Their sound of their lips is slick and loud, and Shane can hear the rush of his own heartbeat in his ears, the rustle of their clothes together. He’s not grinning on Ilya, and Ilya is pushing down into him, but there are these tiny presses of their hips, half hard- but not seeking anything further, not chasing, just content in the connection of their bodies in every place they can manage.

Ilya’s tongue draws back and Shane catches Ilya’s top lip with teeth and tongue, Ilya’s mouth tastes like his, their shared spit. Shane’s fingers find the shape of Ilya’s earlobe, thumb starts to rub over it softly, and it makes Ilya whine, like Shane knows it does, because he knows, knows very well how Ilya Rozanov kisses, how he likes to be kissed back. Ilya’s hand squeezes Shane’s hip, pulls him in tighter, drags his tongue over Shane’s, licks up over the roof of his mouth and Shane shivers. His jaw aches with the stretch of the kiss as Ilya licks into his mouth hungry.

Then the oven beeps, loud and jarring and Shane’s first thought is what the fuck? But then- oh- dinner. They had put the potatoes and vegetables to roast in the oven an hour ago and chicken legs half an hour ago. Shane had been going to find deck of cards he knew was in the living room because he had told Ilya he would to teach him how to play Cribbage. Ilya had already asked if they could play strip cribbage. Shane didn’t think it would be possible but he was sure Ilya would find a way.

He’d been leant over the coffee table, digging in a draw for the cards when Ilya had found him, a slap to his bent over ass, before his hands pulled Shane back into him. Shane had told him to fuck off and Ilya had said no and then Shane had jabbed at his side, Ilya had flicked Shane’s ear and then they were on the carpet slapping hands away. Then, as with the pace of the day it seemed, they were kissing again.

Shane pulls back with a gasp from the kiss. “Dinner. Ilya- we need to” Ilya’s mouth was already back on his own. Shane’s hands slid to Ilya hair, pulled, turned his head away from Ilya’s mouth. The alarm was still going off.

“It’ll burn” Shane sighs, shivers when Ilya’s mouth finds his jaw, kisses and licks at the warm skin.

“In a minute” Ilya rumbles back and drags his teeth over the light already fading hickey he left there this morning.

Shane sighs, heat rushes at the feeling and he swallows, wriggles under Ilya’s frame.

“You’ll be so” Shane’s voice is breathy and he clears his throat. “So annoying if I don’t feed you” and then Shane feels Ilya laugh against his throat.

“You have fed me plenty” Ilya grumbles back, hand sliding down to take a handful of Shane’s ass, voice heavy with innuendo.

“Shut up” Shane bitches and pinches Ilya’s side in the way he doesn’t like, and says “dinner Ilya dinner” and Ilya whines and pulls back. Shane bits back a whine at the loss of Ilya’s warmth, despite knowing Ilya getting up is how they will achieve making sure dinner isn’t burnt.

Shane’s hands, now with no Ilya to hold, lay by his sides and he looks up at Ilya up on his knees between Shane’s legs, looking down at him. His necklace swings and the light catches the glint of gold. He’s all tanned skin, corded muscle and moles in the low light. There’s a bruise from Shane’s mouth in his ribs. Shane licks his lips and he wants Ilya to fuck him again. The oven alarm beeps ever strong in the distance. Shane lets out a short breath through his nose.

“Come on then, up, mr dinner Ilya dinner, I thought this was urgent and you are just laying on floor” Ilya teases and Shane kicks his heel into Ilya’s ass.

“I will help with my big muscles don’t worry” Ilya smirks and then he’s pulling Shane up with the arm under his back, till Shane is sat over Ilya’s hips in his kneeling position.

Suddenly they are close again, breath mingling between the mouths. Ilya’s mouth is bitten dark, his thicker upper lip swollen. His mouth shines in the low light of the cottage with his and Shane’s spit. It makes Shane’s cock pulse. Something swells in his chest. Shane squirms in Ilya’s lap and Ilya’s arm tightens around him, a firm grip that anchors him closer. Shane’s eyes dart up Ilya’s and he can see Ilya’s eyes staring at his mouth, dark and lidded. Ilya’s hand is on his face then and his thumb is making circles over Shane’s mouth. It feels like an old bruise, a muscle that aches after training. His lips throb.

“Mm” Ilya’s hum is low and maybe involuntary and Shane feels it vibrate through his own, and oh- when did they get that close again.

Then Ilya is kissing him again, soft pecks all over Shane’s mouth, closed mouth kisses that make Shane’s toes start working their wriggle again.

Ilya’s licking into his mouth and Shane’s hands are catching Ilyas face, and he’s been kissing Ilya for a decade, but it’s that same stupid heavy rush it had been when he was a teenager and all he could think was oh, that’s what kissing is because any kiss before it had seemed like it must be something else entirely, it didn’t even live in the same universe.

Shane made a soft sound, head heavy with the thought of their first kiss, the thought of Ilya knowing how to kiss him so well, of knowing just what Shane likes, being just what Shane likes. The taste of Ilya’s mouth being a comfort, a home. Shane pushes his hips down, pulls at the back of Ilya’s neck, sucks Ilya’s tongue into his mouth and- and then Ilya is pulling his mouth away with a slick sound and Shane whimpers, frowns.

“Dinner Shane, dinner” Ilya whispers and Shane puts his have over Ilya’s face, before he clambers up.

Ilya’s footsteps are quick behind him.