly and his freckles are stark against the dark flush of his cheeks. He’s an arc of desire from the fists clenched above his head to the long line of his cock, hard and pulling his trousers tight across thick thighs. Without Ilya’s body to hold him up, his knees are starting to buckle. It’s obscene. It’s the most beautiful thing Ilya’s ever seen.

“Now,” Ilya says, moving in close as he speaks, “I am going to suck your dick.” Shane whimpers. Ilya ignores it. “You’ll be good and keep your hands above your head—yes, Shane, you will,” Ilya says when Shane frowns at the thought of not touching Ilya, as though he doesn’t realize that Ilya would be totally undone the minute Shane touched him. They’re so close now that Ilya’s lips brush Shane’s when he says, “And later tonight, when I can have you in our bed, then I will fuck you.” He punctuates the sentence with a firm hand pressed against Shane’s cock, just to feel it throb. “Does that sound good, Shane?”

“Ilya,” Shane whines. Ilya’s dick twitches at the sound.

“Let me help you, sweetheart.” Ilya grips Shane’s chin once more, moving it up and down in a nod, yes. “That’s my perfect boy.” 

The sound of Shane’s zipper is loud against the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights. Ilya takes Shane into his mouth all at once. His fingers dig into Shane’s thighs as he works his mouth over Shane’s cock, messy and fast. Ilya’s so hard his stomach hurts, and Shane is gasping and moaning and arching against the door. This is going to be over quickly.

“Fuck, fuck, Ilya. So good, oh my god.”

Inspired, Ilya pulls off, wipes a hand across his mouth, and says, “He’s going to hear you, baby.”

“I–what?” 

“Our friend, Carter Vaughn. You’re being so loud. He’s going to hear how bad you need it.” 

“Ilya, holy shit,” Shane chokes out.

“Is that what you want? You want him to hear it?” Ilya starts to stroke Shane’s cock with a tight fist.

“Hnng, yes, uh—no, I mean—”

“C’mon, Shane. You can say it. Don’t you want him to know how good I make you feel?” Ilya’s voice is all sweetness. His fist picks up speed, and it’s probably too tight, too dry, but Shane’s hands are clenching and unclenching above his head and his throat is working around small ah, ah, ahs of pleasure. "Tell me, Shane."

“Uh-huh,” Shane breathes out, “Yeah, I want him to. Fuck, fuck, Ilya, I’m gonna come.” 

“No,” Ilya says, squeezing the base of Shane’s cock. Shane groans and doubles over like he’s been punched, but his trembling arms stay high above his head. “Such a good boy,” Ilya says, standing and pulling Shane in for a kiss, filthy and wet and perfect. When he pulls back, he says, “The only way you’ll come is in my mouth. Ok?”

“Yeah, love your mouth. Love you,” Shane says dreamily, and Ilya has to kiss him again.

Shane shivers when Ilya pulls back this time, drops his head to nuzzle into Ilya's shoulder. Ilya's words are warm and close in his ear. “I know you want him to hear you, baby, but I don’t." His fingers loosen the knot of Shane’s bowtie as he talks. “You see, I don’t think he deserves it.” He slips the bowtie off Shane’s neck. “Only I get to know how pretty you sound when you come for me. Right, sweetheart?” 

“S'right, yeah.” Shane is so far away now. Ilya's never felt more present.

Ilya lifts Shane's head and presses the bowtie against his lips. Shane's eyelids flutter at the cool silk on his hot mouth. “Open for me," Ilya says, soft and low. With gentle fingers, he tucks the bowtie inside.

“What do you say, Shane?”

“Thank you,” he manages, a thick mumble.