So he works to get the pronunciation down, and finally springs it on him one day when Ilya’s just come in from the lake, hair air dried and floofy and he’s all open limbs and soft edges.

The moment the words fill the space, Ilya goes silent, and tears start to fall. Shane panics, and closes the gap between them to hold his husband close with a crushing grip.

‘What’s wrong? Did I not do it right? Did I say something bad?’

Ilya stays quiet for a moment, trying to control the inevitable break in his voice when he speaks. When it comes out, it’s wet, and wounded, like blood seeping out the mouth of an injured animal.

‘No, no. It’s ok- my mama, she-’ another small sob. ‘She used to call me that. I have not heard it in a very long time.’

Shane knows he doesn’t need to reply, or to fill the following lull.

He just needs to stand there. Solid and unyielding.

nipples? perky. shirt? see-through. thighs? massive. stache? unshaved. socks? UP

@terreurs :)

after dick and kisses