Something about how on their wedding night, they stay up so late chatting with friends and family, dancing to Harris’ increasingly cheesy playlist, and just sitting and watching everyone they love… that when they go to bed they just can’t even muster the energy to fuck. They shower together and kiss and touch and grope and grind their bodies against each other, but by the time they’re toweling off they just tumble into bed and barely awake kiss and touch a little more but then they’re happily humming into each others mouths but the hums turn to deep breaths and then little snores and they’re dead asleep.
Sometime just before 5am, Ilya sits up with a start like he’s breaking out of a bad dream, gasping, as he realizes they did not fuck on their wedding night. Isn’t that bad luck? Or like some sort of curse? They cannot start off their marriage as a sexless one. That is not who they are. This cannot stand. Ilya has to remedy this before they are doomed.
The sun isn’t up yet so it’s still kind of the same night, right?
Ilya feels himself getting hard through the panic, and that animal part of his brain clicks on. This, this he knows how to do. Seducing Shane is his favorite pastime and he’s got to get to work.
He turns towards his sleeping husband (god, Ilya can’t actually believe that just yet), seeing that Shane he curled towards him, his hand on Ilya’s thigh, he’d hardly noticed in his panic.
Ilya gently lifts Shane’s arm so he can slide under it, lying down now facing Shane, grabbing his hip and pulling their bodies flush together. Shane sighs and his eyes flutter but he keeps sleeping.
Ilya peppers kisses over his eyelids, his freckles, the one ear he can reach. As he starts kissing down Shane’s neck he feels a small gasp against his shoulder, and Shane’s croaky sleep voice says, “Ilya, what are you up to?”
Ilya lightly bites Shane’s shoulder. “I’m trying to seduce my husband.”
Shane softly laughs and pulls his head back so he can see Ilya’s face. “What time is it?”
“It is still our wedding night.”
“Is it? Where’s my phone?” Shane tries to turn away to look for his phone and Ilya grabs his neck and pulls their naked bodies back together. He can tell the moment Shane feels Ilya hard on Shane’s thigh, because Shane rolls his hips a little and starts to harden too.
“Mmm. Fuck, Ilya, I was so tired I barely remember getting into bed.”
“Do you feel rested now?” Ilya nips up Shane’s neck and under his chin.
Shane runs his hands down Ilya’s bare back and grabs on to his ass, pulling himself harder against Ilya so they both can feel the friction.
“I am definitely less interested in sleep. Did you get so horny in your sleep it woke you up?”
“No, I was having nightmare that I didn’t fuck my husband on our wedding night. Was horrible.”
Shane laughs into Ilya’s neck, but is now rolling his hips, grinding himself on Ilya’s thigh. Both of their mouths roaming each others throats, faces, anywhere they can reach. “Ilya we fucked twice the day of our wedding. Once in the morning, once right before my parents arrived because you said you had to or you might throw me over your shoulder right after the ceremony.”
Ilya stops Shane with a long, deep, exploratory kiss. Shane chases his mouth after they break from the kiss, as Ilya says, “Yes, but we weren’t husbands yet.”
“But we are now.” Shane leans in for an awkward smiling kiss, where their lips don’t meet quite right and their teeth almost bump. He’d gotten used to these kisses over the years, and he loved them in all their awkward glory.
“So, we’re both awake and it’s still our wedding night. What are you going to do to me Mr. Hollander-Rozanov?”
Ilya growls as he finally rolls on top of Shane, nestling between his thick thighs. He grabs Shane’s wrists and locks them over his head with one hand, while the other gets to work opening Shane up.
“You should find something to hold on to, husband.”
(This just randomly came to mind and I’m tired so forgive the typos, grammar, etc. I’ll probably edit it in the morning.)
