All That I Am

and then shane is lifting his head and ilya is cupping shane's chin, pressing his thumb to the corner of shane's mouth, tugging on his pretty swollen lips. shane's face tilts into the touch and his tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, catching the tip of ilya's thumb. shane's hands are tucked around ilya's ribs, fingers making circles over sensitive flesh. and then ilya is bending awkwardly, stretching his neck to capture shane's mouth in a searing kiss. he doesn't care that the angle hurts his neck or strains his traps. he wants to kiss this beautiful sleepy version of shane that's nuzzling into him and purring like he's some big, heavy cat. and shane's mouth tastes like stale morning breath and his lips are sloppy and a little over sensitive but ilya doesn't care. the kiss is perfect. he licks into shane's mouth and drags shane closer until shane is sitting on his stomach and bending down over him, his big hands now on either side of ilya's head and holding him in place. shane's thumbs rub over his earlobes and ilya breathes a sigh of relieve -- the touch soothes the parts of him still lingering in the impossibility of this all -- and ilya grips shane's face back, thumbs pressing into the hinge of shane's strong jaw and urging him to release, to slacken, to let ilya press his tongue into the depths of shane's hot mouth. shane relents to the touch easily, of course, jaw slack and breathes panting in increasingly higher whines and ilya bites at his already sensitive lips and sucks on his tongue.

the makeout turns to rolling over the mattress, limbs tangling together, hands shoving briefs aside so they're entirely skin-to-skin. ilya's hands find the meat of shane's ass and his fingers dig in, kneading the flesh, pushing them closer together. shane's hands mimic the movement of ilya's and he grins as shane squeezes his ass and drags their hips tight together in a uncoordinated inelegant rhythm. rolling waves of pressure and closeness in each sliding press of their swollen cocks together. and shane is breathing a little shaky and his mouth has dropped open and his lashes are fluttering and his cheeks are pink and ilya is dropping kisses over and over and over, all across the skin in reach. a kiss to shane's jaw, his chin, his cheeks, his nose, his forehead, his eyelids, his brows, his lips, his lips, his lips. and he wants to swallow shane whole and he wants to look at him forever and he wants to fuck him and he wants to hold him and he wants to kiss kiss kiss him.

"please fuck me," shane's whispering, shivering when ilya presses his fingers between his cheeks and feels where shane is still relaxed and tender from yesterday. they'd fucked once, twice, three times before the end of the day. unable to help themselves. the first time a rush of pushing biting scratching shoving with shane on his knees. then with shane on top gripping at ilya's chest and riding ilya so filthy, so fast, so fierce it had made ilya's brain melt out his ears helpless but to grasp at shane's hips and grunt with each skilled roll of the man's body. then with shane on his back, legs locked around ilya's hips and their fingers tangled, pressing into the mattress above their heads as they kissed and moved lazily in the soft glow of the lamplight. and between that they'd kissed, and kissed, and kissed. kissed tangled on the couch after dinner. kissed by the firepit with ilya's hands cupping the back of shane's head. kissed in the shower pressed against the cool glass. kissed after they'd brushed their teeth, breaths minty, shane sitting on the counter and wrapping his legs around ilya's hips, keeping them close together.

and then shane's pleading, again, "please, ilya, fuck me." and ilya is humming, nodding, pressing shane down into the mattress and pushing his knees back to open him up. he's staring for a moment, thumb brushing over where shane is sensitive and clenching around nothing, begging to be filled, and then he's moaning and dragging his tongue over the hot flesh, kissing and sucking and prodding into shane's body with his slick tongue. and he stays there between shane's legs until his chin is slick with saliva and shane is writhing and tugging at his hair. when he pulls back shane is all blushing neck and flushed chest and sweat slick forehead and wide blown pupils and he's so so so fucking pretty. he's so fucking pretty and he likes ilya. he's so fucking pretty and he wants ilya to fuck him. he's so fucking pretty and he wants to relax with ilya, for once. and ilya is crawling back up his body and kissing him again and shane is moaning and biting at his mouth and arching up to rub his cock into ilya's hip and he's cupping ilya's balls with one hand and shoving the other in ilya's curls and gripping tight and saying "i like you so much" and ilya is grinding his body into shane's touch and then he's gasping and fuck did he just...?

shane's hips still and ilya squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a long, self-admonishing groan, head dropping down to the crook of shane's neck, hiding himself there in the warmth of shane's skin. and shane is giggling and ilya is pinching his side and shane is just giggling harder.

"did you just...?" shane asks and ilya is growling "shut up" as shane is tugging on his hair trying to get him to look at him. when he pulls back -- finally -- he expects to see maybe disappointment but shane is grinning wild and wide. his eyes are all crinkled and his freckles are bunched up around his nose and his mouth is stretched in a smile ilya has never seen before and he puffs a breath as he looks at this pretty, beautiful, perfect man. who likes him. so much. of course he just...

"sorry," he mumbles and shane shakes his head and nuzzles their mouths together, dragging lazy kisses over ilya's slack lips. "no," he's saying "that was hot" and ilya is making an indignant sound. it was definitely not hot that he just came from shane barely touching him and talking to him all sweetly in his deep morning voice. "you really like me," shane teases and ilya groans "you like me so much you came before i even did anything" and ilya is muttering "shut the fuck up" and shane is laughing again but it turns to moaning gasping whimpering when ilya wraps a calloused palm around shane's dribbling cock, thumb pressing meanly into the sensitive head.

and then he's bullying shane onto his stomach and yanking his hips up and spreading his cheeks with his hands and pushing his tongue back into shane's hole. eating him out ferociously, rough and sloppy, morning stubble dragging a little painfully over sensitve skin. and he won't touch shane's dick. he won't let shane come. he won't let shane touch himself. he's indulging in sucking and kissing and tonguing at shane's pretty wet loose hole until he is hard again and then he's fucking shane long and slow and mean. not quite giving him enough to come, driving him over the edge of over sensitve, holding him down between the shoulder blades and making him take it. ilya's come once now he can go on and on and on. and shane is whimpering, tears spilling over red cheeks, by the time ilya finally picks up the pace, adjusts his angle, and gives shane what he wants. fucking into shane hard and brutal and precise. cock dragging over that perfect spot on every press in and on every drag back out. still he doesn't let shane touch himself and shane is hiccuping, gripping at the sheets and clenching his teeth around pathetic little mewls by the time he is finally coming. handsfree. shaking beneath ilya's hold. ilya pulls out and tears of the condom and jerks himself off furiously until he's coming all over shane's ass, painting his skin in sticky, thick cum. shane's gasping at the sensation and his spent cock dribbles more between his legs as he whimpers, reaching back for ilya's hand, fingers clenching and unclenching begging for connection.

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