BEANIE

Shane is handing Ilya something. It looks like? a pair of shoes?

“Here,” Shane places the slipper things into ilya’s hands.

“What are these?” Ilya asks.

“Water shoes.”

“Why do I wear shoes in the water?”

“Because otherwise your feet will get muddy and sandy and touch rocks and seaweed and gross stuff,” Shane explains.

“So? I will just wash them. After.”

“But it feels yucky? On your toes?”

“I will be okay Hollander.” He hands the shoes back to him.

Shane looks extremely wary. “But what if you get a scratch on your foot from a rock or a zebra mussel?”

“Oh no, not a scratch,” Ilya says, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Shane makes his ‘disgruntled frown’ face, which of course makes Ilya’s heart go all mushy.

“Fine. I will wear the shoes. Give.”

Shane looks at him like he suspects Ilya is about to chuck the shoes into the lake, never to be seen again.

“Shane, moya lyubov,” Ilya tries. “I am going to wear these stupid water shoes for you so I do not get cuts. Give them to me.”

Shane gets this soft look in his eyes. “What does that mean? Moya Loo-Bof”

He butchers the pronunciation, but Ilya knows what he means. He didn’t necessarily mean for Russian the term of endearment to slip out, but it did, naturally. His entire face blushes red.

“My love,” he mumbles, scared, even after their confessions last night, that he’s spooked shane off.

3.6k | E | soft Ilya, developing relationship, smut with a side of angst & fluff

“Hollander. Are you good?”

It was fairly typical of Shane to be glassy-eyed and floating for a while after sex, especially if Ilya was particularly nasty with him - holding his face down, pinning his hands behind his back, whispering filth in his ear.

He wasn’t usually out of it for this long, though, and Ilya was starting to become concerned.

He had to leave, he couldn’t stay in Shane’s hotel room forever, but there was no way in good conscience he could leave him like this. He’d cleaned up afterwards, half-dragged Shane into the shower, plied him with cold water: all the usual tricks to help ease him back into reality. None of it had worked.

Or: a series of scenes of Ilya doing his best to take care of Shane, spanning years of their relationship.

shane is upright against the bathroom stall wall, his hips tilted sligthly to get the angle right. pants and underwear pushed down his thighs.

ilya’s pants are down just enough to have his dick out. he has a hand pressing the side of shane’s face into the dirty stall wall, right next to some graffiti of a dick. ilya would laugh if he wasn’t so worked up fucking into shane so frantically.

the stall creaks at the pressure of each thrust and shane’s eyes are rolled back with pleasure. ilya keeps rutting his hips fast and sloppy but it has shane’s dick leaking against the wall, precum dripping down it slowly.

little whimpers are escaping shane’s parted pink lips.

ilya nuzzles his face into the side of shane’s head, sliding his hand to the wall beside them.

suddenly the bathroom door opens and ilya is clamping that hand over shane’s whimpering mouth, softening his thrusts but not stopping them completely. shane is almost vibrating under ilya.

the telltale signs of someone using the urinal and then not washing their hands before they exit the bathroom echo through the tiled room.

ilya slides his hand off shane’s mouth and shoves it between the stall wall and shane’s torso, trailing down until he has a hand on shane’s leaking cock.

“do you think he heard you, moya shlyukha?” ilya asks. shane moans in response as ilya’s hand tightens on his cock, his thrusts not relenting, “do you think he heard how needy you are to be fucked like a whore in a dirty public restroom, hmm?”

shane cums, spilling onto the green stall wall in front of him. he lets out a raspy ilya as he shudders through it. ilya doesn’t need anything more than his name on shane’s lips to be shooting deep inside shane.

cliff marleau laying a blanket over it as inconspicuously as possible to try and get roz to fall in like a looney toons trap which he gets ONCE rozys first or second year and then roz doesnt go to the beach with him for 5 years.

cliff marleau with sunburn lines from his whore short swim trunks and constant sunglasses on his face.

cliff marleau trying surfing every year and wiping out IMMEDIATELY every year (he still tries over and over for an hour every year. this year will be the year he gets it. this year will be the year he succeeds. this year is not the year he gets it. this year is not the year he succeeds.)

cliff marleau building shitty sand castles and decorating them with shells and shit he finds on the shore.

big dick cliff marleau and big dick ilya rozanov in tabloids in the summer for their whore short swim trunks and clear dick print in the pap pics. they’re sunburnt and laughing and cliff is mid thigh deep into digging his beach pit and they’re dripping wet and will have heat stroke by the end of the day because they didnt drink enough water.

cliff marleau getting a mouthful of sea water because hes diving for a cool shell before the current pulls it out, he wants it for his sand castles or for his sea shell bucket (the kiddie bucket he used to dig out The Pit).

cliff marleau being slowly taken out to sea while someone’s trying to tell him from the shore, hes having too much fun to care. roz watching him slowly get further out and snapping a pic to post with “defense position open, ours is a fish😒”. he stops doing this and is more aware of how far out he is after 3 years when his mother finds out about this behavior and damn near grounds him to his room.

cliff marleau off season summer fun and hes lathering himself in aloe 20 minutes before he does sunscreen and goes right back outside for the whole day.