dark pessimistic cloud

picks up at the paragraph about Shane wishing he brought lube to the foyer (which I've included here too if you need/want to search for it)

added tags: spitting, rimming, anal sex and a very desperate shane (plus more crying)

He wishes he’d brought lube with him, he wants to be fucked. He closes his eyes and leans his head against Ilya’s as he thinks about what they could’ve done if they just had some lube. He could’ve had the two of them ready to fuck the moment Ilya gets coherent enough to start thrusting. He could’ve slicked Ilya’s cock before twisting around, positioning himself that all Ilya had to do was grab his hips and pull him down.

His cock twitches as he imagines himself sitting on his knees in front of Ilya, legs spread apart and leaning back far enough that Ilya’s tip is brushing against his hole, he imagines what it would be like sinking down on Ilya’s cock –

Ilya comes back to life between one second and the next and the first thing he does is reach between them and take both their cocks in his hand and start jerking them off.

“Fuck, Ilya,” Shane moans, grabbing Ilya’s unmoving arm to hold himself steady. “Please.”

“Please what?” Ilya sounds strained, as if he’s still on the edge and holding himself back. Shane groans and loses all his thoughts as Ilya moves his other hand to place on top of their cocks, rubbing his palm against their tips. “Please what?”

“Fuck.” Shane drags it out. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Shane can’t get words to appear in his head, can only dig his fingers into Ilya’s arm and feel Ilya’s hands on his cock. He opens his mouth not to speak, but to moan.

“Fuck, Shane,” Ilya groans, letting out a rough breath before repeating himself for a fourth time, “Please what?”

Just as Shane opens his mouth to answer, he presses his palm down harshly on their tips and Shane blacks out.

The only thing that exists is Ilya’s hands and their two cocks.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” Shane gasps. “Yes, please, oh fuck, please.”

Ilya lets go of their cocks instantly. “Lube?”

Shane wants to cry. He presses his face against Ilya’s shoulder as he tries to force his tears back in. He doesn’t get it, he’s not a crier. The tears leaking out of his eyes when Ilya shoves his entire cock inside Shane’s mouth doesn’t count, they’re a physical reaction. This is different, this crying is different. For a split second, he wonders if Ilya would laugh at him if he actually did cry.

“Okay, no lube.” Ilya states and Shane’s eyes burn. He wraps his arms tighter around Ilya, forcing them so closely together there’s nothing between them, as he tries to work through the emotions inside him. “Are you –” Ilya doesn’t finish his sentence, but he reaches up to cradle Shane’s head. “Shane. Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Shane mumbles when he’s sure he’s fought back the tears. “Fuck me, please.”

“Okay. But I need lube. And I think your legs hurt.” They do. “If you want me to fuck you in a weird place, I think we have the new mat in the guestroom left.”

Shane scoffs, “Fuck you.”

“Or, we do have Anya’s beds, but I don’t think –”

“Ew,” Shane groans, pushing Ilya away from him. “You’re gonna make me go soft.”

Ilya helps pull Shane up, already on his feet. He leans in and as he whispers in his ear, he grabs Shane’s cock, “You’re lying.”

“If you’re taking me to one of Anya’s beds, I promise you, I will go soft.”

“What are you saying?” Ilya exclaims loudly. “That’s disgusting Shane, poor Anya.”

“Fuck off,” Shane scoffs. “Asshole.” He shoves him lightly and Ilya lets himself be moved, but he keeps his hand on Shane’s cock.

“If I lead you to the lube like this –” he gives Shane’s cock a squeeze “– will you come?”

Shane feels his eyes widening in surprise. “I don’t think so, why?”

Ilya shrugs. “Fun. One to ten.”

“What?”

“One least likely, ten most likely.”

“Six?”

“Did you come before I got home?”

“No.”

“You’ve been this hard for so long, seen me come that big, and only a six?” Shane shrugs. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Try.”

Ilya studies him carefully for a moment before nodding. “Okay.”

He moves his hand down to the base of Shane’s cock as he turns them towards the living room. He lets his hand glide up Shane’s length as he takes a small step forward, stopping his just below his tip. He tightens his grip and gives his cock a sudden, firm tug as he takes another step.

Shane stumbles forward, an embarrassingly high-pitched moan escaping him.

Ilya continues moving forward, his grip on Shane’s cock still tight but not tugging as hard, mostly using it as something a leash to make sure Shane follows him.

It’s a weird feeling and Shane wonders if he’ll make it to the living room before his legs give out. It’s the way he’s holding his cock, the way his tight grip barely lets his hand move at all, he concept of being dragged through the house with his cock. He runs a thumb over Shane’s slit, and Shane stumbles again, his mind blank.

This has to be too weird to be something other people do, Shane’s never heard of anyone being dragged through a house by their cock. But fuck if he isn’t enjoying it, his cheeks are burning as he stumbles forward, always half a step behind Ilya. He reaches out to wrap his fingers around Ilya’s arm, hoping the touch will ground him.

Ilya gives his cock another firm tug and at the same time as he stops walking, letting his hand glide down Shane’s cock when he comes up next to him.

“You enjoy this?” he asks, barely glancing at Shane as he strokes him.

“Yeah,” Shane breathes out, low moans escaping him as Ilya twists his hand on each downwards stroke.

“Still not gonna come?”

“Don’t think so,” Shane answers, shaking his head.

“If you weren’t so desperate –” he moves his hand up and down a couple of times in quick motions “– I’d see how long I could take you for a walk like this.”

“I’m not desperate,” Shane protests, but he sounds out of breath and he ends the sentence with digging his fingers into Ilya’s arm. Ilya looks over at him with raised brows and Shane corrects himself, “Not that desperate.”

Ilya chuckles. “Still. You wanted my cock inside you so bad you cried, and I’m not evil.”

He gives Shane a hard, unexpected tug and precome spurts out of him, landing on the floor. He can feel the familiar tightening feeling low in his stomach and his hole clenches around nothing. He feels empty, he wants to be fucked. He desperately wants to be fucked. Ilya says he’s not evil, and he’ll give him his cock, Shane knows that. But it’s taking so long, it’s taking too long.

He watches as Ilya bends down and wipes his precome off the floor with his thumb, never letting go of Shane’s cock. He stands back up, twists slightly that they can easily see each other’s faces before he licks it off the pad of his thumb. His eyes widen as Ilya sucks his thumb inside his mouth, cheeks hollowing as he sucks hard on it. Shane groans as Ilya moans, exaggerating the sound well aware it’ll drive Shane mad.

Ilya takes his thumb out and Shane’s jaw drops. “Not desperate,” he says with an amused scoff before pushing his thumb back inside. He starts stroking Shane as he moves his thumb in and out of his mouth and Shane’s mouth starts watering. He feels the saliva gather and run down his chin as he, without even blinking, watches Ilya suck on his thumb, as he moves it in and out of his mouth.

He pulls it out again, a string of saliva connecting the them as he comments, “Now who’s drooling?”

Shane doesn’t care, he’s aware he’s drooling and he doesn’t care. His hole clenches and his cock keeps steadily leaking as he watches him, waiting. He wants to be fucked, he wants Ilya inside of him, not himself. He’ll take Ilya’s thumb right now, his fingers, his tongue, he needs something inside.

“Please,” he begs with a broken voice. “Please.”

“Okay.” Ilya wipes his mouth worth the back of his hand as he starts moving them to the living room again, pulling Shane along by his cock.

He never stops stroking him as he leans down, rumbling through the drawer and pulling out lube and a condom. 

“Over the couch?” Shane can only nod open-mouthed, he’ll take Ilya anywhere right now if it means he’ll get fucked. Ilya nudges them over to the couch. “You do blanket.”

Shane turns and reaches out to grab the blanket and clumsily drapes it over the couch. He can hear Ilya rip the condom open with his teeth before letting go of Shane’s cock. He can’t help but whine over the loss, but Ilya’s soon there again, nudging Shane to completely face the couch as he rolls the condom downs the cock.

When he’s made sure that it’s on, he gives Shane a hard shove.

Shane stumbles, reaching out to catch himself. He moves up, bracing his arms on the top of the couch and moving his knees up. As he waits for Ilya, he shuffles his knees back closer to the edge and arches his back, getting himself into position.

He’s still breathing heavily and drooling when he hears the click of a bottle and the wet sound of Ilya slicking himself up. Shane can feel the heat of Ilya’s body before he even touches him and is ready when Ilya places a hand on his lower back, rubbing it up and down his back before stopping at his shoulder, squeezing it.

“Okay?” he checks, and Shane nods, making a sound that he hopes Ilya understands as assurance.

Ilya moves his hand back down and grabs Shane’s ass, spreading his cheeks apart with one hand on each. Something warm and wet hits his hole and Ilya moves one of his hands to rub the wetness over his hole. Shane gets another warm blob, this time accompanied by a spitting sound that makes Shane moan before he’s even back with his fingers. The knowledge of Ilya spitting on his hole causes his head to go fuzzy and he pushes back against his fingers, wordlessly begging for more. Ilya continues rubbing, pushing the tip of one of his fingers inside. Then he bends down and runs his tongue over his hole.

“Fuck,” Shane moans as he works the tip of his tongue inside his hole, above his finger. He presses and pushes on his rim, trying to make Shane relax. His desperation has settled somewhat now that he has something of Ilya inside of him, and he thrusts his ass back and forth against Ilya’s mouth.

“Please,” he begs. “Please.”

Ilya moves his mouth back far enough to say, “Patience,” before diving back in. But he’s working faster now, with more determination.

“Just fuck me, please. Ilya, please.” When Ilya only continues licking at him, Shane switches to Russian, it usually has better effect. “Please fuck me, please.”

It works because he moves both his mouth and finger away, swearing loudly. He spits on Shane’s hole again and this time he can feel it run along his rim and down to his balls where they hang heavy between his legs. It feels so dirty and so good at the same time.

He arches his back even more when the slick sound of Ilya stroking himself reaches him. “Please Ilya, I want it.”

Then he feels Ilya’s warm, wet tip being slapped against him, his hole fluttering desperately. Ilya slaps at it again before changing to just tapping it against Shane’s hole as he reaches out to rub Shane’s back.

“Relax,” he mutters in Russian, “you need to relax.”

Shane doesn’t think he’s capable, frustrated tears run down his cheeks as he focuses with everything he has on relaxing his hole enough for Ilya to start push his tip in. There’s nothing he wants more, he feels so fucking empty. He wants Ilya’s cock, he wants to be fucked so bad.

Ilya positions his tip against Shane’s hole and starts applying a little pressure and Shane immediately starts rambling, “Yes, yes, yes.”

The relief that rushes through his body quickly disappears as Ilya stops pushing, he’s not even got his entire tip in and Shane doesn’t know what he has to do for Ilya to fuck him. He pushes back against Ilya, gripping the couch as he tries to sink down on Ilya’s cock, tears freely running down his cheeks. He hangs his head down between his arms to hide it.

Ilya’s still rubbing Shane’s back, urging him to relax more. It must work, because he pushes in enough to give Shane his entire tip and he immediately moans in relief, “Yes, Ilya.”

Shane whines embarrassingly loudly when Ilya pulls out, even more tears falling down his face, running along his throat. It’s so embarrassing, he’s so fucking embarrassed over the fact that he’s crying this much just because Ilya isn’t fucking him.

He moans again as Ilya pushes the tip back in, but he pulls it out again almost as quickly and this time Shane can’t hold back his sobs. He bites his lip hard to stop any sound escaping, but his entire body moves and alerts Ilya to what mess he is anyway.

Ilya backs off and moves to the side, placing a knee next to Shane on the couch and reaching out to grab his chin. He tries to fight it, to hide his humiliating tears, but Ilya only applies more pressure and moves his face so that he can see him.

Ilya’s face almost crumbles with worry as he sees Shane’s wet face and red eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, leaning forward to press a kiss on Shane’s forehead. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Shane opens his mouth to wave it off, pretend he isn’t sobbing with desperation to be fucked, but he just whines, more tears falling down his face. He can’t believe he’s still this hard, he can’t believe his body likes this humiliation enough to not even pause when Ilya searches his face, running a hand over his cheek, trying to wipe his tears away even though they’re falling in a steady stream out of his eyes now.

Finally, he manages to get out, “Please fuck me,” in a broken voice. “I need you. Please, Ilya.”

Ilya studies him for a couple more seconds before nodding. “Okay.” He lets go of Shane’s chin and moves back behind him, the click of a bottle and Shane can feel him pour lube on his hole. The rustling of Ilya pulling off his shirt and then he’s there with his cock, pushing inside and not stopping until he completely bottoms out.

Shane’s filled with so much relief that when he opens his mouth nothing comes out.

“Better?” Ilya checks when he doesn’t get a verbal response, grinding against Shane while he waits.

Shane can only nod, wants to only nod, but he has to. It takes everything he has to force out the words, “Please, please.” He pushes his ass back against him.

The moment the words leave him, Ilya starts thrusting in and out of him. “Don’t worry,” he assures him, “I will give you what you need.”

But when he doesn’t up his tempo or fucking him harder, Shane starts begging again. He’s not sure what he’s saying, he feels out of control, but it seems like Ilya’s getting the message because he grips his hips tighter and begins pounding into him.

He punches groans out of Shane every time he bottoms out, slick sound joining the slapping skin as he keeps up his fast pace. He moves one hand to grab Shane’s ass, squeezing it hard and Shane pushes back at him, trying to meet his thrusts halfway.

Ilya never falters, keeping up his fast pace and alternating between grabbing Shane hips helping him thrust back, squeezing his ass tightly and occasionally running a hand up along his side.

It doesn’t take long until Shane’s crying out, “I’m gonna, oh fuck, come, fuck, I’m gon–”

Ilya immediately reaches around and holds the condom in place as Shane comes, filling it with come. He’s not thrusting anymore, only grinding and pushing in as deep as possible as Shane comes. His hole is spasming around Ilya’s cock and if he was coherent enough to feel anything but the intensity of his orgasm, he’d be impressed that Ilya isn’t coming.

It doesn’t take long and when he’s finished, he reaches down to hold the condom in place himself as Ilya pulls out and quickly jerks himself off, using one hand to squeeze and pull on Shane’s ass, exposing his fluttering hole.