Shane and Ilya laying in bed post fuck, Shane sprawled on his back still, Ilya between his legs, Shane’s thighs loosely pressed to Ilya’s sides, Ilya is still inside Shane, he’ll stay like that till he too soft for his cock to stay there, because Shane loves it, feeling full till the last moment and Ilya does too, loves how Shane whines if he even feels like Ilya is going to pull out. Shane is all big wet brown eyes and sleepy blinks, his arms are wrapped around Ilya’s neck, hands holding on to his opposite elbows, cradling Ilya close to him. Shane’s stomach is still tensing and jumping, ebbing out the last of his orgasm and he’s nuzzling his nose and lips in slow nuzzles against Ilya’s curls.
Ilya adores him like this, like a kitten nuzzling, when he rubs his face into some part of Ilya- any part of him, like he’s trying to push his way into his body, covering his senses in Ilya, pleasure seeking with Ilya’s body.
Ilya shivers when Shane clenches around him, thighs shifting against Ilya’s sides as he adjusts himself. “Sorry” Shane sighs and Ilya shakes his head, smoothes his hands down Ilya’s sides, rubs a flat hand over his tummy. “No no, just sensitive, sweetheart” and then he’s pulling back from Shane’s nuzzling, looking down at him all flush faced and staring up at Ilya like, like something impossible, like Ilya could never have dreamed of- with reverence, adoration. He blinks heavy and his arms tighten around Ilya’s neck, as if making sure he’ll stay close.
“You okay?” Ilya asks and Shane nods, beams and there’s a smudge of saliva on his chin, his mouth is so shiny with spit and there’s some come wet between his pecs from his own orgasm and Ilya feels like an animal, a frantic thing a predator for how much he desires Shane, is consumed by him, how he needs him in the most human basic primal sense. He feels dizzy at being the one trusted by Shane to have this, his pleasure.
“Sooooo good” Shane exhales, his face happy and open, so fucking open, so comfortable in himself and arches his back in a small stretch, presses his shoulder blades down into the bed, wriggles his hips a bit and he’s going to kill Ilya one of these days.
“Soooo good” Ilya echos back, so happy he feels fucking stupid, cups Shane’s cheek and rubs his thumb over Shane’s pretty red mouth the dark pout of it, the full bottom lip that pushes out. Ilya leans down and bites Shane’s mouth, the whole shape of it between his cheek and then takes his bottom lip onto his mouth, bites and sucks at it. His hands open and warm rub up and down Shane’s sides in slow heavy touches.
“You are so good” Ilya mumbles as he pulls back, knocks their noses together and pulls back further to watch the way Shane’s head tilts forward to chase Ilya’s mouth.
“Always a good boy” Ilya rubs his lips against the corner of Shane’s mouth, feels the way he shivers with the words and drags his mouth down and bites at his chin.
“Was so fucking hot, always is, my perfect boy. my perfect perfect boy” Ilya kisses his way over Shane’s face as he says it, watches the blush splotch on his cheeks and neck.
“Your boy” Shane mumbles back and Ilya heart squeezes, pounds pounds pounds. Ilya’s hands smooth over Shane’s thighs, up to his waist and cuddle around him pulling them flush flush together, Shane up off the bed.
Shane turns his face, trying to find Ilya’s mouth again and Ilya smiles. Shane is always so extra kissey like this.
Ilya kisses his once, twice, a third time with a wet lick of his tongue and Shane is groaning happily into it, tangling his fingers into Ilya’s hair and pulling him in like their could be a physical way to be closer than this. Shane’s teeth mash against Ilya’s at his excitement to kiss, eagerness and Ilya pulls back slow, tiny peck as he pulls away, tilts his head up and down to rub his mouth over Shane’s swollen one.
Ilya pulls back enough to see his face, and dies again a thousand small deaths at the face of his love, dark eyes glowing and small smile warm and a sweet magnet to Ilya, mirroring each small movement of his head, a tiny thread of gold ties them together, Ilya is sure of it, the way they move as one.
“Yeah Shane, my boy” Ilya agrees and reaches up to smooth his fingertips over Shane’s mouth Shane nuzzles up into his fingertips and Ilya traces his swollen mouth, feels the exhales from his nose, pushes his fingertips in just so to feel the wet and warmth, where his tongue had just been. Ilya thinks he’d live between Shane’s molars if he could.
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