what is?

but shane wants to be trapped, asks for it without words, asks for it by laying down by getting on his hands and knees, holding himself open for ilya, spreads himself on the sofa while ilya is in the kitchen making them a snack, a lot of the time ilya doesn’t know when it’s going to happen, like shane has an internal alarm clock that no one else can ever hear.

and shane is always begging but so is ilya. he would lick the ground if shane told him too, eat scraps from his hands, beg for his hole. and somewhere deep down ilya knows something is wrong with both of them but he gorges himself on it.

shane is hard too, his cock rigid and wet, the tip leaving little stains against the grey fabric of his underwear, ilya wants to suck on it knows shane likes ilya putting his mouth on the material but also knows it irritates shane, the drenched fabric. he’d whine and whine “no ilya no i don’t like the feeling ilya” and ilya would spit, suck harder, slap his cock just to hear the wet sound and shane would cum like that, spurting and spurting and calling out ilyas name and ilya liked to rub the fabric even more, get it drenched in shane’s come, suck on that too then pull out his own dick and come all over it. rub it in telling shane “dirty boy, filthy. fuckin slut” just to watch shane’s ruddy cheeks lift in a grin behind his arms.

but now he has the camera open on his phone, no need for the flash because it’s 2pm on a saturday in july, and there is so much light coming through the large windows and 20 minutes ago ilyas boyfriend had stood up from the sofa, pulled his shorts down and dropped them on the ground. he didn’t turn around just walked towards the bedroom, ilya followed because of course he did, would follow on his knees if shane asked. ilya stood at their bedroom door and watched as shane opened the closet, his frame disappearing behind the door only to reappear with something yellow in his hands. he still hadn’t looked at Ilya, still didn’t when he slipped the sweater over his head.

the yellow sweater, thick wool. someone in shane's family got it for him as a gift. shane had opened it and smiled said "thank you I really like it" but Ilya could tell from the way shane's fingers shook a little that he didn't, didn't like the feeling the scratchy coarseness, maybe he could already feel how it would sit against his chest, it would irritate, annoy, cause shane to make that face, the one that says stop, stop too much but in the bad way, not in the way Ilya likes to poke and prod out of him.

Ilya had held the sweater after the gift giver had left their home, held it up and looked over at Shane "like big bird, yes?" and shane had barked a laugh "it's hideous" shane said, putting glasses in the dishwasher "she really doesn't know me" and that was true. not many people knew shane, not really. not like Ilya. it made ilya's chest puff up, made him hungry and proud. he rubbed the wool between his fingers "I dunno" ilya walking towards him "would be itchy on your chest" and shane shivered, uncomfortable even imagining it, said "uh huh" Ilya stood behind him, his hand on shanes hip "would scratch you. make your tits sensitive"

the glass shane was trying to put in the dishwasher stopped in mid air in his hand, Ilya squeezed shane's hip harder as shane whispered "Ilya" Ilya moved closer, pushed his crotch into shane's ass so he could feel, his tactile boyfriend. "it would make them itchy and raw, shane" shane's breathing was staggered now, the glass didn't move "I like your tits like this" shane said "yeah, yes. I know" ilya had hummed, pushed harder against shane's ass "put this on, shane. close the dishwasher, come to bed" Shane had and ilya had sucked on his sore tits until shane came with a yell.

so now the sweater is back and Ilya loves shane, loves the bones of him, loves him filthy and loves him clean. loves how the alarm in shane's brain had gone off and now he wants to hurt his own chest so ilya will play with him, suck his nipples, slap his pecs and call them his tits, shane's tits. every drop of blood in Ilya's body has seemingly travelled to his dick and he's moving before he even realises it "shane" he says "oh my baby" but Shane is holding his hand out to stop him and ilya may die he may DIE

"sit on the bed" shane says and ilya does, nearly trips over his own feet. he's watching shane, he feels like his tongue is too big for his mouth. shane is in his little grey briefs and the ugly sweater, his big thick cock obscene and leaking already. ilya said "shane" and shane shook his head, said "no" and then moved his hand to his left pec, over the sweater and began to rub. pushed the wool over his nipple, over and over, his face contorting, his eyes slipping closed and mouth opening. it felt bad, ilya knew it but shane was doing it because he knew what this would lead to.which, wasn't that shanes life? push, push, work out harder, keep going until it hurts and then there was the reward. ilya had to grab his own dick to try and calm down.